Transmigrated as the Mary Sue: The Villainess's Revenge System | Chapter 85 | The Jealousy of a Destined Match | Novela.app

Chapter 86 - The Jealousy of a Destined Match The morning light filtered through the curtains, but the atmosphere inside the room remained heavy with the lingering echoes of the past. Que Tang stood by the window, her mind swirling with the images she had just seen—the quiet devotion Mu Yao had shown, the breakfasts prepared with meticulous care, and the shadow of a bitter smile that always followed Que Tang’s cold rejections. "Meow~ Has the Host finished reading?" Xiao Xianggu’s voice suddenly chirped, breaking the silence. The black cat stretched its lithe body, its golden eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "The female supporting character is waiting outside the door, you know. Meow." "I know," Que Tang replied, her voice thick with a trace of nasal congestion from her earlier emotional turmoil. She gently set the cat down on the sofa and hurried into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, trying to wash away the redness in her eyes. Just as she stepped back into the living room, the sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through the apartment. Que Tang composed herself, pulling a mask of indifference over her features before opening the heavy iron door. "Is there something you need?" she asked, her voice intentionally chilly as she looked at the figure standing in the hallway. Mu Yao stood there, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. She bit her lower lip, her eyes searching Que Tang’s face for any sign of softening. "Tangtang..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I want to take you somewhere." Que Tang hesitated, her mind racing. She had expected Mu Yao to offer a grand apology, perhaps a reservation at a high-end restaurant or a bouquet of flowers to bridge the distance between them. Instead, Mu Yao led her through the winding streets until they arrived at a quaint, ivy-covered coffee shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The interior was filled with the rich, earthy aroma of roasted beans and the soft, melodic strains of a cello playing in the background. They sat in a secluded booth, the silence between them stretching until it became almost unbearable. Mu Yao stared at her lap, her expression a mask of suppressed sorrow. "Why did you bring me here?" Que Tang finally asked, her patience wearing thin. She tapped her fingers on the polished wooden table, the sound sharp in the quiet cafe. Mu Yao looked up, her eyes brimming with a complicated mix of resignation and pain. "You... didn't you want to see him? Your destined husband... the one the world chose for you. He’s the manager of this shop." Que Tang’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. She turned her gaze toward the counter, where a man was expertly tamping espresso grounds. He was undeniably handsome, possessing a rugged, cinematic grace that felt almost out of place in the mundane world. With a sharp jawline and deep, melancholic eyes, he bore a striking resemblance to a young Takeshi Kaneshiro. In an instant, Que Tang shifted her demeanor. She leaned toward the counter, her eyes sparkling with the exaggerated fervor of a star-struck fangirl. She reached out and grabbed the edge of Mu Yao’s sleeve, tugging it with feigned excitement. "Oh my god! Are you serious? You’re telling me that man with the face of Takeshi Kaneshiro is my official match? My destined husband?" "Yes..." Mu Yao replied, her voice barely a whisper. She clenched her hands into tight fists beneath the table, her knuckles turning white. Each word felt like a shard of glass piercing her heart. To hand over the person she loved to the "official" hero was a torment she had forced herself to endure, believing it was what Que Tang truly desired. "Look at that smile... so dashing," Que Tang murmured, leaning her chin on her hand as she watched the manager interact with a customer. "No wonder the original script had me falling for him. If a man who looks like Takeshi Kaneshiro smiled at me every day, I’d probably surrender within three days too..." Mu Yao remained silent, her head bowed. The air around her seemed to grow cold, a palpable aura of misery radiating from her slumped shoulders. She looked like a wounded animal waiting for the final blow. Seeing the depth of Mu Yao’s distress, the playfulness in Que Tang’s eyes vanished, replaced by a soft, shimmering warmth. She reached across the table and firmly grasped Mu Yao’s tense hand, forcing the other woman to look up. Mu Yao’s face was pale, her expression one of utter defeat. "Alright," Que Tang said, her voice dropping to a tender, intimate register. She leaned in close, her breath warm against Mu Yao’s ear, sending a shiver through the taller woman. "Let’s go home." Mu Yao blinked, her confusion evident. "But... the manager..." Que Tang chuckled softly, a sound full of genuine affection. "Forget him. Do you know why I want to go home?" She paused, her lips almost brushing Mu Yao’s earlobe. "Because the way you look when you’re jealous is just too adorable. It makes me want to kiss you right here." Mu Yao froze, a brilliant crimson flush rapidly spreading from her neck to the tips of her ears. The crushing weight of her sorrow evaporated in an instant, replaced by a dizzying, heart-pounding heat. "Okay..." Mu Yao stammered, her voice as faint as a mosquito's hum, her heart soaring as she allowed Que Tang to lead her out of the shop and back toward their shared life. The moment they returned home, before Mu Yao could even react, Que Tang pinned her against the door. Then, warm lips pressed firmly against hers. "Mmph..." Mu Yao’s eyes widened in surprise. Her hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to rest, before finally settling on the hem of Que Tang’s shirt, clutching the fabric tightly. This kiss was unlike their usual gentle exchanges; instead, it carried a faint hint of punishment. Que Tang did not let her go until Mu Yao was nearly breathless and dizzy. "Do you still dare to get jealous over nothing?" Que Tang leaned her forehead against Mu Yao’s, her voice sounding slightly husky. Mu Yao’s face flushed a deep crimson as she muttered softly, "Who told him to be your official match..." "Official match or not, the only one I recognize is you." Que Tang leaned in to peck the tip of her nose. "Little Mushroom told me everything. You dummy, you watched over me for so long—why didn't you say something sooner?" Mu Yao froze for a moment, realizing that the gluttonous cat had sold her out. Despite the exposure, a sweet warmth blossomed in her chest. "I was afraid you’d think I was strange... and I was afraid of interfering with your mission." "The mission isn't nearly as important as you are." Que Tang took her hand and led her into the living room. "From now on, you aren't allowed to keep secrets from me, and you aren't allowed to push me away. Do you hear me?" "I hear you," Mu Yao replied obediently. She took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Que Tang’s waist, burying her face in the crook of her neck. "Tangtang, I love you." "I know." Que Tang gently stroked Mu Yao's long hair, her expression softening into a tender smile. "I love you too." Outside the window, the sunlight was perfect. Inside, the two stood locked in an embrace, as all the misunderstandings and anxieties of the past week vanished into thin air. As for a certain Little Mushroom, who had been shut out and was currently meowing at the empty hallway—it was likely still struggling for the sake of its dried fish snacks.