“CPTSD, dissociative personality disorder, anger regulation disorder, and mania,” the psychologist handed her a sheet of paper. “However, your current condition is very stable. If possible, please try to avoid triggers related to psychological trauma…”
After becoming independent, Ji Shu was finally able to go to the mental health department to address her sleep problems, only to receive this kind of diagnosis.
The psychologist asked her to recall the details of what had happened in the past.
Ji Shu, however, no longer remembered how she had survived those days.
From the moment she became the target of fabricated rumors and abusers, she had never experienced a single day of peaceful campus life. Perhaps it was her naturally reclusive personality, or perhaps she had unknowingly offended one of the small groups in the school.
It began with torn homework and test papers, and then escalated step by step.
Being pushed into the pool, locked in the bathroom overnight, punched and kicked, having water poured into her ears, scorched with curling irons…
It didn’t matter. Dissociation would protect her. She could choose not to care about it, not to remember it.
After transferring schools in her senior year and moving on to higher education, her miserable life finally came to a temporary stop.
She healed herself, exercised and practiced sanda (Chinese kickboxing), and started a new job and a new life. Everything gradually became perfect.
But unexpectedly, she turned her head, and stepped into a book.
This new world was a new kind of hell.
Ji Shu stood atop a tall building. She saw that girl, the night before a major exam, standing on the school rooftop.
Her face was pale, lips drained of color, black hair in the wind like a curtain melting into the night, impossibly dark and heavy. Behind her, the observatory’s astronomical markers stood tall and imposing, pointing straight at the stars.
There was no hesitation on her face, no fear, no trembling. Only a sense of relief, as if she were about to be freed.
Ji Shu realized what she was about to do. Her breathing grew rapid, cold sweat fell, and she tried to step forward, reaching out to stop her.
But in the end, she didn’t make it in time.
She watched as the girl fell in front of her, like a small bird with broken wings, heading toward the night with a wistful attachment.
Thud—
Ji Shu woke up pale, drenched in sweat.
In front of her was the hospital room’s stark white ceiling. Outside, the noisy bustle of the hospital filtered in.
She closed her eyes again, took a few ragged breaths, and then opened them once more.
Before her was a panel, like a system interface.
Unlike in most novels where a system communicates intelligently with the transmigrator, this system panel was dead, silent, and lifeless. It simply displayed Ji Shu’s current stage in the storyline.
【-system-】
【Plot Progress: 2%】
Only 2% had progressed. Did that mean she had to follow the storyline to the end? If she completed it, could she return to her original world? Or would she be able to break free from the original plot and act freely?
Ji Shu suddenly felt a headache coming on. She reached up and pressed her hand against her temple.
…She remembered that she had transmigrated because she died. But how she had died, she had absolutely no recollection.
Eagerly, she tried flipping through the system pages, hoping to find other information or missions. But there was nothing.
Out of nowhere, an absurd sense of frustration rose in her chest.
Was this system expecting her to accept the original ending, to obediently follow the original character’s fate and die without resistance?
No way.
The original character may have carried out school bullying in the past, but that had nothing to do with Ji Shu now. She would not sit quietly and wait for death.
Death was not freedom.
Ji Shu knew this very clearly. She clenched her bandaged hands and repeated the thought to herself.
She also repeated it for the girl who had died.
“Death is not freedom.”
Outside the VIP ward, several nurses hurried in and out.
Ji Shu pushed the door open just a crack and saw the boy leaning against the head of the bed. His neck and arms were wrapped in bandages, gauze plastered over his face, giving him a slightly ridiculous look, but one could still faintly make out his original handsomeness.
He seemed just awake, extremely impatient, too lazy to glance at her even slightly. “I said, stay away from me.”
Earlier, Ji Shu had used her school ID to get permission to visit.
People in the hospital seemed unaware that they had fought each other, and perhaps no one would even think along those lines, after all, the seemingly frail girl had almost no marks, while the tall, well-built young duke was far more injured.
She did not leave. Instead, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Hearing the noise, the boy lazily lifted his eyelids. For a moment he was surprised, then immediately curled his lips into a cold, mocking smile.
“You actually dare come over?”
Perhaps it was because the group of fire-stoking followers beside Lu Mingxi wasn’t here at the moment, or perhaps because he was still badly injured, but he didn’t look as terrifying as when she first saw him that afternoon.
