If you ask me, Feng, you’d better cut things with Yiwei Yang early—prune the rot before it spreads.

Qingyu Si snorted, frost on glass. She finally saw him clear: Yiwei Yang was a roaming stud, sowing seed wherever his shadow fell.

She wondered if the women who liked him were blind as moths, throwing themselves into his arms like moths to a guttering flame.

He vanished since morning, and still hasn’t come back; odds are he’s holed up at that woman’s place, like fog clinging to a low hill.

Seeing Mengmeng Feng’s face dim like a lamp in rain, Qingyu knew the blow was heavy. She offered a few soft words, then said:

It’s late. We’ve got school at dawn. If you don’t mind, sleep in my room tonight, Feng.

She took Mengmeng’s small hand and moved to lead her out, a willow guiding a drifting boat.

Kneeling on the cushion, Nana Toki sprung to her feet to hunt food in the living room; after shopping with Mengmeng, she hadn’t eaten a grain.

I saved you dinner. It’s in the fridge—no need to scavenge outside, like a cat in alleys.

Qingyu read Nana’s intent like wind through bamboo and spoke before leaving. Then she turned, as if remembering: Mengmeng, you must be hungry too. I’ll settle you first, then bring something warm to eat, like a lantern in your hands.

Sorry for the trouble, Si.

Mengmeng forced a smile, thin as paper, and followed Qingyu to the second floor to stay in her room.

If you’ve time later, come by the Si Family home and hang out.

Qingyu came up with snacks and fruit from downstairs, apology clouding her face. We only set aside one proper meal; this is all to fill you up.

Seeing Mengmeng’s beauty wilt like a bruised flower, Qingyu couldn’t help adding, Don’t let Yiwei Yang live rent‑free in your heart; he’s just scum. And we’re classmates—no need to be stiff. Call me Qingyu.

Mm. Thank you, Qingyu.

Mengmeng took the fruit and snacks and gave a grateful smile. It’s late, the moon’s already sliding west. Go sleep too, Qingyu. We’ll head to school together tomorrow.

Mm.

After they wished each other goodnight, Qingyu drifted back to Nana Toki’s room like a shadow returning to its lamp.

She walked in on Nana pulling milk from the fridge and drinking, like a kitten at a saucer.

Wh‑what’s up?

Nana prickled under Qingyu’s straight, needle‑sharp stare, like fur lifting in static.

Lately, her lady seemed off, like a compass spun by thunder.

Nothing.

Qingyu reeled her gaze back, slipped past Nana, and climbed onto Nana’s big bed. Finish up and get to bed early, like shutters closing before rain.

She pulled up the quilt and turned her back, sleep taking her like dusk taking a city.

Nana stared at the empty bottle for a beat, then brushed her teeth, killed the lights, and went to bed, a tide ebbing into night.

Come morning, Nana still didn’t see a trace of Yiwei Yang, like a stone sunk in a pond.

He probably spent the night at Huaiyue Qin’s, like dew clinging to a poisonous bloom.

After breakfast with Qingyu and Mengmeng, Nana rode in Uncle Chen’s car to drop them at school, wheels humming like cicadas.

In the car, she checked her phone calendar. Tomorrow was the gala. The memories the System fed her flickered like film.

So far, the Protagonist Lord had gained from the System basic strength enhancement and basic speed enhancement, sparks under the skin.

And several ancient martial arts forms the System handed down, like old blades wrapped in oil paper.

With just that, Nana didn’t rate Yiwei Yang high. What pinched her temples was the uninvited guests due at tomorrow’s gala, clouds gathering at the horizon.

In the original plot, this was where the Protagonist Lord turned Qingyu’s disgust, winter to spring. The original owner had died, so only Qingyu went, with the Protagonist Lord as her bodyguard.

He helped her dodge an assassination at the gala, and her favor for him surged, like a river after rain.

Nana didn’t think the Protagonist Lord would be denied that chance, fate circling like a hawk.

But to be safe, she’d scout the venue ahead of time, like checking knots before a climb.

In this plane, she was only human. The body arts she learned in cultivation worlds were strong, but against guns she was wind against iron.

After dropping Qingyu and Mengmeng safely at school, Nana used grocery shopping as a pretext and headed to the Yuehong Hotel, a fox slipping into reeds.

