[Motel Near East Gate — September 16, 9:15 AM]
Zhang Tingting woke up to the sound of someone coughing through the thin walls.
The motel room was exactly as depressing as it had been when she fell asleep. Dirty curtains hung crooked over the window, letting in slants of morning light that cut across the stained carpet. The mattress felt like sleeping on a bag of rocks, and no amount of air freshener could mask the faint smell of cigarette smoke that had seeped into every surface.
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, tracing a water stain shaped vaguely like a boot.
The cheap t-shirt and shorts she'd bought yesterday were wrinkled from sleep, and her hair was probably a disaster. Not exactly presentable for a culinary arts student who prided herself on keeping things together.
Look at me. Hiding in a place like this.
Her phone sat on the nightstand. She reached for it, unlocked the screen, and stared at the messaging app.
Lin Feng's contact was right there.
Her thumb hovered over his name. She could text him. Ask him what the hell was going on. Ask him why everyone around her seemed to be losing their minds.
But what would she even say?
Hey, remember me? Zhang Tingting? The matchmaker? The one who has been receiving your money only to let my best friend milk you like a cow?
Hey! My best friend is acting like she's in a cult, my cousin won't shut up about some guy named Long Tian, and I'm hiding in a motel because I don't know where else to go. How's your morning?
She set the phone down and rubbed her eyes.
He was probably busy. He had his own problems. That scene at the restaurant yesterday, rejecting Su Qingxue in front of everyone, that hooded girl, his sister who was clearly stalking him — he definitely had enough on his plate without her adding to it.
I'd just be bothering him.
----------------------------
Zhang Tingting called her parents instead.
The familiar sound of her mother's voice washed over her, and something in her chest loosened for the first time since yesterday.
"Tingting! How's school? Are you eating well?"
"I'm fine, Mom." She leaned back against the lumpy headboard, pulling her knees to her chest. "Just busy with classes."
The words came out smooth and easy. Natural.
"And how's Yuting? Are you two getting along?"
Zhang Tingting's jaw tightened. "She's... fine. She's busy with her own things."
Yeah, right! Like she's busy worshipping some random guy she just met. Busy acting like a completely different person. Busy scaring the hell out of me.
Her fingers picked at a loose thread on the bedsheet.
"That's good, that's good." Her mother's voice brightened on the other end. "Your father wants to say hello—"
The next minutes were a blur of small talk. Her father asked about her grades, her mother asked about how she was doing, and both of them told her to eat more and sleep earlier.
Zhang Tingting found herself smiling at the familiar nagging. Her shoulders relaxed against the headboard. For a few minutes, the motel room didn't feel quite so suffocating.
Then she remembered where she was, and the smile faded.
----------------------------
"Tingting..." Her mother's voice shifted into something careful and probing. "Is there... anyone special in your life right now?"
Zhang Tingting's hand stilled on the bedsheet. "What?"
"You know." A small laugh came through the phone. "A boy. Someone you like."
The question came out of nowhere, and Zhang Tingting opened her mouth to say no.
But her mind flickered before she could stop it.
Silver hair. That calm expression when everything around him was falling apart. The way he'd stood in the middle of Su Qingxue's desperate performance and simply refused to play along.
He was the only normal person in that entire restaurant.
That was all. That was the only reason his face came to mind.
"No."
The word came out a beat too late, but she pushed forward before the pause could stretch.
"No, I'm focused on my studies."
Her mother hummed on the other end, and Zhang Tingting couldn't tell if she was satisfied or suspicious.
----------------------------
[9:35 AM]
"Perfect!"
Her mother's voice suddenly brightened — too bright, too eager, the kind of brightness that made Zhang Tingting's grip tighten on the phone.
"That's perfect, Tingting. Because Yuting called us last night."
Zhang Tingting sat up straighter. "She did?"
"Yes! She found someone wonderful. A young man. Very impressive, very handsome." Her mother's voice climbed higher with every word. "She thinks you two would be perfect together."
Zhang Tingting's stomach dropped.
Wait. What?
Her parents had never done this before. Never. In eighteen years, her mother had never once tried to set her up with anyone. Her father had always told her to focus on her career first. Both of them had always respected her independence.
And now, suddenly, they wanted to play matchmaker?
Because Yuting told them to?
Her free hand curled into the motel bedsheet, knuckles whitening against the fabric.
