Happy Ending With My Yandere Junior Brother Rival - Chapter 1

“I’m sorry.

“Little junior brother, I’m truly sorry.”

The moment I learned that I was the original female lead in a BL transmigration conquest novel, and that tomorrow I’d be run through with a single sword strike by the little junior brother who was about to fall to demonic corruption—

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of belated terror.

I clutched Shen Xing’s collar helplessly, sobbing until I could barely breathe, head lowered in apology, hoping to win his forgiveness.

“It’s all right.”

Fingers white as porcelain stroked my back. Shen Xing forced me into his arms and kissed the tears from the corners of my eyes, one by one.

His comfort was impossibly gentle:

“Little senior sister, it’s all right.

“Once the love poison is cured, everything will be fine.”

The youth’s voice was cool and soft, holding an extreme tenderness—just like his innocent, pretty face.

His chest, though, was so scorching it made me tremble.

His burning kisses traveled from the corner of my eye to the edge of my lips, and finally to my neck. He pulled me down among the flowers, and without permitting any refusal, drew the jade hairpin from my hair, letting my black hair spill loose across his delicate, bewitching, slender collarbone.

No.

How could I do something this intimate with someone I hated—someone I could even call a rival in love?

My voice husky, I struggled on the edge of death:

“The Master—the Master will be here any moment…”

“Shh.”

Fingers like jade pressed against my bitten, swollen lips.

The youth’s voice carried displeasure:

“Senior Sister, don’t say things that upset me.”

The cold moonlight washed Shen Xing’s delicate features bone-white. His red lips were glossy, and the corners of his eyes, faintly reddened under the love poison, were gorgeously vivid—like a ghost from the mountains.

I was the one looking down at him.

And yet he controlled everything with perfect ease.

Feeling my resistance.

Shen Xing caught both my hands as they shoved at his shoulders, and with his other hand stroked my face. Something unfathomably dangerous lurked in the depths of his eyes as he laughed softly:

“But isn’t this what you wanted?”

Meeting his leisurely, unruffled smile.

Almost instantly, my face went bloodless, and I let him do as he pleased.

Why had I poisoned him?

I’d finally managed to calm myself and do the system’s mission to conquer the male lead—that tiresome, disgusting task.

And yet I just had to throw his plans into disorder at a moment like this.

As I sank and climbed to the peak, the hand Shen Xing had clamped around my waist bulged with veins. His clear voice carried a smile as he tilted his head and eyed me sidelong:

“The goal’s been achieved.”

“Senior Sister, aren’t you happy?”

He looked so slender and fragile.

Yet his strength was enough to crush my bones.

I stared blankly at the youth’s refined face, flushed with desire.

Why was it like this?

It shouldn’t be like this.

Shen Xing had joined the sect at seventeen.

A face beautiful to the extreme, a figure slender and thin—utterly at odds with his quiet, gentle nature.

A sickly-pale, beautiful little junior brother, whose stubborn brow and eyes made the heart ache; even when he cried, he was pitiable enough to move anyone.

But I just didn’t like him.

“I’m sorry, Senior Sister.”

Tears in his eyes, the youth tugged helplessly at my sleeve.

The sunset clouds burned like fire; the sky was magnificent.

On the training grounds, my black hair loose, I stared at the shattered jade hairpin on the ground, drew the sword in my hand, and—ignoring the other disciples who tried to stop me—was so furious I wanted to kill him.

The First Senior Brother, always gentle and even-tempered, was rarely this enraged. He shielded Shen Xing behind him and rebuked me in a low voice:

“Lin Wan, I know you’ve been spoiled since childhood, but the little junior brother has only just joined the sect. Do you have to bully him like this, relying on your status as the former sect leader’s orphan?”

“He broke my hairpin first.”

I argued angrily, the tip of my sword pointed at Shen Xing.

His brow and eyes lowered, his crow-black lashes wet with tears, wearing an expression on the verge of weeping, he explained:

“I’m sorry, Senior Brother. Don’t blame Senior Sister.”

“It’s all my fault for being too dull, for my poor swordsmanship. I nearly hurt Senior Sister. Even if Senior Sister wants to kill me to vent her anger, it’s all right.”

Liar.

It was obviously deliberate.

The training grounds were so vast, yet the sword qi in his hand had swept toward me, and cut down precisely the hairpin in my hair—nothing else.

“Oh, really.”

I laughed coldly. “You said I could kill you. Then fine—walk over here and I’ll do it.”

I’d had enough of that look of his, the one he wore after doing something wrong, as if he were the innocent one. I was desperate to expose him—yet in everyone else’s eyes, I was just the senior sister tormenting her junior brother, the one who wouldn’t let it go.

“That’s enough.”

Just as Shen Xing actually started walking toward me.

A cold, clear voice rang out through the noisy crowd, carrying a trace of coldness so faint it was almost imperceptible—like quenched ice.

My body froze; my strength to hold my ground drained away.

The immortal with the cold, clear brow and eyes walked up before me. His expression was one I’d never seen on him—indifferent—and disappointment flowed in his eyes.

“Master…”

I murmured under my breath, pointing at the shattered hairpin and the lock of severed hair on the ground, my tone aggrieved: “It was clearly him who nearly killed me. I only…”

“Shen Sui.”

Fu Wei cut me off, his long fingers stroking the crown of my head, warning me gently:

“Know when to stop.”

Was it really my fault?

“Master, this hairpin was a gift from you.”

I kept stubbornly pressing the importance of the hairpin.

It was the first time the Master had taken me to the mortal world to play, and the first gift he’d ever given me. I cherished it deeply.

Fu Wei’s fingers paused slightly. He lowered his eyes and said softly:

“Just buy another one.”

“It’s not the same.”

The meaning isn’t the same.

Sobbing, I tried to win sympathy with my tears—but my gaze drifted, unbidden, toward Shen Xing.

For once he’d reined in his tears. He was staring at the Master’s hand stroking the top of my head, his face expressionless.