Manipulative Harem God

Lin Mansion, North District, Qingyun City!

Upon reaching the Lin Mansion on foot, Zhang Wei let out a deep sigh of relief, his breath misting in the cool air.

“Bastards, I’ll erase their entire monastery in the future!” A surge of intense frustration and embarrassment coursed through him, fueled by the humiliation of being forced to flee because of Guardian Deng’s presence.

‘Jinxi physique is what they should be after…’ A cunning expression flickered across his face as he pieced together the puzzle.

From the very beginning, he suspected that the monks’ unusually kind treatment of Jinxiang was due to her unique physical constitution.

[Host, the Lotus Yin physique can aid in divination] the system added in, pulling Zhang Wei from his thoughts and causing his brow to furrow.

“Divination?” He muttered to himself, skepticism lacing his tone.

The idea of predicting the future seemed far-fetched.

Could they really foresee his fate?

He didn’t know about his own future, but he was certain the monastery’s future was shrouded in darkness.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, Zhang Wei transformed into a wisp of shadow and stealthily slipped through the window, making his way directly into Chen Yulan’s room.

_____

As Zhang Wei materialized from the shadows inside Chen Yulan’s room, the soft moonlight filtering through the delicate curtains cast a gentle glow over the serene space.

He paused, taking a moment to ensure he hadn’t been detected.

The room was silent, the only sound the quiet, rhythmic breathing of Chen Yulan asleep in her bed.

He moved quietly, his steps soundless on the plush carpet as he approached her bedside.

Zhang Wei’s eyes softened as he observed her peaceful expression, a clear difference to his usual expression.

[Host, you clearly have a soft spot for her, even if it’s subtle. So why do you keep putting her through this torture?]

The system’s tone carried a hint of playfulness as it lightly teased Zhang Wei with the word ‘torture.’

Zhang Wei remained silent; his personal affairs were just that—personal—and he paid little heed to the system’s advice.

The system could never fully grasp the complexities of the life he had endured.

The more generously you treat people, the more liberty they seem to take.

They assume your kindness as an invitation to take advantage, perhaps not out of malice but from a misplaced sense of entitlement.

If he begins with a stance of sternness, even the smallest acts of kindness are perceived as grand gestures, shifting their perspectives dramatically.

A simple act of kindness then becomes a cherished memory, something they hold onto for a lifetime.

This is why men treasure even a single compliment; they are rarities in their usual interactions.

Zhang Wei had strategically calculated every move to ensure control and influence.

This is why he seldom offered gifts to Yu Lei.

He orchestrates his actions meticulously to ensure that those around him remain closely tied to him.

He portrays himself as somewhat of a villain intentionally, so that any small redemption on his part seems magnified, leading others to think, ‘He’s not that bad, perhaps there’s a human side to him after all…’

They then strive to draw out this ‘human side,’ and he allows it, only to retract into his shell once again, perpetuating a cycle.

Some might call it manipulation, but for Zhang Wei, if he desires something, he will resort to any means necessary to obtain it, and even more to maintain it.

Concealing his care requires far more effort than showing it, especially when he knows that any slip-up in his actions or any leniency in his behavior could potentially unravel everything in the future.

“My little concubine… Huh…” Zhang Wei murmured with a small smile, stretching his hand to gently grasp a handful of her cheeks, which were as soft as dough, squeezing them lightly.

Her sleeping face resembled a serene fairy, her skin whiter than snow. ‘Does she never go out in the sun?’ he wondered briefly before shaking his head lightly, as if dismissing his own thoughts.

He was genuinely amused by the nickname he had whimsically bestowed upon her.

“…mm….”

Chen Yulan stirred slightly, her hands unconsciously reaching to grasp his palm, causing Zhang Wei to raise an eyebrow in helpless amusement.

Then she brought his hand close to her face and inhaled deeply, eliciting a wry smile from Zhang Wei.

Her eyelids fluttered open suddenly, as if jolted from a light sleep by the familiar touch.

“!”

In the dim light, her gaze met his, clouded with confusion and lingering drowsiness.

“Wei?… Is that you? What time is it?” Her voice was thick with sleep, groggy and disoriented.

“5 am,” Zhang Wei answered, his hand moving to brush away the strands of silky hair from her forehead, caressing it gently.

“!!”

“Oh…” Though surprised, Chen Yulan nodded, making an effort to sit up straight. Zhang Wei gently pushed her back down, “No need to wake up.”

“??”

Chen Yulan lay down again, her expression still one of confusion. Zhang Wei sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at her face as he continued to touch the silky strands of her hair, lost in thought.

“I heard from Meirong that you were unwell?” His memory sparked, recalling the actual motive for his visit, and he inquired with a note of concern.

“Sick?” Chen Yulan echoed, pausing briefly before dismissing the concern with a gentle shake of her head. “It was only a headache. I asked Aunt to fetch me some vitamin supplements, and now I’m fine,” she explained with a soft smile, brushing off the ailment as trivial.

“Aunt?” Zhang Wei’s eyebrows arched in surprise before the realization dawned upon him—it was the maid, Gao Xiaomi, whose presence was marked by her mysteriously sealed cultivation.

Despite the curiosity, Zhang Wei had never delved into her past.

Noticing Chen Yulan’s attempt to minimize her condition, Zhang Wei subtly infused a stream of qi into her meridians to assess her health more closely.

As he did so, Chen Yulan interpreted his actions as tender care and clasped his palm, her grip tender yet firm.

Her cheeks tinged with a flush of redness, she whispered, “Wei… It’s merely the pregnancy, nothing to worry about.”

She was still adapting to the idea of carrying his child and endeavored to maintain a facade of normalcy, concealing any flicker of uncertainty.

Events had happened, sealing their fates together, and now, even if he were to question it, she might not to end the pregnancy.