Just slightly less dangerous, that was all.
Ji Shu swallowed and forced herself to resist the instinct to run, turning to close the door behind her.
Lu Mingxi arched an eyebrow in surprise.
“…Sorry.”
Ji Shu took the initiative.
In the vast, luxurious hospital room, it was only the two of them. The emptiness made the air feel even more stagnant in the silence.
Lu Mingxi first let out a cold hum, then couldn’t help laughing aloud.
“That’s the only thing you can say? Or are you saying that if your apology doesn’t get a response, you’ll threaten me with your fists again, like this afternoon?”
He looked at her coldly, as if trying to find the slightest trace of embarrassment on her face. But there was none.
She remained calm. “What happened this afternoon was my fault. I apologize. No matter what has happened, using violence against others is never justified.”
Lu Mingxi shot back, “Are you mocking me?”
Ji Shu answered steadily, “I am not.”
“You’re clearly implying it with your words.”
“……”
The man on the hospital bed suddenly grew agitated. He reached out, intending to grab her hair, but only touched the thick gauze. After a brief pause, he let out a low laugh and grabbed the girl’s slender wrist, yanking it hard.
Ji Shu was unprepared and was pulled forward, collapsing onto the hospital bed.
The bed creaked under her weight.
The heavy scent of disinfectant mixed faintly with the cleaned, subtle notes of custom perfume, drifting at the edge of her senses. Ji Shu furrowed her brow and lifted her head, only to find herself very close to his thick lashes and straight nose, the shadow falling across her entirely.
Lu Mingxi was staring at her with meticulous attention.
“You’re the last person with the right to say something like that, understand?”
He spoke slowly, his tone cold, his narrow eyes filled with a chilling threat.
Ji Shu instinctively held her breath. Her heart pounded violently as his words hit her chest like small hammers.
I’m not. She almost blurted it out instinctively.
But she quickly held herself back.
She closed her eyes.
…Right now, she was Ji Shu from the original book. No one would care whether she had actually done those things, in their eyes, she already had.
She was the villain.
She opened her eyes and was about to say something, but cold words stopped her again, laced with a hint of mockery.
“Going to say that ‘sorry’ again? Is your apology really worth so little?”
The pain in her wrist continued to deepen. It wasn’t until Ji Shu let out a faint gasp that the boy on the hospital bed finally shoved her away.
Ji Shu clutched her wrist and fell to the floor. She remained silent for a few seconds before lowering her head and standing up.
She approached the bed and continued in a soft voice: “Sorry, when you’ve done something wrong, you should apologize. I shouldn’t have struck first. I know that, given your status, I don’t need to offer any compensation or benefit. I just want to say that I’m willing to do anything to apologize, until you are no longer angry.”
The boy, who had been looking away for some reason, paused. He slowly turned his head, giving the girl a glance that held some depth.
She no longer cried or begged as she had before, which would have surprised him. Now, even after hurting him, she could calmly negotiate terms for herself.
“Anything?”
“Anything,” Ji Shu said softly, lowering her voice. “I only ask that you don’t involve my family in this matter.”
The Ji family was just an ordinary wealthy merchant family. Ji Nanlin had worked hard for decades and only recently pushed his way into Flandre’s circle of affluent elites through his renovation business. If Lu Mingxi wanted, he could find a hundred ways to make their family unable to remain here. For Ji Shu, leaving Flandre might even be a blessing, but for others, it would be an unjust disaster.
She didn’t want to drag anyone else into it.
“Don’t worry, how could I possibly do that?” Lu Mingxi said, smiling with satisfaction. As he looked at her, the corners of his lips curled, and he felt some of the pain from his own wounds ease.
“I still want to keep you here, let the whole school laugh at you. If you leave, everyone’s life would be so boring, don’t you think?”
“……”
“Then the first thing,” he said, leaning back lazily against the head of the bed, speaking casually as if it were nothing,
“is, kneel.”
Ji Shu paused.
The young duke raised an eyebrow. “Not willing?”
“No.” Ji Shu lowered her head and said faintly. She knelt without any resistance.
She had done this countless times in her past life. It would not be wrong to call her practiced at it.
Earlier, she had only hesitated because she had heard faint footsteps approaching outside the ward. The steps had stopped at the door, showing no intention of entering just yet.
