Lin Ruoxi jumped up from the sofa in shock at Yang Chen's sudden appearance. She spun around and pulled free from his grasp, her beautiful eyes blazing. "Don't touch me!"
"Whoa, no need for that reaction," Yang Chen said with a wry smile, shrugging. "I was just teasing. If I'd really kissed you, who knows—you might've chopped me up in a Saw sequel tonight."
Lin Ruoxi ignored him, pressing the remote to turn off the TV. Her secret love for romance dramas exposed, she blushed and shot him a fierce glare. "Auntie Wang said you went to pack your things. Don't bring any of your stinky junk into my house."
"Relax. Just a few clothes." Yang Chen pointed to the small bag by the stairs. "But I'm worried—how am I supposed to run my kebab stall living here?"
"You still want to sell kebabs?!"
Lin Ruoxi stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. She couldn't fathom why he was so obsessed with it, looking genuinely regretful at the thought of stopping.
Yang Chen blinked. "What? The marriage contract didn't say I can't sell kebabs."
Lin Ruoxi gritted her teeth. "You're not selling kebabs, period. Starting tomorrow, find a proper job—something clean, preferably an office job!"
Yang Chen scratched his head in distress. Truth be told, he could easily get an office job. With that diploma he'd picked up while casually hanging out at HF University, he could get into almost any top company. But he hated sitting in an air-conditioned office. To him, nothing beat selling kebabs on the street and chatting with vendors.
"Don't even think of making excuses. Your job has to change."
Seeing her "you'll regret it if you don't" expression, Yang Chen shivered—afraid she'd pull the suicide stunt again. He nodded quickly. "Alright, alright. I'll find a job tomorrow. Whatever you say."
Satisfied, Lin Ruoxi suddenly remembered something. She grabbed her purse and pulled out a brand-new touchscreen phone, handing it to him. "Here. Take this so I can reach you when we need you to play your part."
Yang Chen grinned as he took it. Marrying her wasn't so bad—luxury house, sports car, free phone. His wife was cold, but at least she was easy on the eyes.
Watching him gloat like he'd hit the jackpot, Lin Ruoxi's eyes flickered with disdain. She yawned and stretched lazily, her posture seductive. "I'm going for a beauty sleep. Get ready to job-hunt tomorrow."
Just as she turned to go upstairs, the doorbell rang.
Auntie Wang, who'd been busy in the kitchen, hurried out, wiping her wet hands on her apron before opening the door.
"Master? You're here…"
Hearing "Master," Lin Ruoxi's face paled. She turned gloomily to face a middle-aged man walking in.
He wore a dark blue shirt, with neatly trimmed hair and beard, and an imposing appearance. Only the wrinkles at his corners and a few strands of white in his hair revealed his age. He bore a strong resemblance to Lin Ruoxi—clearly her father.
Lin Kun's face was dark as he stepped inside. His sharp eyes locked onto Lin Ruoxi, then glared fiercely at Yang Chen.
"Dad…" Lin Ruoxi called weakly, showing no surprise at his arrival—no joy, no sorrow, as if he were a stranger.
"Dad?" Lin Kun laughed bitterly. "Hah! Do you even remember you have a father? Getting married to some random stranger without a word—do I mean anything to you?!"
He roared, his voice echoing through the villa.