"Who is he?"
Her voice came out flat and controlled.
"His name is—"
----------------------------
"Long Tian."
Zhang Tingting went cold.
Long Tian.
The name that had turned Su Qingxue into a desperate, scheming mess. The name that had transformed her cousin Yuting into someone she barely recognized. The name that seemed to infect everyone who heard it.
And now her own parents were pushing her toward him.
"Yuting says he's wonderful," her mother continued, voice bright and unaware. "She says he's kind and handsome and has such a bright future—"
The phone slipped from Zhang Tingting's fingers.
It clattered against the motel floor, and the screen cracked on impact — a spiderweb fracture spreading across the glass.
She stared at it.
Her mother's voice came through, tinny and distant. "Tingting? Tingting, are you there? Did something happen?"
Zhang Tingting didn't move.
Her cousin was recruiting for him now — through family channels. This wasn't campus drama anymore. It had reached her parents. Her own home.
She picked up the phone with trembling fingers.
"Mom, I have to go."
"But Tingting, at least meet him once—"
"I'll stay with a friend for a while." She kept her voice steady, even as her free hand gripped the bedsheet.
"Yuting says he's really something special—"
"Don't worry about me."
"He's very handsome, and Yuting showed us pictures—"
"I really have to go. Love you. Bye."
She ended the call before her mother could say another word.
The motel room fell silent around her — just the cracked phone in her lap and the distant murmur of someone's television bleeding through the wall.
Zhang Tingting sat on the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused.
What the hell is happening?
What the hell is happening to everyone?
----------------------------
[09:59 AM]
"Lin Feng."
The name slipped out before she realized she was speaking.
He was the only one who seemed normal. The only one who wasn't caught up in this madness. He'd rejected Su Qingxue publicly — walked away from whatever spell she was under.
"He saw it too," she muttered. "He had to."
Zhang Tingting picked up her phone again. The cracked screen made everything look fractured, but the messaging app still worked.
She stared at Lin Feng's contact, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
What do I even say?
"Help me, I think everyone is going insane?"
"My family is trying to set me up with the guy who's turning my friends into zombies"?
She typed a few words, then deleted them. Typed again, deleted again. Her fingers hesitated over the screen for a long moment before she finally gave up on finding the perfect words and just sent it.
[Zhang Tingting: Lin Feng, can we talk? Something strange is happening. My family is trying to set me up with Long Tian. I don't know who else to ask. Are you free?]
The message showed as delivered.
Zhang Tingting set the phone on her knee and stared at the screen, watching the tiny checkmark that meant he'd received it.
No reply yet.
She pulled her knees tighter to her chest and waited.
----------------------------
[Lin Family Mansion, Kitchen — 09:20]
Lin Feng pushed open the kitchen door.
The servants inside glanced up, saw him, and immediately found somewhere else to look. One maid suddenly became very interested in polishing a pot that was already spotless, while another developed a pressing need to reorganize the spice rack.
Lin Feng ignored them all.
The kiss marks on his neck were impossible to miss — purple bruises scattered across his jaw, trailing down his collarbone, clustered at his throat. Some had darkened overnight while others remained an angry red, a constellation of evidence from last night's chaos.
He walked to the refrigerator and opened it.
Xiao Yue is still waiting.
The thought was calm and analytical. He'd promised her breakfast yesterday, and he kept his promises now.
He selected ingredients quickly. Congee that could be reheated. Steamed buns. Some pickled vegetables. Simple food, but made with care.
The lunch box came together in his hands — practical, warm and meant for someone who mattered.
He clicked the lid shut.
The kitchen was quiet. Too quiet.
Lin Feng paused, his hand still resting on the lunch box.
Something prickled at the back of his neck — that instinctive awareness of being watched. The kind of feeling that made prey animals freeze in open fields.
He turned around.
Lin Weiwei was leaning against the doorframe.
Arms crossed. Perfectly still. Her eyes fixed on him with an unblinking intensity that made it clear she hadn't just arrived.
She didn't say a word.
The kitchen staff had vanished. Lin Feng hadn't even heard them leave — he hadn't heard her arrive either. She was just... there. Like she'd materialized from the shadows while his back was turned.
How long has she been standing there?
Her expression gave nothing away. No smile. No frown. Just that flat, watchful stillness — the look of someone who had been observing every movement he made with the patience of a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
Lin Feng held her gaze without flinching.
