Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads

Chapter 357 --357

Heena looking at him with the flat, unblinking certainty of someone who had already mentally vacated the conversation, stating: ’"Either you get another room, or I sleep in the street right now."’

Because he was not willing to test whether she was serious—with Heena, there was always the terrifying possibility that she was entirely serious—he had agreed, carrying the air of a man who had lost a negotiation he hadn’t even realized had begun.

But Samuel was not a man who blindly followed rules when his wife was injured.

Hours later, the door to Heena’s room clicked open without a single sound.

The room was dim, the last of the evening light entirely gone, leaving only the pale moonlight spilling across the floorboards. Heena was exactly where exhaustion had dropped her—lying on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, her burned palm resting loosely against the coarse blanket. Her dark hair was spilled chaotically across the pillow in a vulnerable way she would never, in a thousand years, have permitted if she were conscious.

Samuel stood silently by the edge of the bed, looking at her for a long moment.

Then, he leaned over. With the careful, agonizingly gentle hands of a man who had learned how to be soft in the dark, he gathered the loose strands of hair and tucked them neatly behind her ear, entirely clearing her face.

"You are such a troublesome wife," he murmured into the silence.

There was absolutely no sharpness in the words. There was only the quiet, private, overwhelming warmth of a man who saved his real voice for rooms where no one else was listening.

He carefully pulled the heavy blanket up over her shoulders, smoothing the edge once to keep the draft out. He lingered there for a moment longer, his dark eyes tracing the unguarded peace on her face—taking in the burn on her palm he couldn’t instantly fix, and the dangerous mysteries he knew she was already dreaming of unraveling.

For a fleeting second, his expression shifted, displaying a raw, intense devotion that rarely got the chance to breathe in the daylight.

Then, silently, he turned and melted back out of the room.

It was three in the afternoon, and the capital simmered under a merciless summer sun. The heat was the suffocating kind—the kind that didn’t just slow time, but stretched it thin until every second felt like a punishment.

If there was one unforgivable flaw in this ancient era, it was the complete absence of climate control. No air conditioning. No electric fans. Not even the mercy of a desert cooler. The air itself felt thick, dry, and hostile, as if the sun had taken it upon itself to wring every drop of moisture from the human body. The only defense available was a flimsy hand fan—more suited for aristocratic flair than actual survival.

Heena sat at the inn’s table, fanning herself with sharp, irritated motions. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red, her patience melting faster than wax under a flame.

A moment later, Samuel returned—bearing what could only be described as salvation.

To their credit, the people of this era were ingenious in their own way. Drinking water was stored in porous earthen pots, buried in damp sand and wrapped in wet cloth. The constant evaporation cooled the contents naturally. The water Samuel carried was shockingly cold, almost miraculous against the oppressive heat.

But even cold water had its limits when the air itself felt like dragon’s breath.

Samuel stepped beside her, unfolding a large, sturdy fan and directing a steady, cooling breeze over her face.

"If the heat is this unbearable," he said, his deep voice calm beneath the rhythmic rustle of the fan, "we could return to the room. You could change into something lighter."

Heena stopped fanning just long enough to fix him with a look of pure disbelief.

"Are you insane?" she snapped. "You’re basically telling me the room is a blazing oven and asking me to walk into it willingly."

She pressed a hand to her forehead. It was burning. No—her entire upper body felt like it was actively on fire.

That was it.

In a moment of desperation utterly unbefitting her status, Heena grabbed the ceramic cup from the table and dumped its icy contents straight over her head.

A sharp, blissful sigh escaped her as the cold water soaked through her hair, trickling down her neck and into her collar like liquid salvation.

Samuel froze.

Then his composure shattered.

"Are you a fool?!" he snapped, dropping his fan onto the table. In one swift motion, he pulled a clean linen handkerchief from his belt and began drying her hair with brisk, controlled movements. "Drenching yourself like that in this heat—you’ll fall sick!"

"I don’t care," Heena muttered, though she made no effort to stop him.

She tilted her head up, narrowing her eyes at him in open resentment.

He was wearing layers. The same heavy robes. And yet—aside from a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead—he looked entirely unaffected. No flushed skin. No labored breathing. Just calm, composed, and infuriatingly handsome, as if he were enjoying a pleasant spring afternoon.

"Aren’t you hot at all?" she demanded.

"Of course I am," Samuel replied smoothly, still patting her hair dry. "But unlike you, I have patience."

Heena scoffed, turning away with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

And then—

She saw it.

The golden holographic lion lounged comfortably on the wooden floor, utterly immune to the physical world.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was what it was holding.

Between its paws was a massive, brightly colored, heavily frosted digital popsicle.

Heena stared in disbelief as the lion slowly dragged its tongue across the frozen surface—deliberate, exaggerated—without breaking eye contact.

Her eye twitched.

She was here, melting into the floorboards, denied even a single shard of real ice... and this insufferable System was leisurely enjoying a digital frozen treat purely out of spite.

’Unbelievable.’

With a long, defeated sigh, Heena slumped back in her seat.

They said the company you kept shaped you over time.

Once upon a time, she had been known as ruthless. Spiteful. Unforgiving.

And now?

She had somehow managed to corrupt her own advanced System into becoming a petty, vindictive little menace—perfectly mirroring her worst traits.

Honestly... she couldn’t even be angry about it.

It was far too hot to plot revenge.

It had to be said—Seera’s original body had already been breathtaking.

If it hadn’t been, it would never have drawn the greedy, calculating gaze of that old monster in the first place.

But over the past few weeks, under Samuel’s meticulous care and relentless indulgence, that beauty had been refined into something far more dangerous. The faint pallor of illness had long since vanished, replaced by a soft, radiant glow that made her skin look almost luminous.

And then there was Heena.

Heena carried a different kind of beauty—one that had nothing to do with features alone. It was sharp. Predatory. Effortless. It lived in the straight line of her posture, in the unhurried confidence of her movements, in the quiet certainty that she belonged wherever she chose to stand.

When Seera’s delicate, almost fragile features merged with Heena’s commanding presence, the result became something irresistible—something that blurred lines and ignored boundaries. Whether dressed as a noble lady or a pampered young master, it didn’t matter.