Nana Toki slipped back to the Si Family villa; the night hung like spilled ink.

The gatekeeper slept; the main gate sat shut like a stone jaw.

Nana prowled the perimeter once; the wind brushed her like cold reeds.

She chose the wall; danger felt like a cat’s grin.

Even the System gaped; the wall offered no grip, just sheer granite under moonlight.

She went up like Spider-Man, scritch-scritch, feet kissing stone like dragonflies.

She dropped over easy; the ground took her like soft ash.

Heart first, she wanted to sneak to her room and stage a classic catch-in-the-act scene.

Then.

“It’s this late. Where’d you go?” A voice cut cool as a blade rinsed in snow.

She turned; a slender girl in a black dress stood like a midnight lotus.

Seventeen, maybe eighteen; her lips pressed, her smile thin as crescent silk.

Moonlight poured on lamb-fat skin; she glowed like a moon spirit on water.

A fine mole under her right eye flicked like a star on porcelain.

“What now? Sneaking out to meet a boyfriend again?” The words rang like frost tapping glass.

Nana’s mood sagged like wet cloth; her face stayed blank.

This Qingyu Si was a fox-hearted one; midnight wasn’t for counting stars.

“Please don’t laugh, My Lady. I played too wild outside and came back late.”

“The front gate wouldn’t open, so I took another path,” she said, voice low like smoke.

Nana slipped into maid posture; humility draped her like an old cloak.

But.

“You look too wrecked for ‘playing wild.’” Qingyu’s eyes were twin ink wells, measuring.

“Torn and tattered, like a woman from the slums,” she said. “Did something happen?”

Nana’s temper pricked like a thorn; she still smiled.

“Nothing happened. I just fell a few times climbing,” she said, pointing at the high wall like a cliff.

Qingyu’s silence felt like a winter pond; her look said, Lie to ghosts, not me.

“Shutong An, are you hiding something from me?” Her lashes lowered like shutters.

She stepped closer; her shadow slid like cold water over Nana’s shoes.

“I saw you at noon, dressed pretty and leaving,” she said. “One afternoon, and you end up like this?”

“If you said enemies caught you and trained you in a dungeon, I’d still buy it.”

“But this sloppy lie—do you take me for an idiot?” Her words snapped like dry bamboo.

She’d noticed the original you hovering near the Protagonist Lord; she hadn’t said it.

Now she saw noon tied to him like a red string.

“There’s… more to it,” Nana said, hurt pooling like brackish rain.

She sniffled twice; pity veiled her like thin gauze.

Then she laid out every memory of the original and the Protagonist Lord, trimmed and salted.

She painted him filthy as gutter water; she called herself blind as a moth to flame.

Qingyu’s eyes went wide; her face dropped into darkness like a moon behind clouds.

“You’re saying Yiwei Yang confessed to you.” She bit out his name like iron between teeth.

She looked ready for a feud under heaven; hatred sparked like flint.

She’d guessed he’d target her maid; she hadn’t guessed he’d move this fast, this shameless.

“Mm.” Nana rubbed her dust-stained face; grief sagged like a torn banner.

“He tried to trick you into bed?” Qingyu’s gaze sharpened like ice shards.

“Mm.” The word fell like a pebble in a silent well.

“That bastard!” Rage shook her like wind through bamboo; pale fingers knotted into fists.

Her face cut hard; the air tasted metallic, like storm before rain.

Yiwei Yang had ruined the Si Family auction, laid filthy hands on a Si maid, and now harassed her.

His courage grew like weeds in summer; it was everywhere.

She remembered his syrupy texts; her silver teeth clenched like a locked gate.

Men under heaven shared the same lust; it spread like smoke.

“Did he succeed?” She lifted her chin; pride sat like a swan’s neck.

Nana was taller; Qingyu had to look up like at a steeple.

“No.” Nana’s answer was simple as a stone.

“Good.” Relief left her in a long breath, like steam from tea.

Her body loosened; tension melted like frost at dawn.

“I’m tired. Wash up and rest,” she said, turning, steps light as autumn leaves.

She halted, then spoke again, words low as night rain. “Stay away from Yiwei Yang. He’s no good.”

“You’ve served me over ten years. We have a bond. I won’t let him use you to threaten me.”

She left without lingering; her shadow slid down the hall like ink.

