Chapter 36: The Self-Cultivation of a Canary (Part 1)
“Is this the place?”
“It should be...”
“Looks like no one lives here...”
“Eh, whatever, let’s not overthink it.”
While the two men spoke, Ling Qiong was yanked down roughly by one of the middle-aged men.
“You stay here and behave, you hear me?” the man barked, his face fierce. “If you dare run, you can start preparing a coffin for your father.”
He rattled off a string of threats, making his intentions unmistakable. When he finished, he shoved her forward and shouted gruffly, “Get inside.”
Through the iron gate overgrown with vines, Ling Qiong saw the courtyard swamped with wild grass, nearly swallowing the path. The place looked abandoned, desolate as a haunted house, eerily chilling.
Did anyone actually live here? Or was it just ghosts?
As for why she was here?
Well. That was a long story.
She’d thought that after completing the mission, she’d just exit the game or at least arrive at some sort of transition zone. But—no such luck.
She woke up directly in a new instance.
Shanshan had the nerve to justify it, saying—
[Dear, since you didn’t request to quit the game and rest, I assumed you wanted to keep playing.]
[If you need a break, you have to specify at the end of the last instance.]
Ling Qiong had cursed out Shanshan and the game developers several times over. But after venting, she could only grit her teeth and accept it for now.
After all, she was already here...
“What happens to the last instance?”
[Dear, just like any other game, after a player leaves, the world remains as it was when you left.]
“Save file?”
[That’s one way to look at it!]
That was standard game procedure, and Ling Qiong could accept it. But the paper-cut people... she still felt a pang of regret.
[Dear, trust me, you’ll meet someone even better.]
Ling Qiong nodded gravely. “You’re right.”
...
Ling Qiong had barely arrived in this new instance before attending the heroine’s funeral.
Yes, that’s right.
She was at the heroine’s funeral once again.
Others descended on rainbow clouds; she was born stepping on the heroine’s memorial tablet.
How’s that for dramatic?
The original host and the heroine were classmates and roommates. But compared to the heroine’s dazzling light, the original host was utterly invisible.
The male lead and heroine were also classmates and had been dating for a while, though their relationship was rocky—breaking up at least eight or nine times.
This time, the heroine suddenly and thoroughly ‘broke up’ with the male lead, and he fell apart.
The original host and the male lead weren’t close—barely acquaintances. But during the period after the heroine’s death, the male lead was a lost soul, and ran into the original host a few times.
Out of ‘classmate concern’ and because the heroine had always treated her decently in the dorm, the original host tried to comfort him a few times.
But who could have guessed—the male lead suddenly started pursuing her.
At the time, she didn’t like him.
By the time she did, she discovered it was all a ploy.
The male lead suspected she’d had something to do with the heroine’s death, claiming her words had led to the heroine’s suicide.
So everything he did was just to get revenge.
The original host was left utterly baffled. What did any of this have to do with her?
Her fate was miserable. She’d fallen for the male lead, only to be tormented both physically and emotionally.
How could that end well?
Ling Qiong was speechless.
Had the author abandoned the story, leaving the plot so illogical?
...
As for why she was here at this moment...
She was now called Ye Qingtang, with a gambling-addict father who owed a fortune.
After school today, she’d been kidnapped by a gang of local thugs and dragged to this place.
They said she had to repay her father’s debts.
Ling Qiong wanted to run.
What did Ye Qingtang’s father’s debt have to do with her, Ling Qiong?
But Shanshan popped up, saying the target character had already been chosen and was waiting at her destination.
She had no choice but to play along and let herself be taken.
To put it bluntly, she’d been sold.
Under the watchful eyes of the two men, Ling Qiong tried pushing the iron gate.
It wasn’t rusty or locked; it opened easily with a creak, the sound adding to the courtyard’s sinister feel.
She stepped onto the wild grass and walked inside. The two men stayed outside, probably to make sure she went in.
There was a villa in the courtyard, entwined in vines. If not for the unsettling surroundings, it might have looked quite beautiful.
The villa’s front door was ajar, and a chilly draft seeped out from the gap.
Ling Qiong hesitated.
Damn!
Was this really a haunted house?
Was the paper-cut person she was looking for a ghost?
She was getting nervous... Maybe she should make a run for it.
...
There was no escape.
You might dodge the first day of the lunar month, but not the fifteenth.
There was only one target, and she couldn’t swap it.
Ling Qiong sighed and resigned herself, pushing open the villa’s door.
Inside, it was pitch-black. All the windows were covered by heavy curtains, not a sliver of light seeping in.
Ling Qiong crossed her arms and glanced around, her eyes darting.
She made a circuit of the ground floor—didn’t see so much as a shadow.
She glanced toward the staircase, then started up the wooden steps.
Upstairs was just as dark, curtains thick as ever, the whole place steeped in darkness, cold, and oppression.
Ling Qiong walked down the corridor, lifting the curtains to peek outside.
From here, she could see the main gate. The car that had brought her was still parked outside.
“You’re Ye Qingtang.”
The sudden voice startled Ling Qiong.
The words ‘Ye Qingtang’ spun a few times in her mind before crashing down on her head.
She was Ye Qingtang. Ye Qingtang was her.
Ling Qiong turned toward the voice.
A woman in a black dress stood at the end of the hallway. Ling Qiong had no idea when she’d appeared, like a ghost haunting the villa.
It was unnerving.
Ling Qiong clutched her chest warily. “And you are?”
The woman in the black dress didn’t answer. She strode over, yanked the curtain from Ling Qiong’s hands, and glared at her.
She had a sharp, mean face, her expression flat and joyless—like a wicked witch straight from a TV drama.
Her voice was as harsh as her demeanor. “Come with me.”
Ling Qiong was speechless.
She really felt like she’d run into a ghost.
Scared her half to death!
...
The ‘witch’ led Ling Qiong into a room, decorated just as darkly and oppressively as the rest of the house.
Like a strict dean, she scrutinized Ling Qiong from head to toe before reciting a list of rules.
“Your job is to keep the young master company. Any of his requests must be fulfilled—including your body.”
Ling Qiong blinked, silent.
So she really had been sold.
The woman continued, “The young master hates light, so you cannot open the curtains. You must be quiet; he needs peace. You must not...”
There were far too many prohibitions. Ling Qiong obediently raised her hand. “Can I get an employee handbook? There are just too many rules.”
No this, no that.
Just what sort of person was their young master?
The woman’s face grew even darker. “I’ll only say this once. If you can’t remember, that’s your problem.”
“Oh.”
Ling Qiong pulled out her phone, opened the recording app, and gestured politely. “Go ahead.”
The woman was speechless.
She shot Ling Qiong a fierce glare, then rattled off the rest of the rules in a rapid-fire monotone.
When she finished, her tone changed. “Hand over your phone.”