The thought of the cat instantly filled Jiang Miao with motivation.
She brought over a large plate of pastries and prepared tea. Worried that the other might not have a sweet tooth, she also set out some savory scallion pancakes and braised meat—all readily available items. It was best to first test the other’s preferences; once she figured out their tastes, she could carefully prepare more suitable offerings. The only thing missing was a staple food, but that wasn’t difficult. She could simply cook some rice.
Once everything was ready, she swiftly fled the room, standing outside the door with her heart pounding.
Although watching a kitten eat was a blissful experience, the happiness of hiding in the shadows, waiting for the cat to start its meal, was no less intense. Perhaps it was the hunting instinct ingrained in her genes kicking in. She felt a surge of excitement as she leaned against the wall, straining to hear any movement inside.
Of course, the other wouldn’t let their guard down so quickly.
But she wasn’t in a hurry either. After all, this was her only real task at the moment. As long as she had patience, the cat would definitely eat. This certainty within uncertainty made her eager to try.
After waiting for what felt like ages, there was still no movement from inside the room.
Jiang Miao was growing impatient. Hesitating for a moment, she thought that since the other couldn’t see her, it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek. She pressed her eye close to the crack in the door. It was already evening, and the room was dimly lit. Peering past the dining table and pillars, she could see the person lying quietly on the bed, their posture unchanged, and of course, the food untouched.
Strange, wasn’t she hungry?
Just as she was muttering to herself, someone suddenly spoke from behind: [What are you doing?]
Jiang Miao, who had been fully focused on her spying, was so startled she nearly jumped out of her skin. Suppressing the urge to scream, she turned around to confront the culprit. “You scared me to death!”
The system didn’t even bother to dodge, instead pressing itself against the door to look inside. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, it said, [Isn’t she just sleeping? What’s so interesting about that?]
Not wanting it to disturb the other, Jiang Miao dragged it aside and recounted what had just happened.
The system hesitated, then said, [Why is she so resistant to you? Shouldn’t she have fallen in love with you at first sight?]
“I’d like to know that too! You’re the system—don’t you know what she’s thinking?” Jiang Miao shot it a glare before adding, “So the road to winning her over is still long and arduous. Ugh, with all this hard work, shouldn’t I be getting triple the pay?”
[I’m not a mind reader, how would I know what she’s thinking? Don’t push your luck. With your level of fame, you should be grateful you even got this role. There’s no room for bargaining here.]
“Hey, if you think I’m not famous enough, don’t hire me! Go hire a top-tier actress if you can, you cheapskate!”
As the two bickered pointlessly, they had no idea that in the room not far from them, someone had slowly opened their eyes.
Of course, she couldn’t see—though not completely blind, she could make out some blurry light, but it was only slightly better than being completely sightless. She stared vacantly at the ceiling for a while before turning her head toward the small table beside her bed.
She couldn’t see, but she could smell.
There were pastries, beef, cooled tea, and rice.
She had no appetite.
The pain in her body had lessened compared to yesterday, but it still clung to her bones, tormenting her in relentless waves.
She assessed her condition: all her meridians were shattered, both her calves were broken, her internal organs were riddled with countless injuries, and her eyes were blind. From head to toe, there wasn’t a single part of her that was intact. In other words, she was utterly and completely useless.
Hah. Useless.
Reflecting on her meteoric rise in the first half of her life, though she started from the very bottom, she had always held the winning hand. There was nothing she couldn’t accomplish if she set her mind to it, nothing she desired that she couldn’t obtain. No one dared question her abilities, and no one could have imagined she would ever fall to such a state.
Looking back now, many signs had been there all along. But she had been too arrogant, completely forgetting that the most terrifying thing in this world was not demons or monsters, but the human heart. She had risen too sharply, too brilliantly, inevitably inviting envy and resentment. On the surface, they pretended to be sisters in deep affection, but in truth, every one of them longed to see her plunge into the abyss.
And now, she had fallen.
No doubt those people were raising their glasses in celebration.
Her hand unconsciously drifted to her leg. The break was clean; perhaps with a few days of rest, it would heal.
But so what? Even if it healed, what then?
She was now blind, with all her meridians severed. What could she possibly do?
A self-mocking smile touched her lips. In the first half of her life, she had made too many enemies. Wherever she went, she would only meet a tragic end. This world was vast, yet there was no place for Ling Gu to call home.
Ling Gu, Ling Gu—didn’t this name foretell her fate?
A deeper wave of desolation washed over her. What was the point of living? Better to die.
But she was trapped here now, without even the means to end her life.
This sense of helplessness bred a surge of resentment. She could have died successfully if it weren’t for that meddlesome, noisy woman!
