Little Sweet O Transmigrates Into the Body of the Villainous Fake Young Master - Chapter 3

He Xitang’s words were severe. Not only was Teng Yingzhi stunned, but Teng Ruicheng and Uncle Lu, who stood nearby, were also visibly startled.

Teng Ruicheng suppressed his temper and lowered his voice. “What nonsense are you talking about!”

He Xitang ignored him, staring only at Teng Yingzhi with a cold gaze. “Whether I’m talking nonsense or not, you just wait and see.”

He Ji had changed the details of the plot, and the ripple effect had altered the parents’ reactions.

In Yingzhi’s memory, no matter how angry He Xitang got in the original story, she usually expressed it through silent condemnation or cold distance—she had never been so livid that she actually tried to strike him.

After all, they had been family for two years. Although He Xitang was naturally cold and distant, she had still been better than his parents in his original world. Not to mention his “father,” Teng Ruicheng, who had always doted on him with a smile. Having never experienced true parental love, Yingzhi had developed genuine feelings for them over the last two years.

And now, the woman he had sincerely called “Mom” for two years wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain. Based on a few words from He Ji, she had already pronounced him guilty.

Despite knowing this was just the plot, Yingzhi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow, mixed with the burning indignation of being framed.

I didn’t trick him into eating those walnuts. He ate them himself!

Yingzhi clenched his fists, meeting He Xitang’s gaze without a hint of guilt. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I had no idea he was allergic to walnuts.”

“You still dare to lie!” He Xitang was truly out of her mind with rage; she raised her hand again.

“Madam.” Uncle Lu frowned and stepped in front of Yingzhi, his usually kind face showing a rare sternness.

Uncle Lu wasn’t a servant hired by the estate; he had been handpicked from the main residence by Teng Song a year ago specifically to look after Yingzhi during a bout of illness. After Yingzhi recovered, Uncle Lu hadn’t left, which was clearly Teng Song’s way of ensuring the young master’s well-being.

No matter how irrational He Xitang was currently, she didn’t dare take her anger out on Uncle Lu.

“Fine. You say you didn’t know? Then let me ask you,” He Xitang said, her voice tight with restrained fury. “I am allergic to walnuts. To prevent me from accidentally eating them, there hasn’t been a single walnut in this house for years. You don’t even like walnuts yourself. So how is it that the moment Xiao Ji is brought home, you just happen to make walnut crisps and take them to him? And you lied and called them peanut crisps! You clearly intended to harm him!”

A whirlwind of emotions surged in Yingzhi’s eyes. “I didn’t lie. I told him they were walnut crisps.”

“Are you suggesting that Xiao Ji risked his own life to eat an allergen just to frame you?” He Xitang sneered.

Yingzhi paused. He was weighed down by too many shackles and constraints. He couldn’t fight for himself properly without considering the future. He simply said, “I don’t know why he ate them, but I never lied to him.”

He Xitang ground her teeth. “You little…”

“Madam!” Uncle Lu interrupted before she could say something irreparable. He spoke calmly. “I understand the situation. Master He Ji ate an allergen and told you the young master lied to him. The young master says he didn’t. Since it’s one person’s word against the other, you shouldn’t be so certain who is telling the truth. Why not wait until things are properly investigated? You’re all family; accusing the wrong person will only cause bitterness. Besides, Chinese New Year is almost here. If Mr. Teng Song returns on New Year’s Eve to find this atmosphere, he surely won’t be pleased.”

The name Mr. Teng Song was like a cold shot fired into the room. The hall went silent instantly; the air seemed to freeze. Even the high-and-mighty He Xitang was forced into a sullen silence.

After a long moment, she threw out one last sentence before turning to leave. “Then go ahead and investigate. Let’s see what you actually find.”

He Xitang was clearly heading back to the hospital. Teng Ruicheng didn’t follow her. Instead, after some thought, he turned to Uncle Lu. “This matter… let’s not tell Teng Song about it for now.”

Uncle Lu gave a polite, standard smile. “That depends on whether things settle down before he returns.”

“It will, it will,” Ruicheng nodded hastily, then looked toward Yingzhi.

Yingzhi knew what was coming. He lowered his head, his bangs hiding his reddened eyes. His body was still incredibly weak. Before Ruicheng could speak, Yingzhi turned and headed back upstairs.

He huddled in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

A knock sounded a short while later. Teng Ruicheng entered with a bowl of lean meat congee, his voice carrying the tone of a concerned father. “I heard you haven’t eaten all day. Dad brought you some congee. Eat a little; you can’t get better on an empty stomach.”

Yingzhi leaned against the headboard, watching silently as Ruicheng poured a bowl and handed it to him.

Ruicheng sat on the edge of the bed, watching him eat. He awkwardly rubbed his knees. “Yingzhi, your mother was a bit harsh today. Don’t blame her. Xiao Ji’s situation was truly dangerous last night. She’s been so heartbroken over him being lost for all those years that she lost her head and spoke without thinking.”

“Mm,” Yingzhi replied flatly, knowing there was a “but” coming.

Ruicheng was silent for a moment. He patted Yingzhi’s head and said softly, “Even though we aren’t related by blood, you will always be our child—a member of this family. Don’t worry that Xiao Ji’s arrival will change that. You’ve just gained a brother; nothing else has to change. Don’t be worried, and don’t be afraid.”

Yingzhi set the half-finished congee down and looked his father in the eye. “And?”

“And so, you don’t need to target Xiao Ji. Dad knows you’re feeling unsettled, but it’ll pass once you get used to things,” Ruicheng said with a smile.

He Xitang had made Yingzhi’s heart go cold; now, Ruicheng’s words froze the rest of it. “Dad, do you also think I’m targeting him? That I deliberately lied to make him eat walnuts?”

“Dad knows you’re just in a bad mood. It’s okay, I don’t blame you.”

Ruicheng had been a good father. Over the past two years, Yingzhi had received much warmth from him. He didn’t want to blame the man. Even though he felt like crying, he forced a smile. “I understand, Dad. You should go to the hospital to be with Second Brother. I want to sleep.”

“Good, good,” Ruicheng said, relieved. He took the tray and left.

“Dad,” Yingzhi suddenly called out. The smile vanished, leaving his face expressionless. He leaned against the headboard like a child waking from a nightmare. “I promise I’ll try to get along with him. But if there’s ever another conflict between us… will you believe me?”

“Of course. Dad will always believe you,” Ruicheng said quickly.

There was no joy in Yingzhi’s eyes. He simply nodded and slid back under the covers. Ruicheng turned off the lights and tiptoed out.

*****

Two days later, Yingzhi had recovered from his illness. As for He Ji, whether he was better or if he had come home, Yingzhi didn’t know. No one mentioned it, and Yingzhi hadn’t left his villa. Knowing the plot, he didn’t bother asking. He knew exactly when and where he would see He Ji again.

It was… right now.

In the art studio, Yingzhi sat before an easel, applying varnish to an oil painting. He was waiting.

Knock, knock, knock.

Yingzhi didn’t stop his movements. “Come in,” he said tonelessly.

He heard the door open, followed by footsteps that stopped right beside him.

He Ji’s voice was as cold as the snow outside. “I heard that on the day I was rushed to the hospital, you fell ill too?”

“It was nothing. I just caught a cold from the wind,” Yingzhi replied, looking up. He saw the undisguised malice on He Ji’s face.

He didn’t want to make an enemy of He Ji. He wanted to see if He Ji could actually change the plot. What if? What if He Ji was capable of it?

Yingzhi held back, not mentioning the walnut crisps at all.

However, He Ji reached down with a mocking look and grabbed Yingzhi’s left wrist.

On Yingzhi’s wrist was a Conch Pearl diamond bracelet. It was a unisex design—luxurious but not gaudy, given to him by the eldest brother, Teng Song, for his birthday last year. The pink pearls complemented Yingzhi’s fair, slender wrist perfectly without looking feminine.

He Ji sneered. “I saw this in the news last year. Master Stone’s masterpiece. It cost twenty million dollars. So this is where it ended up.”

Yingzhi didn’t know what his sarcastic angle was. He simply unclasped the bracelet and handed it over. “Do you like it, Second Brother? It’s yours.”

“Giving it to me?” One second He Ji was smiling; the next, his eyes turned into daggers as he delivered a savage slap to Yingzhi’s face.

SLAP!

The sound echoed through the studio. The force was so great that Yingzhi was stunned before the pain even registered.

He had never been hit in his life. Before transmigrating, he had been a pampered young master of a top-tier family. Even if his parents were cold and saw him only as a perfect “product” to show off, and even if his brothers saw him as a tool for marriage, no one had ever laid a hand on him. His family had been meticulously protective of his body—especially his stunning, jewel-like face.

And now, He Ji had slapped him across that very face.

The suppressed emotions of the past few days reached a breaking point. Yingzhi stood up, trembling with rage.

He Ji didn’t notice the change. Standing on his moral high ground, he spat, “Have you forgotten? Everything you’re enjoying right now should have been mine! What right do you have to hold my things and say you’re ‘giving’ them to me? Pathetic!”

Before he could finish, a bucket of cold water was drenched over his head. Then, with a loud CLANG, Yingzhi smashed the brass bucket used for rinsing brushes right into He Ji’s head!

He Ji let out a cry of pain and collapsed, clutching his head.

Yingzhi ground his teeth, his fury unspent. He wanted to punch him! He wanted to kick him!

Suddenly, his vision went black. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting before the easel, applying varnish. The water bucket sat undisturbed by his feet. The studio was silent. He was alone.

“F*ck…” Yingzhi cursed for the first time in his life.

The plot had sanctioned him. He didn’t know what irreversible damage hitting He Ji would have caused, but the Will of the World had triggered an immediate “glitch-back.”

The studio door was knocked again. Yingzhi snapped to attention, quickly unclasped the bracelet, and hid it inside a brush holder.

He really didn’t want to get slapped again.

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