Even in her “dream,” her impression of He Xueqi wasn’t particularly deep.
Most students at Fuhai No. 9 High School were sharp and quick-witted—top picks selected from all over Fuhai City.
He Xueqi, however, was the cream of the crop among this group of elites.
Under such circumstances, as someone whose learning speed and reflexes were equally slow, Zhu Shuiwen couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe mixed with fear, thinking, “This isn’t even a human of my kind.”
To make matters worse, the system’s urging had the opposite effect. In the “dream,” their conversations were so sparse they boiled down to:
“Turn in your homework.”
“The teacher’s calling you over.”
—so utterly bland it was jaw-dropping.
The only exception came when the school organized a trip to the science museum in neighboring Dongzhu City and distributed forms to tally attendance.
When that paper passed through her hands a second time, she glanced down and saw He Xueqi’s name right next to hers.
There were vast empty spaces all around, yet there it was—a single extra name, glaringly obvious.
At the time, she thought, “A genius really is a genius; even writing their name doesn’t follow the ordinary rules. So casual.”
Now, she realized it wasn’t “casual” at all.
—It was sheer, extreme willfulness!
Just like now, even though he knew “the police” was just a ruse, a small-time thug could return at any moment.
Even Zhu Shuiwen could predict that when that happened, facing an enraged Su Qiming, it wouldn’t just be about being extorted for money.
So…
How could he remain so calm—?!
To Zhu Shuiwen, a “small-time thug,” like a “genius,” was a human from another dimension—someone to look up to and keep at a distance.
Then she remembered the news article: Su Qiming had ultimately died from blood loss because he carried a knife…
Her mind raced, flashing through a series of movie posters:
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Dawn of the Dead.
Cannibal Feast.
The Ripper.
Except on all the posters, the face of the killer had been replaced with Su Qiming’s.
Finally, the posters shattered, revealing the news image underneath:
It was herself, lying in a pool of blood, lifeless.
In a rush of panic, the moment her eyes met the villain’s, Zhu Shuiwen lunged forward, grabbing his elbow, and then—
She ran.
Run, run, run!
Zhu Shuiwen swore she’d never run this hard even when chased by the neighbor’s dog, Wangwang.
Overly tense, she muttered nonstop, “Did he catch up? Is he coming back? Not coming back, right? If he comes back, that’d be rude to the police…”
As she babbled on, she suddenly noticed the villain’s steps slowing. Was he… out of breath?
She turned her head and saw He Xueqi frowning, looking unwell.
Seeing that he was still carrying a heavy black plastic bag, she impulsively snatched it from him.
At that instant, a chill shot up her spine, as if she had become a frog targeted by a venomous snake.
Yet, before her heart even skipped a beat, her mouth blurted out a fatal line:
“Classmate He, have you eaten? Do you want me to carry the bag for you?”
—Once she realized what she’d just said, all she wanted was to slap herself twice.
Fortunately, this version of the villain wasn’t the fully matured big bad of the future—he wouldn’t snap someone’s wrist on a whim.
On the contrary, that piercing cold sensation quickly faded, as if it had never existed.
“He’s not coming back.”
After calmly stating this, He Xueqi took the plastic bag back, stepped backward naturally, keeping a measured distance from her.
Zhu Shuiwen couldn’t help but breathe a little easier.
She didn’t know how he could be so certain, but maybe that was the difference between a dunce and a genius: the latter has a knack for being a master, while the former can only obediently follow—or blindly be fooled.
As a breeze brushed the sweat from her forehead, she realized the villain’s gaze was fixed on her, evaluating her quietly yet cautiously, as if pondering her background and intentions.
For Zhu Shuiwen, this was probably the real start of the “test.”
“Um… this classmate—”
She swallowed, fighting the instinct to flee, bent her waist, opened her mouth, and, before He Xueqi could speak, let out a hoarse, surprisingly fluent voice:
“My name is Zhu Feifei. I sit in the third-to-last row by the corridor in Class 6, Grade 2 of Fuhai No. 9 High School. I’m your classmate! Classmate He, hello! Uh, I mean, hi! Hi!”
By the end, her intense emotions had even cracked her voice.
The unprepared system: […?]
Impressive.
Not just because of the content, but because of the sound Zhu Shuiwen forced out.
It was like an old lady with a damaged throat swallowing gauze—rough, sharp, and strangely textured, masking her real voice completely.
Even if Zhu Shuiwen’s own mother passed by, she’d probably exclaim: “Good child, why did you get such a broken, hoarse voice?”
Even the usually quick-witted villain froze for a moment under this sudden noisy assault.
The rustling of the plastic bag abruptly stopped.
The alley fell completely silent for a moment.
That sound seemed to vent all the pent-up tension in her chest. Zhu Shuiwen exhaled slowly and felt a flicker of courage return.
This was her “plan.”
She would impersonate her sister, hold off the villain—more precisely, the “offset value”—and then figure out the rest!
According to the plot points, in this encounter with He Xueqi, the female lead Zhu Feifei was supposed to gain the villain’s favor and attention.
Zhu Shuiwen knew she was absolutely incapable of completing this task herself; only her sister could do it—like one of those insanely difficult math problems that only Zhu Feifei could solve perfectly.
But fortunately, she didn’t need to fully accomplish it; she just needed to “stall” the plot.
It was like filming a TV drama: if the lead actress was overwhelmed, they would need a “line double,” a “stunt double,” or even a “mouth double”—and that was her role right now.
As long as she could stall until her sister had met with the male lead, Gu Jinyan, and then figure out a way to call her over, the patching would succeed!
Zhu Shuiwen touched the thin string by her ear. The mask covering her face gave her a bit of courage. Under the self-hypnosis of “I am Zhu Feifei right now,” she tried to mimic her sister’s gaze and looked back steadily.
Her sister always looked straight at people, completely unconcerned with any malicious emotions that might be lurking—a pride worth envying.
—Completely unlike her.
Seeing that the villain remained silent, Zhu Shuiwen strained her voice and nervously tried to explain: “I have a bit of a cold… my throat doesn’t feel great… cough, cough…”
Her voice faltered suddenly.
The boy’s skin was very pale, and the faint red mark around his collar stood out sharply, looking at first glance like a choker embedded in his neck—just the result of being choked by the thug earlier.
It was shocking to see.
She hesitated, swallowing her worry, and held back the words, “Are you okay? Do you need me to go to the hospital with you?”
Even she could vaguely sense that this wasn’t a simple conversation—it was a major event that could affect his “favorability.”
Afraid of messing it up, she could only turn to the reliable sample lines for guidance.
Luckily, she found a clue quickly.
Sometimes, the plot outline provided “sample lines” for the current scene. She picked one and recited it step by step—the line Zhu Feifei was supposed to say:
“How are you feeling right now?”
Perhaps recalling the earlier, “Classmate He, did you eat?” the villain, who had been silent until now, suddenly smiled brightly.
“I’m fine.”
His gaze fixed tightly on the girl, his voice light and airy, like strands of spider silk drifting down from the air: “Thank you, Classmate Zhu.”
It had to be said—the villain was stunningly handsome. That smile was breathtaking, with jet-black hair and dark eyes, like a priceless ink painting displayed in a bulletproof glass case.
Extremely deceptive.
If she didn’t know any better, Zhu Shuiwen might have been dumbly smiling along with him right now.
But—
How could someone smile so genuinely while their favorability was simultaneously plummeting?!
Watching the offset value flash constant red warnings, Zhu Shuiwen felt tears sting her eyes.
Sister, come quickly! I can’t do this without you!