In the final moments of her life, Qi Mian saw nothing but the empty hospital ceiling; the acrid smell of medicine filled her nostrils. Aside from the doctors’ anxious shouts of “The patient’s vital signs are dropping—hurry…,” there was no other sound.
She had lived to the age of twenty, with no family and no friends. She had spent most of her life in hospitals, and the most beautiful scenery she had ever seen was the tangled grove of wild trees next to the orphanage.
The pain slowly faded from her body. She gently closed her eyes, and crystal-clear tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes.
Qi Mian thought to herself silently, If only she could have a healthy body.
… …
[Hey, sweetie, are you awake?]
A soft, sweet, childlike voice roused her. Qi Mian struggled to open her eyes, only to find a sea of pure white before her—nothing but white, clean and empty.
She paused in confusion. Where was this…?
[It’s a place I’ve temporarily created to preserve your soul.] The soft, childlike voice sounded again. [Also, no need to look for me everywhere—I’m right inside your head.]
Qi Mian let out a soft sigh. She realized that the dull, oppressive pain that had been weighing on her chest for years had actually vanished, and she felt as light as if she’d been reborn.
She spoke softly; her throat was still a bit hoarse, but her voice remained gentle and delicate, with a hint of frailty: “What do you mean?”
[It means… shall we make a deal? You bind yourself to me and help me complete quests, and in return, I’ll give you a healthy body and a chance to start over. Plus, there won’t be any penalties if you fail a quest.] The voice carried a persuasive, enticing quality.
Qi Mian listened carefully. She had only one question: [What happens to me if I don’t bind with you?]
The voice sounded slightly troubled: [I’m not sure either. You might be reincarnated, or you might simply fade away from this world.]
Qi Mian fell silent for two seconds upon hearing this, but quickly agreed: “I accept.” She didn’t even ask what the mission entailed.
The voice sounded slightly surprised, but that was quickly swept away by the joy of having successfully found a candidate: [Great! Let me introduce myself—you can call me San San. Your mission is to travel to different worlds to reform villains, help them understand the truth of love, and turn them into positive, sunny, and optimistic people! ]
[What do you think? Doesn’t that sound pretty grand?]
Qi Mian nodded and replied in a calm voice: “I understand. I’ll do my best.”
*
The moment she touched down, a long-lost sense of solid ground returned to her body, but immediately afterward, a strong, pungent smell of blood stung her nostrils, causing Qi Mian to frown in discomfort.
She instinctively looked up to see if something had happened around her, but even though her eyes were wide open, all she could see was a dim, murky haze. Qi Mian’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay calm.
[San San, where am I right now?]
[Dear, this is your first mission world. It’s classified as a suspense-horror genre. You’re a poor, blind girl who, just as your unscrupulous parents were about to sell you to an old man in the mountains to be his wife, ran into a murderer who killed everyone around you.]
[By the way, the murderer standing right in front of you right now is your mission target.] San San’s tone was incredibly cheerful, as if she were particularly looking forward to carrying out this mission.
Qi Mian’s eyelid twitched. She strained to make out the scene before her and realized she wasn’t completely blind—she could still make out faint, blurry shadows. For instance, she now noticed a tall shadow standing right in front of her.
The killer was observing her.
That was the first thought that crossed Qi Mian’s mind. Her blindness had sharpened her other senses; she could feel the other person’s gaze—cold, menacing, and scrutinizing—slowly crawling over every inch of her skin, as chilling as a venomous snake.
Tears quickly welled up in the young girl’s lifeless eyes; their luminous sheen made her jet-black pupils appear exceptionally moist. Her pale, pretty little face was set with crimson lips slightly parted, as if she were about to say something.
Finally, she took a few frantic, anxious steps forward, desperate to find a safe, comforting embrace. The moment her hand brushed the hem of the man’s garment, she nestled into it as securely as a small animal that had been bullied outside returning to its nest.
Qi Mian trembled as she clung tightly to the man’s lean waist, burying her face against his chest. Even through the thin fabric, she could clearly feel the defined muscles beneath; she even realized that his chin hadn’t even touched the top of her head yet—it was hard to imagine just how tall he was.
The fabric her fingers touched was slightly damp, and the smell of rust grew stronger. Qi Mian dared not dwell on whether what she was touching was a water stain or something else.
The killer seemed to be taken aback for a second by her sudden, intimate embrace, but he quickly regained his composure. He lowered his gaze to the girl’s dark hair, his body sensing every tremor of fear that ran through her, yet his expression remained icy and impassive.
Slowly, he raised his right hand; the dagger he held glinted with a sharp, cold light under the lamp, still stained with blood—whose, she didn’t know.
“Husband, I’m so scared.”
The girl’s voice, as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, rang out. As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around herself even tighter, as if she wanted to burrow into his body to escape all the dangers of the outside world.
But her strength was clearly limited; even though she appeared to be using every ounce of her strength, to the man, it looked no more than the playful antics of a kitten or a puppy. If he wanted to, he could easily toss her to the ground.
He paused for a moment, then finally lowered his right hand, still clutching the dagger. Blood trickled down the vertical blade, occasionally dropping onto the floor with a faint plop.
He raised his free left hand and, with a seemingly gentle yet immense force, pried away the girl’s face, which she had pressed tightly against him, forcing Qi Mian to reveal her face—her eyes red-rimmed and streaked with tears, a sight so beautiful it evoked pity. Her misty eyes wandered aimlessly, unable to focus; there was no doubt that this girl could not see.
Qi Mian opened and closed her lips a few times. She tasted the salty, bitter flavor of her own tears, her brows furrowing pitifully. Timidly, she let the man press his slightly rough palm against her cheek. Her eyes widened slightly in helplessness, yet all she could see was a magnified, blurry shadow.
The man moved again, this time to wipe away her tears. His movements weren’t gentle—perhaps because he’d never done this before—and he made the corners of Qi Mian’s eyes, already red from crying, even redder. Yet, strangely, her face now radiated an alluring charm.
He recalled that before he’d dealt with the few people lying on the ground, they’d mentioned something about selling their daughter to the old man as a wife. The situation before him clearly meant the girl had misunderstood something.
A man’s voice rang out—low, hoarse, and deep, like the whisper of a lover from the abyss.
“Don’t be afraid. Your husband is here.”
As he spoke, a hint of a smile gradually spread across his lowered brows and eyes, and he waited calmly for the girl’s next reaction.