Transmigrated as the Stepmother of a Rebellious Heir

Fu Siyu quickly replied, "I'll sleep later."

"I saw your comment in the Moments, are you good at photography, can you teach me?"

"I used to love photography and have won many awards." Fu Siyu wasn't modest and quickly sent Shu Wan seven or eight pictures.

Even as an amateur, Shu Wan could tell that the photos taken by Fu Siyu had superb lighting and composition.

"Looks great, can I ask you for advice next time I take photos?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Shu Wan wanted to send a text, but accidentally tapped on an auto-generated sticker in WeChat.

A sticker of a cat making a heart shape with its paws was sent.

Shu Wan didn't even know why she typed text, yet what was sent was a sticker.

But she definitely couldn't ask Fu Siyu; it was okay to ask about photography techniques, but if she didn't even know how to use basic social media, Fu Siyu's keen perception would definitely suspect something was off about her identity.

So, Shu Wan acted as if nothing had happened, and their conversation stopped there.

About half an hour later, Shu Wan stood up, preparing to call Fu Yang.

Just at that moment, her phone suddenly rang.

Shu Wan unlocked the screen, somewhat surprised.

Fu Siyu had actually replied with a sticker.

Although it was a very formal "you're welcome," such an action didn't seem like something Fu Siyu would do.

But it had to be said, this gesture made Shu Wan feel that Fu Siyu was less aloof and icy.

Even the coldest gods would sometimes glance down at the mortal world.

--

In the upstairs bedroom, Fu Yang woke up amidst a strange fragrance.

The fuzziness in his head from the night before gradually cleared under the influence of this scent.

Fu Yang opened his eyes, put on a T-shirt, washed up, and went straight downstairs.

In the dining room, the servants were setting the tableware, and Fu Yang, while yawning, glanced at the food on the table.

"Why noodles in the middle of the day? What are the chefs doing?"

The servant looked at Fu Yang in surprise, "Young Master, it's still morning; this is breakfast."

Hearing this, Fu Yang was stunned for a moment before turning to look at the wall clock.

Indeed, it was 7 a.m.

Fu Yang still couldn't believe it, he looked out the window at the not-yet-risen sunrise, which was solid proof.

"Fuck," Fu Yang couldn't help but curse, "How did I get up so early!"

Always waking up at noon or afternoon, Fu Yang had long forgotten what it felt like to rise early.

He raised his hand to fix his hair, feeling something was off, accustomed to pulling all-nighters playing games, yet somehow quickly felt sleepy last night and now got up at exactly 7 a.m.

It was as if someone had calculated it.

Right then, Shu Wan walked in from the door, wearing a light blue chiffon long dress, cool, beautiful, and graceful, like a green bamboo swaying in the breeze hidden deep within the woods.

In Fu Yang's eyes, Shu Wan now seemed no different from a green-faced, fanged Satan.

"What did you do, and why was I so tired yesterday?"

Shu Wan slowly walked to the dining table and sat down, "Isn't it normal to feel sleepy during bedtime?"

Fu Yang furrowed his brow slightly—he didn't want to believe Shu Wan's words, but he couldn't think of anything miraculous that would make one sleep and wake up on demand.

Shu Wan had already started eating, and Fu Yang, who was now hungry too, sat at the farthest diagonal from her and reached for a bowl of noodles.

But with just one glance, Fu Yang was displeased.

He always stayed up all night, and after waking up felt groggy, so he liked to eat strongly flavored foods to stimulate his taste buds.

The kitchen knew his preferences, and the meals were always very spicy and salty.

But today's bowl of noodles was bland and uninspiring.

Fu Yang pushed the bowl to the side, "Shu Wan, are you doing this on purpose?"

Without Shu Wan's instructions, the kitchen would never dare to make something so bland.

Shu Wan swallowed her mouthful of bread and then looked up, "You probably started having stomach problems about a year ago, and you can't eat highly stimulating foods anymore."

Hearing Shu Wan's words, Fu Yang was stunned.

Since a year ago, his stomach had pain every time after eating, but he had never mentioned it to anyone.

The pain was also mild, so it was impossible for anyone to notice—how did Shu Wan know?

Even if what Shu Wan said was true, Fu Yang couldn't possibly admit it at this point, "Do you think I'm some old man like my dad? I'm young and very healthy, I've never had a stomachache."

Shu Wan glanced at him indifferently, "If you don't eat this meal, you'll have to wait until noon for food. I've already instructed the kitchen—outside of three meals a day, they will not cook anything else for you."

"Oh dear," Fu Yang leaned back and kicked up his legs leisurely, his peachy eyes twinkling with a mocking light, "I'm so scared. I won't eat; what can you do about it?"

Shu Wan didn't respond to Fu Yang again. She lowered her head and finished the bread in her hands bite by bite.

When her breakfast was finished, Shu Wan looked at Fu Yang again, "Let's go, I'll accompany you to school."

"I'll go by myself," Fu Yang looked at Shu Wan leisurely, "Your schedule didn't specify what transport I must take."

Fine, catching loopholes in the wording.

Shu Wan didn't quibble with Fu Yang further, "Let's head out now, I'll wait for you at the school gate."

"Ha," Fu Yang stood up, his look scornful as he glanced at Shu Wan, "You waiting for me? I will definitely get there faster than you."

Saying that, Fu Yang left the living room. After tidying up a bit, Shu Wan followed him out.

Just as Shu Wan reached the doorway, she heard a huge roaring sound.

Looking towards the source, Fu Yang was riding a motorcycle, speeding towards her.

The motorcycle sped incredibly fast, about to hit Shu Wan in an instant, but Shu Wan didn't dodge at all.

She stood there upright, as if the heavy motorcycle capable of crushing flesh and bone was merely a breeze.

The motorcycle roared like a ferocious beast and stopped only half a meter away from Shu Wan.

Fu Yang sat on the bike, looking down at Shu Wan, his lips curling up, "You really aren't afraid of death."

"You're taking this to school?"

"What else?" Seemingly feeling that this move would finally break Shu Wan's composure and allow him to see her calm demeanor crack, Fu Yang was inexplicably excited, "Your schedule didn't say I couldn't ride a motorcycle."

"I'll tell you, I only agreed to the schedule you gave me yesterday. I won't acknowledge anything added afterwards," Fu Yang added another comment.