QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 40: Unwelcome thoughts

Jiang Wei’s POV

I scroll through social dia, keeping an eye on the public’s reception to my latest project with Jiang Yuxi. So far, the response is overwhelmingly positive.

Praise, skeptical remarks, the usual blend of admiration and cynicism.

My thumb moves idly down the screen until I stumble upon sothing unexpected—a post about fan fiction.

Sotis, I read these out of sheer amusent. The dramatized, exaggerated portrayals of real-life figures can be entertaining.

But this ti, the title alone makes pause.

It’s about .

And Jiang Yuxi.

I hesitate.

A rational part of says to put the phone down, to ignore it. But curiosity is a dangerous thing, and before I can stop myself, I open the post.

The mont my eyes skim the first paragraph, I nearly drop my phone.

It’s explicit.

I should stop reading. I really, really should.

But I don’t.

Three hours later, I’ve gone down a rabbit hole I never expected.

I’ve read several stories—so absurd, so oddly well-written, all disturbingly detailed.

And now, for the first ti, I find myself thinking about Jiang Yuxi in a way I never have before.

The curve of her lips.

The slope of her neck.

The way she carries herself with effortless grace.

I try to shake off the thought, but it lingers, settling uncomfortably in my chest.

A sudden knock on my door startles from my trance. I blink, realizing how much ti has passed. I glance at my phone. 7:00 PM.

Damn it.

Tonight is Mrs. Jiang’s birthday. No grand party, no extravagant gala—just an intimate family dinner at a high-end restaurant.

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to push away the lingering thoughts as I get up and quickly dress.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this.

Not about her.

But as I button up my shirt, my mind betrays .

I still don’t hate it.

*

The restaurant is warm, bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers.

The clinking of silverware against fine china, hushed conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter create an air of refined elegance.

I sit at the long dining table, surrounded by the Jiang family and a few close associates.

The waitstaff moves seamlessly between guests, refilling glasses and serving dishes that look as exquisite as they taste.

Across from , Jiang Yuxi sits poised, her back straight, her expression unreadable as always. But my attention isn’t on her composure.

It’s on her.

She wears a deep blue evening gown, the fabric hugging her slender fra in all the right ways. The delicate shimr of the material catches the light as she moves, accentuating the subtle curves of her body.

I shouldn’t be staring.

But I do.

The way her fingers trace the rim of her wine glass.

The faint arch of her brow when she listens to soone speak.

The soft, unintentional part of her lips when she exhales.

She’s always been beautiful—undeniably so. That was never in question.

But tonight, for reasons I can’t fully explain, she’s breathtaking.

I catch myself stealing glances at her throughout dinner.

Every ti she shifts, every ti her lips curl into the faintest of smiles, sothing coils tightly in my stomach.

This is ridiculous.

I force myself to look away, drowning the thoughts with another sip of wine.

The evening continues smoothly, the conversation flowing from polite pleasantries to reminiscing about old family mories.

It’s only when dessert is finished that Jiang Yuxi sets down her napkin and rises from her chair.

"I’ll be spending the night at a friend’s place," she announces, adjusting the strap of her purse.

A tense silence follows.

"You never spend ti at ho anymore," Mr. Jiang comnts, his tone edged with quiet disapproval.

She doesn’t respond, her face remaining as unreadable as ever.

I glance at her, then at Mr. Jiang, before exhaling softly.

"Let escort you out," I offer, standing as well.

She hesitates for half a second, then nods.

As we step away from the table, I can feel the weight of grandfather’s gaze lingering on my back.

But I don’t look back.

Because right now, all I can think about is the woman walking beside —and the thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

I follow her out of the restaurant, falling into step beside her as she pulls out her phone and types a quick ssage.

The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, highlighting the faint curve of her lips.

I don’t know who she’s texting, but whoever it is... they have her full attention.

Outside, rain pours down in steady sheets, the sound of droplets drumming against the pavent filling the air.

The golden glow from the restaurant windows spills onto the wet sidewalk, making the city lights shimr in the distance.

Jiang Yuxi doesn’t seem to mind the rain, standing by the entrance, her posture relaxed yet poised, as if she already knows she won’t be waiting long.

I glance at her. How is she planning to leave?

"Do you need a ride?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.

No response.

She doesn’t even glance in my direction.

And then, as if on cue, a sleek black luxury car pulls up to the curb.

I recognize it imdiately.

I’ve seen this car before—more than once. It’s the sa one that drops her off and picks her up on occasion, the one I always assud belonged to a manager or soone from her staff.

But as the restaurant’s doorman rushes forward with an umbrella, the person who steps out of the car is not a driver.

A man erges, dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit.

He’s not particularly tall—shorter than , at least—but his presence is unmistakable.

There’s an air of quiet authority about him, the kind of confidence that only cos from knowing you hold power.

And his face—

It’s familiar.

I don’t know where I’ve seen him before, but sothing about him unsettles .

Who is he?

"Yuxi."

His voice is soft? Smooth, firm, and—much to my surprise—gentle.

And then I see it.

For the first ti that evening, Jiang Yuxi smiles.

Not the polite, distant smile she wears in public. Not the mask of indifference she usually keeps in place.

No.

This is sothing different.

A softness in her expression. A slight blush dusting her cheeks as she tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

My stomach twists.

Who the hell is this guy?

I step forward, extending my hand in what should be a simple, civil introduction.

"A pleasure to et you," I say, my voice steady despite the irritation creeping into my chest.

The man barely glances at before exhaling in what sounds like annoyance.

"If you need sothing from , I suggest you go through the right channels. Not like this."

His tone is clipped, dismissive.

Before I can respond, he turns to Jiang Yuxi and reaches for her hand.

"Let’s go, Yuxi."

Without hesitation, she takes it.

And just like that—he leads her away.

I watch as two well-dressed attendants open the car doors for them, shielding them from the rain with black umbrellas.

The mont she steps inside, the car pulls away, gliding smoothly into the dark, rain-slicked streets.

Leaving standing there.

Fuming.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

Does he know who I am? I’m Jiang Wei.

There isn’t an actor in the industry more popular than right now.

And yet—he just dismissed . Like I was insignificant.

Like I didn’t matter.

I clench my fists, my heart pounding in a way I can’t quite explain.

This... isn’t just irritation.

It’s sothing else.

Sothing I don’t want to acknowledge.

---

SYSTEM:

HOST, STOP THIS!!!!

STOP THIS!!!!

ERROR!!!

MAIN CHARACTER MIND IS DEVIATING!!!!!!

CONNECTION TO HOST: BLOCKED.