He shifted the lunch box to his other hand, calm and unhurried, and waited for her to make the first move.
The silence stretched between them.
Then she moved.
Lin Weiwei crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides, her heels clicking against the tile. She stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he could smell the floral shampoo from her morning shower.
Her fingers reached for his collar.
She flattened it down first, smoothing the fabric with deliberate care. Then, without a word, she undid the top two buttons of his shirt and tugged the collar open wider.
The kiss marks spilled into view — purple bruises trailing down past his collarbone, angry red marks clustered at the base of his throat.
Lin Weiwei tilted her head, examining her handiwork like an artist admiring a finished canvas.
A slow smile curved her lips.
"You're going to her?"
Lin Feng met her eyes steadily. "I promised Xiao Yue I would bring her breakfast."
Lin Weiwei's jaw clenched.
"Then we need to go now." Her voice was sweet, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "We don't want her to keep waiting, do we?"
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "We?"
"Yes. We." Lin Weiwei's fingers smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on his collar. "I'm coming with you."
Her voice left no room for negotiation.
Lin Feng nodded. "I expected that."
He walked past her toward the door, and she fell into step beside him immediately, her shoulder pressing against his arm. Her fingers found his free hand and interlaced with his, grip tight and possessive.
----------------------------
They left the mansion through the main entrance.
The September morning greeted them with crisp air and the smell of fresh bread drifting from somewhere nearby. Normal sounds of a city waking up — cars passing, birds chirping, life continuing as if nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
The coffee shop sat directly across the street — a small, modest place with a simple wooden sign. Nothing fancy, nothing expensive. Strategic positioning for someone who'd been watching from that spot for five years.
Lin Weiwei walked close beside him, her hand gripping his tight enough to ache. Her nails dug crescents into his skin with every step, and her jaw was set in a hard line.
She was holding it together. Barely.
Her eyes kept darting to his neck — the marks visible above his open collar.
"This girl..." Lin Weiwei's voice came out tight.
"She's been watching me for years," Lin Feng said.
"That's creepy."
"I like it."
The words hung between them, and Lin Weiwei's jaw tightened further.
"I'm staying right beside you the entire time."
"I know."
"If she tries anything—"
"She won't."
The two walked the rest of the way in silence.
Not long after, the coffee shop came into view.
Through the front window, Lin Feng spotted her immediately.
Xiao Yue.
She sat at the third table from the window — her usual spot. Black hoodie pulled up despite being indoors, hands wrapped around a coffee cup that had probably gone cold hours ago.
She'd been waiting since early morning.
Her fingers tapped against the cup in a nervous rhythm. Three times, pause, three times again. She checked her phone, then the door, then her phone again.
Lin Feng could see the tension in her from here — the rigid set of her shoulders, the clenched jaw, the stillness that wasn't calm but coiled. He was never this late. In five years of watching, he'd never kept her waiting this long.
Beside him, Lin Weiwei studied the figure through the glass with narrowed eyes.
There you are, bitch.
Her hand slid down to interlock with Lin Feng's more tightly.
Watch this.
They reached the door.
Lin Feng's fingers touched the handle, cool metal pressing against his palm. He took a breath.
Lin Weiwei's grip tightened until her nails bit into his skin.
He pushed the door open.
The bell chimed.
----------------------------
Xiao Yue was already watching them when they stepped inside.
She'd seen them coming through the window — seen that woman press herself against him like she owned him, seen their intertwined hands, seen the way she clung to his arm with every step.
So you finally decided to show yourself, you incest whore.
The coffee shop went quiet around them. Conversations died mid-sentence, and the barista's hand stopped mid-pour. Everyone was watching now.
Two women stood perfectly still, staring at each other across the small café.
Then Xiao Yue's gaze shifted to Lin Feng — and her eyes traveled down to his neck.
The marks.
Purple bruises scattered across his throat, trailing down past his open collar, clustered at his jaw. Some dark, some red, all unmistakable.
She knew exactly what those were. She knew exactly who made them.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
Five years of watching him from the shadows. Five years of devotion. Five years of waiting.
And that woman had marked him.
Xiao Yue's eyes kept flicking back to the bruises.
Lin Weiwei's lips curved upward.
That's right. Look at them.