Nana watched her back vanish; a crooked smile hung like a paper kite.

Helplessness tugged like wind on sleeves; the job wasn’t done.

She’d smudged the Protagonist Lord’s image a bit; it wasn’t enough.

He carried a golden finger; favors would stack later like coins.

Breaking that CP would be a long road, a mountain over mountain.

She hustled back; water rinsed her like river glass.

She slipped into a nightdress and reached for sleep like a cool pillow.

Then she remembered; annoyance pricked like a mosquito.

“Didn’t your master promise sincerity in this plane?” she asked the System. “Where is it?”

If starting half dead was sincerity, she’d kill that bastard after this world ended.

The System went quiet, like a lantern guttering. “…”

“Hasn’t the Host already seen my master’s sincerity?” it said, voice thin as wire.

“Given? Where?” Nana blinked on the bed; confusion spread like fog.

She looked around; the room sat still as old wood. Not even a jump-scare ghost.

“Didn’t the Host just see it?” the System asked, a dry whisper.

“?” Nana’s mind jolted like a sparrow. “You mean Qingyu Si?!”

Sourness rose like vinegar; how was Qingyu sincerity?

“Your master found me a lord to serve? If he’s so mighty, why not ascend?”

The System hesitated, like a clock missing a tick. “…”

“Host, Qingyu Si is the Nesting Phoenix.”

“What?!” Nana popped up on the bed; shock rang like a temple bell.

“That scheming girl is the Nesting Phoenix?” The idea scraped her like sandpaper.

Kill Nana Toki and she still wouldn’t believe it; her Nesting Phoenix wasn’t that harsh.

So master and System teamed up to fool her; a crooked play under lamplight.

“Who are you calling scheming?” A door swung open with a soft thud.

Qingyu Si stepped in, the same lady from half an hour ago, cool as midnight water.

“And who’s this Nesting Phoenix you’re talking about?” Her brows knit like willow leaves.

She held a translucent lace nightgown, jealousy thin as smoke in her look.

Nana stared, speech clipped like thread. “My Lady, isn’t this my room?”

Her mouth twitched; what was Qingyu up to? Moon, stars, and now a mood swing?

“Mm. It is your room,” Qingyu said, pausing like a cat before a leap.

She padded in cotton slippers toward the bathroom; her steps sounded like hushed rain.

“My showerhead broke. I’m borrowing yours,” she said, casual as late tea.

Nana stiffened; silence pressed like a lid. “The house is big. Why mine?”

Her brain tripped; the question left like a loose pebble.

“The whole house is asleep. Only you just came back,” Qingyu said, shutting the door like a fan.

“If not here, where?” Her look pinned Nana like a butterfly. “Are you stupid?”

Nana’s heart sank like a stone; this one was not the Nesting Phoenix.

The real Nesting Phoenix wouldn’t spit that word at her; that bond was feather-soft.

Master and servant were poison; they’d fetched a random woman to trick her.

The System sighed inside her skull, like wind through reeds. “…”

“This Host is hopeless. Let’s test,” it said, voice dim as embers.

“Test? What do you mean?” Nana flicked the light on; yellow pooled like honey.

The shower hummed from the bathroom, a rain curtain behind a door.

“Any way to make me believe that scheming girl is the Nesting Phoenix?”

The System paused, then spoke slow, each word a bead. “…”

“In the last plane, didn’t the Host use the Nesting Phoenix’s heart?”

“You also accepted the Nesting Phoenix’s Spirit Energy, again and again.”

“After the plane ended, I recycled those. But not all the Spirit Energy left you.”

“Now, touch someone bound to the Nesting Phoenix, and the residue will react.”

“That proves she is the Nesting Phoenix.” Its logic stood like a bamboo fence.

“Listen to yourself. Why should I trust you?” Nana’s annoyance smoldered like charcoal.

She’d seen through the System’s nature; trash on the surface, trash underneath.

It loved snooping while being useless; it schemed against her like a petty ghost.

A shameless System; regret bit like winter wind.

She should’ve asked its master for a useful System when she met him.

The System fell silent again, a leaf settling. “…”

“I told you the method. Whether you do it is on you,” it said, then blinked offline.

The room eased into quiet, like lake water at night.

Only Nana sat on the bed like a lone lantern.

In her bathroom, Qingyu Si used her shower; water sang like silver strings.