Secretly Married to a Wealthy Tycoon

Ye Ran feels like his straight roommate might be fishing for him. * [Gentle, meticulous, and polite art student (bottom) × aloof, calculating, self-reliant angler (top) who bends himself] His straight roommate is a renowned campus heartthrob—handsome, reserved, and unapproachable, the epitome of an untouchable ice prince. Love letters pile up, and suitors of all genders line up. Ye Ran sighs and vents to his childhood friend. The friend nods: "Got it. You wanna chase him." Ye Ran: "?" Friend: "I support you." Ye Ran: "..." Friend: "I’ve got tons of experience chasing guys—one confession and I know if they’re into it." Chasing someone boils down to a few methods: 1. Show constant care 2. Be relentlessly attentive 3. Offer tender comfort ... Ye Ran struggles: "Actually..." Friend interjects: "Got it, you don’t get it." He elaborates: "Taking care of him when he’s sick, buying meds and water, is showing care. Meeting his needs instantly, stalking his socials, is being attentive. Comforting him when he’s upset is tender care." Ye Ran falls silent for a long moment. Then he blurts: "What if… he does all that to *me*?" Friend: "?" Ye Ran’s ears burn as he murmurs: "He… lets me wear his clothes, joins the same clubs, takes me on trips… and, and..." Friend urges: "And what?" Ye Ran: "Hugs me to sleep when he’s drunk." Friend: "Tch." Friend: "Sly straight guy." Friend: "Pfft. A scheming top." ... Ten minutes later. Friend: "Flight’s booked." Ye Ran: "Huh? Coming back?" Friend: "Yep." Friend: "Romance is best watched from the sidelines." --- **Notes:** 1. Slice-of-life, a tribute to my ended uni days. 2. Scheming, angler-type top—only fishes for the bottom. 3. Pre-relationship tension and post-confession scenes are balanced; I adore unspoken limerence.

The protagonist transmigrated into a novel—a bedtime read packed with elements like a harem, NP, and male rivalry. The story follows a poor, downtrodden protagonist who enters an elite academy. Disgusted by the school’s classist hierarchy, he unintentionally clashes with several male leads. These leads, dubbed the "F4" by the school forum, are arrogant elites from illustrious families. By the story’s end, each faces their own downfall while becoming hopelessly obsessed with the protagonist’s unyielding optimism, sparking intense rivalry that leaves readers exhilarated. The protagonist transmigrates as the "rumored boyfriend" of F1—officially a lover, unofficially a sycophant. His character, also a scholarship student, was initially brilliant but quickly corrupted by the academy’s rigid social ladder. Realizing merit alone won’t elevate him, he clings to F1 for survival. F1 is a vile individual. Born into immense power, he scorns everyone. Besides the protagonist, he’s surrounded by six other sycophants locked in fierce competition. Unlike the protagonist, these rivals come from wealthy backgrounds and view his "rumored boyfriend" status with venomous envy. F1’s cruelty lies in his habit of "cultivating sycophants." He deliberately fosters this toxic ecosystem, having grown up in a cutthroat family where human ugliness amuses him. The academy’s drama is just a pastime. Initially, the protagonist plans to flee, but without F1’s "protection," the others would crush him. He’s forced to play along. F1 quickly notices his lack of enthusiasm. To stoke his desperation, F1 dangles rewards: - A key to his villa, so the protagonist can fetch meals three times a day. - Front-row tickets to the academy gala, for filming F1’s beauty from every angle. - A seat beside him on the annual study trip, to shield him from disturbances. Each "favor" pushes the protagonist closer to drowning himself. Then, on a rainy day, F1—suffering from the clichéd "wealthy heir’s stomach ailment"—orders the protagonist to fetch medicine. Braving the storm, the protagonist drags his feet, cursing F1’s diva antics. When he finally returns to the classroom— It’s empty. Rain streaks the windows, curtains billowing in the dim light. F1 lounges on the highest row of the lecture hall, chin propped on his hand. His gaze locks onto the protagonist before he smirks. "Hey, *boyfriend*." "Want to kiss?" * Beyond F1, the academy’s F2, F3, and F4 are equally formidable. They’d heard rumors of F1’s "redemption" but never met the one who tamed him— Until another rainy day. Entering the F4 lounge, they push open the door. Dust swirls in the faint light. Amid the storm’s whisper, F1—clad in a black tank top, muscles stark under the shadows—pins someone against the marble table, kissing them with shocking desperation. At the intrusion, he glares up, one hand gripping his lover’s head in possessive warning. "Ever heard of knocking?" F2 grins, raising his hands. "Didn’t realize we’d interrupt." F3 smirks, eyeing the slender figure in F1’s arms. "Keep it private." F4, silent as ever, turns to leave. Disgusted, the protagonist shoves F1 away and leaps off the table— Lips pressed tight, eyes dark and dull despite their lingering redness, his expression ices over as he brushes past the F4 without a glance. The room freezes. * —What the protagonist doesn’t know: his story *truly* begins now.