When the Male Lead Finds Out I’m the Transmigrator Trying to Win Him Over - Chapter 37

“President Sun, keep it up, just one more lap.”

“So fast—how did you manage that?”

Lin Qingxue: …

“Wow, you’ve caught up with President Han!”

“Wow, you actually overtook President Han!”

Lin Qingxue: …

Sun Bo was practically coaxed back into infancy by all the flattery.

When he reached the finish line with Han Qi still a stretch behind, Sun Bo climbed out of the water and wiped his face in disbelief: “I beat Han Qi?”

He’d never won against him before.

“Am I this amazing now? Hahaha, I knew I was the strongest!”

Lin Qingxue rolled her eyes. Even an idiot could see Han Qi had let him win. In the first half he’d left Sun Bo far behind, and then for some reason slowed down later—not because he ran out of stamina, for sure.

Yun Ruo couldn’t figure it out either.

She crouched by the pool, watching Han Qi finish his last lap and climb out of the water. The man took off his goggles and shook his head, droplets splashing onto her.

Yun Ruo wiped her face with her fingers: “Why’d you suddenly slow down?”

Han Qi swept his hair back, carefree: “Well, no one was cheering for me. Naturally, I couldn’t match Sun Bo.”

Yun Ruo didn’t reply. She just looked at him. Han Qi looked back, neither of them breaking eye contact.

“You seem a little wronged?”

“I’ve been wronged since last night.”

Last night?

Yun Ruo stood up, doubting his words. Someone as steady as Han Qi would feel wronged? He must be teasing.

Sun Bo whispered to Lin Qingxue: “Is that really an assistant?”

“Supposedly they were friends first, then she became his assistant.”

“That’s not an assistant, that’s… romance.”

Lin Qingxue gave a dramatic “wow”: “President Sun, you’re surprisingly sharp.”

Sun Bo: …

What kind of sarcasm was that?

By afternoon, after enough fun, the group sat together chatting. Sun Bo hauled over a case of beer. Yun Ruo took one, sipping slowly. Most of the time she stayed quiet, just listening to the others joke around.

Dinner was barbecue, with beer disappearing even faster. Bottles piled high on the table until Yun Ruo lost count.

Sun Bo successfully drank himself under the table. Lin Qingxue took the chance to kick him.

“That’s for dumping extra work on me—seven days in a row with only two, three hours of sleep!”

Yun Ruo looked away, pretending not to see. Workers should stand with workers.

When she turned her head back, she found Han Qi sitting right beside her. Watching Lin Qingxue’s little act, Han Qi leaned close, the faint scent of alcohol brushing her nose: “Would you do that to me if I were drunk?”

His tone was soft, voice low and husky, meant only for the two of them.

Yun Ruo shifted uneasily away, “No.”

“What?” Han Qi’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her back against him, faces close again. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Mm—” Yun Ruo hadn’t expected the move, completely unprepared. She pressed her hands against him, but all she felt was heat under her palms.

“I didn’t hear you” echoed in her ears, her face threatening to flush red. She lowered her gaze: “No.”

“Why not?” His fingers stroked her nape.

Every hair on her body stood on end. Too much. This was their most intimate touch yet.

【Could it be you overfed him vinegar today?】

If not death by silence, then corruption by silence.

Maybe so—but not the point right now. Yun Ruo steadied her nerves: “I said I’d pursue you. How could I… bully you?”

She’d chosen her word carefully—bully.

But Han Qi’s attention caught on another: “bear to.”

He laughed in his chest: “You can’t bear to?”

His tone was laced with endless gentleness.

Only if you care, can you not bear.

Yun Ruo finally nodded: “Of course.”

By then Lin Qingxue had already dragged Sun Bo upstairs. The courtyard was left with only Yun Ruo and Han Qi, breathing mingling in the sticky atmosphere. His palm still cupped her nape. Neither spoke.

It was thick with tension.

“That day…” At last, Han Qi broke the silence.

Yun Ruo looked up: “Which day? What about it?”

“Meng Tingmo.”

Yun Ruo instantly understood—she had bitten Meng Tingmo that day.

“I don’t like him anymore,” she blurted.

But Han Qi pinched her chin to face him: “I’m glad to hear that, but that’s not what I meant.”

Her eyes showed confusion—by now, she didn’t even mind how much this looked like a domineering CEO scene from a drama.

“Last night,” Han Qi said.

That day, and last night—the one thing in common was a kiss.

Yun Ruo’s lashes trembled. Her lips pressed against Han Qi’s finger.

“The last time, I wiped off the mark he left,” Han Qi whispered. He still remembered the sensation, his fingertips itching with restless memory.

“I was furious then.”

Furious Meng Tingmo dared get close to her, furious he himself had no right to do the same.

“And you—” Yun Ruo started, but cut herself short when her lips brushed his finger. She dared not continue.

Han Qi’s eyes turned completely dark.

“It wasn’t just that I wanted to wipe off his trace with my hand.”

What else he wanted—went without saying.

Yun Ruo shut her eyes.

Han Qi studied her, gaze sliding from brows to lips, then suddenly pressed down. His finger lifted away, replaced by heat.

After a lingering tease, he released her slightly. Yun Ruo’s lashes lowered: “Will you remember this tomorrow?”

In her third year of chasing Meng Tingmo, they’d kissed once—he’d been drunk. She never knew if he remembered. Neither of them mentioned it the next day, as if forgotten.

“I’m not drunk,” Han Qi said. He guessed her thoughts. “And also—”

“I’m not Meng Tingmo.”

He bent down again, lightly biting her lips before pressing harder. The hand at her nape slid lower, joined by the other, and suddenly she was lifted from her chair onto his lap.

“Mm…” Yun Ruo was startled, tried to pull back, but he pushed her firmly down. After a few tries, she gave up resisting and endured.

The roughness she’d always sensed in him—it wasn’t fake.

Unable to close her mouth against his, she thought hazily.

Back in Bincheng, Yun Ruo resumed work as usual. She wanted leave, but Han Qi said she’d just had some.

“Those two days on the weekend, even if it was playing, you requested it. I consider it work.”

“Two days on the weekend were playing.”

Six words, blocking her argument. Yun Ruo complained to He Xitong: “Does your assistant get no leave either?”

He Xitong: “I have two—they take turns.”

So Yun Ruo suggested to Han Qi: “Maybe you could hire another?”

“Another one?” At the time, Han Qi had just finished a meeting, rejected several proposals, and was venting frustration by tugging open his collar.

He rarely yelled, which had its pros and cons. The con: anger stayed bottled up, making his reactions even more unpredictable.

Under that pressure, those at fault became even more nervous.

Yun Ruo realized too late she’d said it at the wrong time. She tried to slip away, but Han Qi closed in: “You’re sure you want another one?”

She forced calm: “Is that a problem?”

Han Qi: “I only hired you because you said you’d pursue me.”

Yun Ruo: “So?”

Han Qi: “You want to give up your spot?”

She shut her mouth. No way she was giving it up—not when his favorability was at 75%. Besides, wasn’t he just saying only one personal assistant was allowed? She understood.

“Alright, President Han.”

He glanced at her face, wrinkled up with reluctance. “You want leave, don’t you?”

Yun Ruo: “I want to see Feihan.”

Han Qi folded his arms.

Yun Ruo gazed at him, hopeful. She wouldn’t abandon Meng Feihan just because she was pursuing Han Qi.

“Fine.” His force softened. What else could he do? The boy didn’t call him “Dad.” “This afternoon off. Go.”

“Thank you, President Han.” Yun Ruo put on a polite show of thanks. Before leaving, she glanced back and saw Han Qi drain a full glass of water in one gulp—still simmering.

Clearly, this time she’d truly gotten under his skin.

It wasn’t the weekend, so Meng Feihan had school. Yun Ruo told Meng Mother she’d pick him up, and met the family driver outside the kindergarten.

Meng Feihan’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. It felt as though the clouds above her shone brighter, framing her smile with tender warmth.

He always remembered that line—your mother is a gentle woman, she loves you very much.

Yes. He threw himself into her arms. Yun Ruo loved him, and he loved her.

“Hahaha.” Yun Ruo laughed, scooping him up though he was getting heavy. “Have you gotten chubby?”

Meng Feihan buried his face in her shoulder: “I got taller.”

The kindergarten gate was crowded—mostly drivers and nannies. Few parents came themselves.

But not none. People in their circle knew the Meng family’s situation. At first glance, seeing a young woman carrying Meng Feihan, some thought Meng Tingmo had a new partner.

But on closer look, wasn’t that the former Mrs. Meng?

“She’s back?”

“Back ages ago. I heard she’s with someone else now.”

“Who?”

“…I heard it’s one of Meng Tingmo’s brothers. Don’t know which, but still—”

“His brother? I thought she was close with the Feng family’s youngest. Could it be Feng You?”

Yun Ruo nearly choked.

Gossip was gossip—let them talk. They weren’t twisting facts, just stating them. She had no intention of arguing.

But dragging Feng You into it—that wouldn’t do.

“It’s not Feng You.” She raised her voice.

The two gossips startled.

A little embarrassed, but curiosity won: “Then… if it’s not him, who is it?”

By now Yun Ruo had already tucked Meng Feihan into the car, door shut so he wouldn’t overhear. “Someone handsome and capable. Next time don’t guess randomly. I don’t care, but if the wrong person hears and comes looking for trouble, it won’t be good. You know none of Meng Tingmo’s friends are easy to mess with.”

The two: …

They nodded quickly, brains spinning. Saying that was as good as saying nothing—weren’t all of Meng Tingmo’s brothers handsome and capable?

Yun Ruo didn’t care, just got in the car and headed for the city center. There were several good children’s play centers there. This afternoon belonged entirely to Meng Feihan.

By the next day, the rumor had reached Meng Tingmo’s ears.

“She said Han Qi is handsome and capable? Praised him in public?” He nearly smashed his water glass.

Pinching his brow, leaning back in his chair, Meng Tingmo seethed—good, Yun Ruo. Do you really like Han Qi this much?!

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