Song Yuran walked in the direction of the red dot, her fingertips brushing aside the potted plant leaves blocking the front, and a small camera disguised as a decorative ornament was instantly exposed.
Song Yuran’s brows furrowed slightly, and she bent down to pick up the camera.
The metal body of the camera still carried a slight warmth, clearly having worked all night.
Drugged, secretly filmed.
Song Yuran’s fingers stroked the texture of the camera, a hint of hostility and disgust emerging in her deep eyes.
Walking toward the bedside, she opened the camera to search through the footage it had captured.
At the same time, she used one hand to pick up her phone on the bedside table and sent a few messages to her assistant. Once sent, she tossed her phone casually onto the sofa and continued browsing the camera.
The sky gradually brightened.
The exhausted corporate slaves also woke up one by one from their sleep, continuing to hustle for a living in the new day. Meanwhile, Su Zhu, whose physical strength was severely overdrawn, showed no signs of waking up at all.
It wasn’t until the sun hung high that Su Zhu finally woke up in a daze.
What happened last night vividly surfaced in her mind, and the strange feeling in her body constantly reminded her that everything yesterday was not a dream.
Of course, she herself would have preferred it to be just a dream.
Even if it was just an intense wet dream with a not-so-great experience.
Because if it were a dream, everything would return to normal upon waking, and she wouldn’t have to live in fear and dread of losing her life at any moment.
Right, where was Song Yuran?
Su Zhu noticed that Song Yuran was no longer in the room. Before she could even let out a sigh of relief, her peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of Song Yuran sitting quietly out on the spacious terrace through the suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Dressed in a long purple gown, she held a women’s cigarette between her fingers, which hung loosely at her side.
The smoke from the lit cigarette curled upward, and Song Yuran was half-concealed within the haze, appearing somewhat mysterious, noble, and elegant.
Under any other circumstances, waking up like this and seeing such a poetic, painting-like scene through the window would certainly feel refreshing and pleasant.
However, Su Zhu’s heart tightened.
Song Yuran hadn’t left yet?
Waiting specifically until now without leaving meant, beyond a doubt, that it was time to settle the score for yesterday.
Su Zhu’s back suddenly tensed up, and she instinctively felt afraid.
Yet, as this fear surged into her heart, she had a second thought: Wait, what was she afraid of here? She was the one who had inexplicably transmigrated and was pinned down for three hours without doing anything!
And she hadn’t even been given a chance to explain.
She neither made a move against Song Yuran nor took any nude photos; even if the police were to judge the case, she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Therefore.
The one who was wronged was her, and the one who should be demanding an explanation should be her as well.
Su Zhu felt that this line of thought made complete sense and had no flaws. Calming herself down instantly, she took a slow breath to pump herself up.
If a person is in the right, their spirit must be bold.
Just as Su Zhu was building herself up psychologically, Song Yuran on the terrace seemed to sense something and looked over.
With just that calm glance, more than half of the momentum Su Zhu had built up for herself dissolved, and she instinctively shrank a bit deeper into the blanket.
Song Yuran paid her no mind. She waited until the cigarette in her hand burned down to the filter before standing up and walking back into the room.
Song Yuran stood at the foot of the bed, lowering her gaze. There were no extra emotions in her eyes as she looked at Su Zhu, as if looking at an insignificant ant.
This demeanor made Su Zhu feel even more uncomfortable.
Steeling herself, she spoke the words she had spent so much time rehearsing in her head.
“Um, I think you owe me an explanation for what happened yesterday.”
Su Zhu had originally wanted to say this sentence more toughly to salvage some dignity for herself, but facing Song Yuran’s eyes, her tone unconsciously weakened.
From a theoretical stance, it turned into a negotiation.
Song Yuran’s eyelashes trembled slightly, the expression on her face remaining completely unchanged. Casually picking up the recorder from the side table, ignoring Su Zhu’s instantly changing expression, she said indifferently, “Oh? What kind of explanation do you want? Shall we talk about what you intended to do by placing this camera here?”
Looking at the camera sitting right there, Su Zhu’s eyelids twitched wildly.
How could she have forgotten that such a thing happened in the original story?
And didn’t the original text say the original owner took nude photos? How was it actually an automatically recording camera instead?
To make matters worse, this camera had even been found by Song Yuran!
She was dead.
Su Zhu stared numbly at the camera in Song Yuran’s hand. The camera was tiny, but right now, serving as evidence, it felt like a death warrant.
Su Zhu’s hands unconsciously grabbed the bedsheets, gripping them tighter and tighter.
Song Yuran’s expression remained as calm as water. She turned on the camera, and everything that happened last night was recorded truthfully.
Song Yuran simply sat on the sofa, thoroughly enjoying this restricted-level video. Her composed manner made it seem as though this video had nothing to do with her at all.
Bit by bit, with extreme patience.
Hearing the occasional sounds and movements of the madness from last night spilling out from the camera, Su Zhu stiffened further, filled not only with fear toward Song Yuran but also mixed with thick embarrassment and a desire to collapse.
She remained frozen there for a long time before Song Yuran seemed to belatedly remember her. First giving a polite smile, she then issued an invitation: “Would you like to come watch together?”
