“I never thought the world was so small, Feihua.”
Sometimes dreams don’t come true. Maybe it’s just a glitch in memory. Or perhaps the mind weaves present sensations into past recollections, creating an illusion.
But… right now, Lu Huai—bound tightly to the chair—truly felt those words… matched the tone, cadence, and voice from his dream. Exactly.
Equally cold.
Equally laced with deep-seated disdain.
“You…”
Lu Huai gritted his teeth, but under the dream’s lingering shadow, no further words would come. He didn’t know if she was as twisted as in the nightmare. He dared not test her limits.
“You don’t seem nearly as shocked as I expected. A prophet? Did you foresee this?”
Bathed in dazzling light, dusted with faint shimmer, the girl spoke with flippant mockery. Her beauty was breathtaking—almost unreal, as if she shouldn’t exist in this world.
Lu Huai stayed silent. Mentioning dreams? Too absurd. He wouldn’t add another humiliating footnote.
She leaned closer, studying him.
He instinctively averted his gaze. His body burned, ears flushed crimson, face flushed yet oddly composed. Beyond the reflexive shyness toward a stunning girl, anger surged—a trembling rage, but for Lu Huai, it burned hot, not cold.
To her, his reaction was fascinating.
“You should be furious… so why do you look flustered? I know I’m beautiful—*flawlessly* beautiful—but can’t you even muster anger? Aren’t you a Level 11 god?”
Lu Huai breathed deeply, forcing calm. He couldn’t control dreams… but he refused to let reality mirror that nightmare.
He lifted his head. Cheeks still red. Her stunning beauty hit him like glare.
“Don’t you think… this is going too far…”
She stepped back. Leaned against the desk. Crossed her long, elegant legs.
Lu Huai had zero capacity to appreciate it. He clung to a fragile hope: *Maybe she’ll feel guilt. This is nearly criminal.*
Her expression held no guilt. No unease.
Icy eyes locked on him. A smirk of pure disdain curled her lips.
“Too far? Sure—in your ordinary world. But sorry. What you call ‘too far’ is trivial to me. Don’t expect guilt. I’m *enjoying* this. So tough when you deleted me? Look at you now—a pitiful, helpless kid, begging boring norms to save you. Impossible.”
“This is illegal…!”
“Yep. But… what if I killed you?”
A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes.
Lu Huai seethed—but dream fragments kept aligning with reality. His gut screamed: *She’d do it.*
She laughed. Cold. Utterly indifferent to rights. To life.
“Relax. I won’t kill you. Messy. But… if you walk out alive… would you *really* report me?”
“Why wouldn’t I…”
Defiant words. His genuine thought—maybe naive. Her power radiated. The kind that twists truth.
The queen-like girl nodded, noble and cold.
“You *can* report me. Listen closely. I’m Xu Wenxi. You’re Lu Huai. Your father: Lu Yuan. Your mother: Zhang Su.”
“You… investigated me…”
Every syllable precise.
Lu Yuan. Zhang Su.
His parents’ plain, ordinary names.
*Xu Wenxi?* Unknown to him. But her confidence screamed: *You can’t retaliate. You won’t.*
A terrifying possibility dawned.
*Thud…!*
*Ugh…!*
Her foot slammed his chest. Solid, sharp pain—nothing like dream-cramps. *How?!*
No gun… yet she hurt him without pity.
Reality merging with nightmare.
“I said: listen. I hate interruptions.”
Xu Wenxi leaned back, lazily twirling a strand of hair. As if nothing happened.
“Your parents work procurement at Silver Iris Group’s Chuzhou HQ. And coincidentally… the Group’s owner bears the surname Xu. Understand now?”
Lu Huai glared through chest pain and nausea. No bowed head—but his eyes confessed: *I understand.*
“So… can you still report me?”
*What kind of person is she?*
He never imagined such villainy in real life. Beautiful… yet cruel beyond belief.
Silence. He stared at the floor.
Reality’s chasm yawned. The world has beauty—but for ordinary people like him? Zero resistance.
Privilege. Power to twist black and white. *Why…?*
The boy without red eyes had only *dreamed* this once. Still, he couldn’t meet her gaze.
Fear? Or the truth he refused to accept?
Xu Wenxi stepped close, lifted his chin with a taunting finger. Forced his eyes to hers.
She watched his resistance crumble. Smiled wider.
“Think I’m nothing like my online self?”
“…”
“Of course not. Revealing your true self to strangers online? Foolish. But now—we’re *connected*. Because… you ruined my fun.”
*Fun?* Toyed with people? Amused herself?
“It was fun. Playing the sweet girl online. Entertaining trash like you—pathetic men who bark behind screens, thinking I was some brainless, easy conquest. I got interested… but *how dare you* ruin it? Hm?”
Lu Huai held her gaze.
The demon continued: “I planned to act cool, draw you in, steal everything, then watch you fume while I mocked you. But *you* cut it short first?”
Wretched. Cunning. Despicable. A girl rotten to the core.
No trace of goodwill in him.
That familiar agony returned—the crushing pressure, the dread of the unknown.
Fists clenched behind his back. Useless.
Xu Wenxi noticed. Laughed softly.
“Oh—I almost forgot. You seem aloof, cold… but you’re just a seventeen-year-old high schooler. Not cold. *Socially anxious.*”
*She knows even this…*
Ordinary people like him? No secrets left.
“Are you socially anxious?” she asked, smile sharp with mockery.
Silence. He’d become a wretch resisting only with silence. *A useless wretch.*
He stopped thinking of himself. Only his parents.
*No… don’t drag them in.*
The child already a burden. If they lost their jobs—after decades of toil—all because of him…
*No. I won’t let it happen.*
Even if he sacrificed himself.
Dignity… everything…
Suddenly meaningless.
“Tsk.”
His corpse-like silence displeased her.
She released his chin, stepped back, opened the desk drawer. Pulled out a whip.
Yes—a whip. Made for lashing people.
“Silence is fine. *I’ll* speak.”
“Show me social anxiety. Like… when you see me.”
Lu Huai felt genuine fear.
But he couldn’t perform. Not like a clown.
*Crack!!*
The whip struck—arm, chest.
He flinched with a choked cry. She ignored it.
“So tough? Not socially anxious?”
*Crack!!*
“Shy? Meeting me is an *honor*. Share your gratitude. Go on.”
*Crack!!!*
“Speak! Painful? Men endure pain. Level 11 god—*do you like this?*”
*Crack!*
*Crack!!*
*Crack!!!*
Pain… pain…
He realized the truth: she didn’t want answers. She was venting.
Using his social anxiety as a toy.
Words. Whip.
Dignity stripped bare.
Everything…
Everything…
“Socially anxious? *So* anxious… not a word… how *interesting*…”
As she raised the whip again—
The boy, near fainting from pain, clenched his fists.
That surging, icy lake from that long-ago summer threatened to drown him once more.
“ENOUGH!!”
“What did you say…”