She detested these do-gooders who meddled in others’ affairs, satisfying their own desire to be virtuous, thinking it would earn them tearful gratitude. How utterly foolish! And this one had even presumptuously prepared food. Couldn’t she see that Ling Gu had no wish to live? If not for this “benevolent” woman, she would have long been dead in the river by now!
A faint layer of demonic energy flickered around her, but it quickly dissipated, sinking back into her body.
Now, she couldn’t even kill anyone.
This plunged her into deeper despair. Such a simple thing, and she couldn’t do it.
Grief welled up within her. With a sweep of her arm, she sent all the food on the table crashing to the floor.
The continuous, crisp shattering of porcelain brought her a perverse sense of satisfaction.
Soon, the noise summoned someone.
The person hurried in, stood frozen for a moment, then crouched to pick up the pieces. The clinking of porcelain shards filled the air. Suddenly, the person let out a soft hiss. Ling Gu guessed she must have cut her finger.
Ha! Serves her right!
A secret thrill rose in Ling Gu’s heart. This was exactly what she wanted to see.
She wanted this person to know that acts of kindness came with a price. Not everyone would be grateful to their savior. What merit was there in merely saving a life? One must also bear the chain of consequences that followed. She was someone who deserved to be in hell. Saving such a person would only bring great misfortune.
Go on, curse her, regret it. Better yet, throw her back into the river!
But the other person didn’t get angry. Not only was she not angry, she even sighed softly, a sound tinged with helplessness.
It was a gentle, indulgent sigh, light and almost fond, as if she didn’t know what to do with Ling Gu.
Ling Gu didn’t understand.
Was this person out of her mind, or possessed by some bodhisattva?
They were mere strangers who happened to cross paths. What ulterior motive could she have, to treat Ling Gu with such tenderness?
Ling Gu broke out in goosebumps all over. She had experienced countless instances of inexplicable malice since childhood but had never encountered inexplicable kindness. In a relationship between strangers, kindness was like a piece of cake appearing out of thin air—whether it tasted good or not was secondary; the first thing to consider was whether it was laced with arsenic.
But what did she have that was worth coveting?
She had already lost everything. What exactly did this woman want?
Ling Gu tensed up, growing even more uneasy.
On the other side, Jiang Miao tossed the shattered plates and kettle into the trash heap behind the house. After some thought, she figured the food probably didn’t suit the other’s taste. No matter—she had plenty of time. She could always make something else.
Her emotional stability stemmed from the cultivation of a seasoned pet owner.
Her cats had always loved pushing things off tables—regardless of the occasion, time, or value. Their impressive track record included expensive brand-name foundation and cheap cups alike. Over the years, she had developed an incredibly resilient heart. When she heard something shatter, her first instinct wasn’t to check what had broken but to immediately prevent or rescue other items that startled, leaping cats might knock over.
Hearing that familiar sound now, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of longing for her cats. This sentiment was projected onto Ling Gu. Far from being angry, she almost wanted to pat the other’s head.
Cats meant no harm. If something broke, it broke—it was just a few bowls and plates.
As long as the cat was happy, even shattering everything just to hear the sound was fine.
Jiang Miao was an extremely doting pet owner. This indulgence had grown increasingly irrational the longer she was separated from her cats. She knew her thoughts were hard for others to understand, so she didn’t expect anyone else to relate. This was her own little slice of happiness.
Soon, she made some steamed buns and stir-fried dishes—years of singlehood had honed her cooking skills. Though limited to a few favorite dishes, quality over quantity was the rule. She was confident these dishes could win anyone over in an instant.
Before entering the room, she couldn’t resist sneaking a few bites.
Not bad—steaming hot and at their most delicious.
As usual, she placed the food on the small table. After hesitating, she still said nothing.
She understood that speaking, no matter what was said, could make a cat more nervous.
After quietly leaving the room, she headed straight to the kitchen to indulge in her meal. On one hand, it was dinnertime; on the other, she didn’t want to stay too close. Perhaps her earlier failure was due to her peeping.
After she left, Ling Gu on the bed furrowed her brows.
New food had been delivered again. Was this woman looking down on her?
Did she think Ling Gu would eat hot food just because she hadn’t touched the cold dishes?
How ridiculous. What was going on in this woman’s head?
But even as she thought this, the tantalizing aroma wafting to her nose left Ling Gu at a loss.
The earlier cold food hadn’t been particularly enticing, but hot dishes were different. This fragrance, even without intentionally sniffing it, insidiously invaded her nostrils—it wasn’t that she particularly wanted to eat, but her injured body desperately needed energy to heal.
Her body was screaming: Eat, eat.
Ling Gu wished she could slap herself hard enough to faint, just to escape the seductive trap before her. But her hand, raised halfway, gently fell back down—why should she hurt herself over something like this?
She swallowed hard, her unfocused gaze drifting toward the food on the table.