The Villain Only Wants to Survive, But Heroine refuses toFollow Script

Strangely enough, at exactly noon, Davis made a full recovery.

The stomach pain abruptly stopped. While he still felt weak, at least the relentless diarrhea had come to an end—for now.

Exiting the suburban villa, he found a brand-new Audi RS7 parked in front of him.

Sarah Moore, his loyal guard, stood by the car, sword in hand, and saluted. "Master, everything has been arranged."

Davis straightened his back and glanced at the car. "I'm heading out incognito today. To maximize the dramatic effect of my eventual triumph, I need to lower my status and pose as an ordinary nobody. The more low-key, the better. Get me a different vehicle, something more discreet."

Sarah was briefly stunned. "Understood."

A few minutes later, Davis stared at the vehicle before him, stroking his chin in deep thought.

"Sarah."

"Yes, Master."

"This… is the car you found for me?"

"Yes, Master."

Davis nearly coughed up blood.

Car? This thing wasn't a car—it was a tractor.

And not just any tractor, but a battered old diesel one.

"This… thing…" Davis began.

Sarah explained, "Master, this is the Harvest-brand diesel tractor. Rugged, simple, and utterly lacking in sophistication. It perfectly matches your requirements."

Davis looked at Sarah, exasperated. "Are you brainless? Get another one."

"There are no other options, Master. Time is short, and your schedule today is packed. Any further delay will leave us behind."

Fuming, Davis relented. "Fine. This piece of junk will do—it's just a means of transportation anyway."

"Please, Master, start it yourself!"

"How do I start it?"

"There's a crank here. Insert it into the starting port and rotate it vigorously until the engine roars to life and nearly jumps into the air."

Face darkened, Davis began cranking the tractor.

Having no prior experience with such a contraption, he resorted to brute force, with Sarah providing live instructions:

"Master, keep up a steady rhythm—don't stop!"

"Just a bit more, Master, and it'll start!"

"Put your full strength into it, Master! Swing your arms harder—don't hold back!"

"Master, you're a living legend! Let me help—"

Soon, Davis was sitting atop the tractor, bouncing violently as its jerking movements threatened to rearrange his internal organs.

"Where did you even find this piece of junk?" he shouted over the deafening engine noise.

Sarah shouted back, "I bought it from a farmer for the low price of 90,000 !"

"Ninety thousand for this piece of trash?!"

"Master, calm down! It's about to rain!"

"Where's the soft-top switch?"

"Master, you must be joking. This is a tractor—there's no roof, soft or otherwise."

Davis was livid. "What do we do when it rains?"

Sarah replied confidently, "Master, I have a plan."

"Spit it out!"

"Endure it."

Just as Davis was about to lose patience, the drizzle turned into a torrential downpour, complete with thunderclaps. Both were instantly drenched, resembling a pair of soaked rats.

Shivering from the cold, rain-soaked to the bone, Davis clung to the vibrating steering wheel, his stomach churning painfully.

"Damn it! Ever since yesterday, nothing's gone right! I refuse to believe this streak of bad luck has no end!"

Sarah saluted. "Master, please don't speak jinx !"

"Jinx what? Could it get any worse than this?"

"Master, watch out for the cesspit ahead!"

"What pit—?!"

Before he could react, the tractor lurched, and Davis was flung headfirst into a cesspit.

Sarah stood on the edge, calling down to him. "Master, please climb out quickly!"

Davis roared, "Help me! My leg is stuck under the tractor!"

"Master, the tractor is worthless—leave it behind! Your noble body cannot remain in a cesspit. Please make a swift decision!"

"I said my leg is trapped under the damn thing! Move it off me!"

"Master, I humbly request you exit the pit!"

"The tractor! It's pinning my leg! Move it off!"

"Master, why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Move it already!"

"You should've said something sooner!"

"MOVE IT!"

"Why didn't you just—"

"GET IT OFF ME!"

......

Edward had enjoyed a comfortable nap.

Upon waking, he began reflecting on life.

He couldn't just muddle through aimlessly.

There was no chance to escape now, so he had to stay and figure out how to navigate the storyline ahead.

To deal with such a complex plot, he needed to maintain a sharp mind, robust physical energy, and a positive, sunny disposition.

Thus, he decided: indulging in luxury was essential!

Sophia followed behind him as two attendants pushed open the double doors to the walk-in wardrobe.

The decadence of the filthy rich was beyond comprehension.

The wardrobe stretched over ten meters deep.

Both sides reached up to the ceiling, lined with exquisite cabinets.

The attendant opened the left side, revealing an array of high-end clothes organized neatly by season, either folded or hung in perfect order.

The right side unveiled rows of flamboyant shoes: dress shoes, sneakers, loafers, beach sandals…

One cabinet housed over a hundred luxury watches, surpassing even a high-end watch boutique in extravagance.

Another was filled with accessories: cufflinks, designer belts, gold rings, high-end sunglasses…

Edward glanced over it all and said to Sophia, "Donate all the clothes and shoes."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

Edward continued, "Inform my stylist immediately. From today onward, I'm changing my image—no more flashy nonsense."

