My Insolent Shadow (22 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8
Yuriciel forced herself to compose her thoughts.
Still… the fact that he had tried to verify it meant he still didn’t know she was a commoner.
From her perspective, it was sheer luck that the tool he’d used to test her was the Louvrian language.
If he had questioned her on some advanced scholarly topic—like astronomy, higher mathematics, or advanced sciences—that nobles typically studied, she wouldn’t have been able to answer anything at all.
At least she had learned Louvrian well enough, having practiced it for transcription purposes.
For some reason, many books written in Louvrian were scattered throughout the house, and Mother had never gotten rid of them.
Clearly, she had wanted to preserve some trace of that illustrious father, however slight.
Even that unnamed father, who had always been a source of resentment, could still be of some help—life worked out that way sometimes.
Feeling she had finally stepped beyond the fence of suspicion, Yuriciel let out a long breath and quietly continued reading.
It was a classic romance novel, unremarkable and placed in the most neglected, unpopular corner of the library, one she’d never seen before.
Cassian watched her silently.
When she spoke only in brief, curt replies, certain details went unnoticed—but now that her sentences grew longer, they suddenly caught his eye.
Contrary to his expectation of a cold, frost-like tone, her voice was upright and refreshingly clear.
Her lips, soft like jelly, stirred an odd impulse in him—to reach out and touch them, just once.
Beneath her neatly tucked hair, the elegant line of her neck stretched long and smooth, her nape pale as snow.
The gentle curve of her chest rose and fell with each exhaled breath…
Her body was neither fully adult nor childlike, yet it carried a surprisingly alluring grace.
The sensation of her soft lips beneath his own fingers still felt vividly fresh.
He had been about to loosen the leash he’d loosely held and set her free—yet here she was, acting like this.
Well, what choice did he have now?
His heart flipped as easily as a palm turned over.
Just moments ago, he’d intended to expose her lie and let her go—but that resolve had vanished.
It wasn’t him; it was she who had willingly clasped the leash back onto herself. So he bore no fault whatsoever.
Standing bathed in the fluttering spring sunlight, she spoke in that calm, composed tone—as if such trivial matters meant nothing to her.
Right before him. Before this Blanchet.
Before receiving his terminal diagnosis, he too used to attend various social gatherings.
It had been routine for countless young ladies to flirt shamelessly with him.
In noble circles, marriage was little more than a business transaction, and the Blanchet heir alone carried enough worth for anyone to seek an approach.
Even now, while he was absent from the Blanchet estate, countless marriage proposals kept pouring in—how utterly ridiculous.
They didn’t even bother hiding their desire: even if he were a dying heir, they’d still eagerly marry into the Blanchet line.
After all, once he was gone, that child would become the next heir—and they wanted their blood mingled with his, however slightly.
Yet that girl acted as if none of it mattered, living solely for her own day.
Right now, she was merely reading an unpopular, trivial novel about a terminally ill man—simply because he’d ordered her to.
As the title, “The Final 365 Days,” suggested, the story revolved around a terminally ill male protagonist experiencing romance over one year—utterly unimpressive.
The Lord who’d prepared these books, claiming they were “for his loneliness,” probably didn’t even know how the novel ended.
He must have brought them thinking they were just ordinary romance novels.
Otherwise, he’d never have dared present such a tactless book to a terminally ill patient.
Her clear, pure voice resonated beautifully through the air, like sunlit ripples dancing on a lake.
Truly, even the most clichéd lines seemed compelling when spoken by her.
Though her voice sounded gentle, when reciting dialogue, she resembled a stage actress.
“After going this far, shouldn’t you finally understand?”
“Why are you suddenly acting like this?”
“I already told you—I’m utterly sick of it.”
“…….”
“Your pompous manner of speaking, your arrogant delusions, your obsession—everything.”
The book began with the despicable scene of a man pushing away a woman after taking another.
At the same time, it felt oddly realistic.
After all, such scum were everywhere in this Empire. Most noble men took women as they pleased, treating marriage vows as mere scraps of paper from the start.
In that sense, the novel’s heroine was either admirably devoted—or unforgivably foolish, depending on one’s view.
To actually believe in such trash.
“So everything until now was a lie?”
“You couldn’t seriously think I’d ever marry someone like you, could you?”
“…What?”
“The ducal status Lady Vivian holds is something you could never attain, no matter how hard you tried.”
“…….”
“It was my fault. From birth, I was never meant to be with someone like you.”
Once, the Empire even held an informal wager over this very cliché.
