When the Heiress Grew Tired, Her Insecure Mad Dog Saw Red - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Dad, I want him.”

Hugging my rabbit plushie, I pointed at the refined-looking boy kneeling on the floor and tilted my head.

His skin was very pale, and he was far too beautiful, like a porcelain doll.

Even crying, he would be pretty. I wanted to make him cry.

My father, Qin Bin, casually pulled out a cigarette, then remembered I was there and put it away.

He said to him, “Yan Wen, when your parents were alive, they drove the Fang family into a dead end. I had no intention of helping you.”

“But my daughter wants to keep you. I can pay off those tens of millions in loan-shark debt for you, but from now on, you belong here. Can you do that?”

The boy lowered his head. “I can.”

He was only five years older than me, yet he seemed as if he had already grown up.

From that day on, Yan Wen became a servant in my family.

Dad arranged for him to learn combat, sanda, martial arts, and the like. He trained up a body of lean muscle and became my personal bodyguard.

Because Mom and Dad were always busy, he was the one who kept me company throughout my childhood.

I was a bona fide little tyrant.

The good deeds I committed included but were not limited to braiding Grandpa’s white beard, knocking over Mom’s money tree with a soccer ball, and using Dad’s pipa as a weapon in a fight…

But I never played tricks on him.

I was even gentle with him.

I liked people who were elegant and pretty. I liked him.

Yan Wen rarely spoke. Most of the time, he followed behind me in silence, never saying what he wanted, so whenever I thought something was good, I would always save a share for him.

“Young Mistress, I can’t eat while I’m working-mmph-”

Before the boy could finish, I stuffed the dessert into his mouth.

“Your job is to make me happy. If you eat it, I’ll be happy.”

He lowered his eyes, looking a little at a loss.

I teased him. “Is it sweet?”

He nodded.

Satisfied, I began eating my own.

In my second year of high school, I became obsessed with revenge novels. During vacation, I read them from morning until night.

I holed up in my room and refused to come out.

Yan Wen wasn’t allowed to enter my room without permission, so he would always knock to remind me to eat, attend banquets, socialize…

Once I was absorbed in a book, I hated being disturbed. The more he knocked, the more irritated I became, until at last I snapped impatiently, “Go find somewhere to cool off by yourself!”

At the time, I still didn’t realize our relationship was about to turn a corner.

Not until the night of my eighteenth birthday banquet.

Everything changed.

At the banquet, I was holding the microphone and giving a speech when I suddenly saw blood-red numbers appear above Yan Wen’s head. They were exactly like the Hatred Value described in the revenge novels I read.

After testing it a few times, I confirmed that no one but me could see it.

And his number only changed when he was near me.

Even more terrifying, it only rose. It never fell.

70, 71, 72…

At first, I couldn’t believe it. Then I slowly understood everything.

Yan Wen hated me.

Because if I hadn’t stubbornly insisted on keeping him, he never would have gone from a rich young master to being forced to serve as my bodyguard for the rest of his life.

So he had always hated me.

It was far too much like the first half of a novel protagonist’s story, enduring humiliation while waiting for revenge, and it made goosebumps rise all over me.

That night, I pressed him down into a chair.

My eyes red, I questioned him. “Yan Wen, have I treated you badly all these years?”

He answered without hesitation, “No,” but I watched his Hatred Value go from 70 to 71.

This man was far too good at lying.

So convincing that there was no way to tell.

So perhaps all those beautiful memories from the past had been false. Perhaps he had been fooling me all along…

My nose stung, and fury burned through me.

I raised my hand and slapped him.

Smack!

His face was knocked to the side, strands of hair falling messily over his forehead.

He lifted his head in confusion, only to see that my eyes were red.

He stood up nervously, wanting to comfort me.

“Young Mistress, did I do something wrong? Tell me, and I’ll change it right away. Please don’t be angry… don’t cry.”

The number rose again.

My chest hurt so badly I could barely breathe. Tears fell in huge drops as I shoved him away. “Fake. Pretentious. Get out!”

When he heard the word “fake,” his face instantly turned deathly pale.

He seemed to want to explain something, but in the end, he lowered his head and silently left the room.

From then on, I began to take revenge on him.

Since he hated me, then let him hate me! The more, the better!

As long as I saw the number increase, I treated him with rage.

First came slaps, then kneeling punishments, ropes, whips…

I broke his proud bones and made him crawl at my feet.

In a hoarse voice, he said, “Young Mistress, tormenting people isn’t right… A melon forced from the vine won’t be sweet.”

I smiled. “Whether it’s sweet or not is for the one eating it to decide.”