This sleep had lasted as if she had slumbered through an entire lifetime.
The oppressive darkness weighed on every nerve in her body. She couldn’t quite remember what she had dreamed—only that she had curled up slightly, surrounded by a fog-like fear that was always present yet untouchable.
“Huff… huff…”
The moment she opened her eyes, it was as if she were surfacing from water. A rush of fresh air filled her lungs, like a gust of sea wind, scattering the damp, oppressive moisture around her.
Her foggy consciousness cleared just a little. Instinctively, Zhu Shuiwen raised her hand to rub her eyes—but the weight in her wrist made her freeze.
“Clang, clang—”
The crisp, metallic sounds were oddly pleasant, but what made her heart seize was not the polished handcuffs encircling her wrist—it was her bound wrist itself.
It was riddled with scars.
On such a slender wrist, dark red, old wounds crawled like a dense tangle of worms. It was easy to imagine that when cut with a blade, the person must have inflicted them mercilessly.
The longest, narrowest wound on top still held a fresh scab.
Clearly… recent.
Zhu Shuiwen froze, stunned for a while, before cautiously moving her hand.
“Clang, clang—”
With the chains clinking against each other, she finally confirmed—
This… was her own hand.
Ah??
Her eyes widened, and she instinctively sat up. That movement revealed something even stranger.
She pinched her calf, then twisted it hard—only to confirm: from the knees down, her legs were numb.
A male voice suddenly broke the silence: “Awake?”
Zhu Shuiwen shivered and turned her head. In the corner, the shadow stirred, slowly separating into the shape of a person—someone was sitting there.
His figure was tall, but so quiet that she hadn’t noticed until he rose. At first glance, he seemed like a humanoid creature emerging from the shadows, silently observing her in a predator’s stance.
Tap, tap.
Footsteps struck the pristine walls and echoed into her ears, the vibrations making her spine tense with fear.
Instinctively, she shrank back.
This instinctive movement seemed to anger him. In the next moment, the bed beside her sank, and the young man was suddenly on top of her, gripping her wrist.
“Just woke up and already thinking of self-harm? Zhu Shuiwen… you’ve got a lot of energy, huh?”
The quilt under his palm was made of luxurious, smooth satin. In any other context, it would be soothing—but here, it only deepened the creeping horror.
“N-no…”
The aura around him was terrifying. Instinctively, avoiding danger, she lowered her eyes—and saw his wrist, thin and well-defined, loosely wrapped with dark red prayer beads.
Each bead looked like a frozen drop of blood and tears.
Her gaze faltered.
“…Huh?”
The young man’s face emerged from the shadows.
Not the vicious figure she had imagined—he was coldly handsome, pale cheeks touched by a slant of sunlight, the sharp rectangular edges of his features softened by a hint of gold, giving him the serene elegance of a faint landscape painting.
His snow-mountain-like, crisp voice perfectly matched his appearance.
But what stunned Zhu Shuiwen was…
She recognized this face.
“He Xueqi?”
He was her “classmate back then.”
“…Back then?” Why did she use that term?
She couldn’t remember. Life after the second year of high school seemed like a sheet of lead-printed text, smeared and faded, exuding an old and distant scent.
Seeing her blank expression, the young man’s lips curled slightly—not a smile, just a cold gesture: “What tricks are you trying now? Zhu Shuiwen, I’ll tell you, it won’t work.”
His voice was cold, yet the hand holding hers was bone-white from gripping so hard.
He said coldly: “Tell me, where is Zhu Feifei?”
The mention of “Zhu Feifei” struck her mind like thunder, dredging up long-buried memories.
That summer, after her first year, two major events happened to her:
First, she transferred from her rural school to Fuhai No. 9 High School.
Second, she bound herself to a strange entity that claimed to be a “Plot Patching System.”
The system told her that she actually lived inside a novel. But she wasn’t the protagonist—just a minor cannon-fodder character.
The real female lead was her cousin, Zhu Feifei.
The system explained that, according to the original outline, it was supposed to be an ordinary school story. The female lead would meet the carefree male lead, Gu Jinyan, sparking a love-hate relationship that would last a lifetime, eventually resolving misunderstandings and culminating in marriage.
He Xueqi was supposed to be the typical gentle, protective second male lead, secretly caring for the female lead while never confessing, offering his blessings quietly.
In an ordinary story, a shy, gentle male second lead might at most say something subtly jealous at the wedding, like, “If you treat her badly, I might just take her.”
But…
He Xueqi wasn’t a typical gentle second lead.
According to the system, he was—
“A lunatic with iron will,” “terrifying,” “frightening,” “a born villain.”
Such an uncontrollable dark character meticulously plotted against the male lead. Combined with the author’s plot full of holes, an ordinary school story devolved into horror.
Seeing the male and female leads about to reconcile, driven by jealousy, He Xueqi finally shed his harmless façade.