One side claimed the woman was wrong—a mere viscount’s daughter who dared aspire to the man’s side.
The other claimed the man was wrong—for abandoning a woman who saw him so purely.
Noble ladies, destined to become matrons of great houses, insisted the woman was at fault.
Gentlemen before their beloved mistresses often chose the latter side, boldly declaring the man’s guilt.
It was a ridiculous bet, entirely based on each person’s own circumstances.
Among those who placed such foolish wagers were the Lord and Lady Blanchet themselves.
Mother, who never lost composure anywhere else, grew unusually heated on this topic alone.
She’d insist it was obvious—a lowborn woman had clearly schemed for that position.
Her swift dismissal of a decade’s worth of devoted love as mere lust was truly maternal.
Throughout it all, Father—outwardly affectionate—carefully echoed Mother’s sentiments, watching her mood closely.
After all, Mother’s powerful birth family greatly benefited House Blanchet.
Yet Father’s perpetually distant eyes only further inflamed Mother’s fury.
She often ranted about imaginary mistresses, probably having sensed another woman residing in Father’s heart.
Thus, it couldn’t be blamed solely on Mother.
In truth, Father might have been the greater sinner.
Just who was that woman occupying a corner of Father’s heart?
He felt a faint curiosity.
Now that he’d already received his death sentence.
Perhaps she’d been a woman with a pretty face and an alluring posture—much like the girl before him.
At least he, having inherited that blood, would soon vanish from this world—that was something to be grateful for.
Otherwise, he’d surely have gone around hurting some woman he’d never even take as a mistress.
Or so the butler would say.
“What do you think?”
The girl lowered the book and slowly turned her head, gazing at him with clear, green eyes.
Her delicate lips trembled slightly, as if hesitant, then finally parted.
“What do you mean?”
“Was the woman wrong? Or the man?”
Her expression subtly twisted.
As if questioning how he could even ask such a despicable thing.
Almost as though equating him with that trash of a man in the novel.
Yet she still sat there, trying her best not to defy him.
Soon, she seemed to reach a conclusion, and her lips opened again.
“The woman was wrong.”
Ha. A completely hollow answer.
People never gave answers that contradicted their own circumstances.
Thus, her true answer had been decided from the start: it was the man’s fault.
Which meant the girl before him was now uttering another bold lie.
All under the guise of pleasing him.
“The woman was wrong?”
“Yes.”
So she’d lie about anything—just to gain a single drop from Blanchet?
He’d wanted her to align with him—but now that she was doing so insincerely, it infuriated him. Like a contrary frog that always does the opposite.
“Do you truly believe that?”
“She should’ve known when to leave—consorting with a highborn young master beyond her station.”
What a laugh—her words carried not a trace of hesitation, as if recounting someone else’s story.
That alone pricked his temper once more.
Honestly, this was only natural.
Who in their right mind would dare assert their own opinions fully before a Blanchet?
Only a madman.
Those who carefully gauged his mood and flattered him accordingly had always been commonplace to him.
But she shouldn’t have been like that. After all, the very reason he’d hired her was because she was a mad girl who shattered conventions.
She should’ve just stayed that way—if she truly meant not to defy him.
His twisted irritation made his words come out crooked.
“Of course it is. How dare someone of her status cling to him like a leech—her intentions were foul from the start.”
A brutally concise warning: know your place.
Whether she understood it or not, a tremor now flickered in the girl’s eyes as she looked at him.
Seeing that, a faint sneer curled his lips.
The way she looked at him—as if wounded by his words—made him imagine, absurdly, that she too coveted the seat beside him.
Her expression, on the verge of tears yet refusing to cry, was rather captivating.
Captivating enough that he wanted to keep her by his side until his death, just to watch it.
A dangerous desire stirred wildly within him—to twist her, to break her.
Ordinarily, he’d have dismissed such sensitivity as mere flattery from a compliant subordinate.
This was unlike him. He’d lost count of how many times he’d had such thoughts lately.
Ever since she arrived, it had been this way.
She was a dangerous presence—his instincts sounded the alarm.
Yet so what? He had no intention whatsoever of stopping this dangerous game.
After all, he’d soon die and vanish—he might as well view the world crookedly now.
It was she who had willingly stepped into this twisted world.
After that, the girl read for a long while, and he listened once more to a story he already knew by heart.
Lines he’d read countless times—so familiar he could recite them—now sounded different, woven into her clear voice.
It was both absurd and oddly fascinating—that he’d summoned her merely for such a trivial task.
