Wake Up! The Tyrant Heir’s Evil Girlfriend Is Back from the Dead

“I just got back after working three part-time jobs. I’m really exhausted. Can we skip it today?” The man’s voice came from the darkness, carrying obvious fatigue and helplessness, as if he were trying to negotiate. The moment Rong Jiqiao opened her eyes, she was startled. She instinctively took a step back, her back hitting the wall as darkness swallowed her vision. Where am I? Wasn’t she already dead? Seeing that she didn’t respond, the man let out a quiet sigh. From the darkness came the faint sound of fabric rustling. He was taking his clothes off. Then he walked toward her. An unfamiliar scent drew closer—shower gel, cheap and ordinary, the kind you could buy at any convenience store. Rong Jiqiao’s mind hadn’t caught up yet, but her body moved first. Slap. The sharp sound echoed clearly in the cramped space. She had thought he was some kind of lecher. But the moment the slap landed, she realized something was wrong. A thin gap in the curtains let a strip of light fall across the man’s face. He paused, his tongue pressing lightly against the inside of his cheek where she had struck him. Rong Jiqiao’s eyes widened. The man’s features were deep and sharply defined. His straight nose bridged smoothly from the brow to the tip, forming a slightly sharp, almost aggressive line. His thin lips were pressed into a straight line. A buzzing sound went off in Rong Jiqiao’s mind. Duan… Duan Yan?! No… that’s not right… How could Duan Yan look this young? He didn’t have the aura of the heir to New York’s elite circles at all. Right now, his brows were drawn tight. Those dark eyes fixed on her, carrying suppressed anger. Yet even so, there was restraint in it. “Rong Jiqiao, what are you causing trouble for now?” Her mind went completely blank. The ceiling of the partitioned room was stained yellow. From the neighboring unit came the faint sound of a TV, along with rushing water through old pipes. Combined with the man’s overly youthful appearance… Rong Jiqiao finally realized it. She had been reborn. Back to the time before they broke up. Rong Jiqiao had graduated from a vocational nursing school and worked as a nurse in a small county hospital. Back then, Duan Yan was just a laborer on a construction site, moving bricks for a living. After an accident, he was sent to the hospital for treatment—right during her shift. She had noticed the back of the person who brought him in: well-dressed, clearly not ordinary. Assuming he was some rich second-generation heir, she carefully took care of Duan Yan while he was unconscious and even paid for his medical expenses out of pocket. Here is a natural, novel-style English translation continuing smoothly from your previous passage: When Duan Yan woke up, he told her bluntly: “I’m just a construction worker who moves bricks.” Rong Jiqiao had been completely stunned at the time. But the money had already been advanced—she had no choice but to make him pay it back. Duan Yan, however, was someone who knew gratitude. He worked at construction sites during the day and delivered food at night. Because of her offhand remark—“I spent all my savings on a stranger’s medical bills”—he was genuinely moved, and would still find time to run errands for her, picking her up and dropping her off from work whenever he could. Rong Jiqiao accepted all of it without the slightest guilt. She liked how his face made her look good in front of others, and she was satisfied with the way he worked himself to the bone for her like an ox. As time went on, they naturally got together. She quit her job and let him support her. Later, unwilling to be stuck in a small county, she insisted on going to the capital to make something of herself. Without a word of objection, he followed her. Rong Jiqiao thought highly of her looks and had an even higher opinion of herself. In her eyes, Duan Yan—just a poor laborer—was never good enough for her. When they first arrived in the capital, she refused to live in the dim, sunless tenement buildings of the urban villages, nor in the cramped and filthy alley courtyards. So Duan Yan gritted his teeth and rented this shared apartment for ten thousand yuan a month. Seven or eight people lived there together, rooms divided by thin plasterboard—so thin you could hear the neighbor sneeze. Just the rent alone was enough to crush Duan Yan, who had only just arrived in the capital. But Rong Jiqiao still wasn’t satisfied. Until one day—the truth finally came out. The person who had sent him to the hospital back then was never her. The medical bill she had supposedly paid wasn’t over one hundred thousand at all—it was only five thousand. The real savior was a kind-hearted wealthy young woman. Duan Yan’s identity was eventually exposed. He returned to the capital and reclaimed his place as the young heir of New York’s elite circles, and married the wealthy young woman. Rong Jiqiao was thrown back to her small hometown to fend for herself. But by then, she had already been ruined by him. She couldn’t work. She didn’t want to work. Her ambitions were sky-high, but her fate was as thin as paper. She kept stirring up trouble, running to New York to cling to Duan Yan. In the end, she was killed by one of the wealthy young woman’s loyal admirers—just as a declaration of devotion to her. All she could think was: she had just drowned in the previous moment, so how did she suddenly open her eyes again in this one? Startled, Rong Jiqiao’s legs gave way, and she dropped straight to her knees in front of Duan Yan. Duan Yan: “……” He had originally assumed she was about to start causing trouble again—but he froze. A flash of confusion crossed his eyes. “You…” He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Then he knelt down as well. As if he had suddenly realized something. “Can you… not go so extreme?” His voice was very low, carrying exhaustion, helplessness—and even a trace of pleading. “I really can’t take it. It’s too tiring.” Rong Jiqiao: “……” The two of them knelt facing each other, knees almost touching, less than half a meter apart. Rong Jiqiao was so embarrassed she wanted to dig a hole and disappear. Even the man in front of her had knelt down too. His cold, noble face was very close now; in the dim light, the fatigue on his features carried a faint, indescribable sense of weariness. The air seemed to have frozen into iron. Rong Jiqiao’s mind spun rapidly—her survival instinct instantly kicked into full gear. She scrambled to her feet. “What are you talking about? The room wasn’t even lit. I nearly got scared by you.” Duan Yan pushed himself up slowly, one hand still resting on his knee. His gaze fell on her, on those evasive eyelashes. Since when had she learned to consider his exhaustion? Rong Jiqiao felt his stare prick at her nerves. A vague sense of guilt crept in. The more she said, the more mistakes she might make. So she simply dragged out her usual domineering attitude from before. “What are you staring at? You smell like sweat—disgusting!” She pinched her nose in distaste and stepped back two paces, pointing at the narrow bathroom barely wide enough to turn around in. “Go take a shower. Now.” Duan Yan had worked as a security guard during the day, gone to a construction site after dinner for a part-time shift, and then spent hours delivering food at night. How could he not smell? Without a word, Duan Yan took his change of clothes and went into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of rushing water echoed behind the thin partition. This so-called “apartment” was nothing more than a cage built from plasterboard. What had originally been a three-bedroom unit had been forcibly divided into six cramped rooms. Rong Jiqiao suddenly went weak again. The feeling of having her head pressed under water—of being drowned alive—was still vivid in her memory. Her hands began to tremble. In her ears, it was as if those impatient voices were still ringing. “Just throw her into the sea.” “What a joke… dumped and still clinging on like that.” “Hurry up. In a bit, Nian Nian and Brother Yan will be here. She won’t be happy if she sees her.” Rong Jiqiao’s mind was completely blank. She still had no real sense of what was happening in front of her. Duan Yan finished washing quickly. When he came out, he was only wearing a loose undershirt. He didn’t look at Rong Jiqiao. Lifting the blanket slightly, he lay down. The moment his head touched the pillow, his breathing evened out and turned steady. He was truly exhausted. During the day he stood guard at a security booth. At night he delivered food through wind and rain. On top of that, he still took odd construction jobs whenever he could. Every bit of that high-intensity labor turned into money—money that had all been poured into Rong Jiqiao, that bottomless pit. The room was so small it could only fit a 1.5-meter bed and a wardrobe. After a brief hesitation, Rong Jiqiao stiffly lay down at the very edge of the bed, curling herself into a tight ball. A steady warmth kept radiating from the person beside her. It had been a long time since she last shared a bed with Duan Yan like this. All she could remember were those scenes after everything was exposed—Duan Yan breaking up with her, her repeated breakdowns as she went to find him, only to be met each time with his cold, impatient expression. The sound of bedding shifting came from behind her. Rong Jiqiao’s body stiffened. The next second, Duan Yan pulled her into his arms.