C17 Chapter 17

So, digging through Yang Zimu’s closet, he turned up a pile of high-end luxury goods—and thick stacks of cash.

Someone like her, splitting rent with roommates?

Gu Yanjue let out a cold snort. He didn’t buy it for a second.

Then a necklace caught his eye.

White diamonds shaped like rose petals, with a teardrop of red diamonds set in the center—sharp contrast, stunning design.

Under the light, it glittered with a blinding brilliance.

“This is…?”

Wasn’t this the necklace that had been stolen right before that auction a while back?

How could it be in her room?

Gu Yanjue’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. The corners of his cool, thin lips curved into a faint, handsome smile. “Interesting, kid… So the thief the cops have been chasing all this time was you?”

“What are you doing in my room?”

At the doorway, Yang Zimu stood with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp as it pinned his back—like she could see straight through him and catch whatever he’d taken.

As he turned, Gu Yanjue slipped the Heart of Flame into his pocket, then instantly switched back into that goofy, scruffy middle-aged act. “I like Zimu’s room… Zimu, you’re finally back. You have no idea—you left me there all alone… I was so heartbroken…”

With that, he spread his arms and moved in for a hug. Yang Zimu lifted an eyebrow and dodged like he was contagious. “Get lost. You’re not stupid—why are you playing dumb?”

“Zimu…”

Yang Zimu, exhausted, tossed her bag onto the bed and rubbed her temples. “Get out. Go back to your own room.”

All she wanted right now was to lie down and sleep.

Summer break was almost over. In these two months, she had to bring every crew in City A to heel—top to bottom—and put them under one system.

It would take everything she had: energy, stamina, and focus. One wrong move, and she’d be walking herself straight into a dead end.

Coming back only to get stuck with some idiot kid again—just thinking about it made Yang Zimu feel exhausted.

If only it were someone else.

Why did it have to be someone with the exact same face as that man?

Gu Yanjue didn’t leave. Instead, he shut the door, locked it, and flopped down on top of Yang Zimu. “Ah… it’s late. I’m tired too. How about we just go to sleep?”

Yang Zimu rolled over and slammed a pillow into his head, teeth clenched. “I said get out. Don’t push me.”

Her raised arm was streaked with blood, staining her sleeve red. Gu Yanjue shot upright, grabbed her arm, and his expression tightened. “You’re hurt?”

Caught, Yang Zimu’s face stiffened. She yanked her arm back and grabbed his collar with her other hand. “It’s just a scratch. Stop bothering me.”

“You’re hurt, so I need to stay and take care of you, Zimu… I want to be with you…”

Gu Yanjue still wouldn’t go. He was like a boulder—no matter how hard Yang Zimu pulled, he didn’t budge.

“You know I’m hurt.” Yang Zimu lifted her arm and waved it in front of him. “Since I’m hurt, you listen to me. Go back to your own room. That’s the best way you can take care of me.”

A small injury like this—she’d been through it countless times this past year. She was numb to it by now.

She’d dealt with far worse before. Why would she be afraid of a little cut?

Yang Zimu understood one thing clearly: she’d grown up in an orphanage. Without someone powerful backing her up, she’d spend the rest of her life scraping by at the bottom.

And who was she? The last princess of a fallen dynasty. Even if she never got some fairytale royal life, she’d done just fine out in the world.

More than that, she knew this: one pair of chopsticks snaps easily. Ten, a hundred bundled together don’t.