C25 The Little Witch Ran Out!

Yuvyuv looked intently at the painting. Honestly, she didn't really know how to appreciate famous artworks. Still, just like her father, she cherished anything her mother loved. So, when Yuvyuv climbed onto a chair to reach the painting, she handled it gently, trying to take it down carefully. Based on her memories from before, her father often hid her whip behind this painting in a secret compartment.

The compartment wasn't locked, and inside was just her whip. As Yuvyuv cautiously removed the painting from the wall, intending to roll it up and set it aside—

A sudden shout startled her, making her hand tremble, and the painting nearly slipped from her grasp.

"Yuvyuv, put it down! Don't touch it!"

A child's voice came from the study's doorway. A boy, about nine years old, walked in, his face stern with anger. He pointed at the painting in Yuvyuv's hands and said angrily, "Yuvyuv, are you trying to ruin things again? Do you know that's Dad's most treasured painting? What are you trying to do?"

Yuvyuv turned to meet a pair of bright, dark eyes, her heart skipping a beat as she silently thought, "Zijun."

Nine-year-old Zijun, the youngest of the seven Ye children, was the son of the third wife. Faced with the child that Zijun was at this moment, Yuvyuv was momentarily stunned.

She couldn't help but recall the past, when Zijun, now grown into a handsome young man, had burst past guards in a fit of emotion to reach her. She remembered his anguished face as he pulled her body, riddled with bullets, from the pool of blood, shouting at her in despair.

"Erya, Erya, you hang in there! You’re not allowed to die, I won’t let you. You’ve brought chaos to the whole family, and you think you can just die without making it right? Try it, I dare you. You stay alive, you hear me?"

"Aren’t you the troublemaker? Trouble always sticks around, so you better not die, you hear me, Erya—"

Tears streamed down Yuvyuv's face. Her heart ached with every beat, and her big eyes brimmed with tears that fell painfully.

In front of her was her younger brother, who used to glare at her and argue all the time. He watched as she nearly destroyed their family and demanded she pay back their older sister’s life, their father’s life, and the whole family’s well-being.

Yuvyuv felt a lump in her throat. In her past life, after the family fell apart because of her, the only one left alive, besides herself, was this younger brother.

He was her only living relative, yet she didn’t dare face him. She knew he later joined the military, but she couldn’t muster the courage to visit him.

She was terrified that seeing him would remind her of the sister, father, and family she had ruined. Even more, she feared seeing his once bright eyes dulled by the family's downfall.

So she chose to avoid him, fully aware that he hated her, wishing she were dead. It was her fault the family fell apart; she was the family’s curse, and his hatred was justified.

Yet, in her previous life, when she was dying, he had rushed to her in his military uniform, shouting at her not to die. That memory now left Yuvyuv feeling conflicted and distressed.

She didn’t know how to face the nine-year-old boy standing before her now.

"Why are you crying? Tears, really?" Zijun was startled to see Yuvyuv, usually so fearless and headstrong, in tears.

Yuvyuv lowered her eyes, slightly furrowing her brow as she recalled the harsh words from her sister. She wondered if she had been too severe.

In that moment of clarity, Yuvyuv quickly reached behind her, feeling for her trusty whip. By the time Zijun looked up, the painting was already back in its place.

Yuvyuv swiftly jumped off the chair, and before Zijun could call out to her, she had darted past him and out of the study.

Behind her, she could still hear Zijun's mature voice, far too grown-up for his age, demanding, "Yuvyuv, stop right there! What are you hiding? If you don't tell me, I'll let Dad know you're up to no good again!"

Yuvyuv shook her head, refusing to be intimidated by this little rascal. Every time they met, he acted like a little adult, always scolding her as if he were older.

Whoosh!

Yuvyuv dashed through the living room like a gust of wind, startling the aunts who were having breakfast. By the time they realized who it was, Fifth Aunt opened her mouth to call out, hoping to stop the little whirlwind, but Yuvyuv was already gone.

Zijun came racing down the stairs, his bright eyes scanning the aunts, ready to chase after her. But his mother, Third Aunt, quickly grabbed him.

"Zijun, where are you going? You have school soon. Come have breakfast," she urged, pulling him back. Her son was her pride and joy, the reason she held some sway in the family. She couldn't let anything happen to him. But this son of hers, with his old soul, always felt the need to manage the little whirlwind's antics.

Sure enough, the mischievous girl had run off again, likely caught by her son, who was now determined to stop her.

That won't do. Her precious son can't be influenced by that troublemaking girl.

"Mom, I've already had breakfast. There's morning study, so I'm off to school," Ye Zijun said, lifting his backpack to indicate he was heading out.

"You've had breakfast? How come I didn't see you eat?" Third Concubine was momentarily puzzled, but seeing the book-filled bag in her son's hand and hearing he wasn't going out with Ye Yuvyuv, she smiled with satisfaction.

In front of the other concubines, she proudly praised her son, "Oh, our Zijun has been diligent in his studies since he was little, just like his father. He's bound to succeed."

She straightened his clothes and urged him, "Since the teacher has morning study, you should hurry. Tell Mr. Li to drive carefully."

Fourth and Fifth Concubine sat at the table, eating breakfast without paying much attention to Third Concubine. If Second Concubine were there, she'd likely have a few words to counter Third Concubine's boasting about her son.

But lately, Second Concubine was bedridden, recovering from an ordeal caused by Ye Yuvyuv, so no one was there to challenge Third Concubine.

While Third Concubine was basking in pride over her son's ambition, she didn't know that as soon as he left the living room, he tossed his backpack into a corner and left the house on his own, without calling for the driver.

Just past eight in the morning, in the back courtyard of a dance hall in the leased territory, a petite girl agilely climbed over the wall. She wore a sleek black jacket that reached her waist, plaid riding pants, and her long hair was tied in a ponytail. Her large amber eyes narrowed as she focused on a third-floor room with heavy curtains.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she let out a derisive laugh. "You've got some nerve, thinking you can put me in a coffin and auction me off. You must not realize who you're dealing with, you spoiled brat."