Why Is Mr. Handsome Always Angry? - Chapter 4

Mr. Handsome led me out of the ward again.

He seemed terrified that if I stayed any longer, I really would exchange idol merchandise with the girl in the next bed, then chat with the nurse about where to get hot pot three days from now.

“Who exactly are you?” He suddenly stopped.

Walking behind him, I slammed straight into his back.

“It’s gone…” I started crying again.

“What’s gone?” He turned to look at me.

“The beautifully straight nose I’ve always been so proud of! You owe me a new one!” I clutched the tip of my nose and howled.

“…” He rubbed between his brows. “Xu Ye. Answer my question.”

“I have to say, that’s a philosophically significant question. I can answer it on several levels. Which would you like first?”

He stared at me without a word, his expression grim.

I’d forgotten. He was always short on patience with me.

So I kept it simple. “What would you do if I said I’m not Xu Ye?”

“Then I’d kill you.” He stared straight at me, his black eyes like bottomless, freezing pools.

I froze.

He bent down toward my ear. His warm breath spilled over my neck, and his low voice sounded beside me. “Xu Ye, you’d better not try any tricks with me.”

My elders had praised me ever since I was a child.

They said I was full of tricks.

I’d been so pleased with myself.

Who could have guessed that one day a handsome man would be hunting me down—not because he wanted my body, but because I was too full of tricks?

I strongly suspected he was jealous of my talents. Unfortunately, these things were innate. I couldn’t teach him.

Escape. I had to escape.

I drew up a meticulous plan.

I would go to the toilet, then climb out through the bathroom window.

But my mission failed before it began.

The moment I entered the bathroom, I encountered a pervert spying on women.

I still remembered my status as an exemplary Young Pioneer. Even though I had forgotten my red scarf in my haste to leave home, I kept my teachers’ lessons in justice firmly in mind.

By the time Mr. Handsome appeared, the pervert and I were brawling. We had fought three hundred rounds with the mop by the sink before he finally arrived.

My righteous intervention had cost me my chance to escape. But I had no regrets. It was my duty.

Perhaps my noble character would persuade Mr. Handsome to make my eventual death less painful.

At that thought, I looked at him with the serene resolve of someone ready to die.

He watched in astonishment as I mashed the mop strands into the other man’s face. A crowd gathered around him.

I was nearly taken for a pervert myself and handed over to security.

To explain to the victim why I had charged into the men’s bathroom and attacked him, I hid behind Mr. Handsome.

A misunderstanding. Even superheroes saving the world can get the wrong bathroom.

Mr. Handsome was surprisingly loyal.

I had expected him to glare at me speechlessly, then walk away and leave me to be torn apart by my victim. Instead, he stepped forward and negotiated for me.

I understood now. He wanted to finish me off himself. He wasn’t about to let anyone else have the chance.