"Xiao Yue." Lin Feng's voice cut through the tension, calm and steady. "This is Lin Weiwei. My sister."
He held up the lunch box.
"Sorry I'm late. Family matters."
Xiao Yue's eyes didn't move from Lin Weiwei.
"Stepsister." The word came out flat. "And she's not blood related."
Her gaze dropped to the marks again, then back to Lin Weiwei's face.
Lin Weiwei pressed closer to Lin Feng, her smile widening as her fingers brushed against his collar — near the marks.
"Oh." She tilted her head. "You must be the one who's been following my Big Brother."
She said the words slowly, making sure every syllable registered.
"Big Brother told me about you."
Xiao Yue's jaw tightened.
"Observing." The correction came out hard. "Not following."
Her eyes never wavered from Lin Weiwei's face.
"I've been concerned about his safety." Lin Weiwei paused, letting her gaze lock onto the purple bruises. "Especially with certain people near him."
----------------------------
Lin Weiwei's smile didn't waver, but her fingers pressed harder against Lin Feng's arm.
The silence stretched between them.
Then Xiao Yue's eyes dropped to the lunch box in his hand.
Her lips parted. Her shoulders, rigid since they walked in, lowered just a fraction.
He brought her breakfast. Despite everything — despite that woman clinging to his arm, despite those marks on his neck — he still came. He still kept his promise.
The hard line of her jaw softened, just for a moment.
She gestured toward her table — the small couch against the wall. A two-person couch, worn leather with a slight indent where she'd sat every morning for the past five years. Her spot. Her territory.
Both women moved toward it at exactly the same moment.
Both stopped.
Both stared.
The morning light streaming through the café window caught the dust motes floating between them. Somewhere behind the counter, a coffee machine hissed and gurgled, but no one was paying attention to their drinks anymore.
Lin Weiwei moved first.
She crossed the distance in three quick strides and sat down, the leather cushion sighing under her weight. She smoothed her skirt, crossed her legs, and patted the space beside her with a pleasant smile.
"Big Brother. Here."
Xiao Yue's eye twitched.
"That's my spot." Her voice came out flat and empty. "I sit there every morning. Same time, same place."
Her chin lifted slightly.
"For a very long time!"
The coffee shop had gone completely silent around them. The low jazz music playing from the speakers seemed to fade into background noise. Phones appeared in hands. Someone at the counter angled their screen for a better shot.
Lin Feng looked at the couch — at Lin Weiwei claiming one side, at Xiao Yue standing rigid with her fists clenched at her sides.
He made a decision.
He walked over and sat down in the middle.
"Both of you can sit."
The words barely left his mouth before both women moved.
Xiao Yue dropped onto his right side, her hip pressing against his before she'd even fully settled. Lin Weiwei shifted immediately, closing the gap on his left until her thigh was flush against his.
Three people on a two-person couch.
The leather groaned in protest. Lin Feng's shoulders were pinned between them, his arms pressed tight to his sides. Lin Weiwei's elbow dug into his ribs while Xiao Yue's shoulder blade pressed against his chest.
Neither woman gave an inch. Neither woman looked at him.
They were staring at each other across his body like he was the battlefield and they were the opposing armies.
Whispers rippled through the coffee shop like wind through tall grass.
"Is that the guy who rejected the campus belle?"
"Holy shit, two girls fighting over him."
"Someone get this on video."
"This is insane."
Under the table, where no one could see, two hands found his.
Xiao Yue's fingers wrapped around his right hand, cool and slender, her grip tightening when she felt Lin Weiwei shift. On his left, Lin Weiwei's hand claimed his with warm, possessive force, her thumb stroking across his knuckles in slow, deliberate circles.
Both territorial. Both refusing to let go.
Lin Feng sat perfectly still, his breathing shallow from the pressure on his ribs.
Xiao Yue reached for the lunch box with her free hand and pulled it onto her lap. She lifted the lid, and the smell of warm congee and fresh steamed buns drifted up between them.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the chopsticks, but she steadied them before either woman could notice.
She took the first bite slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving Lin Weiwei's face.
He made this for me. Not for you. For me.
Lin Weiwei watched her chew. Her jaw tightened, and her free hand slid from Lin Feng's knee to his chest, flattening there possessively. Her fingers spread wide, brushing against the marks visible above his open collar.
These are mine.
"I live with him." Lin Weiwei's voice came out low and controlled. "Same house. Every day. Every night."
