Transmigrated into the body of a tycoon's spoiled ex-girlfriend

The curtains were lifted by the morning breeze, revealing an endless sea of ​​roses outside the terrace, with the azure sky hanging low as if it could be reached.

She slowly sat up, yawned, and lazily stretched.

Its back stretched into a supple arc, its neck tilted back, like a satiated cat.

She was alone in bed, but the slight indentation on the pillow reminded her that someone had lain next to her last night.

The system's voice sounded, its tone subtle: "Host, you're awake?"

Ke Miantang rubbed her eyes and yawned: "Hmm, what time is it?"

"It's 10 a.m. By the way, just a reminder, you said some things you shouldn't have in front of Rong She last night."

Ke Miantang's fingers were still resting on her eyes: "What?"

"Tell Rong She not to talk to other women for the next six months. After that, he can do whatever he wants."

Ke Miantang's expression froze, and her mind suddenly stopped working.

At the same time, she noticed that she didn't smell of alcohol at all, and her makeup was gone. It was obvious that Aunt Han, the manor's housekeeper, had given her a bath.

The clothes that were taken off last night are neatly folded on the chair at the foot of the bed, even the underwear is folded.

There was no time to marvel at such meticulous service. Ke Miantang quickly put on her clothes, rushed into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, grabbed her bag, and ran downstairs.

She felt she should see Rong She less often now to avoid being asked questions she shouldn't.

The staircase is spiral, with each step made of white marble and covered with a dark gray carpet.

She was running so fast that her foot slipped at the corner and she almost fell. She hurriedly grabbed the railing to steady herself.

After turning the last corner, she finally saw the gate.

Of course, Rong She was also seen.

He walked in just then, holding a phone in his hand. His black sports jacket was zipped up all the way, with the collar turned up, highlighting his sharp jawline.

Outside the porch behind me, the morning light illuminated the entire sea of ​​roses, and a breeze blew in, carrying a refreshing floral fragrance.

Ke Miantang stood frozen at the corner of the stairs, her eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

Rong She looked up at her, his lips flat: "Awake?"

She gripped the stair railing tightly, her fingertips cold. "Yes, I'm awake. I... I'll go back now. I have class tomorrow."

As she spoke, she turned to the side, intending to slide down the other side of the stair railing, and her foot had already stepped out.

"Ke Miantang." A nonchalant voice came from behind.

Ke Miantang was forced to stop, as if she were being pulled back by an invisible rope.

She froze on the spot, then turned around with a docile, fake smile on her face.

It's over.

The living room is large and quiet.

Ke Miantang sat at the far end of the sofa, her body hunched over, her fingers fidgeting, not daring to look up at the man opposite her, like a wronged little wife.

Rong She sat on the single sofa opposite, leaning back with one hand on the armrest and the other on his thigh, his posture lazy and casual.

"How much do you remember about last night?" he asked casually.

Ke Miantang blinked, her eyelashes fluttering a few times.

What did you say?

Saying nothing?

Do you remember? Or do you not remember?

If you say you remember, he asks what you remembered and what to do.

If she says she doesn't remember, he asks her what she said and what to do.

"I don't remember," she said softly, her eyes fixed on her knees.

Rong She didn't beat around the bush: "What will happen in six months?"

Her heart was pounding, and her palms were slightly sweaty.

"You said you wouldn't care what I do after six months," he continued, emphasizing each word.

Ke Miantang secretly glanced at him. He was leaning against the back of the sofa, his eyes slightly lowered, his expression as indifferent as a stagnant pool.

The calmer she was, the more vulnerable she felt.

Ke Miantang's lips opened and closed twice, her mind going completely blank.

"System urgent notification: Please respond immediately to avoid prolonged silence which could escalate the male protagonist's emotional fluctuations."

What should be the response?

She can't even make something up now!

"System, quickly give me a reason."

They tried to place their hopes on this incompetent system.

"This system is not made up."

"Aren't you an AI?!"

"AI also has professional ethics."

Ke Miantang cursed it in her heart, but forced a weak smile on her face. She raised her hand to press her temples, rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, and pretended to be tired from a hangover.

"I really don't remember." Her voice softened. "My head hurts so much. I drank too much last night, and I can't remember anything."

She looked up at him, her watery eyes blinking as she gazed at him, her lips unconsciously biting down, looking utterly pitiful.

Anyone who sees her like this would feel a little soft-hearted.

"Rongshe, could you give me a massage? Otherwise, I've felt uncomfortable all day." She leaned back, her voice rising softly at the end.

Rong She got up and sat down next to her, the sofa cushion sinking slightly.

Ke Miantang felt the oppressive aura approaching, her heart pounding so hard it hurt, but the act had already gone this far, so she could only grit her teeth and continue pretending.

"Headache?" he asked in a low voice.

She nodded vigorously with a sincere expression.

Rong She looked down at her.

She curled up on the sofa, and her skirt rode up a bit with her movements, revealing her fair, fleshy legs above her knees.

He stared at the severed leg for a few seconds with a half-smile.

Ke Mian Tang felt incredibly guilty, but dared not pull her leg back. She could only furrow her brows even more and whine pitifully, "Could you massage it for me?"

He reached out his hand as soon as he finished speaking.

He placed his palm on the top of her head and massaged it slowly and gently.

Her head was so small that when he held it in his two hands, it felt like he was holding a plump, juicy peach.

Rong She's thumb moved slowly along her brow bone, the movement even considered gentle, the rhythm slow and deliberate.

Ke Miantang's tense body gradually softened.

It was really comfortable, and his technique was quite professional.

She let out an uncontrollable hum, the sound escaping from her nose.

The body is more honest than the mind. Following the comfortable feeling, Ke Miantang snuggled against Rong She, her shoulder pressing against his arm.

Rong She paused for a moment, then continued massaging: "Does it feel good?"

"Hmm." Ke Miantang responded lazily with her eyes closed.

Rong She looked down at her, the curve of his lips almost invisible.

His fingers slowly moved backward from her forehead, his fingertips gliding past her ear, down her jawline, and then landing on the side of her neck.

Ke Miantang's neck was slender and thin. Rong She's palm could easily hold her entire throat in his hand without him having to exert any force.

His knuckles were slightly clenched, and all the signs of her fragile life were visible beneath the lines of his palm, throbbing gently, with blood flowing beneath her thin skin.

Rong She's thumb rubbed against her neck twice, feeling warm and smooth to the touch.

Ke Miantang's breathing suddenly slowed down.

She opened her eyes and happened to meet Rong She's downcast gaze.

Those peach blossom eyes were always indifferent, but there was something deep and dark in their depths, like a fire suppressed in deep water.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The next second, Rong She withdrew his hand.

"You really don't remember?" He leaned back on the sofa and turned to look at her.