Su Zhu: “Help me, why did she have to face this, why torture her like this?”
Right now, she just wanted to be an ostrich, bury her entire body, or make herself leave this world—now, immediately, right away!
Su Zhu closed her eyes, hating herself for not being able to plug up her ears as well.
Otherwise, every single sound in the room right now would be torture to her.
“You have quite a bit of artistic sensibility,” came Song Yuran’s gentle, appreciative voice. Hearing words of praise like this could genuinely make someone’s heart bloom with joy.
But appearing under these circumstances, Su Zhu knew without thinking that it definitely wasn’t as simple as a compliment.
“The camera was placed in a very good position, and it was filmed very clearly. It’s a pretty good video,” Song Yuran said softly. After turning off the camera, she waved it in her hand toward her, negotiating nicely, “How about you give the video to me, I’ll be the producer, and I’ll split the profits with you fifty-fifty? How’s that?”
Su Zhu: “Was this a joke? It had to be.”
Yet looking at Song Yuran’s sincere, negotiating demeanor, she couldn’t be sure anymore.
If she really intended to use this method to take revenge on her, then…
The clothes on Su Zhu’s back were instantly soaked through with cold sweat. With Song Yuran’s crazy temperament, it was really hard to tell whether those words were a joke or meant in earnest.
If she actually did that…
Su Zhu’s heart beat faster and faster, thumping loudly out of fear.
Su Zhu completely froze in place, at a loss.
The smile on Song Yuran’s face gradually vanished. She removed the external storage card from the camera and, right in front of Su Zhu, snapped the storage card in half with one hand, dropping it into a water-filled glass.
The entire process was expressionless, cold enough to chill one to the bone.
When everything was done, Song Yuran walked toward the hotel door. Passing by Su Zhu, a sentence drifted out:
“I hope you remember that no one who offends me ends up well.”
“Don’t ever appear in my sight again.”
With that, she pushed the door open and left.
As the door closed, Su Zhu sat there, taking large, heavy breaths.
In this brief moment, her level of fear exceeded everything she had experienced in her past life. She truly lived up to her reputation as one of the top three voted crazy beauties; all her actions and every move could not be judged by ordinary thinking.
A smile hiding a knife, capricious and unpredictable.
Offending such a person meant without a doubt that you wouldn’t even know how you died.
It was already a miracle that Su Zhu could hold on until now under such pressure, but she knew even better that she absolutely could not stay here a moment longer.
Enduring her physical discomfort, Su Zhu hurriedly put on her clothes, carefully checked the entire room to see if she had left behind any key items, and left without daring to linger for even another half minute.
Returning home and locking the front door, leaving the entire space with only Su Zhu, her out-of-control heartbeat finally slowly calmed down.
Everything she had experienced from last night until now was simply too absurd and too stressful.
Caught in an alternation of grievance and fear, Su Zhu’s spirit finally broke under the unbearable pressure. She threw herself onto the bed, hugged her blanket over her head, and had a good, hard cry. Once she had vented enough of the suffocating, tight emotions stuck in her throat, Su Zhu slowly crawled back up.
After a thorough crying session, her mind gradually cleared.
Regardless of what happened, although she had indeed suffered some grievances and been frightened, at least this seemingly fatal disaster should be over now.
Especially Song Yuran’s final warning not to appear in front of her again—that meant she intended to let her go.
As long as she hid away afterwards, didn’t court death, and didn’t show up in front of her, she might just slowly be forgotten.
Having reached this conclusion, Su Zhu felt slightly more at ease.
She got up and headed to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and washed herself clean under the warm water.
So, what should she do now?
Based on her past experience of watching anime and reading novels, in her current situation, going back was probably out of the question.
Even if she genuinely wanted to return to her previous world, she would first have to properly walk through the storyline of this world and live out this lifetime.
And the person she transmigrated into actually had very good congenital conditions.
A pretty appearance and a nice figure made her born material for an idol. Thus, as soon as she was scouted by a talent agency and went on a show, she reaped a huge wave of fans purely through her clumsy singing and dancing abilities.
Although this kind of internet-famous popularity, unsupported by objective strength and works, often didn’t last long.
Still, she was much luckier than many people in the circle who struggled for a lifetime and still remained nobodies—at least luckier than her past self.
In her past life, she also walked the path of an idol.
Unlike Su Zhu of this world, she didn’t have such superior external conditions, nor was her status as popular as Su Zhu’s. She was just a small underground idol, unknown, and had absolutely no place among their large group of dozens of members.
Yet, inherently, she was a very easygoing and easily satisfied person.
She diligently completed her daily training tasks, and whenever she needed to perform on stage or do promotional work, she carried it out conscientiously, leaving virtually no flaws in her work.
Beyond that, however, there was nothing more.
She had never thought of fighting tooth and nail to climb to the top position or reach the absolute peak.
Her greatest dream all along was to hustle while she could still earn money, quickly save up enough for retirement, and then retire early, holing up at home every day to play video games and watch anime, enjoying her retirement life.
Of course, this kind of seemingly unmotivated dream was probably only understood by old ACG otaku girls like her.
Now, changing to a new world, her dream remained unchanged.