Xiao Yue swallowed her bite and set down her chopsticks with a soft click against the lunch box.
"And I've been watching him for years." She met Lin Weiwei's stare without blinking. "Every single morning. Same time, same place."
She let the words settle, let the weight of them sink in.
"You just started noticing him." A small smile played at the corner of her lips. "I never stopped."
Lin Weiwei didn't respond with words.
She just let her gaze drift to Lin Feng's neck — to the purple bruises scattered across his throat, the angry red marks clustered at his jaw.
Five years of watching, and I'm the one who got to mark him.
Xiao Yue saw the glance. Her smile faltered, and her knuckles whitened around the chopsticks.
But she breathed in slowly, held it, and let it out.
She picked up her chopsticks again.
Xiao Yue tilted her head, her voice turning light.
"He sleeps on his right side, you know. His left shoulder always gets stiff in the morning, so he has to stretch it out before he does anything else."
She glanced at Lin Weiwei.
"Did you know that?"
Lin Weiwei's expression didn't change. Her eyes stayed flat and unreadable.
She knew. Of course she knew — she had cameras in his room. She knew what time he fell asleep, what position he slept in, how many times he turned over in the night. She knew far more than five years of window-watching could ever reveal.
But she couldn't say any of that without exposing her own surveillance.
So she stayed silent.
Xiao Yue's smile returned, small and satisfied.
"His bedroom light goes off at 11:23 on average." She picked up a piece of pickled vegetable and chewed it thoughtfully. "But you already knew that, right?"
Lin Weiwei's hand pressed harder against Lin Feng's chest. Her nails dug slightly into the fabric of his shirt.
Xiao Yue caught the tension in her fingers.
Her smile widened.
That's right. You can't say anything, can you? Not without admitting you've been watching him too.
"Stalker," Lin Weiwei said flatly.
Xiao Yue popped another bite into her mouth and chewed happily.
"Hmmm! Takes one to know one."
She continued eating, her shoulder pressed warm against Lin Feng's, her fingers still laced through his under the table.
Lin Feng sat between them, his ribs aching, both hands claimed, his chest serving as Lin Weiwei's personal territory marker.
Both of them are stalkers. Both of them are playing their intelligence games.
He stared at the ceiling of the small café, at the exposed wooden beams and the old brass light fixtures.
And I'm the asset they're both trying to secure.
Somewhere behind him, a phone camera shutter clicked. Then another. Then several more.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
This is going to be a very long morning.
----------------------------
[10:00 AM]
Lin Feng's phone buzzed in his pocket.
Both women went still against him. Lin Weiwei's fingers stopped their slow circles on his knuckles, and Xiao Yue's chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth.
Their grips on his hands tightened simultaneously.
Lin Feng pulled out his phone with his now-free hand and checked the screen.
Zhang Tingting.
[Zhang Tingting: Lin Feng, can we talk? Something strange is happening. My family is trying to set me up with Long Tian. I don't know who else to ask. Are you free?]
He read it twice.
Zhang Tingting's family is pushing Long Tian on her. The system's influence is spreading — through family channels now.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
Wait… Zhang Tingting is texting me and informing me about Long Tian?
This wasn't in the original plot.
The café noise faded into the background as his mind worked through the implications.
In the original story, Zhang Tingting was a heroine — a one-star heroine who got swept up in Long Tian's orbit through her connections to Su Qingxue and Zhang Yuting.
Though her conquest plot took longer than usual, even taking longer than a four-star heroine conquest, and she was unusually close to the original Lin Feng, in the end, she still fell to Long Tian.
She should be falling in line like everyone else.
But she wasn't.
She was reaching out to him instead. Asking questions. Resisting.
Interesting.
"Who is it?"
The question came from both sides at once — two voices in perfect unison, carrying the same suspicion and the same dangerous edge.
Lin Feng looked up from his phone.
Lin Weiwei's eyes had narrowed, her chin tilted as she tried to catch a glimpse of the screen. On his other side, Xiao Yue had set down her chopsticks entirely, her body angled toward him with sharp attention.
Two seven-star heroines pressed against him from both sides, both staring at him, both waiting for an answer.
And now a third woman was reaching out for help.
Lin Feng slipped the phone back into his pocket.
This is going to get complicated.
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END OF CHAPTER 23