Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 51

My name is Shang He.

Just a dumb kid with a seriously lopsided education.

I knew from an early age that I wasn’t like other kids. Sure, others had their weaknesses—language, math, science, history—but even they could get into top universities through Olympiad competitions and guaranteed admissions.

Me? I was only good at music theory.

I couldn’t help myself. During other classes, I’d mess around and create melodies, just to keep from falling asleep during the teacher’s endless lectures.

Because of that, I got sent to the principal’s office more than once. My parents were embarrassed and furious. We all had the same last name—Shang—but my older brother, Shang Yi, was the kind of straight-A, well-rounded prodigy everyone praised.

The most infuriating part? He wasn’t even their biological son.

They adopted him back when they thought they couldn’t have kids. Figured they’d raise a successor early on. Then, surprise—along came me. They were overjoyed.

Blood is thicker than water, after all. There’s a clear difference between relatives and outsiders.

Even if I was a lost cause, a total screw-up, my parents still hoped I’d do something great someday. That I’d inherit their hard-earned business empire.

But I didn’t want that. I just wanted to study music.

Luckily, my brother supported me. He hired the best vocal coaches for me, sent me abroad to study at the top music conservatories in the world, and gave me all the pocket money I needed.

People said he only did that to fight for the inheritance.

Fine. Let them think that. What if one day my brother decided he didn’t want to run the business anymore? If he wasn’t going to take it, I’d rather donate it all than hand it over to our gossiping relatives.

Then one night, I had a nightmare.

In the dream, I was kicked out by my parents, left wandering the streets. I got the crazy idea to break into the entertainment industry—and ended up signing with a crooked agent.

It was obvious she appreciated my looks way more than my talent.

She took the resources my brother gave me and used them to promote other artists. Forced me into trashy, humiliating variety shows. Stole my original songs to build up other people’s careers…

And because I didn’t cooperate—didn’t turn into the red-hot idol she wanted—she beat me, screamed at me, insulted me constantly.

Then, for some reason, she said she’d fallen in love with me. Said she wanted to date me. And the me in that dream? Reluctant at first, but eventually… I agreed.

That’s why I call it a nightmare. I had no control at all.

Then she started pressuring me to quit showbiz and go home to fight for the inheritance. She wanted to be a rich man’s wife.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. The dream was so absurd that I quickly dismissed it. I couldn’t even remember her face or name.

But later, when I saw my wife for the first time at StarTeng…

I thought: even if I fall for her in this life, it’ll be worth it. Even if she’s a little black-hearted… she’s sweet on the inside, like sesame filling.

Turns out, this was my fated love trial.

What I didn’t expect was—dreams really are the opposite of reality.

She admired me, cared for me, found me the best and most suitable opportunities, stayed by my side through the toughest, most exhausting days. Always let me have my way, no matter how ridiculous I was being.

With nothing but shameless persistence, I managed to turn my “manager jiejie” into my wife. We got that coveted little red marriage book.

On our wedding night, I was so nervous I showered three times, used two face masks, slathered myself in scented lotion (then worried it might irritate her, so I washed it off again).

She doesn’t know this, but I’ve always been insecure. That confident, sunny guy I pretend to be in front of her—it’s all an act.

Growing up with a perfect older brother as comparison, my parents never thought I was any good. They didn’t hesitate to call my love for music a pile of garbage.

But my wife would always stroke my hair and praise me with such sincerity and warmth, calling me amazing—even if I’d only played a simple tune.

Honestly… I used to fantasize about her saying those things in other settings. Like maybe in our honeymoon suite.

But when that moment actually came, my heart was pounding like a drum. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, my eyes darted everywhere. It had been a long time since I felt so nervous.

I used the excuse of being shy to send her to the other room to wash up. Then I rushed to get myself ready.

Put on the cat-ear headband I’d hidden.

And the cuffs and ankle chains. They looked a little questionable, but they were purely decorative.

When those clinking chains wrapped around me, I felt like a big cat rolling over and asking to be spoiled—every cell in my body was buzzing with excitement.

When she came back in her nightgown and saw me like that, she was clearly stunned for a second. Then she smiled softly and praised me:

“Such a well-behaved little kitty. Good boy.”

I blushed so hard my ears turned red. I melted under her praise, falling deeper and deeper.

