Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 45

After the performance, Shang He didn’t even wait to hear the judges’ feedback. He bowed quickly, mumbled an apology, and yanked off his earpiece as he rushed offstage.

Down below, the judges—drenched in cold sweat—finally let out a breath of relief.

They hadn’t meant to seem timid, but Shang He’s piano performance had gone far beyond their expectations. His command of the instrument showed a level of mastery they could barely comprehend.

Seriously? This is just a national variety show. Who let a Grade 10 piano god crash the party?

It felt like a grandson critiquing his grandpa’s skills—completely upside down. And now that the “grandpa” had left, none of them dared say a word.

Judge A: “So… who wants him?”

Judge B: “Let C take him. His team’s short on people.”

Judge C: “No way, I don’t deserve him!”

Judge D: “Fine, if none of you want him, I’ll take him. Gotta brush up on my piano, though.”

As long as he had no shame, learning piano from a contestant wouldn’t cost a dime. And he’d still be called a mentor—what a deal!

The fans in the audience: “…”

Do these idiot judges even have ears? How can they hesitate to take someone this talented?

If they didn’t know how to be judges, then they could just quit! Quit! Quit! Quit!

Just imagining their beloved fan club “big sis” crying from disappointment made the audience vow silently: even if they had to rig every vote, they were going to make Shang He the champion.

—

By now, Su Ci had already slipped out of the audience with Tangtang running interference.

Shang He hadn’t seen Jie in a while, and when he finally spotted her, he sprinted over like a dog who’d just seen a bone, completely shameless.

He threw himself into her arms, wrapping her in a bear hug. His voice was a little hoarse from singing too loudly, tinged with a touch of jealousy and grievance.

“Jie, Jie… so many people were staring at you just now. They’re so shallow. They’re only interested in your looks—don’t be fooled by them…”

He really wanted to hide her away somewhere no one else could find—where only he could be with her.

Only he could see her. And her eyes… would only ever look at him.

“Is that so?” Su Ci hugged his slim waist in return. “But I was listening to your performance the whole time, Ah He. I didn’t notice anyone else.”

And just like that, Shang He was soothed.

Hide his sister away? What an awful thought! That wasn’t him—just some demonic impulse temporarily taking over.

Now that he had his body and mind back under control, he was going to become the most famous, most profitable singer—so he could buy Jie a mansion, a sports car, beautiful clothes…

Just like the outfit he was wearing now.

His super handsome performance costume—picked by Jie, bought by Jie, styled by Jie. Even his trendy wolf-cut hair color was recommended by Jie.

He was basically Jie’s personal action figure.

Thinking about it made him unbelievably happy. On the way back to the hotel, he couldn’t stop talking—or singing. Like a walking music box, he kept performing new songs he’d just made up.

Every single lyric was about Jie.

Every single line came from Jie.

Tangtang, who was driving: “…”

Admittedly, the guy could sing. But at this point, it was just plain noise pollution.

—

After the preliminaries, Shang He’s popularity exploded online without warning. Su Ci posted a few short clips on his social media, and overnight, his follower count skyrocketed by hundreds of thousands.

But that wasn’t the tricky part.

Because the only account Shang He followed was Su Ci’s, internet sleuths quickly traced things back and realized—she was the mysterious “fan club leader” from the live taping.

Soon, Su Ci’s follower count surpassed his.

And that threw Shang He into a spiral of anxiety like never before.

No matter how much he posted—new songs, daily updates, trophies, certificates—the top comment section always had one high-liked post that haunted him:

“Stop teasing us! Just tell us—where are you hiding our fan club queen?!”

On instinct, Shang He pulled the blanket up, tucking Jie entirely under the covers. Then, worried she might suffocate, he slipped one arm underneath to create an air pocket.

It wasn’t like he meant to crawl into her bed.

He was just afraid there were hidden cameras in the hotel. So when she fell asleep, he snuck in to conduct a thorough inspection of every possible safety risk before finally settling down beside her.

There had been news stories, after all—some hotels had secret compartments, even hidden stalkers. He couldn’t risk leaving her alone.

Thinking this, Shang He pulled her into his arms. Jie’s hands and feet were cold from her period, so he figured he’d warm them up.

Totally forgetting that he’d already given her a heating pad just two hours earlier.

Even if he had remembered, he’d still justify it. Heating pads were small—his feverish body gave off more heat anyway.

Yes, a fever. That’s what it was.

