Ah! The Villains I Forced to Turn Evil Can Read My Mind

Qiao Chuchu raised an eyebrow, savoring the two words with amusement: "Uncle?"

She tied his wrists and sneered, "What kind of uncle are you supposed to be?"

Weisheng Lin's breath hitched, and his body suddenly went weak.

He could have struggled.

But his limbs felt as if they were sealed.

The sensations in his body felt utterly foreign.

His cheeks burned as he pressed himself tightly against the wall. "L-Let go!"

As soon as he spoke, Weisheng Lin was startled.

That soft, cotton-candy-like tone—was that really coming from him?

Qiao Chuchu tilted her head. "Hmm?"

[Why did his voice go soft? Is this part of his role-playing game?]

She ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‍thought of a line and pressed the gun to the back of his head. "Uncle, you're getting old. Isn't it time to step down? I've had my eye on your throne for a long time. I want to be the boss too."

Weisheng Lin's ears buzzed, his thoughts in disarray. He misheard her words as—

"Uncle, I've had my eye on you for a long time. I want to sit on your throne and be your boss."

Weisheng Lin shook his head, forcing himself to stay focused. "I could never give myself to you! Don't even think about it!"

Qiao Chuchu frowned. "What nonsense are you spouting? I want your throne, not you! Rethink your lines!"

Weisheng Lin was stunned. "It's not me?"

She pressed the gun harder against his head, her tone fierce. "Rethink it!!!"

Weisheng Lin shuddered, a hoarse whimper escaping his throat. "Mmm!"

He faced the wall, his back to Qiao Chuchu, his palms slick with sweat.

Why was it so hot?!

Why was it so unbearably hot?!

He gasped for air. "What did you want again?"

Qiao Chuchu reminded him, "The throne! The boss's throne you've worked so hard for all these years!"

He licked his lips, tilting his head back as he panted. "Ah, the throne."

Weisheng Lin rubbed his wrists, still bound by the tie, beads of sweat rolling down his jawline. All the heat seemed to gather in one part of his body!

His breath caught.

He—he—

He stared down in shock, his back still turned to Qiao Chuchu, silent.

Qiao Chuchu sensed something was off and lowered the gun. "Are you feeling unwell?"

She reached to untie his tie. "I told you we should've stopped playing earlier. You're way too into this role-playing."

But Weisheng Lin suddenly dodged her hand. "It's fine. I just got stuck on my lines, that's all. Don't untie it."

Qiao Chuchu hesitated. "Are you sure? Your voice is really hoarse. Are you not getting enough air?"

Weisheng Lin's face flushed red as he kept his back to her. "No, I can keep playing."

Qiao Chuchu's lips twitched. "...I can see you've never played house before. I got bored of this stuff when I was a kid."

Weisheng Lin: "..."

He stayed silent, his Adam's apple bobbing as he slowly processed the sensations.

This feeling was so strange.

His body tingled, as if electrified.

He finally managed to think of a line. "After all these years, I can't just hand over what I've worked so hard for. Not unless you—"

Suddenly, the closet door swung open!

Shen Zhuoyan, looking frantic, glanced at Qiao Chuchu and, without even looking at Weisheng Lin, scooped her up and ran off!

Qiao Chuchu quickly tossed the gun to Weisheng Lin. "Game over. I have to go back to being a half-dead model now."

Weisheng Lin: "?"

He remained kneeling in the closet, watching as Qiao Chuchu disappeared from his sight.

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him, leaving him utterly stunned.

Shen Zhuoyan came to rescue her?

At such a critical moment?

Weisheng Lin tore off the tie, clutching it in his hand. Anger, like gasoline poured on a fire, erupted within him in an instant!

Damn...

This Shen Zhuoyan...

Damn it!!!!