As her gentle voice warmed the air,
Shadow fell upon where he sat, while bright sunlight settled at the girl’s feet.
The sun split the space precisely in half—as if marking the boundary between good and evil.
He was the villain tormenting her. She was the innocent victim suffering at his hands.
But it didn’t matter. Absolute righteousness always belonged to Blanchet, no matter what he did.
The villain was always she—the one who defied Blanchet’s will.
Finally reaching the last page,
the girl took a breath, standing at the threshold of the story’s conclusion.
It wasn’t funny at all. The same girl who’d read so boldly before a patient now hesitated right at the ending.
He knew the novel’s ending—he’d read it hundreds of times already.
And now, even that reckless girl—who’d likely never read it before—must know it too, having just finished it herself.
Male lead Asks for a Divorce Every Day
It’s not often you come across a plot like this in the female-dominant genre — make sure to check it out!
This is a novel I’m planning to reread as well.
The male lead is strong, skilled in martial arts, and not the usual fragile type you often see in matriarchal novels.
Meanwhile, the female lead is a scientist—rational and logical. Even when she falls for the male lead, she doesn’t let her emotions cloud her decisions.
If you push through the first few chapters, you’ll gradually find the story really intriguing.
It has a mix of mystery, detective elements, and romance.
The author’s writing style is like crafting a puzzle—except they deliberately leave out a few pieces, making it hard to predict what happens next, yet keeping you hooked.
In the end, everything will come together and be explained.
One-sentence summary: Wife, stop playing with beakers and look at me!
In a laboratory accident, research scientist Zhu Wansheng accidentally travels to a matriarchal world. The original owner of the body is an eighteen-year-old only daughter of a wealthy rouge merchant, already married with a handsome young man.
Zhu Wansheng grins: Nice! She always said she was heaven’s favorite granddaughter. After a life of toil in her previous life, she can enjoy blessings in this one.
However, her joy lasts no more than three seconds as bad news arrives: the original owner’s family is about to go bankrupt, and her husband wants a divorce.
Even worse, she’s stuck with a research system full of restrictions.
Zhu Wansheng: ? Is this the destiny of a research dog?
——
Faced with this mess, Zhu Wansheng pours herself a bowl of wine to drown her sorrows. In her drunken haze, her husband arrives.
His figure is imposing, holding a long sword, with a dignified air that captivates Zhu Wansheng.
Gu Yingqing, however, looks at the alcohol-reeking Zhu Wansheng with undisguised disgust and coldly asks, “Divorce or not?” The intoxicated Zhu Wansheng mumbles vaguely, “I think… it’s not… it’s not… impossible!”
——
The next day, after sobering up, Zhu Wansheng is full of energy, rolling up her sleeves ready to make a big move. As for yesterday? She has no memory of it.
Zhu Wansheng is ambitious; a research dog fears nothing!
Upgrading rouge, extracting fragrances, producing perfumes, researching lipsticks… all shall bow to the power of modern technology!
The original owner’s dying rouge shop is revitalized. Her mother is pleased and with a wave of her hand, passes on the family business to her. As she takes control and her experimental results gain popularity, it’s the pinnacle of her life…
——
But there are always those who can’t stand to see her doing well. Jealousy, scheming, assassination attempts – they want nothing less than her life.
The person who has always kept his distance from her suddenly holds her tightly in his arms, eyes full of concern.
She is unharmed, but he falls into a pool of blood…
Zhu Wansheng feels guilty, “I can grant you one wish.”
Gu Yingqing tentatively circles his arms around her, carefully resting his head in the crook of her neck, pleading softly, “I regret it. Can we not divorce?”
Zhu Wansheng: ? When did I agree to a divorce?
[Small Theater]
The newly developed rouge is beautifully packaged, and Zhu Wansheng is eager to try it.
Gu Yingqing suddenly appears: “My lady, may I apply it for you?”
Cool fingertips lightly brush her lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he leans in for a light bite.
Zhu Wansheng: ?
Gu Yingqing: It smells so good, I wanted to taste it…
On a warm spring day, Zhu Wansheng tries a new perfume: “Spring Night.” Gu Yingqing corners her against a wall.
Warm breath lingers on her neck.
“My lady, from now on, may I test the fragrances for you?”
[Humorous female scientist vs scheming live-in son-in-law male lead]
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Damnnnnn why is this so interesting am I a masochist for liking this haha
I feel like the young master is probably going to get her back one way
I feel bad for Hael, he likes her so much but I feel like it’s hard for the FL to return that type of love