QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 55: Conversation

Chapter 55

Han Li – POV

I double over the sink, hands gripping the porcelain so tightly my knuckles go white.

The taste of blood is sharp, metallic, acidic on my tongue.

I spit into the basin, watching it bloom red in the clear water. More follows. Thick. Viscous.

It’s not the first time.

The system is getting desperate.

I flush the mess down and lean against the cold ceramic, chest heaving. My vision blurs, spots dancing at the edge of my eyes, pressure building behind my temples like something might crack open from the inside.

For a moment, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the faint echo of the waves crashing outside this luxury villa. The aftershock of the system’s punishment rattles through me like a second heartbeat—violent and unwanted.

I inhale. Once. Twice. Slow and steady.

Eventually, the pain settles. The tremors stop. My vision sharpens again, and the color seeps back into the world.

I exhale through my nose.

Still alive.

Barely.

That fucker hit a nerve, and not just the metaphorical kind. Jiang Wei’s words weren’t just misogynistic—they were calculated. Cruel. Aimed to humiliate.

And I let him have it.

I’d do it again. With interest.

My reflection in the mirror is pale, drawn, lips red where I wiped at my mouth. But there’s a glint in my eyes.

A calmness under the fury.

I close my eyes and breathe deep through my nose.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My pulse slows, but the fury remains—a low, simmering burn in my chest.

I feel humiliated.

Not because I lost control

Because they reminded me of bruises I thought had faded.

Jiang Wei’s words weren’t new. But they still hit.

It’s been years since someone hurled that kind of venom at me. Years since I’ve had to stand there and swallow bile while someone spat disgust just for who I am.

I stare into the mirror and say it aloud this time, softly:

"It’s not the same."

Because it’s not.

I’m not that kid anymore.

I’m me.

Han Li.

CEO. Powerhouse. Unfuckwithable.

I rinse the sink, wash my face, brush my teeth until the taste of iron is gone.

And then I head back into the room.

The bed is untouched. Crisp white sheets. Dim light spilling from the overhead lamp.

I collapse onto the mattress, the exhaustion catching up all at once. My body is sore in ways that have nothing to do with the system’s interference. And everything to do with this gnawing, electric ache in my ribs.

But I don’t regret it.

I’d punch Jiang Wei again.

And again.

And again.

I’m drifting—caught in the haze between pain and sleep—when I hear the soft sound of the door creak.

Footsteps.

Light. Hesitant. Familiar.

Then the mattress dips beside me with the weight of someone.

Warmth seeps through the sheets.

A pause.

Fingers brush against my wrist, tentative, seeking.

And just like that—my eyes meet Jiang Yuxi’s.

Her face is calm, composed, but I know her well enough by now to see the tension in her jaw, the tightness around her eyes.

She’s furious.

She’s trying not to show it.

"I’m sorry you had to see me like that," I say softly.

She scoffs.

"He deserved it."

A pause. Then she reaches out, brushes a few strands of hair off my face with her fingers. Her touch is gentle. Grounding.

"Join me in bed," I say.

She nods and heads to the bathroom. I hear the water run for a minute or two before she returns, slipping under the covers beside me.

She curls up against my chest, one leg thrown over mine, her fingers tracing slow, aimless circles over my chest.

She does this sometimes—absent-minded little movements, using me like a living stress ball.

I let her. I always do.

Had this been another night, it might’ve gotten me going.

But not tonight.

"I’ve never wanted you to be on the receiving end of that kind of hate," I say, my voice low.

"I’m sorry."

She lifts her head, resting her chin on my chest so she can look me in the eye.

"What do you mean? That’s not your fault. He’s just an asshole."

"No arguments there," I mutter. I stroke her hair.

"But he might not be the last. I may look like a guy sometimes, but I’m still a woman."

Her eyes narrow.

"Really? I hadn’t noticed," she says dryly, then pinches my nipple.

"Ow!" I wince, and she grins wickedly.

"I’ve seen you in those secretary pencil skirts, remember?" she teases, settling her head back on my chest.

"Back when you were Qin Zhen’s assistant."

I groan. "Don’t remind me. That was the worst era of my life."

"You looked okay. Normal," she says, her voice soft.

"But now... you look devastating."

I huff a laugh. "Glad to see you approve."

She shifts slightly, her hand splaying across my stomach, warm and grounding.

"I think it’s the confidence," she continues thoughtfully.

"Back then, when I saw you as Qin Zhen’s assistant, it was like you were playing a role. You were so good at it—efficient, collected—but... it didn’t feel real. Like you were performing."

I blink, surprised. Huh. She noticed that

"But now? CEO Han is different. You’re comfortable in your own skin. Like this is who you were always meant to be."

Something in my chest tightens.

I let out a slow breath and slide my hand down her back, pulling her closer until we’re pressed together, warmth to warmth, heartbeat to heartbeat.

"But seriously, Yuxi," I say quietly, "it might not be the last time someone says something like that to you. About us."

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just lays there, steady and calm.

"I know," she replies after a beat.

"It doesn’t scare you?"

"No," she says simply. "It doesn’t."

I press a kiss to her temple.

"You’re braver than me."

She chuckles lightly.

"Did you forget?" she teases.

"I asked you to bind our souls, so we’d be together in our next lives. I think I can handle it."