Fell in Love with the Crazy Young Lady - Chapter 18

So adorable that she couldn’t wait any longer, eagerly wanting to possess the other.

 

 

“I just came out for some water,” she spoke first, sticking to her usual style of shifting blame, “Why are you making such a fuss?”

 

 

Hua Man instinctively pursed her lips but quickly froze. She remembered the hazy sensation of lips pressing against hers.

 

 

She wasn’t truly oblivious—she could naturally sense the difference in how the young mistress treated her.

 

 

But the other only teased ambiguously. If she took the initiative to address it, it might come across as presumptuous.

 

 

She felt like a fish placed on a chopping board, the knife held in Yang Zhao’s hands. She had no idea when the blade would fall, nor whether she’d end up steamed or braised.

 

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

 

Yang Zhao set down her glass.

 

 

Hua Man watched her return to her room and finally relaxed when she saw her lie down.

 

 

After hesitating for a moment, Hua Man lay back down as well. But this time, sleep eluded her completely. Her lips tingled faintly, as if still lingering with the strange sensation of being pressed by fingertips earlier.

 

 

Hua Man took a deep breath, grabbed a pillow, and covered her face, forcing herself not to dwell on it.

 

 

Yet her nose was filled with Yang Zhao’s scent, entwined around her heart, impossible to dispel.

 

 

An illusion?

 

 

Hua Man frowned.

 

 

Then it suddenly struck her—Yang Zhao often hugged this pillow. Hua Man’s ears instantly burned, and she immediately tossed the pillow away from her face.

 

 

The pillow was gone, but the scent unique to Yang Zhao still lingered. Hua Man covered her face with her hands in frustration.

 

 

–

 

At five o’clock, Hua Man went to wake Yang Zhao on time.

 

 

But this young mistress had a terrible temper when woken. Hua Man called twice but failed to rouse her.

 

 

Bracing herself, Hua Man gripped her shoulders, shaking her while calling, “Time to get up.”

 

 

“Go away.”

 

 

Yang Zhao clung to the blanket with one hand and impatiently swatted her away with the other.

 

 

Hua Man: “…”

 

 

Remembering the “strict orders” given to her, Hua Man took a deep breath, gripped her shoulders again, and shook her harder. “Get up.”

 

 

Yang Zhao finally opened her eyes.

 

 

Seeing her usually large eyes narrowed into slits, drowsy and annoyed as she glared, Hua Man swallowed and repeated, “You need to get up.”

 

 

“No.” Yang Zhao closed her eyes again.

 

 

Hua Man was instantly exasperated—this was the first time she’d encountered such a situation.

 

 

To avoid another salary deduction, Hua Man steeled herself and was about to grab her shoulders when she suddenly felt a tightness around her waist.

 

 

Hua Man froze. The next second, the world spun—she was flipped onto the bed by the legs wrapped around her waist.

 

 

No, not just onto the bed.

 

 

Most of her body ended up pressed over Yang Zhao. If she hadn’t reacted quickly, bracing herself with her arms, she might have crushed the young mistress.

 

 

Just as she sighed in relief, her waist tightened again.

 

 

Yang Zhao wrapped both arms around her, and even her legs tangled around Hua Man’s. Before Hua Man could react, she was tightly embraced like a bear hug.

 

 

She could feel Yang Zhao’s warm breath against her neck, and even more, the soft, damp sensation that brushed against her collarbone.

 

 

“Let go!”

 

 

Flustered, she tried to pry the other off.

 

 

It was easier than expected—Yang Zhao loosened with a single tug, limp and defenseless, breathing steadily, clearly fast asleep.

 

 

Hua Man: “…”

 

 

She felt a stifling sense of injustice—like she’d been taken advantage of with no way to seek justice.

 

 

 

Getting out of bed, she took a deep breath, first straightened her appearance, then bent down and unceremoniously grabbed Yang Zhao’s arm, yanking it backward.

 

 

Yang Zhao was pulled into a sitting position, but she was about to slump back down again. Hua Man took a deep breath, stepped forward to support her shoulder, then shook her forcefully, her voice stern: “Wake up!”

 

 

Startled, Yang Zhao was jolted awake, all drowsiness gone.

 

 

After a few seconds, her expression darkened. “Are you insane?”

 

 

She had been frightened badly, her heart pounding as if it might leap out of her chest.

 

 

“You asked me to wake you up at five.”

 

 

Hua Man took a few steps back, putting distance between them to avoid bearing the brunt of her anger.

 

 

Yang Zhao let out an exasperated laugh. “Is this how you wake someone up?”

 

 

There were so many ways to wake someone, yet Hua Man had chosen this harsh and rough method. Yang Zhao couldn’t help but wonder if Hua Man was taking out some personal grudge on her.

 

 

“Sorry,” Hua Man lowered her head, offering no further explanation. “This is the only way I know how to wake someone.”

 

 

Yang Zhao: “…”

 

 

Hua Man was getting bolder by the day.

 

 

But as she replayed Hua Man’s stern voice in her mind, Yang Zhao’s eyes flickered.

 

 

So fierce, so commanding.

 

 

What to do? She kind of liked it.

 

 

“After some thought, I’ve decided your wake-up method isn’t bad. It’s quite interesting.” She curved her eyes into a smile. “Since you’re so good at it, you’ll be the one to wake me up from now on.”

 

 

“What?” Hua Man froze.

 

 

“I said,” Yang Zhao stepped off the bed and slowly approached Hua Man. She lifted a finger and lightly pressed it against Hua Man’s shoulder, giving it a poke. “You, from now on, will wake me up every day.”

