Lu Fan couldn’t believe it. Through that thick iron door, Jiang Muqing had seen right through his disguise. She was far more formidable than even Head Teacher Li Zhe.

Had the student surpassed the master? Or was it just a woman’s intuition about men?

His heartfelt words could’ve charmed any 2D girl effortlessly—but his first attempt in the 3D world had failed spectacularly.

Clearly, Jiang Muqing wouldn’t be opening her door for him today.

Real-world girls were indeed sharper—and far more ruthless—than their anime counterparts.

His plan to resolve everything with Jiang Muqing in one move had already collapsed.

Was he utterly hated now?

He’d pushed this narcissistic girl to the edge, yet had no way to pull her back.

Still, one thing was certain: Jiang Muqing’s emotions had stabilized. For days, she’d stayed quietly at home, avoiding dangerous acts.

Outside the window, dusk had fallen. He’d wasted hours here—time meant for studying. It was time to go home.

He’d hand Jiang Muqing’s homework to the classmate in Room 213, ask them to keep an eye on her next door. Nothing major should happen then.

He pressed the doorbell of 213.

*Ding-dong—*

The door swung open almost instantly.

Had his neighbor been watching his standoff with Jiang Muqing the whole time? Witnessing his entire failed confession?

A flicker of embarrassment crossed his mind—but so what? They attended the same school, yet her voice was unfamiliar. Being seen by a stranger he’d likely never meet again meant nothing.

"So *you’re* that Lu Fan?!"

The girl’s voice rang out before the door fully opened.

After the school auditorium incident, his notoriety probably matched Jiang’s.

She was a petite girl with a neat bob, wearing a white tee printed with cartoon critters and denim shorts that bared her long, pale legs. The fitted top hinted at her youthful curves; the shorts showcased legs that seemed to go on forever. Her look blended fresh innocence with a touch of mature allure.

Though romance wasn’t on his mind lately, chatting with a girl like this would’ve lifted anyone’s mood.

"Yeah," he replied with a wry, helpless smile.

"You two were so bold—doing *that* in front of the whole grade."

Admiration glinted in her eyes.

People actually *admired* being hit with a scandal out of nowhere?

No point wasting time explaining to a bystander.

"This is Jiang Muqing’s homework from Room 212. Please pass it to her." He ignored her comment, holding out the test papers and exercise book she’d left at school.

*Click!*

?!

The sound of another door opening behind him—? Was he hallucinating?

"Guess you won’t need my help after all…"

The short-haired girl smirked knowingly.

Before he could turn around, a powerful force seized his backpack from behind, yanking him toward Room 212.

The girl behind him dragged him inside, slammed the door shut, then pressed her ear against it, peering through the peephole.

*This* was a girl’s room?

His eyes darted around the scene.

Shouldn’t it be spotless, fragrant, meticulously tidy?

What greeted him was chaos.

Snack bags littered the coffee table and floor. Empty beer and soda cans lay scattered. Food scraps had rotted into a foul-smelling mess.

A black cat prowled the room, pawing through discarded bags for crumbs.

Lu Fan instinctively covered his nose and mouth.

The girl who’d pulled him in turned around.

She leaned against the door, staring blankly at him.

Her hair hung tangled over her shoulders. Her once-white nightgown was stained and grimy.

"Lu Fan…" Jiang Muqing’s voice was hollow. "I feel my life draining away."

She looked terrifying. Pale face. Cracked lips. Swollen, shadowed eyes. Her gaze held nothing—no emotion he could read, no cue for his next "performance."

"Huh?" He didn’t understand.

"If I die, Lu Fan will just go find another girl like he did earlier." Her whole body trembled. Her matchstick-thin legs seemed ready to buckle.

"Like I did earlier?" What had he done?

"Like cheating." Her voice shook with fury.

"Sigh… We were never even *on* the tracks," he muttered.

Was talking to another girl really "cheating"? This possessiveness went far beyond narcissism.

"I know you don’t like me." Her face grew even paler, more desolate.

"Can you stop this? ‘I like you’ is just a normal sentence. That’s all it is." He studied her worriedly.

"Really?" She let out a cold laugh.

"Really." He met her eyes steadily.

"Lu Fan… I’m dying. My skin burns all over… but my heart hurts worse." She clutched her chest, voice breaking. "Take me to the hospital if you must," he said gently. Her cold must’ve worsened—she was rambling.

"It’s too late. This body’s beyond saving. I’m tired of suffering." She swayed toward him, radiating an unnerving intensity. Like a drowning woman grasping at air, she reached him.

"Last chance. If you truly like me… die with me." She seized his wrist, the one holding her homework.

"What insane nonsense is this?!" He recoiled. No sane person would die for love—humans weren’t praying mantises or spiders sacrificing themselves for offspring. Male mantises offered their bodies as *prepaid baby formula money*.

"Listen! You won’t die. *I* won’t die. Snap out of it!" He dropped the papers and gripped her shoulders.

"Lu Fan… I gave you a chance." She wrenched free, furious.

She darted into the kitchen. When she returned, she cradled a wooden knife block bristling with blades—chef’s knives, cleavers, fruit knives, scissors, peelers…

"Wait—what are you doing?!" He backed away.

"Don’t play with knives! You’ll hurt someone!" he shouted.

"Lu Fan can’t be stolen. If he won’t be mine… he won’t be anyone’s."

She yanked out a cleaver. Advanced.

Jiang Muqing radiated a dark, suffocating aura. The blade in her hand made his blood run cold.

"No… stop—" He lunged to restrain her, but the wildly swinging knife kept him at bay.

Even the black cat—previously ignoring them while scavenging snacks—now hissed fiercely, as if channeling a tiger.

*Hssss! Hssss!*

Its fur stood on end, roaring support for its master.

The black cat. The black-clad girl. And him, swallowed by the darkness.

*Fool.* He’d naively assumed nothing would go wrong. A narcissistic girl?

This wasn’t narcissism.

This was madness.