Chapter 4: You'll Pay for the Button

For a moment, the ward went still as a mime show with the pause button pressed.

Everyone was stunned.

The aggrieved look froze on Si Ningyou's face, her words stuck in her throat.

How had this idiot stolen her lines?

So what was she supposed to perform now?

Si Congshan's brows knitted tight. "Mianmian, what nonsense are you spouting!"

Ruan Qiutang also snapped back to her senses. "You can't think that way about your sister."

"Sorry, Mom, Dad."

Si Yimian's voice went soft and sticky-sweet.

She didn't even need to think—the moment Si Ningyou stuck out her butt, she knew what flavor of rainbow candy was coming.

"It's the same routine every time. I've practically developed a conditioned reflex."

"So this time, I figured I'd just run through the routine myself and save everyone the trouble."

Si Yimian's words left Si Congshan and Ruan Qiutang momentarily speechless.

Si Congshan opened his mouth to say something, but Si Ningyou choked out first.

"Mianmian, I just thought it was a bit of a coincidence."

Her tears fell on cue, sliding down her pale cheeks.

"Everyone in the family knows I have a severe nut allergy. The kitchen never keeps anything like that around."

"Mianmian, if you really just had a momentary lapse in judgment, your sister won't blame you."

"I know you've always felt like I stole your place. You just wanted too much—"

Si Yimian asked sincerely, "Wanted you dead too much?"

Si Ningyou choked.

The room went silent for a beat.

Si Yimian bit her lower lip, thinking seriously, then pressed the attack.

"If I really wanted you dead, I definitely wouldn't have measured out the nut powder so carefully."

She paused, tilted her head, and smiled.

"I'd have gone straight for paraquat, mixed with root rot agent, cut with toilet bowl cleaner."

"One spoon's not enough, use two. Even the gods couldn't save you."

That soft, sweet tone—delivering lines straight out of a true-crime documentary.

"Mianmian!"

Si Congshan cut her off in a low voice, his face ashen.

Si Yimian shrank her neck and instantly turned into a good little angel.

"Don't be mad, Dad. I'm joking. Murder gets you jail time—I know that."

Si Congshan was choked speechless, his face turning blue.

How was this child's way of speaking so passive-aggressive?

Yet she had this innocent, earnest look—completely non-threatening. It left him with nowhere to direct his anger.

He Nanxian stepped forward half a pace, blocking the front of Si Ningyou's bed.

"Mianmian, that's enough."

"Ningyou was just raising a reasonable suspicion. An allergy is no small matter—she nearly went into shock."

"Do you really have to make everything sound so ugly?"

Si Yimian looked at him quietly, then suddenly smiled.

"Reasonable suspicion?"

"Since my sister suspects me, then I have a question of my own."

Si Yimian changed tack, her gaze dropping to her injured leg, her voice softening.

"Why did my sister deliberately push me onto a pile of broken glass tonight?"

"I had to get three stitches in my thigh. It really hurt."

The words landed like a thunderclap out of a clear sky, stunning everyone present.

Si Ningyou's head snapped up.

When had she ever pushed her?

What kind of wild accusation was this??

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Am I spouting nonsense?"

Si Yimian shot back, eyes wide and round.

"When I fell onto the glass, someone shoved me hard."

"And the spot I was pushed from—it was exactly where you were standing."

"But I didn't push you!"

Si Ningyou denied it, voice cracking.

He Nanxian frowned and cut in. "Mianmian, stop making a scene. Why would Ningyou push you?"

Si Yimian looked at him, baffled.

"What, did I throw myself onto the glass?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know broken glass hurts when it stabs you."

She turned to look at He Sichen, her voice softening a notch.

"Dr. He, does my injury look like I did it to myself on purpose?"

With one sentence, she tossed the gavel into his hands.

Everyone's eyes turned to the man who had been silent all along.