Thanks to all my dance training, I had plenty of explosive strength. So even while I was tied up, I didn’t make her do all the work. I just worried I might hurt her.

Unless she kissed me and called me “little kitty.”

Then I couldn’t help myself.

She’s my own personal catnip.

—

I had another one of those shameless dreams again.

Tangling together, too much to ask for, never enough.

Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shang He opened his eyes, frowning slightly, then lifted a hand to shield his wife’s face from the light. The feel of her skin under his palm made his heart flutter.

They’d been married for three years.

And still, he had zero self-control around her.

He wanted her.

But she was still asleep. She hadn’t rested well last night. He didn’t have the heart to wake her—so he simply lay there, watching her, eyes filled with sticky, syrupy affection.

So beautiful.

He couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss her flushed cheek. Her skin was soft and inviting, and for a second, he wanted to bite it—wanted to swallow her whole.

Ah, she was awake.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem annoyed. She just snuggled deeper into his arms, rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, and murmured for him to hold her tighter so she could go back to sleep.

Her breath against his throat tickled.

When she turned over again, Shang He finally slipped out of bed, tucked in the blanket, pulled the curtains closed, changed his clothes, and went downstairs to make breakfast.

His brother Shang Yi was already in the kitchen.

Shang He immediately regretted agreeing to this vacation together.

Not that there was anything wrong with his brother—it was his sister-in-law. She loved clinging to his wife, leaving the two husbands like two pitiful, lonely single dogs.

When it came to cooking, Shang He was leagues ahead.

He smirked smugly as he carried out the breakfast tray, catching sight of the disaster brewing in Shang Yi’s pan—a mass of burnt food that made his eyelid twitch.

Tsk. Guess he’d reluctantly offer a few tips.

Not because he was some big-hearted saint.

He just didn’t want their marriage falling apart and his clingy sister-in-law latching onto his wife even more.

But when he got back to the room, his wife was already awake—and his sister-in-law was chattering away, helping her do her hair and makeup.

Hair styling was fine. But why was she sniffing his wife’s hair like a damn creep?!!

Shang He’s eyes turned red with jealousy.

“What the hell are you doing? That’s my wife!”

—

Back when he decided to quit the entertainment industry, Shang He swore he’d never release another song. He just wanted to enjoy a quiet life with his wife.

Every time Valentine’s Day, Qixi, or May 20th rolled around and he saw others flaunting their love online—he’d pretend he wasn’t jealous. But he totally was.

Still, he hated the idea of his wife being ogled by millions even more.

But as the two of them faded from the public eye—year after year—rumors started to spread.

People said the wealthy world was dark and ruthless. That he and his wife had already broken up.

Curses. They were basically cursing them outright.

Shang He couldn’t take it anymore.

He came back—but not as a StarTeng artist.

As the chairman of the Shang Corporation.

Now, anyone who dared say a word about his wife would immediately receive a cease-and-desist from their legal team.

Some were even sued into bankruptcy.

Including former agent Song Weijiao. An investigation found she had profited hundreds of thousands by spreading slander and false rumors online.

Especially the one about Shang He imprisoning and abusing his wife—causing a massive public backlash and stock fluctuations. He was even pelted with rotten eggs and vegetables at the company entrance.

Shang He snapped. He hired the best legal team in the country and threw Song Weijiao behind bars.

When Shang He didn’t post, fans complained.

When he did post, they complained even more.

Daily breakfast heart photos, scribbled love poems on million-dollar contracts, whining on the company’s official Weibo about how long work hours kept him from his wife—they tolerated it all.

But did he really have to release couple duet songs on every damn holiday just to mock their single lives?!

Eventually, someone commented under his post:

“President Shang, when do you usually release music? I want to block it in advance. Your push notifications are too much.”

Shang He replied:
“Whenever I need money to buy my wife a dress.
Whenever I need cash for a date.
Whenever I want to take her on a world tour.”

He didn’t hide away money.

He earned it.

Then one year, fans noticed he only released one song—and the crowd erupted:

“Stingy jerk! Just one dress for your manager jiejie? What about dates and trips?! Seven-year itch is real—scumbag!”

Shang He responded:
“Not short on money this year. No need to drop songs.
Also, how did you all know my wife gives me five mini savings goals worth of allowance every month?”

We didn’t want to know!! Stop it!!!

—

They said I was a superstar in my prime.

But you—
You are the morning star that never fades.