“Ding.” The device vibrated.
A reply had arrived.
【Zhou Meng: Mikhail.】
【Zhou Meng: I’m enough on my own.】
The text displayed on the electronic screen was in the ordinary default font, yet he always felt he could sense a hint of stubbornness in it.
“…Truly strong-willed.”
Mikhail smiled.
The people around him fell silent instantly because of his smile.
His subordinate carefully cut the bandages with scissors: “Should we have someone look after that girl?”
“Not necessary.”
He said, his narrow eyes glancing at the subordinate. His gaze was gentle, his pupils as clear as ice, yet a patch of burn scars marred the left side of his face.
Mikhail raised his hand and touched the scar on his face:
“Let her do whatever she wants. The people here aren’t anyone’s tools.”
People like this were becoming rarer and rarer.
At exactly 20:29, his device buzzed.
【Zhou Meng: [Photo]】
【Zhou Meng: As you said, I did it.】
A clean and tidy bathroom, as if the tiles had been replaced and the bathtub swapped for a new one.
He sat up, resting one hand on the armrest beside the bed, allowing his subordinate to insert the needle. Seeing Zhou Meng’s message, the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
…
【Mikhail: I see.】
Mikhail’s style was the same as always.
Zhou Meng had known him for sixteen years, yet she still felt a tingle at the back of her neck because of his calm response.
If it were anyone else, those words would mean nothing.
But coming from Mikhail, it was different.
Because he had responded to something meaningless.
His tone in conversation had always been brief, calm, and befitting his status.
But sometimes, he was like this too.
Not overly warm, yet not entirely cold.
Rather than calling him the “boss” of Eden Group, it was more fitting to call him the central figure of the organization.
As the villain of a comic, this man possessed a subtle charm.
In the fifth loop, when Zhou Meng had been working for nearly two years, Mikhail had proposed that she could enter Eden after coming of age.
No need to work as a cleaner, no need to struggle for survival, no need to suffer—whatever she wanted, he would provide.
Zhou Meng let out a cautious voice: ‘You want to keep me?’
She had once had a dream: to be kidnapped by a super-rich Italian handsome mafia, who would fall madly in love with her, spend a year making her fall for him, force her not to work and to spend a million every day, and finally die for her so she could inherit his fortune and family.
Could it actually be coming true?
‘Is that all your wish amounts to?’
The scarred young man calmly delivered this vicious remark. His bandaged hand rose, fingers lightly brushing her cheek: ‘Give it up. No such good thing exists in this world.’
A beautiful, husky voice, a gentle tone, fingers wrapped in bandages that carried the texture of fabric.
‘Come to my side.’
…This person, he was just like this.
The word “yes” was already on Zhou Meng’s lips when she heard the young man continue:
‘My negotiator, my confidante… roles like that—Mia can be whichever she wants.’
So that was it.
‘I was actually getting my hopes up.’ Zhou Meng replied to the scarred young man: ‘But I’ll pass.’
She said: ‘I can’t live for Mikhail’s sake.’
The boss: ‘Am I the only one who’s not allowed?’
‘No one is allowed.’
He leaned against the bed, stared at her for a while, then gently touched her cheek:
‘…This is what makes you Zhou Meng.’
Usually he only called her by her code name, but that time he had said “Zhou Meng.”
“This is what makes you Zhou Meng.”
The boss’s thoughts were very complex.
No matter how much of the dark side she wanted to know, the boss would casually hand it to her.
That was the nature of their relationship. Zhou Meng couldn’t quite tell what Mikhail was thinking, and she felt that with her ordinary mortal mind, she shouldn’t try to speculate about an important character in a battle-of-wits comic.
She changed out of her work clothes, turned on the faucet, and rinsed her hands.
The cleaning work was done with gloves, but when taking them off, a little would inevitably get on her hands. Even if nothing did, there was always the illusion that blood had seeped through the rubber gloves and stained her skin.
Clear water flowed over her hands, carrying the blood away with it.
The red substance spread and dissolved in the transparent stream.
Zhou Meng cupped water in her hands and splashed it over her face, giving her cheeks a brief respite from that burning heat.
She looked up at the mirror.
Herself.
Still the same self as always, no different from the past.
If anything—her cheeks were slightly flushed, her body weary from the cleaning work and prolonged intense focus, strained from over-tension; and her mind, overstimulated and unable to calm down for the moment; together forming a fractured and contradictory expression.