The male lead was the first to suffer, then disaster struck Zhu Shuiwen.
The system’s calm, almost menacing voice warned her:
[If you don’t diligently repair the leaks and reduce the story’s deviation, not only the female lead but you will suffer.]
[To find the female lead, he will stop at nothing.]
[You are the so-called ‘cost.’]
Shocked for two days, Zhu Shuiwen concluded—she must have had auditory hallucinations.
She reasoned that it must have been stress from the new school, body under strain.
But after a few visits to the mental health center, her allowance was gone, and the condition did not improve.
With her parents’ business at a critical stage, she kept silent, fighting “her illness” alone.
So she made it through a normal high school life on sheer willpower—never following the system’s instructions, sometimes even deliberately defying it.
She had minimal contact with He Xueqi during that time.
Later memories became vague. She couldn’t recall what she did, ordinary events leaving no lasting impression.
Then came this moment—clear, vivid—
She had met He Xueqi again.
Years apart, his once gentle and restrained features had sharpened into cold, blade-like angles—but she recognized him immediately.
Clearly, the story had reached its most broken point.
The early careless choices had borne bitter fruit.
“I don’t know where my cousin… I mean, Zhu Feifei is,” Zhu Shuiwen said sincerely, trying to sound honest. “I haven’t seen her for a long time.”
She had missed too many chances before. This last one, she wouldn’t waste.
All she could do now was hope her cousin could escape as far as possible.
Perhaps she could later regret not paying attention to that “Plot Patching System”… but it was too late for regret.
As that thought crossed her mind, a strange voice whispered in her head—
[Is it really ‘too late’?]
She paused, but before she could ponder, the voice dissolved into the young man’s intensely pressing question:
“You… like Zhu Feifei that much?”
His dark eyes rumbled like storm clouds, ready to destroy everything.
Even without much change in expression, Zhu Shuiwen knew she had angered him.
No wonder—Zhu Shuiwen guessed that for a possessive villain like him, even a cousin’s care and love were unbearable.
Though she planned passive resistance, faced with his fierce gaze, she faltered: “I—I don’t.”
“Of course you do. That’s why you treat Zhu Feifei so well. Even if she didn’t like you then, you were always near her.”
He Xueqi’s lips curved into an unprecedented dazzling smile: “So it’s natural that Zhu Feifei likes you the most, isn’t it?”
He rarely smiled, so this one was breathtaking—a snow lotus blooming violently from the mud, releasing venomous brilliance.
For Zhu Shuiwen, it was a harbinger of being hunted.
“Ugh!”
The cold touch made her shiver.
His fingertips were colder than the blood-red beads, tracing her face like a snake marking its territory.
“You know, one of the things I hated most in high school was listening to her constantly talk about her little sister. It made me feel…”
He lowered his head slightly, and in his abyssal, pitch-black eyes, tiny flecks of scarlet flickered. “Hatred… disgust… revulsion.”
Zhu Shuiwen was shocked.
Her relationship with her cousin was just that of ordinary relatives sitting at the same table to eat—how could he imagine “inseparable sisters” and hate it so much?
What if it were the male lead in front of him—would he be turned into a jar of preserved meat?
She must have been distracted. He smirked, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes: “Who are you thinking of now? Zhu Feifei, or Gu Jinyan?”
She didn’t know how he knew, but her momentary daze was a tacit admission.
His eyes darkened, his smile twisting: “He is now just a beaten dog… what’s there to care about?”
Pain surged through her wrist. This lunatic seemed intent on breaking her bones, or tearing her apart: “Zhu Shuiwen, look closely. In front of you… there is only me.”
She swallowed hard. His violent aura pressed down like an avalanche, almost suffocating her.
…Would she die here?
At that moment, a cold, determined female voice rang from outside—
“He Xueqi, I’m here…”
A pause, then furious anger: “Stay… away… from my sister!”
Zhu Shuiwen’s eyes widened.
The color drained from the world. She could only see him, eyelids flicking, the blood-red in his eyes lighting up like a predator reveling in its prey.
No… sister—!
[Do you want to try again?]
[NO]
[YES] ←
Withered leaves drifted back onto branches.
A dead cicada slowly moved its limbs, returning to the dry bark, letting out a sharp shriek.
Yellowed marks on the desk faded. Wrinkled textbooks looked new.
White clouds flew against the wind, curtains swaying gently once more.
Fuhai No. 9 High School, Class 2-6.
“Sister… sister, run…”
“No, sister, don’t agree to him…”
Someone couldn’t help but snicker quietly.
Her deskmate, sweating profusely, saw the teacher had stopped speaking. She pinched the girl’s leg, whispering urgently: “Xiao Shui, wake up!”
The round-faced girl lay on her math textbook, half asleep, mumbling: “Sister, don’t die, sister, sister…!”
A giant triangle ruler clanged onto the teacher’s desk, echoing loudly.
“Zhu Shuiwen, answer this question.”