"What style would you prefer, Mr. Edward?"

"A proper aristocratic look. Think business elite, British style. You've seen 007, right? Tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, luxury watches, crisp white shirts. That's the vibe."

"Understood. I'll coordinate with the design team."

"Also, pick out a few vehicles for me."

"What kind of sports car would you like?"

"No sports cars. Just a sedan and an SUV. The business car should be all-black and high-end. The sedan and SUV should both be understated and elegant."

"Got it."

"And find me a new villa. Closer to home, with tasteful decor. I don't want it to scream nouveau riche. It should have an artistic flair—not just a display of wealth and nothing else."

"Understood."

Edward was pleased. "Make it happen quickly."

"Yes, Mr. Edward."

Jon, standing nearby, chuckled. "Boss Astor, what's with the sudden transformation?"

"Jon, from now on, call me Mr. Edward. 'Boss Astor' is a family title, and I don't like it. I'm a businessman—address me accordingly."

"Understood, Mr. Edward."

Jon, though rough around the edges, was surprisingly sharp and quick-witted. His specialty? Flattery.

He had mastered the art of playing the loyal sidekick, presenting himself as a devoted lackey with unshakable loyalty.

Of course, if he were truly brainless, Edward would have kicked him out long ago. It took skill to hold a position like this.

With the plans set, Edward announced, "Back to the company. We have a meeting today."

Sitting in the car, Edward sipped champagne, utterly satisfied.

The 2-million luxury business vehicle was all about comfort and convenience for its occupants.

Legs crossed, champagne in hand, and Sophia seated across from him, Edward felt on top of the world.

Today, Sophia wore a short, fitted pencil skirt and nude stockings, as per his specifications.

[ Sophia was stunning. ]

The more Edward looked, the more captivating she became.

Despite her striking features—thick brows and large eyes—she exuded a submissive, pitiable aura.

This contrast was dangerously enticing.

She was like a certain type of actress: tall, leggy, sexy, elegant—yet with an air of vulnerability that invited domination, control, and… exploitation.

Victoria was stately, Elizabeth playful, Catherine graceful.

But Sophia… Sophia awakened a primal urge in men, an unrelenting desire to conquer her.

Her allure wasn't just physical; it was something deep and unique, a magnetic charm on a purely instinctual level.

Edward made up his mind.

[ [ I need to transfer her soon. ] ]

[ [ This won't end well. She's too much. Any normal man wouldn't stand a chance, let alone me. As her boss, she's used to obeying me. If I take advantage of her… she might not even resist for her mother's sake. ] ]

And that's precisely the problem.

Many people avoid wrongdoing because they lack the ability, opportunity, or courage.

Edward, however, had all three, and he feared crossing the line one day. If that happened, he knew the protagonist would come for him soon after.

Meanwhile, Sophia was panicking internally.

[ Why does Mr. Edward want to transfer me? After all my effort?

If you can't resist, then don't! I already know you're a good person who cares about me. I'm your secretary, after all. Isn't it normal for a boss and secretary to…

Wait! What am I thinking?! I used to be a virtuous, self-respecting girl. If I wanted this, I would've pursued it long ago. What's happening to me now? Why am I thinking about seducing my boss?! ]

Both were lost in thought when the car screeched to an abrupt halt.

Edward, startled, spilled his champagne—straight onto Sophia's chest.

Shocked, he quickly reached over to wipe it off. "I'm so sorry! What's wrong with the driver?!"

Sophia froze, her voice trembling. "Boss, it's fine… I… Don't… Boss, don't! You're so annoying… You don't need to press there—I didn't flood my chest…"

Realizing his mistake, Edward awkwardly withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean… The champagne and my hand, both unintentional."

Desperate to change the subject, he yelled, "Jon! What the hell kind of driving is this?!"

Jon replied, "Mr. Edward, there's a tractor blocking the road. I'll go deal with it."

While Edward and Sophia busied themselves with cleaning up, Jon stepped out of the car.

To his surprise, the tractor driver wasn't a stranger—it was Davis.

Jon marched over. "Well, well! Look who it is! Can't you see the car? Do you know how much it's worth? A single scratch, and selling you wouldn't cover it!"

Davis glanced at Jon coldly, a faint smile on his lips. "Oh? Edward's lackey?"

Jon laughed. "You got that right! Good to see you recognize me!"

Davis frowned. "I was mocking you. Do you have no shame?"

Before Jon could respond, he caught a whiff of something foul.

"Damn! What's that smell? Did you fall into a cesspit?"

Davis's eye twitched. Is this guy psychic?

Edward, still in the car, looked up.

And there he was. Davis. The protagonist.

Edward froze. He's here?! Already?!

Meanwhile, Jon was digging his own grave, continuing to insult Davis.

Edward shoved a napkin at Sophia. "You handle this yourself."

"Mr. Edward, but you…"

"I said, handle it yourself."

Edward threw open the door, stepped out, and yelled at Davis, "Stop! Forgive me!"