She carefully disinfected herself.
Zhou Meng picked up her toolbox, walking out while typing two lines with one hand.
【Zhou Meng: I want money.】
After she sent the message, the other side seemed to mull it over, replying two seconds later.
【Mikhail: Fine.】
[Bank card ending in **** received a transfer of 100,000 yuan. Payer: Eden]
If Mikhail ever died, she would personally clean his body.
Zhou Meng had just reached the bottom of the building when the gray Jeep pulled up naturally in front of her.
“Hey.”
Sun Zhen opened the door, grinning. “I’m here to pick you up.”
Zhou Meng turned off her phone and bent down to get in, glancing at the backpack of unknown contents by his leg. “Right on time.”
…It was painfully obvious. This cheerful man had gone off to do some kind of mission while she was working.
Could he be a killer?
Sun Zhen waited patiently for her to buckle her seatbelt. “Going to the dance studio?”
Zhou Meng let out a delayed “Mm.”
In truth, her physical limits were nearly reached.
Excessive training was also a form of damage to the body—too much pressure on muscles and bones caused wear and tear. Zhou Meng had long ago learned how to balance training and rest.
Waiting for muscle fibers to regrow, for the energy in her body to slowly recover—that was also part of body management.
But not now.
“…I can’t settle down right now,” she said.
“Low pressure? You hungry?” The young man in the driver’s seat looked at her curiously with his round black eyes, his right hand passing over a paper bag held between his fingers. “Here, eat.”
Why did she feel like she kept being fed lately?
Zhou Meng instinctively took it with both hands and opened it.
Golden crispy skin, looking perfectly fried, each piece sized just right for two or three bites. Through the paper bag, a slightly scalding warmth radiated into her palms.
Ah.
It was fried chicken.
“…Sun Zhen,” Zhou Meng stared blankly at the golden chicken pieces for a few seconds, then said with difficulty, “I need to watch my calories…”
Although her appetite was astonishing, that was for eating at proper times.
Eating something like this at night—the calories wouldn’t be burned off…
“Huh?” Sun Zhen was driving one-handed, the other hand rummaging through seasoning packets. He turned back in surprise. “You care about your weight?”
No.
“It’s for the Latin championship… body management…” Zhou Meng said.
“Body management?” Sun Zhen seemed a bit puzzled, but also somewhat amused. “Mm… I don’t know much about dance, but you need proper nutrition to build muscle, right?”
He handed over the seasoning packet.
His round eyes glanced at her, a slight smile on his face. “Not eating?”
His right hand wore a half-finger glove—the bare index finger and the black-gloved middle finger pinched the rectangular seasoning packet between them.
That motion wouldn’t leave fingerprints.
“…I’ll eat.”
Zhou Meng accepted the seasoning packet.
She reverently picked up a piece of fried chicken with both hands and took a careful bite.
Mm.
This taste…
The crispy skin broke under her teeth, and the slightly scalding chicken meat touched her taste buds, awakening the body’s most wonderful memory of oil and fat. The tender meat and crispy skin blended together, rich in texture, the savory aroma spreading through her mouth.
Zhou Meng took another bite, eating a little hastily, sauce smearing at the corner of her mouth.
Sun Zhen glanced at her and reached over.
“?” Zhou Meng froze for a moment, then held the paper bag toward him. He laughed, took a piece of fried chicken from the bag, and stuffed it into his mouth too.
“Ahh.” Sun Zhen chewed, cheeks puffing out, making a muffled sound. “It’s a gathering~ How fun~”
…This guy must have some misunderstanding about what a gathering was.
“Two people eating fried chicken in a car after overtime—how is that a gathering?” Zhou Meng said, exasperated, stuffing another large piece into her mouth.
“It’s not? Then next time we’ll go to a restaurant?”
Why was he so fixated on eating with a coworker? Zhou Meng asked in confusion, “Don’t you have friends?”
“Hm?” Sun Zhen looked at her with an equally confused expression. “I’m your friend.”
When had that happened? She had no memory of it.
Zhou Meng met his gaze for two seconds. Those round black eyes looked at her, looking very innocent.
…This guy really did have a handsome face.
The fried chicken in her hand left a rough texture on her fingertips through the crispy skin, the warm heat and aroma of oil filling the space inside the car.
