Chapter Nine: The Power of Love

His gaze was like a hook, fixed intently on Su Wan, full of focus and a peculiar tenderness.

Su Wan: “……” Absolutely disgusting. This felt worse than swallowing mud, or worse—dog droppings. Did he really think this made him attractive?

Wang Luo puckered his lips slightly and slowly leaned toward Su Wan.

Su Wan’s eyes widened in terror, inwardly screaming: “Help! I only wasted a bit of money, but surely my punishment shouldn’t be this severe!”

At that moment, Su Wan even considered giving up her chance to change fate.

She was just about to slap Wang Luo when he suddenly let out a cold laugh. He looked at her with mocking amusement and said with open malice, “Did you think I was going to kiss you?”

“Keep dreaming, Su Wan.”

“Everything I have belongs to Wan Jun. You’re not worthy!”

Su Wan let out a huge sigh of relief.

Thank goodness.

She quickly gathered herself, putting on a wounded expression. “But I love you too.”

Wang Luo took a step back, raising his chin with the arrogance of a king. “You’re not worthy.”

Su Wan: “……” System, can I punch him?

The system’s icy, mechanical voice replied: [You can, unless you’d like to become an idiot right now.]

Su Wan was instantly grief-stricken. “Then what am I allowed to do?”

[Whatever you like, as long as it fits your persona as a devoted admirer.]

Looking at Wang Luo’s lofty posture, Su Wan could barely restrain her urge to start a fight.

She glanced at the money scattered on the ground and feigned rage and humiliation. “Wang Luo, you’re something else! If you have the guts, pay back all you owe me, or I’ll never agree to break off the engagement!”

“As long as I hold onto the status of fiancée, your Chen Wan Jun is nothing but a homewrecker—a mistress who ruins marriages!”

With that, Su Wan crouched down to quickly gather the money. Damn it, one of the bills seemed to have blown away in the wind.

It was the first time Wang Luo had seen Su Wan angry, and he was rather surprised. The power of love was truly remarkable; even someone as timid as Su Wan could be driven to hate by love.

But how dare she call Wan Jun a mistress? Where did she get the nerve?

Didn’t she know, in matters of love, the unloved one is always the third wheel?

Wang Luo thought this over, glancing at Su Wan as she gathered money, his contempt deepening.

Wan Jun was the finest girl in the world—she would never bend for a bit of money.

But Su Wan’s eyes lit up at the sight of cash, greedy and calculating, utterly undeserving of his affection.

For some reason, watching Su Wan’s greedy figure as she scooped up the money made Wang Luo oddly uncomfortable.

---

He walked over and stepped on the bill Su Wan reached for.

Her movements froze. She looked up at him.

That look was cold and distant, laced with unmistakable loathing.

Wang Luo was stunned. How could Su Wan look at him like that?

Was he really being too harsh?

He had just considered removing his foot, when suddenly a large hand landed on his shoulder.

Turning around, Wang Luo saw a man taller than himself standing behind him—it was Jiang Mochen.

“Move your foot,” Jiang Mochen said bluntly.

Wang Luo had intended to step back, but faced with Jiang Mochen’s intimidating presence, he grew defiant. He pressed down harder on the money, taunting, “I won’t.”

Jiang Mochen said nothing. The hand on Wang Luo’s shoulder suddenly clenched and, with a swift pull, he toppled Wang Luo to the ground.

Wang Luo was yanked backward and hit the ground hard, his face reddening with pain, left speechless for a moment.

Su Wan managed to retrieve the bill and stood behind Jiang Mochen.

She said nothing, but her face could not hide her gloating.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. The so-called male lead—turns out he’s just a weakling.

Wang Luo hadn’t expected Jiang Mochen’s strength. His tailbone throbbed painfully, making it impossible to stand.

Furious, he shouted, “I’d advise you not to meddle!”

Jiang Mochen didn’t reply, but bent down to pick up the money at his feet, handing it to Su Wan.

Su Wan kept up her sad act, timidly accepting it. “Thank you.”

Inside, she was screaming. Wow! He’s so handsome! Even bowing his head, he looks amazing!

“I’ll walk you home,” Jiang Mochen said coolly, positioning himself between the two. Su Wan was only too happy to leave.

Just as they were about to depart, Wang Luo suddenly sprang up, snatched an empty wine bottle from the back of his bicycle, and smashed it against Jiang Mochen’s head.

Su Wan heard a loud crash and turned to see glass splinters scattering from the back of Jiang Mochen’s head.

A flicker of surprise crossed Wang Luo’s face, but he quickly regained composure.

Clearly, Jiang Mochen was badly injured.

Su Wan hurried forward to support him, glancing at the wound.

Blood streamed down Jiang Mochen’s neck, several sharp shards embedded deep in his flesh.

“What are you doing?!” Su Wan screamed at Wang Luo, her voice shrill with fury.

---

Jiang Mochen turned, his gaze chilling as he looked at Wang Luo.

Wang Luo’s back went cold, his words faltering. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for your medical bills.”

Jiang Mochen seemed dizzy, his body suddenly leaning toward Su Wan. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist.

She had no time to argue with Wang Luo, instead guiding Jiang Mochen urgently toward the village clinic.

“How are you feeling? Please hold on—don’t faint!” Su Wan muttered, looking up at him.

Jiang Mochen’s head was bowed, his long lashes casting shadows. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed.

Su Wan grew anxious. “Wake up! I may look plump, but I don’t have much strength.”

“I’m not fainting. Just feeling weak,” Jiang Mochen said softly.

Su Wan breathed out in relief. “Don’t worry, I’ve got money now. If anything happens, I can take you to the big hospital.”

Jiang Mochen said nothing more.

Su Wan fretted, “You’re not asleep, right?”

“Asleep? I’m walking with you, aren’t I?”

Only then did Su Wan realize. “True. Hang in there, we’re almost there.”

The clinic was nearby; they arrived quickly.

The doctor was an elderly man with white hair, a traditional healer. He glanced at Jiang Mochen’s wound and silently helped him sit down.

Su Wan, out of breath, called, “Doctor, please check him quickly!”

The old doctor ignored Su Wan, his face stern. He poured strong liquor over Jiang Mochen’s wound.

When the blood was washed away, Su Wan saw the muscles in his back twitch.

She shrank back, grimacing. “Ugh—Doctor, don’t you have a gentler method? That must hurt!”

The old doctor snorted, “Pain makes you remember.”

Su Wan protested, “How could you say that? He didn’t get hurt on purpose.”

At her words, the old doctor glanced up at Su Wan, then down at Jiang Mochen, and said with meaning, “You can never be sure.”

Su Wan thought the old man was a bit eccentric and said nothing more.

The doctor used tweezers to remove the glass shards embedded in Jiang Mochen’s flesh, his movements deft, rivaling surgeons decades later.

Su Wan was amazed. Was the skill level of barefoot doctors in the eighties really this high?