 

 

Before Hua Man could refuse, she added, “Of course, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

 

 

Hua Man frowned. “Do you think money can solve everything?”

 

 

“Can’t it?” Yang Zhao rested her chin on her hand. “If it can’t, then the amount just isn’t enough.”

 

 

She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the pay satisfies you.”

 

 

Seeing her determined expression, Hua Man took a deep breath and finally didn’t refuse. “Fine.”

 

 

It was just waking up a little earlier than usual, after all.

 

 

No need to anger Yang Zhao over this. She wouldn’t be working here long anyway—might as well earn what she could.

 

 

“Good girl.”

 

 

Yang Zhao reached out again, but Hua Man immediately stepped back, evading her.

 

 

At this, Yang Zhao narrowed her eyes.

 

 

The atmosphere grew tense.

 

 

Hua Man frowned. What if Yang Zhao demanded she pinch her cheeks every day in exchange for extra pay?

 

 

Should she agree or not?

 

 

Fortunately, Yang Zhao didn’t pose such a dilemma. She just gave Hua Man a long, deep look before casually withdrawing her hand.

 

 

Yang Zhao said nothing more, but Hua Man felt even more uneasy. That look had been strange, unsettling her.

 

 

But the young mistress seemed to have already forgotten the little incident, quickly arranging for someone to deliver clothes.

 

 

Yang Zhao hadn’t brought any spare clothes when she left home. Hua Man had initially found it odd, but after staying here for a few days, she understood why.

 

 

Wherever Yang Zhao went, choosing clothes was like selecting concubines—stores would personally deliver outfits for her to pick from.

 

 

As an array of garments was presented, Hua Man was dazzled by the variety, while Yang Zhao lounged on the sofa with an air of boredom. Her gaze swept over them, but after just one glance, she waved her hand impatiently.

 

 

Clearly, none of the clothes delivered this time met her standards.

 

 

 

Another row of clothes was brought in.

 

 

“You dare send this trash to fool me?!”

 

 

With a loud crash, Miss Yang flew into a rage and hurled the cup in her hand.

 

 

Hua Man’s eyelid twitched violently.

 

 

The cup shattered at the feet of the group, fortunately not hitting anyone.

 

 

“My apologies, Miss Yang.” The manager broke out in cold sweat, trembling as she explained, “We would never dream of fooling you.”

 

 

“Not fooling me?”

 

 

Yang Zhao stood up and approached them. Under their fearful gazes, she pulled out a garment: “This is last year’s design. You dare deliver this to me and claim it’s not a trick?”

 

 

She threw the clothes to the ground, stepping on them lightly before lifting her eyes: “Explain.”

 

 

A single glance from her made the manager feel suffocated.

 

 

Her face turned deathly pale: “The staff must have grabbed the wrong items…”

 

 

“Wrong items?” Yang Zhao scoffed.

 

 

Even she found such excuses pathetic.

 

 

“I think this outfit suits you.”

 

 

Hua Man’s voice suddenly sounded by her ear, abruptly freezing Yang Zhao’s boiling anger.

 

 

She turned.

 

 

Hua Man was holding a set of clothes, her expression neutral, yet somehow giving off the refreshing calm of a clear spring.

 

 

All of Yang Zhao’s agitation vanished in that instant. She pursed her lips, casting a disdainful look at the clothes: “So ugly.”

 

 

Sensing Yang Zhao’s hidden approval beneath the disdain, Hua Man signaled the others to leave, racking her brains for another compliment: “Someone as beautiful as you could make anything look good.”

 

 

Yang Zhao glanced at the hesitant group and coldly snapped: “Still here?”

 

 

They scattered instantly.

 

 

As the suite quieted down, Yang Zhao examined the outfit Hua Man had picked, clicking her tongue again.

 

 

Clearly, she’d need to take Hua Man to more fashion shows—this taste was truly lacking.

 

 

Though she hadn’t expected this wooden block to blossom, actually producing sweet words for once.

 

 

The thought made Yang Zhao suppress a smile.

 

 

–

 

After much fuss, the young mistress finally left.

 

 

By now it was late, nearing dinner time. Hua Man had assumed Yang Zhao would head to a restaurant, never imagining their destination would be a bar.

 

 

And not exactly the respectable kind.

 

 

In the packed dance floor, Hua Man’s career as a bodyguard faced its greatest challenge.

 

 

Deafening music, writhing bodies—it all gave Hua Man a headache.

 

 

As a bodyguard, she had to stick close to Yang Zhao, protecting her from wandering hands.

 

 

Staying near meant constant collisions in the crowded space, several times pressing them flush against each other.

 

 

Completely, undeniably flush.

 

 

Miss Yang was clearly no stranger to such bars, raising her arms expertly, bouncing to the beat with abandon—a far cry from her usual aristocratic poise, transformed into a wild little madwoman.

 

 

But what truly tested Hua Man was their similar height. Every movement brought soft curves brushing against soft curves, the friction sending her mind reeling.

 

 

 

The softness pressed against both of them carried considerable weight, especially since Yang Zhao was wearing form-fitting clothes today.

 

 

Hua Man suddenly regretted her decision—she shouldn’t have given Yang Zhao this outfit to wear.

 

 

Again and again, the impact sent Hua Man’s breathing into disarray. She tried desperately to ignore it, but her attention kept being drawn back—first to her own chest, then… to Yang Zhao’s.

 

 

Yang Zhao bounced with enthusiasm, her movements making the two little bunnies jiggle along with her.

 

 

Just as she was about to turn toward the others, Hua Man quickly pulled her back.