Her Tears

By the time I transmigrated here, the villain had already gone bankrupt.

He wore a 9.90-yuan T-shirt and crammed himself into a 300-yuan basement room.

Every day, he shut himself in his room and wasted away in despair.

The System told me to kick down his door:

“Call him a useless piece of tr*sh, demand money from him, force him to go outside, and make him get a job.”

“Only if the villain rises again can he stand against the male lead and oppose him.”

But I had social anxiety, and I was timid besides. I didn’t dare go anywhere near that door.

To make money, I started getting up before dawn and working until late at night, running a street stall.

But the amount of money the System demanded kept growing, and I found it harder and harder to keep up.

Then, after some thugs deliberately wrecked my pushcart again, I couldn’t hold back my tears and cried in secret.

In a daze, I lifted my head, and a tissue appeared in my line of sight.

The silent, brooding villain was crouched in front of me.

“Don’t cry. I fixed the cart.”

So it turned out that what could make the villain walk out of that door…

Wasn’t just insults.

It was my tears, too.