Lu Mingxi saw her kneeling so obediently and frowned in disbelief. He straightened up, staring directly at her expression, as if trying to find even the slightest trace of insincerity.
But he was disappointed.
“The second thing, what’s your LINE account?”
LINE was a social messaging app popular among young people in Landon. Of course, Ji Shu had one too.
She took out her phone, opened LINE, and handed it to Lu Mingxi.
“Why couldn’t you add me?” After half a minute, the boy on the bed tapped on her phone screen impatiently and asked loudly.
Ji Shu explained, “You blocked me last year.”
“…Added now.” Lu Mingxi tossed the phone back to her.
Ji Shu caught it and saw that he had added her account and even pinned his chat window at the top.
“Do you know what it’s like to be someone’s dog?”
Ji Shu looked up in confusion, only to see him waving the phone in front of her, a smirk curling his lips. “From now on, I can send you messages with orders at any time, and you must obey every single one. Can you do that?”
“Orders?”
“Yes.” The boy raised an eyebrow maliciously. “For example, tomorrow at school, if I send a message telling you to jump from the second floor during class, you cannot refuse. Understand? Of course, you don’t need to pretend obedience. Whether you do it or not, I’ll know either way.”
Ji Shu believed him. She believed he truly had a way to know, his followers and sycophants were everywhere in the school. She also believed he was capable of giving such cruel orders.
He was that kind of person.
“Scared?”
Ji Shu didn’t answer.
Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door.
Knock, knock.
The door opened. Lu Mingxi only glanced up and then reclined lazily.
Footsteps approached Ji Shu. A cold voice said, “You go first.”
Ji Shu didn’t move.
It wasn’t until Lu Mingxi clicked his tongue and waved at her, frowning slightly, that she pushed herself off the floor and stood.
Her body wobbled, and she had to steady herself against the nearby cabinet before finally leaving.
The door closed, and only then did Xie Zhoulin speak: “If you want to see someone kneel, go to the duke’s mansion and watch all you want.”
Lu Mingxi reclined, holding his phone and scrolling absentmindedly, saying, “I’m not going back. I’m already in the hospital, and she hasn’t once thought of visiting me. She sent you?”
Xie Zhoulin said, “Not the duke, our teacher asked me to come. You went a bit too far today, and it took me quite some time to help you smooth things over.”
As he spoke, his expression darkened. “As one of the chiefs, skipping student council meetings every time is already a privilege. You’d better keep some restraint in the future. Don’t always leave me to clean up your messes.”
Lu Mingxi sneered, shaking his bandaged hand. “You think I went too far today? Besides, that kid Chi Yaoxing never goes to meetings either. Why don’t you go after him? Why only me?”
“If you handled things with half the subtlety he does, you wouldn’t make yourself a target,” Xie Zhoulin said, pressing his hand against Lu Mingxi’s phone screen. “Besides, if you hadn’t gone too far, how would she have snapped?”
“I—”
“I’ve heard everything,” Xie Zhoulin lowered his voice, “you fed her smoke.”
“……”
“Do you know how much effort it took me today to cover for you? The school wouldn’t care, but if the duke found out, how would you explain it? You really think I enjoy cleaning up your messes? And on top of that, you almost collapsed at school.”
By the end, Xie Zhoulin’s voice was laced with restrained anger.
After a brief pause, he exhaled slowly, then said: “I don’t care how many days you lie in the hospital. But if you skip next week’s chief meeting, don’t ever expect me to cover anything for you again.”
“……”
Xie Zhoulin knew this meant the young duke had made a concession.
He finally loosened his hand and walked out.
The vast ward was once again empty, leaving only Lu Mingxi. That inexplicable restlessness rolled over him again.
Outside, the heat lingered, green leaves and sharp bird cries pressed against the glass, agitating his mind.
He felt an impulse to call the duke, unlocking his phone. The screen remained on the LINE page of Ji Shu’s friend feed.
Her most recent post was still a photo from a year ago, her high school opening ceremony.
At that time, she had a bright smile. Although she had no friends nearby, the crowd behind her hurried past.
At that time, she had no idea what kind of hell awaited her.
Lu Mingxi stared at the photo, suddenly drawing in a sharp breath. He pressed a hand to his neck.
For some reason, the wound where she had bitten him throbbed faintly beneath the bandages.
…She really was a dog.