Yantang has always known she’s an ordinary girl with terrible luck.
The people she likes never like her back.
Despite studying hard, she never scores ideally on exams.
Even after putting effort into her internship, the department was disbanded just as she was about to be offered a full-time job.
In her final year of college, she finally gave up and accepted her fate—planning to return to her hometown after graduation to take the civil service exam and go on blind dates, as arranged by her parents.
Before graduation, by chance, she picked up a side gig: tutoring a rich lady’s beloved son, who had just returned from Russia, in Chinese.
The rich lady described the situation as follows:
“My son just came back to China. He only understands very simple Chinese, so I’d like you to accompany him to his weekend hobby classes and talk to him more.”
She added:
“He’s very well-behaved and cute, like a little angel. But he’s a bit of a crybaby, so don’t spoil him.”
Yantang, full of anticipation, met this “little angel”—and fell into stunned silence.
He was very cute: bright cat-like eyes, milky white skin, soft thick hair, lips as delicate as flower petals.
But the rich lady had left out some crucial details:
—This “little angel” was 1.9 meters tall and took shooting and MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) classes.
—This “little angel” claimed he loved hunting. In his mansion in Moscow, one wall was covered with various firearms, and the other displayed the mounted heads of bears and wolves he hunted at age fifteen or sixteen.
This strikingly handsome, full-grown “little angel” had terrible Chinese skills—only capable of simple phrases like “Hello,” “Have you eaten?” and “Idiot.”
However, if you complimented him with words like “pretty,” “cute,” or “good boy,” he understood perfectly.
Yantang earnestly taught him for two months.
But when the tutoring ended, she discovered he seemed to have no memory of some of the words she’d taught him.
“Stop! Stop!” she shouted, pressing against his chest.
Song Yu held her waist and asked in Russian, “What are you saying, little baby?”
Yantang yelled, “Stop kissing me!”
He looked at her with those cat-like eyes and leaned in again.
So Yantang slapped him.
He cried.
She comforted him for two hours.
After graduating, Yantang quit the job with the rich lady.
To avoid complications, she didn’t tell Song Yu and quietly returned to her hometown.
On the day of her blind date, she had only been talking to the guy for a little while when a tall figure appeared at the door.
The suddenly arriving Song Yu walked straight to their table, sat down, and smiled at the blind date:
“You’re the guy planning to marry Yantang? She slept with me. I want to be with her. Hope you don’t mind?”