He Sichen stood at the foot of the bed, his white coat spotless, a layer of detached indifference between his brows.

He'd assumed this was just another tedious Si family farce.

Si Yimian was still that quiet little punching bag who swallowed her losses.

But from the moment she walked in, she'd been delivering one smooth combo after another—digging pits, setting traps.

Playing the good girl, playing the clever one.

And she even knew when to drag him into the fray.

This girl seemed to have swapped out her core overnight.

Not only did she hit every one of his aesthetic preferences—now even her temperament had a wicked edge that suited his taste.

He wanted to see what other waves she could stir up.

"Brother, what's your take on this?"

He Nanxian spoke first.

"I'm watching from my seat."

He Sichen's thin lips parted slightly, his tone flat.

Four words, and He Nanxian was left with nothing to say.

Everyone else: "..."

He Nanxian's brows knitted tight.

"Brother, I'm seriously asking for your opinion."

Only then did He Sichen slowly turn and walk toward the armchair by the wall.

He settled into it unhurriedly, long legs crossed.

He was physically lower than everyone else, yet his presence pressed the entire room into silence.

He lifted his gaze, pale pupils fixing directly on Si Ningyou.

"Since you insist on asking, I can add one point."

"From the wound morphology, the glass penetrated vertically with clean force."

"Self-inflicted wounds typically show subconscious restraint—the cuts tend to be shallow and irregular."

He paused briefly, his gaze brushing past Si Yimian before returning.

"Miss Si's injury doesn't fit that pattern."

The light in Si Yimian's eyes flared bright.

She'd won—but she still had to hold it in.

This man, sure enough, knew how to play along.

She looked back at Si Ningyou.

"Did you hear that, sister?"

Si Ningyou saw the tide turning and immediately spoke up.

"It was so chaotic at the time—maybe someone else accidentally..."

Si Yimian tilted her head up, the corners of her eyes curving like crescent moons.

"Sister says she didn't push me. Got any proof?"

Si Ningyou's breath caught in her throat.

She hadn't pushed her at all—where would she get proof?

But backed into a corner like this, she could only grit her teeth and counterattack.

"What about you?"

"Do you have proof you didn't put nut powder in that glass of orange juice?"

Si Yimian raised her hand softly, like a good student volunteering in class.

"I do."

Three words, spoken light and certain.

Si Ningyou's heart dropped.

Si Yimian pulled out her phone, swiped a few times, then turned it around.

A video began to play.

On screen, the nanny, Auntie Zhang, had her back to the camera, furtively shaking powder into the orange juice.

After stirring it quickly, she glanced around guiltily.

Si Congshan's and Ruan Qiutang's faces turned black as the bottom of a pot.

He Nanxian's gaze ping-ponged between the video and Si Yimian's face, words dying on his lips.

Only He Sichen remained lounging in his chair, knuckles tapping lightly on the armrest.

"I happened to pass by the kitchen and saw Auntie Zhang putting something in the juicer. I thought she was poisoning someone."

"I was so scared I almost rushed in to stop her."

"But then I thought—what if she was just adding sugar?"

"So I figured I'd record it first. If something happened, at least there'd be evidence."

Ruan Qiutang covered her mouth.

"Auntie Zhang... how dare she?"

"Mom, she totally dared."

Si Yimian put her phone away.

"Before coming to the hospital, I went ahead and called the police. Auntie Zhang is already at the station drinking chrysanthemum tea."

"It's the big data era—every action leaves a trace, every person leaves a trail. The truth always comes out."

Si Ningyou's mind was a tangled mess.

When had this little idiot grown a brain?

The way she talked—she sounded more like a ten-year veteran schemer than Si Ningyou herself.

Si Congshan took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice.

"Since Mianmian has evidence, we'll leave this matter to the police."

Si Yimian nodded, then looked back at Si Ningyou, the picture of earnest curiosity.

"I've submitted my evidence."

"Sister, where's yours?"