Ah! The Villains I Forced to Turn Evil Can Read My Mind

Qiao Chuchu drew the curtains shut and walked to Pei Buxian's bedside.

Pei Buxian was curled into a ball, clutching a West Highland Terrier in one arm, fast asleep.

The position made it difficult to place a thermometer, so she simply picked up a digital one and scanned his forehead.

38.7°C.

She sighed and pressed a cooling patch onto his forehead.

But Pei Buxian suddenly caught the hem of her clothes, murmuring deliriously, "Chuchu, don't go..."

Qiao Chuchu chuckled softly, gently placing his hand back down.

Pei Buxian was always like this when he had a fever—talking nonsense.

But he was also the most well-behaved when sick, doing nothing but sleeping.

She closed the curtains and moved to Weisheng Wenzhan.

Weisheng Wenzhan's brows were tightly furrowed, his lips slightly parted as he panted in discomfort.

Something felt off. Worried about a possible lung infection, she lightly touched his forehead.

Wenzhan jolted awake. "Who's there?!"

"It's me," Qiao Chuchu reassured him. "Don't be afraid."

She couldn’t help but add in her mind: [This big son of mine is quite alert, huh?]

Weisheng Wenzhan’s mind was foggy, but the phrase "big son" struck him as oddly familiar.

Only one thought remained clear in his haze:

Not an enemy.

It’s Qiao Chuchu.

His eyes rolled back, and he was out again.

Qiao Chuchu stood there, hesitating. She couldn’t bring herself to place a thermometer under his arm.

Weisheng Wenzhan looked too much like the male lead from her comic.

Even the way he lay weak with fever was identical.

She just couldn’t get past it!

After a moment’s deliberation, she scanned his forehead with the digital thermometer.

38.8°C.

Her brows knitted as she pressed a cooling patch onto his forehead before moving to Weisheng Biehe.

Weisheng Biehe was parched. "So thirsty..."

She quickly grabbed the straw cup from the bedside table. "Here."

Biehe opened his phoenix-like eyes, the blurry figure before him gradually coming into focus.

Qiao Chuchu leaned down, her gaze full of concern.

Caught off guard, he stared at her in stunned silence as he drank.

Qiao Chuchu supported his head. "Had enough?"

He nodded dumbly.

She settled him back down, applied a cooling patch, and handed him a thermometer. "Hold this. I’ll check it later."

Biehe took it gratefully. "Thank you. You’ve worked hard."

Next, she approached Weisheng Lin.

Weisheng Lin lay with his eyes closed, though not deeply asleep.

His bones ached as if he’d been beaten.

Suddenly, something cool touched his forehead—a cooling patch.

Lin forced his eyes open to see Qiao Chuchu placing a thermometer beside him.

His face flushed red, his entire body stiffening like a wooden board as he watched her adjust his blanket.

Unaware he was awake, she naturally tucked him in, drew the curtains, and left.

Weisheng Lin: "..."

Dazed, he held the thermometer, touching the cooling patch on his face, savoring the moment in disbelief.

Qiao Chuchu then went to Huai Ling.

Huai Ling lay with his eyes shut, breathing shallowly.

The moment she approached, he suddenly lunged, pressing a dagger to her throat!

She startled. "Huai Ling?!"

Recognizing her, his guarded expression melted. The hand at her neck slid around to embrace her instead, nuzzling against her like a leopard turned kitten, purring contentedly.

Qiao Chuchu’s expression darkened as she shoved him back onto the bed. "Looking for trouble? What did I tell you last time?!"

Huai Ling pouted, shamelessly pleading. "Sis, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad!"

His face feigned fear, but his eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he’d gotten away with something sweet.

She thrust the thermometer at him. "Do it yourself!"

Huai Ling took it with exaggerated pitifulness, obediently tucking it under his arm while gazing up at her like a wounded puppy.

Qiao Chuchu slapped the cooling patch onto his forehead with a "Smack!"

His head jerked back, but his lips curled into a delighted grin. Kneeling on the bed, he signed: "Sis is rough with me, but she really cares."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop daydreaming. I’m just taking responsibility since I got you sick."

Huai Ling’s eyes lit up. "Then does Sis remember how you infected me?"

Qiao Chuchu: "..."

An unwanted memory resurfaced.

She pinched his cheek hard.

[This Weisheng Huai Ling just loves running his mouth, huh?! I was gonna let it slide since he’s sick!]

Hearing his name, Huai Ling only grew more excited, signing eagerly: "Sis, I’m sorry! I won’t bring it up again!~"

His eyes twinkled, unfazed by the pain, his apology anything but sincere.

He flopped back down, miming sleep. "I’ll sleep now!"

With exaggerated obedience: "I’ll be good!~"

Qiao Chuchu sighed, pulling the blanket over him before returning to the sofa across the room.

Half an hour later, Doctor Zhao returned with IV drips.

The treatment would take about two hours, so Yu Can didn’t linger, leaving only a cryptic smile behind.

Qiao Chuchu turned off the main lights, leaving only the soft glow of the desk lamp near the sofa as she kept watch.

Sometime later, they began to stir, faintly hearing the scratch of a pen on paper.

The suffocating heat in their bodies had eased, their headaches dulled.

The room was bathed in gentle lamplight.

Propping themselves up, they looked toward the source.

Under the warm, golden light, Qiao Chuchu curled on the sofa, her long hair cascading loosely as she sketched on her tablet with a stylus.

A soft pink cardigan draped over her slender frame, paired with comfortable beige wide-leg pants. The light caught her auburn curls, setting each strand aglow.

The quiet scratching was the sound of the stylus gliding over the tablet’s textured screen.

The scene was so serene, so separate from their world, it felt like a living painting.

She was breathtaking.

They stared, mesmerized.

Exhausted, Qiao Chuchu leaned her head against the sofa’s edge, tilting it back with a sigh.

The light haloed her face, wrapping her in a golden haze—ethereal and untouchable.

Inspiration eluded her. Her fingers absently twirled the slender stylus, flipping it in deft tricks.

Their eyes followed the pen, throats bobbing, breaths growing unsteady.

Someone ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‍let out an involuntary sound: "Mmm..."

Their faces paled. In unison, they flopped back onto their beds!

Qiao Chuchu glanced over.

In the light, she looked like a wary deer, ears pricked for the source. "Is someone awake?"

Silence.

From the darkness, they lay perfectly still, hearts hammering, gripping their blankets as if their lives depended on it.

She rose from the sofa, tiptoeing toward them.

Starting with Pei Yuan, she checked his forehead.

The fever had broken.

Pei Yuan gazed at her in pleasant surprise.

She moved to Pei Che next, pressing her palm to his brow.

Pei Che’s eyes darkened, drinking her in with hunger.

One by one, she checked them all.

The fevers were gone.

Relieved, she turned away.

They all stared at her eagerly.

Yet she didn’t spare them a glance.

Lou Tingsi gently knocked on the door and pushed it open. "Are you asleep, Qiao Chuchu?"

Qiao Chuchu quickly hushed him. "They’re all sleeping. What’s wrong?"

Lou Tingsi, taken aback by her gentleness, paused for a moment before his eyes softened with affection. "I brought you a gift. I wanted you to see it. Would you come to my room?"

The others: "?"

Qiao Chuchu brightened. "A gift?"

She skipped happily toward Lou Tingsi. "Okay, let’s go."

The others: "???"