The hotel had closed a day early to prep for tomorrow night’s gala, doors shut like eyelids.

When she arrived, Yuehong was already in shutdown mode, halls emptied like low tide.

To avoid eyes, she disguised herself as a cleaner and slipped in, broom in hand, like a ghost with a feather duster.

She surveyed the hotel inside and out, noting soft spots like thin ice along the edges. She was about to set a few quiet tricks.

Suddenly figures approached. Startled, she ducked and hid in a camera blind spot, a fish sliding under a rock.

Miss, the gala is tomorrow night. What brings you here?

I’m here to see the venue and give you a few orders.

The familiar voice snagged Nana as she clung to the wall, ready to slip away. Tomorrow, find people to kidnap that woman from the Si Family.

Huaiyue Qin?

Nana peeked out. A man and a woman talked at the hotel’s entrance, silhouettes sharp as cut paper.

The man was tall and thin, rat‑eyed and sly; she didn’t know him. The woman was the one she’d seen at the jewelry store yesterday, glass glinting in memory.

So this was the office‑lady heroine… her character had collapsed, a painted mask cracked to shards.

In the original text, Huaiyue Qin never ordered Qingyu Si’s kidnapping.

Hearing it from her own lips left no doubt: on this plane, Huaiyue Qin’s persona had broken, bones through silk.

Did they just say kidnap someone from the Si Family?

Nana crouched lower and kept listening, ears spread like fans.

Spread word elsewhere that the Si young lady will show up at Yuehong’s gala tomorrow night. Then find a dozen men to snatch her.

Huaiyue folded her arms, face proud and cold as ice. Headquarters is getting crushed by the Si Family, right? Use this and squeeze them for cash.

But, Miss, the last crew we sent… all died, like candles in a gale.

The man stammered, shame crawling like ants. Our own side has no one left to use.

I don’t care. Go to the black market if you must, but get it done, clean as a cut.

She slapped the table, the sound sharp as a whip. One more thing—find a way to bring down that woman at the station, Zixia Chen. I want her kneeling to apologize.

That woman called me a whore and left me in a cell all night, iron biting like frost.

That humiliation will be repaid, like a debt carved in stone.

But, Miss, Zixia Chen’s father has ties with several senior marshals up top. Acting rashly might hurt our Qin family.

Then what do you propose?

True enough. For a woman to hold a captain’s chair at the station, it’s not just merit—her backing is uncommon, clouds behind the mountain.

Miss, how about this…

The man glanced around, then whispered, Once we’re set to kidnap the Si young lady, you can “leak” it. Then use black‑market hands to deal with Zixia Chen…

He drew a thumb across his throat. He didn’t say the word, but Huaiyue understood, like thunder without lightning.

After, we hire another black‑market crew under a different name to erase the first. No one will trace it to us. How’s that, Miss?

Will that fly?

Miss, you know what kind of people the black market breeds. In X City, dirty deals are everywhere. Plenty want Qingyu Si dead. If Zixia Chen “accidentally” dies during a black‑market snatch, the trail won’t touch us.

Mm. Then we’ll do it that way.

Pleased, Huaiyue even smiled, pretty as frost on plum. If it works, I’ll put in a good word for you with Grandfather.

Ah, thank you, Miss. It’s only my duty.

At that, the man’s face bloomed with a sycophant’s smile, like mold after rain.

That was a sure ticket to promotion and a fatter purse, a kite catching wind.

They hashed out more details in the hall. Once fixed, Huaiyue left the Yuehong Hotel, heels clipping like tapping wood.

Nana slipped from her corner and watched their backs recede, thoughts rippling across her face like wind on a pond.

Huaiyue Qin wants the black market to kidnap Qingyu Si. And while at it, kill Zixia Chen.

Hiss—Huaiyue’s venom puts mine to shame, like snake to house cat.

She wants to take down two heroines in one stroke, one arrow for two birds.

Even if the plot god nods, Nana Toki, righteous maid‑chan, won’t agree, steel ringing like a bell.

Looks like I need to prepare well, weave nets before the storm.

Nana picked up the cleaning tools she’d stashed in the corner and let a gentle smile bloom, a knife hidden in a flower.