Mi Nuo was widely acknowledged in the entertainment industry as the ultimate “scheming woman” archetype—sweet on the surface, calculating underneath. She lied as easily as breathing, had notoriously poor public favor, and was the kind of celebrity passersby loved to dislike. Then one day, a freak bolt of lightning struck her squarely on the head, and overnight, her entire way of playing the game changed. On a dating reality show, a male celebrity leaned in with a practiced smile. “Mi Nuo, you’re very beautiful. You’re exactly my type. If only you were a bit more domestic and gentle.” Mi Nuo replied calmly, “This is a dating show, not a family reunion. If you’re that desperate for affection, I suggest you try the program next door—*Where’s My Mom?*” Half a month later, the same male star was exposed as a full-blown mama’s boy. Divorced, yet marketing himself as a pure and devoted romantic, his carefully crafted image collapsed beyond repair. At an audition, a director with wandering eyes made a thinly veiled proposition. “About this role,” he said with a smirk, “perhaps we could discuss it more… thoroughly tonight.” Mi Nuo nodded. “Of course. I’ll add your wife to the group chat right now, and we can all discuss it together.” The next day, the director’s past misconduct was dug up in full. An official notice followed. He quietly exited the industry. From that moment on, everyone realized something was very wrong—and very different—about Mi Nuo. The woman once famous for manipulation had become someone who spoke with disarming bluntness, and every truth she told landed like a perfectly timed strike.

She clearly remembered filling out the application for No.1 Municipal High School, so why did the admission letter clutched in her hand bear the gilded crest of Dire Academy – the most elite, most expensive, and most infamous aristocratic private high school in the city? Fine. Aristocratic high school it is. At least Dire Academy was drowning in luxury: marble corridors, Olympic-sized pools, private study suites, and a library that looked like it had been stolen from a European palace. With resources like these, she could lock herself in and study like never before. Perfect plan. Or so she thought. On her very first day, she found a quiet corner of the blooming rose garden to memorize English vocabulary. The afternoon sun was gentle, the breeze carried the scent of flowers, and for once everything felt peaceful. Then a shadow fell over her page. A boy stood there—tall, black-uniformed, breathtakingly beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful right before it kisses your throat. His features were sharp enough to cut glass, his pitch-black hair falling carelessly over eyes the color of a winter sea. Even the air around him seemed three degrees colder. “You’re loud,” he said, voice low and dangerously soft. “You’re disturbing my sleep.” She blinked. She hadn’t made a sound. From that moment on, trouble didn’t just follow her—it hunted her. Every corridor she turned down, every classroom she entered, every breath she took on campus seemed to carry the faint, freezing scent of him. And the scariest part? She wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop.