I transmigrated into a spicy romance novel as the hot, young stepmom. I didn't expect my sworn enemy to transmigrate too. He ended up as my sleeping husband. The thought of cuckolding my enemy thrilled me. That night, I leaned against the doorframe in a silk slip dress: "Hubby, I'm going to tuck the kid into bed. Don't wait up." My enemy shot up in bed: "Don't you dare!" 1 "Dad." The male lead, Roman, walked in wearing his varsity jacket and slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He greeted Ryan with a voice like ice. Ryan sat in the living room, his face even darker than Roman's. I was the only one in the room grinning. I bent slightly to pour tea, using the opportunity to check out Roman as he changed his shoes in the entryway. Tall, long legs, full of youthful energy, and devastatingly handsome. The corners of my mouth crept higher and higher. Roman seemed to sense my gaze, his deep, dark eyes turning toward me. Ryan suddenly stood up, blocking the line of sight between us. "What are you looking at your mother for? Go to your room and do your homework!" Roman didn't speak, just stared at him coldly. If this were a cultivation novel, I'm pretty sure they'd be shooting eye-daggers at each other. After a tense standoff, Roman let out a low laugh. "Fine." He went up to the second floor but didn't go straight to his room. Instead, he leaned against the railing, looking down at me. "Stepmom." His tone carried a hint of teasing flirtation. "Bring me a glass of milk later, okay?" "Huh?" Being addressed by the male lead for the first time made me nervous. "Sure, I'll bring it up in a bit." Ryan looked even more pissed off. "Mom is Mom! What the hell is 'Stepmom'? Where did you learn that sleazy way of addressing her? Call her Mom!" Roman ignored him and sauntered back to his bedroom with that lazy, arrogant swagger. "Pfft—hahahaha." I clutched my stomach, laughing so hard I almost fell over. "There is justice in this world! Ryan, I never thought I'd see the day you'd be this helplessly furious! Hahahaha!" 2 Ryan is my sworn enemy. We transmigrated into this book together. He aged ten years, now 37, and gained a 17-year-old son. Great son, really. Very filial. Prays for his dad to die every day. I, on the other hand, am his young, beautiful wife. The kid's stepmom. According to the plot, Ryan is responsible for being on business trips all year round, working hard to support the family. When he comes home, he's exhausted, collapses into bed, and snores away. Roman and I could be cooking in the kitchen, the living room, or right next to him, cooking until we don't know which way is up, and he wouldn't wake up. Currently, since the male lead is still a minor, we are just in the "secret crushing" phase. 3 I was curled up on the sofa, clutching my stomach and gasping for air from laughing so hard. Ryan walked over with a face like thunder, reaching out to pull the strap of my slip dress back onto my shoulder. "Can't you pay attention to your image in front of the kid?" "How am I not paying attention to my image?" I retorted. "Did you have to wear this silk slip? When you bent over to pour tea, your chest was..." He stammered for a while, his own face turning red first. "Couldn't you at least... wear a bra?" "...Dammit, I did!" I stood up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him toward the bedroom. "What are you doing?" Ryan struggled symbolically, his words stiff. "You really think of yourself as my wife? Seduction won't work on me. I'm not fulfilling any marital duties with you!" That's what he said, but his feet were moving faster than mine. I dragged him into the walk-in closet, flung open all the wardrobe doors, turned to him and asked, "You tell me, which one is appropriate?" The closet was filled exclusively with low-cut, super-short silk slip dresses. The occasional "outdoor" outfits were all skin-tight, low-cut numbers with garter belts. Basically, clothes no normal person would wear outside. Pure sleaze. Ryan froze, his face turning crimson. I wasn't done with him. I yanked open a drawer, grabbed a handful of colorful fabric scraps, and threw them at his face like confetti. He examined one puzzledly. Narrow front, wide back, just a few strings. You couldn't even tell what shape it was supposed to be. "What are these?" He picked up a pendant that looked like an earring. "Underwear! Didn't you say I wasn't wearing any?" I grabbed another handful and threw it at his head. "The house is full of this stuff that's basically wearing nothing. What do you want me to do, huh?" "You wear this kind?" "Ugh—" He dropped the fabric like it burned him. He slammed a hand over his nose and spun around, turning his back to me. His voice was thick when he spoke. "I... I get it. I'll buy you new ones tomorrow. Just don't go out for now." I picked up a piece of fabric from the floor and handed it to him. "Here." He turned his body further away, hiding his face. "What for?" "Your nosebleed is dripping on the floor. Plug it." 4 "Tilt your head back a bit." Ryan sat on the bed while I stood next to him holding tissues, wiping his nosebleed. But the more I wiped, the more it bled. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. The blood flowed backward... "Please stop wiping. If you keep going, I'm going to die of blood loss. Can you just stay away from me?" he groaned, sounding broken. "Like I want to wipe it." I tossed the tissue onto the bed and turned to heat up milk for Roman. 5 "Roman?" I knocked on the bedroom door. "Come in." Roman's voice sounded breathless from inside. I pushed the door open gently. Roman was leaning against the headboard smoking, looking satisfied. The room smelled... post-coital. There were wads of tissues next to his hand, and a few scraps of fabric similar to what I'd just thrown at Ryan's face. He was making sure I knew exactly what he'd just been doing. "Stepmom." Our eyes met, and he gave me a predatory smile. Even with my usual boldness, this was overwhelming. I felt a little awkward. "I... I brought your milk." "Thanks, Stepmom." He took the glass from me, his cool fingertips brushing against the back of my hand. "No problem. Go to sleep early." I turned to leave. "Wait." "Hmm?" I looked back. He downed a mouthful of milk. My gaze involuntarily drifted to his bobbing Adam's apple. "I can't finish it. Help me drink it, Stepmom?" "Huh? I don't really want to..." Before I could say "drink," he pressed the glass against my lips. "Be good. Drink it." His voice was hypnotic. "..." If I hadn't just brought this glass in myself, I'd really suspect there was something weird in it. He poured too fast, and milk trickled down the corner of my mouth onto my chest. I protested mumbled, "Mmh, no more, it's spilling..." BANG! The bedroom door was kicked open. Ryan stormed in, holding a down jacket, and roared at us: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" "..." "What's wrong, Dad?" Roman looked completely unbothered. "Stepmom is drinking my milk." He looked down at me, a wicked smirk on his lips. "Is it good, Stepmom?" I wiped the milk from my chest and mouth, mumbling, "It's okay." With a question that loaded, how else was I supposed to answer? "Good my ass." Ryan grabbed me, wrapped me in the down jacket. "Pour your own damn milk from now on. Stop ordering your mother around!" He pushed me out of the bedroom and slammed the door. We walked a few steps, then he seemed to remember something and stopped. "Wait here." He rushed back into Roman's room. When he came out, he was clutching a ball of fabric scraps, shoving them into my hand with a red face. "Keep your... stuff safe." "..." I took it and stuffed it into the pocket of the down jacket. "You're the one who should keep your son safe." He slapped away my hand as I tried to take off the jacket. "Anyway, you are not allowed in his room alone from now on." "?" I looked at him, baffled. "Bro, it's summer. It's like 100 degrees outside. You can't expect me to wear this all the time?" "Isn't the AC on?" He sounded self-righteous. He glanced nervously behind him. "Take it off when you get back to our bedroom. Tomorrow... tomorrow I'll buy you new clothes." "...?" I stared at him suspiciously, a thought suddenly popping into my head. "Ryan, you big dummy, you're so nervous... do you like me?" "??" Ryan's eyes widened instantly, like a cat whose tail got stepped on. "Summer Lin, what kind of fever dream are you having? "Me, like you? If I liked you, I'd be..." "Be what?" I pressed. He held it in for a long time before barking out, "I'd be your son!" I clearly didn't believe him, pointing at the heavy jacket. "Then what's this about?" "I just don't want you distracting my son from his studies," he said. "Do you even believe that yourself?" He was silent for a few seconds. "Fine, fine. I just don't want to be cuckolded by my own son. Is that wrong?" "Let me tell you, Summer Lin," he said with a stern face. "No one puts a green hat on me." "NO! ONE!"
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