Chapter 13: The Switched Personality

Tang Yan blinked, confused. "So you mean I shouldn’t misunderstand, right?"

Zhuang Qin chuckled softly. "I just don’t want people to think I’m that low-down. I *do* like Li Chuzhe. But honestly? He doesn’t feel the same way. To him, I’m just his savior—and a good buddy. That’s it."

"Is that so? Frankly, I couldn’t care less about your drama. Do whatever you want—just leave me out of it. I’ll take him home now. Excuse me." Tang Yan stood first, shouldered Li Chuzhe with effort, and staggered toward the door of the private room.

Zhuang Qin remained seated, her eyes dark as she watched their retreating figures. Why did Tang Yan’s silhouette… feel different?

“Ugh, next time you get drunk, I’m not saving you again.” Tang Yan tossed Li Chuzhe onto the bed and turned to leave.

Li Chuzhe rolled over—then fell straight off the edge, face-first into the floor.

The sound snapped Tang Yan back. Without hesitation, she slipped on her headphones and cranked up the volume. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, relaying real-time intel to her network.

【I think the Song family still has secrets. Haven’t you found anything else?】 (Yangchao)

【What we’ve given you is all there is. Anything beyond this mission is irrelevant—and you don’t need to know.】 (Organization)

After a long exchange, Tang Yan finally settled on a solid plan. She flopped back onto the bed, re-entering the hacker net. A new message popped up in the chat window—sent by Nightshade.

The timestamp matched the exact moment of their first conversation.
**“Yangchao, meet me at 11 p.m. on the 15th. The truth will be revealed.”**

Tang Yan glanced at the calendar. Today was July 31st—right at the end of the month. “Gotta finish the Song job before the 15th.”

She carried two phones—one for daily life, the other for her covert ops. Early that morning, the second one started vibrating violently. “Hello?”

“Yangchao, something happened at the Song house this morning. We need to regroup.”

“Let me check first.” She hung up and immediately pulled up her second phone. Headlines flooded every major news app:

**(Last night at 9 PM, Song Xie Ling, the family’s only heir, crashed his car while drunk. Currently unconscious in hospital.)**

Tang Yan stared at the screen, head throbbing. After spending time with Song Xie Ling, she genuinely believed he had nothing to do with the family’s shady past. Pure. Honest. Too good to be true.

She changed clothes in a flash and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Li Chuzhe emerged from the bedroom, adjusting his tie.

“I’ve got something to do. You’re heading to work, right?”

“Yeah… Tang Yan, you’ve been busy lately.” Li Chuzhe fiddled with his tie, then stepped closer, his voice dropping low.

For some reason, Tang Yan felt a shift in him—something off. Her body instinctively recoiled. “Fix my tie,” she said, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Li Chuzhe reached out, grabbed her waist, pulled her close, and tilted his head. His almond-shaped eyes—sharp, sultry—locked onto hers.

Tang Yan wanted out. “Done. Now let go—I’ve got an emergency.”

“Kiss me.” He leaned in, pressing his cheek against her lips.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Did you hit your head when you fell?” Tang Yan snapped.

“Let go, and you promise to come back early tonight.”

“Why should I listen to you? We’re not even—” Before she could finish, Li Chuzhe lunged forward and kissed her hard.

Fury surged through Tang Yan. She kicked him square in the gut. His brows knitted instantly, and he released her, eyes flashing with hurt and disbelief.

“Tang Yan…”

“Ha. You asked for it. Enjoy your recovery, *Master*.” She emphasized the title with a smirk, then strutted out the door without looking back.

Left alone, Li Chuzhe groaned, clutching his side. “When did you become so… fiery?”

Later, Su Xiao arrived at the hospital. With the Song family’s permission, she entered the ward. There, lying motionless on the bed, was Song Xie Ling—exactly as the media reported.

“Uncle, Auntie… when will he wake up?” she asked.

The couple shook their heads, tears welling in their eyes.

Tang Yan turned toward the bed. Something didn’t add up.

Then she spoke. “You two should rest. I’ll stay here and watch over Song Xie Ling.”

They hesitated—clearly distrustful. But Tang Yan’s smooth words eventually convinced them to leave.

She sat beside the bed, leaned in close to Song Xie Ling’s ear, and whispered, “Song Xie Ling… why won’t you wake up?”

Her words triggered a tiny twitch in his hand.

Tang Yan caught it instantly.

“You’re not seriously hurt. And they’re not here. So what are you hiding?” she murmured.

Instantly, Song Xie Ling’s eyes snapped open.

He stared at her, stunned. “How… how did you know?”

“Guesswork,” she smiled, showing her white teeth.

“Liar,” he muttered weakly, turning his head toward the window, mood sinking.

Tang Yan sighed. “Look, yesterday you seemed perfectly fine. A car crash? Unlikely. And when you showed me around your house… the atmosphere—it wasn’t normal.”

“Normal? How?”

She tilted her head. “Your parents—they gave me this… weight. Like they’d lost a son. Grief carved into their faces.”

That morning, she’d received a cryptic text from an unknown number. Short. Vague. Low credibility. But this situation? Worth testing.

And sure enough—Song Xie Ling’s eyes widened, bloodshot, staring at her like she was a ghost. “Who the hell are you?”

Tang Yan laughed lightly, palms up, shrugging. “You already sent someone to dig into me, didn’t you? If they couldn’t find anything… that means I *don’t* want you to know. But I’m curious—why pretend to accept me? Why bring me home for dinner?”

Song Xie Ling exhaled slowly. “Even if I hadn’t invited you, you’d have sneaked in anyway. So better to keep you under my eye. Safer that way.”

He was sharp—far too sharp for his age.