“…Fine.” She put the chicken in her mouth, speaking in a muffled voice. “Then I want to eat at a nicer place.”
“Haha.” Sun Zhen’s eyes curved into crescents as he laughed. “Have I ever picked a bad place?”
He rolled the window down a crack, letting the wind blow in.
The wind brushed across her cheeks. Moonlight and streetlights illuminated their bodies, neon lights streaked past on the streets beside them, turning into streams of color. The warm scent of food filled the car.
The moon in the sky was very bright.
The cleaned-up bloodstains and residue, the chicken pieces chewed and swallowed in her mouth, the smell of disinfectant and cleaner covered by the greasy aroma of food—the chaos filling her mind merged with the happiness brought by the meal.
Music poured this subtle contradiction into her limbs, bit by bit, flying up like sweat droplets flung out during a spin.
Zhou Meng stayed in the dance studio, dancing until even the neon lights outside went out. Only then, gasping for breath, did she stop in the darkness.
…Time to go home.
The apartment she lived in had already had its rent paid for a full year by Eden.
The elevator reached the 21st floor, and when the doors opened, the hallway was empty.
Zhou Meng wasn’t surprised. When her neighbor went out, he generally avoided the elevator’s peak hours.
The last time she’d run into him at the elevator doors was simply because she’d come home at a very different time than usual that day.
She glanced at the neighboring door, then turned and walked to her own.
Where there had been nothing before, there was now a strange white gift box sitting in front of her door.
Zhou Meng paused.
When a white gift box appeared at the doorstep of a woman living alone, the first thing to do was call the police—if she weren’t working as a suspicious cleaner at Eden, that is.
She slowly crouched down and picked up the card on top.
The card had a red apple drawn on it.
EDEN.
Opening the box, she found several devices inside.
A camera, a phone, and a button.
Based on her experience at Eden, that button was a tracker, which could also serve as a signal transmitter.
[Hm?] The Light Orb plopped down onto her shoulder, [Xiao Meng, when did you buy these?]
“Hm? Oh, these… they’re from Eden.”
Zhou Meng replied in her slow, unhurried way, already starting to assemble the parts.
These were all Eden’s internal devices.
The System didn’t usually keep a constant eye on her, so this was the first time it had seen these.
Zhou Meng fiddled around at the door for a while, quickly installing the equipment and connecting it to her phone and computer.
“Okay… done.”
Eden really was the villainous black organization—the camera they used was inconspicuous, looking just like an ordinary peephole. Hung on the door, it could capture the hallway perfectly.
The image was clear, and it could pick up audio too.
Zhou Meng took out her SIM card and put it into Eden’s phone, casually tossing her old one into the desk drawer.
Eden’s phone was actually constructed just like any ordinary phone on the market—dual cameras, a comfortable grip, a smooth screen. There was no visible difference.
She took a shower… then sat back down at her desk.
That’s right.
Even though she’d already been a wage-slave office worker in her previous life, and had now been reborn into a manga world… manga worlds still required studying.
Working for a gray organization required even more knowledge… most of it content that schools never taught.
As the night deepened, the moonlight grew softer, and the pages were illuminated a snowy white by the incandescent lamp.
The computer beside her displayed the surveillance feed; the hallway remained empty.
Zhou Meng sat by the window, slowly flipping through her book, quietly writing on the paper with a gel pen.
The night was quiet. Writing in a quiet environment was relaxing.
She took notes for a while, then gradually lowered her head and slumped onto the desk.
When the Light Orb floated over, Zhou Meng was already asleep.
[…]
Normally at times like this, the System would cover her with a blanket.
But it didn’t move.
Because someone was watching her.
However, that gaze didn’t linger long—more like a brief glance, quickly and politely withdrawn.
The sheer curtain swayed slightly. Zhang Yunyu stepped away from the window, opened the door, and went downstairs to buy food for the day.
His gaze flickered to the delivery box in front of Zhou Meng’s door that hadn’t been thrown away yet.
“…”
Zhang Yunyu took out his phone, tapped a few times, and casually pressed the elevator button.
….
“…”
Zhou Meng’s eyes snapped open.
The phone connected to Eden’s camera was vibrating, emitting a rhythmic hum.
On the auto-popped-up surveillance feed, her neighbor had just opened his door.
Huh.
Eden’s surveillance had a reminder function like this?
…Going this far, it felt kind of ominous…
Wasn’t this a bit overkill?