He hadn’t told Su Ci, but earlier that day, he’d gone to a set in a flimsy costume to audition. To convince the director he could be the male lead, he gave a full-on emotional breakdown performance—complete with an improvised drowning monologue.

When the director praised his “raw talent,” Shang He silently thought, That’s all thanks to Jie. I was sobbing because I imagined her signing a different artist.

Hmph. No way was he letting her sign anyone else.

He was going to master it all—music, acting, everything. So that Jie would never find a more hardworking artist than him.

A measly 40°C fever? That wasn’t going to stop him from warming her hands and feet and updating his socials in the middle of the night.

At 2 a.m., Shang He passed out.

Su Ci woke up feeling something heavy across her chest. She opened her eyes and realized Shang He was burning up—his body soaked in sweat.

She gently applied a fever patch, lifted his head to help him drink half a glass of water, then got dressed and headed downstairs to the 24-hour self-service pharmacy.

Meanwhile, Shang He instinctively reached out for her—but came up empty. He opened his eyes and saw no one.

The heat that had drenched him moments ago turned ice-cold. In his panic, he rolled off the bed and smacked into the nightstand.

“…Jie… Jie…”

His head hurt. His throat was dry. His limbs were weak.

Why was he so useless? He couldn’t even protect his Jie.

He was such a failure…

Su Ci returned quickly. But as she slid her room card into the lock, she felt an odd resistance. Pushing the door open just a crack, she found Shang He sprawled on the floor.

It looked like he had crawled out of the bedroom.

The hallway light filtered in, and Shang He finally saw her face. With a sudden burst of strength, he wrapped himself around her ankle, pressing his burning cheek against her shin.

“…Jie, where did you go? I was so worried…”

He really couldn’t be without her.

Su Ci couldn’t move. She just gently ran her fingers through his sweat-drenched hair, soothing him as she whispered:

“The floor’s too cold. Let’s get you up first, okay?”

“No… don’t need Jie to help. I can do it…”

He grabbed the edge of the cabinet and tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness hit him hard, sending him stumbling sideways—nearly faceplanting into the floor.

Su Ci caught him just in time, her arms steady around his back as she guided him step by step toward the bedroom.

“Shang He, be good. Can’t I hold you just for a little while?”

The sick, confused boy finally stopped resisting.

“Only Jie’s allowed to hold me.”

After feeding him medicine and wiping off the cold sweat with a warm towel, two hours passed. Shang He, now asleep, clutched Su Ci’s fingers tightly in his dream.

Because of his fever, he didn’t wake up early and sneak away like usual.

It wasn’t until noon that he opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a while, and still didn’t realize anything was off—

—until a cool hand touched his forehead.

“Jie? What are you doing in my room?”

Did she find out he was sick and come over to take care of him?

That was so embarrassing. She needed care herself, and yet she was the one looking after him…

No way was Shang He going to admit he’d climbed into her bed first.

Play dumb. Pretend to be a sick, clueless, helpless pretty boy.

He’d been studying acting lately, and it showed. His facial expressions were masterfully controlled—his eyes droopy, lips slightly pursed—a perfect image of fragile beauty.

Su Ci didn’t have the heart to call him out.

“Time for your meds. If you stay sick like this, that lead role we worked so hard for might end up going to someone else.”

Shang He bolted upright at once, then froze, sensing something was wrong. In a panic, he scrambled under the covers and wrapped himself up like a cocoon.

Wait. Where were his clothes?!

When your brain is lagging, and you’re a top-tier star…

Brain: “Come on, hands, start writing!”

Hands: “Come on, brain, start thinking!”

Next world (please vote in the comments):

① The CEO Who Married a Fake Heiress

A marriage-before-love story. The male lead holds the marriage certificate but always suspects his wife is having an affair. Her “true love” isn’t him, so he throws away his pride and secretly sneaks in time with her whenever “true love” isn’t around.

② The Zombie King Who Picked Up a Stray Human

He’s not a zombie. Just… paler, harder, colder than average. Why do zombies keep bringing food to his door? Maybe they’re generous. Why are they planting crops? Fitness goals. Why are they digging up crystal cores for his wife? Shut up or die.

③ The Split-Personality School Bully & School Hunk

Everyone thinks they’re twins. They, however, loathe each other. Until one day, they kiss their girlfriend—and both feel it.

School Bully: “She agreed to date that cold, emotionless robot who only studies?!”

School Hunk: “She’s into that loud, violent delinquent who does nothing but fight?!”

Later: “Do you even know how to kiss? If not—move over, I’ll do it!”