Manipulative Harem God

Chapter 445 Old Man throws himself to his feets! Brother wants a Fairy instead!

"I'm not sulking," Lisa retorted, her voice a flat, controlled ribbon of sound.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, a physical barrier to her brewing discontent.

"Oh, aren't you?" Zhang Wei's challenge hung in the air, playful yet probing.

He propelled his newly acquired chair backwards with a swift motion and stood, his footsteps a deliberate echo on the cold floor.

Each step towards Lisa etched a deeper furrow in her brow, her frown a silent scream against his advancing presence.

"I told you I am alright. Or do you want me to throw a temper for no reason?" Her words were a rapid-fire attempt at deflection, her eyes rolling in exasperation, yet betrayed by an internal wave of panic as he closed the distance between them.

"Really?" His skepticism, almost tangible, as he settled beside her, his movements a blend of grace and intention.

With a gentle, yet assertive pull, he brought her closer.

Lisa's eyes twitched in protest, but he leaned in to shower her neck and cheeks with gentle kisses. igniting a storm of protests that died as purrs on her lips.

"Ugh! You!" Lisa was momentarily at a loss for words, her frustration bubbling over. "Why don't you make up your mind? Do you want to be a demon or a saint?"

Why did he have to be so whimsical?

"Devil or angel?" Zhang Wei paused, his brow furrowing in genuine perplexity. "Why would I limit myself to just one?"

Lisa was momentarily speechless, her mind racing.

Lisa was momentarily speechless, questioning his self-awareness—or the lack thereof.

His moods shifted like the wind, unpredictable and unsettling.

With a heavy, resigned sigh, she conceded, "Fine, then don't choose. Just be what you truly are—a bully.Satisfied now?" She pondered whether this petty squabble would escalate further.

"Okay," Zhang Wei agreed, his response so unexpected it caught Lisa off guard.

"Huh?" Lisa blinked in surprise.

"What? Surprised?" he teased, his face burrowing into the crook of her neck, her hair tickling his nose. The sweet scent of her enveloped him, reigniting a playful spark within.

Lisa nodded subconsciously, a soft murmur escaping her lips.

"Why do you women think everything will always go your way?" Zhang Wei's question was pointed, a challenge to her assumptions. "Despite your earlier words, you were quick to escalate this into a fight. Where's your apology?"

Lisa's expression darkened, her impulse abruptly halted by his unexpected turn. "Apology? For what?" she queried, unwittingly swept along by the flow of the conversation.

Zhang Wei erupted into laughter, his amusement unrestrained. "Apologize? For ensuring you don't brawl with me and wind up with a broken nose, of course."

"..."

Pfttt....

Following a brief silence, unable to contain herself, Lisa burst into laughter, shaking her head. "You really don't think before you speak, do you? Who says things like that?"

Zhang Wei's smile widened, acknowledging the absurdity.

Think before speaking?

To him, that was an almost foreign concept.

Chen Yulan had once mused that the life of a villain was fraught with tragedy: offend enough people, and your only hope was that your strength deterred retaliation.

Zhang Wei had little fear of weakening, but he recognized that in this game of power and perception, allies were often more valuable than adversaries—especially those who didn't weigh deeds in black and white but followed the whims of their emotions.

To him, understanding how to navigate these waters wasn't about grand gestures or constant adulation.

It was about the delicate art of timing: knowing when to show warmth and when to withdraw it.

This, in Zhang Wei's view, was the mark of a true tactician in the realm of personal connections.

In his strategy, there was no need for pretense.

Authenticity in his occasional acts of kindness was enough to sow intrigue and confusion.

Understanding this balance was what distinguished the adept from the inexperienced, a philosophy Zhang Wei lived by in his complex dance with those around him.

________

"Well, in light of your exemplary behavior today, I suppose I could grant you one wish tonight," Zhang Wei offered, his tone laced with unexpected generosity.

"Hm!?" Lisa, taken aback, blinked in surprise. "One wish?"

With Lisa still nestled in his arms, Zhang Wei twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, affirming, "Just one."

Lisa's face became a canvas of contemplation, her eyes flickering with hesitance and a glimmer of hope. After a moment, she voiced her desire, "Dinner."

"Dinner?" He echoed, his voice carrying a note of amusement and surprise.

"Yes, let's go out for dinner together," Lisa confirmed, her resolve strengthening as she attempted to stand. Yet, her legs wavered beneath her, a silent testament to her vulnerability.

Zhang Wei rose with her, his arms steadying her. "That sounds perfect to me."

Supporting her gently, they ventured outside in search of a quaint place for dinner.

Descending to the ground floor, their passage through the lobby did not go unnoticed. Lisa's uneven gait drew curious glances. The presence of Zhang Wei at her side, however, commanded attention, his protectiveness palpable.

Noting the stares, Zhang Wei's voice took on a dangerous edge, "Her ankle was twisted 'accidentally'. Would anyone here care for their necks to be twisted 'accidentally' as well?"

Gasp!!!

A collective gasp filled the lobby, the air thick with tension. Onlookers quickly averted their gazes, no one daring to meet the eyes of the man who spoke with such veiled threat.

In that charged silence, a figure made his way forward with a determination born of sheer sheet. As if guided by fate, took a leap of faith and landed at Zhang Wei's feet.

"Doctor Zhang."

The lobby, previously enveloped in a tense silence, was suddenly pierced by Liu Dongzi's voice, his desperation evident as he clutched at Zhang Wei's legs.

Zhang Wei's expression turned stormy, a mixture of surprise and irritation flashing across his features.

The sight of an elderly man with wispy white hair prostrating himself at his feet was far from what he had anticipated.

In his mind, he couldn't help but wish for an encounter with a mystical white-haired fairy instead.

His lips twitched involuntarily, a mixture of annoyance and resignation.

Before he could gather his thoughts, the lobby was suddenly filled with the sound of approaching footsteps.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The footsteps, deliberate and echoing, heralded the arrival of others. A collective gasp of surprise reverberated through the crowd, followed by a chorus of voices, unified in their recognition and respect:

""Patriarch!""