Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 173

“Jiejie, don’t go… please!”

A violent crash. Flames licking crimson through the air.

The nightmare kept replaying like a looped disaster. Cold sweat trickled down his skin, soaking the wrinkled pillowcase.

When Su Ci opened the door, she was met with the sight of the boy curled under the blanket, trembling non-stop. His limbs were ice-cold, like a wounded, frightened little beast.

“Chebao? Wake up. Dreams always mean the opposite.”

She pulled out a tissue and gently dabbed the sweat from You Che’s forehead.

Only after his convulsions began to ease did Su Ci lean down to kiss his pale lips.

His thick lashes fluttered twice, and then his eyelids slowly lifted to reveal a pair of misty, puppy-dog eyes.

“Jiejie? Why are you here?”

Still caught in the haze of his dream, he gripped her wrist tightly, terrified that this hard-won dream would slip away.

Since he lived right above her, You Che had all sorts of excuses to loiter near her door every day, knocking under the guise of delivering tea or just sitting for a while.

But Su Ci showing up in his apartment? That couldn’t be by chance. She must’ve come just for him.

That was exactly why he’d chosen this place when he bought it.

Conclusion: she missed him.

Su Ci ran her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. The boy looked pitiful, a mess of irritability and panic—but his overly delicate features gave him a disheveled beauty.

“I made too much breakfast and couldn’t finish it. Come downstairs and help me out?”

Normally, it was You Che who brought breakfast early in the morning, waiting at her door, handling delivery, dishes, and trash in one go.

But today, when the expected knock never came, Su Ci checked the surveillance camera and saw him wrapped in a blanket, having a nightmare.

The pure-hearted boy had no idea who’d really sold him this small upstairs apartment.

The property was still in her mother’s name, and the transfer process wasn’t complete yet. Su Ci still held a copy of the keys.

You Che blinked his reddened eyes.

Once. Twice… and again and again—until he was sure it wasn’t a dream.

He kicked away the annoying blanket and lunged at her, throwing his arms around her and knocking her onto the bed, greedily inhaling her sweet scent and smothering her in it.

From her soft earlobes to her collarbone, he licked and kissed down.

His long, nimble fingers began to wander.

“Jiejie… where’s your phone? Did any creeps try to add you as a friend? I need to check.”

Here we go again.

Su Ci let him nibble away with a sigh.

Lately, You Che’s possessiveness over her phone had grown especially intense. At least two to three inspections per day—he wouldn’t even tolerate a single unchecked notification.

“Ah, found it.”

He pressed down gently on her flat stomach with one hand, fingers teasing her soft waist, while the other hand fished her phone out of her pocket and started scanning.

The blocklist had dozens of numbers.

All people he suspected had ulterior motives.

After ten full minutes of meticulous checking, he finally exhaled in relief. Lowering his head, he gave her a deep, lingering kiss, his tongue gently lapping at her lips like a spoiled kitten.

“Jiejie, do you want to shower? I made you all sticky.”

Their bodies were damp and warm with sweat.

In his limited vocabulary, he called this skin-to-skin contact, the perfect blend of water and milk. Not only did You Che not mind it—he loved being sticky and close.

He just worried she might be uncomfortable.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a waterproof eye mask.

“Let me help Jiejie get clean, okay?”

Su Ci lowered her eyes and caught a glimpse of her cat-shaped toy tucked in the corner of the drawer. Its smooth surface was already scuffed and worn.

Scuffed.

Worn.

Ruined.

“Bang—!”

You Che abruptly slammed the drawer shut, pretending like nothing happened. He scooped her off the bed, blurting out an incoherent promise:

“I-I didn’t mean to damage it! I’d never be rough with Jiejie, I swear!”

How was he supposed to know the cat toy was so delicate?!

He’d only played with it five or six… seven or eight times…

Correction: five or six or seven or eight times—per night.