When Azhao regained consciousness, she found herself sitting in a moving car, her reflection faintly visible in the tinted window.
She quickly absorbed the transmitted memory from the system.
Her new identity in this world: Xu Zhao, a private tutor hired by the stepmother of the male lead, Xiao Yu.
Azhao glanced down at her hands, their long nails painted a striking red, and adjusted the tight T-shirt hugging her figure. The pale snow-white skin beneath contrasted vividly, catching her attention.
"For a 16-year-old boy brimming with youthful energy, they found this for a tutor?" Azhao mused, a faint smirk curling her lips. "They must be planning something."
The car soon stopped in front of a remote suburban villa. The driver said nothing, merely gesturing for her to follow as they entered the imposing property.
A stern butler in a black tuxedo, his hair meticulously combed back, greeted her at the door. Without any pleasantries, he led her upstairs, stopping outside a door on the second floor.
"Young Master, your new tutor is here," the butler announced before unceremoniously pushing the door open.
Azhao raised a brow at the lack of manners but stepped inside without a word. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving her in silence.
The study was stark and cold, its black-and-white decor devoid of any warmth. A bookcase dominated one wall, while a single desk and chair occupied the center of the room.
Her eyes fell on the figure seated at the desk. A boy, his head lowered, sat perfectly still. It was unclear if he was dozing off or lost in thought.
Azhao approached cautiously, her footsteps soft against the polished floor. Stopping beside him, she leaned slightly forward.
"Hello," she said gently, her voice low but clear. "Are you Xiao Yu?"
There was no response.
Azhao tapped her index finger lightly on the desk. The boy finally reacted, raising his head slowly.
Beneath his unkempt bangs was a pair of piercing black eyes, cold and unreadable.
Azhao's breath caught for a moment. What a beautiful child.
Xiao Yu stared at her, his expression betraying nothing but a faint flicker of irony.
"Xu Zhao, your new tutor," she introduced herself with a small smile, extending her hand. "I hope we can get along."
Xiao Yu's gaze dropped to her outstretched hand. Pale, slender fingers rested midair, motionless.
For a moment, he didn't move, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached out and let his hand brush hers.
Azhao flinched slightly. His hand was ice-cold.
Her brow furrowed as she instinctively placed her other hand on his forehead. "You're freezing. Are you feeling unwell?"
The boy stiffened immediately, recoiling as if burned.
"Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice low and trembling, but his body language betrayed his fear more than anger.
Azhao took a step back, raising her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just concerned."
Xiao Yu stared at her, his chest rising and falling quickly. For a moment, they were locked in silence. Then he turned his head away, curling slightly in his chair like a wounded animal retreating from further harm.
Azhao watched him thoughtfully. This wasn't just shyness or a dislike of strangers—there was something deeper here. Something broken.
"Alright," she said softly, her tone shifting to something lighter. "Let's not worry about that for now. We'll take things slow."
Xiao Yu didn't respond, but his tense shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.
Azhao turned her attention to the rest of the room, giving him space. She could already tell that this job would be far more complicated than she had anticipated.
Xiao Yu sat curled in the chair, his wary eyes locked onto Azhao.
She sighed inwardly. Any attempt to approach him would only agitate him further. With a composed demeanor, she rose and exited the study, softly shutting the door behind her.
Finding the butler nearby, Azhao approached him. "Xiao Yu's body temperature feels unusually low. I suspect he might be unwell. Can you call a doctor? Or at least provide an antipyretic?"
The butler's expression remained indifferent as he cast a sidelong glance at her. "The young master has always been cold. It is not an illness. Miss Xu, you need not concern yourself."
He then added in an even chillier tone, "Focus on your job, Miss Xu. Nothing more."
Azhao felt a faint chill creep up her spine. She could easily infer what he was implying.
Her employer, Zhao Li, had been very candid before sending her here:
"Xiao Yu is eccentric," Zhao Li had said. "He suffers from anxiety, shuns contact with others, and... his IQ is lower than average. My husband and I know it might be difficult for you, Miss Xu, but just do your best. Even if you fail to teach him, we won't hold it against you."
Eccentric? Low IQ?
Azhao scoffed inwardly at the thought. The indifferent attitude of the butler alone hinted at how Xiao Yu had likely spent his days—isolated, neglected, and treated as an inconvenience.
Returning to the bathroom, she washed her hands thoughtfully, her reflection staring back at her. A sultry figure with bright red lips, flawless features, and an aura more befitting a celebrity than a teacher.
No wonder they sent me here looking like this, she thought dryly, wiping her hands.