Jiang Qianyu had no idea how strong Lu Yunzhi was, nor the true difficulty of a so-called Class A mission. But just from the “Class A” label alone, she knew it wouldn’t be simple. At the very least, the monster she’d taken down last night was highly unlikely to qualify as Class A.

Still—this was an opportunity.

The identity she carried in this life, and the persistent hunger deep in her soul, remained unresolved. And after Bai Dongqing made that wish, she too would be hunted by monsters. If she didn’t reach out to this world first, it would come for her anyway.

“Yunzhi,” Jiang Qianyu said calmly, “to be honest—I really don’t want you involved in these Class A or Class B missions. It’s too dangerous. As you said, one careless mistake could cost you your life. Your colleague died from a moment’s oversight. For you right now, Class A is still a stretch. You know better than I do what overreaching means.”

“Exactly!” Lu Yunzhi sighed, plopping onto a small stool beside her and cupping her face. “Most missions we get are Class B or C. Those? Manageable—even solo. But Class A? Totally different. It’s not just the huge difficulty jump. The real issue? Class A missions demand serious brainpower. And… thinking’s never been my strong suit. *sigh*…”

Jiang Qianyu glanced sideways. She almost said, *You’ve got surprisingly accurate self-awareness.* Truth was, Lu Yunzhi wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed—clear as day. Probably the “all brawn, no brains” type.

“If I were quicker-witted,” Lu Yunzhi mumbled, “I’d already be Grade A. I could handle a simpler Class A mission alone.”

Jiang Qianyu’s eyes flickered slightly. She wasn’t sure if her own mind was sharp enough for these eerie missions—but this was a perfect opening. Partnering with Lu Yunzhi could fast-track her into that world, uncover secrets she’d never access alone. Immensely valuable.

“So you need a teammate to help with Class A missions?”

“Yeah, but it’s hard,” Lu Yunzhi shook her head. “Most friends avoid Class A—too risky, not worth it. I get it. Most join the Nightwatchers for the paycheck. But no salary’s worth dying for.”

“As Grade B Hunters, we get a 35,000-yuan base monthly. Two missions? Fifty to sixty thousand is easy; seventy to eighty isn’t rare. Enough for many. Still, missions carry danger. HQ requires at least one mission per month. Skip longer? Breach of contract—immediate dismissal, maybe fines.”

“At Grade A, income doubles. With bonuses, clearing over a million yuan after tax yearly is common. Two or three million? Possible.”

“So you see—higher pay, but unnecessary. Many with potential choose not to climb. And Grade A Hunters? They mostly look down on us small fries. Partnering? Forget it.”

Silence hung for a few seconds after she finished. Jiang Qianyu had expected this. She’d thought the Nightwatchers’ higher-ups would control members with stronger power or drugs to ease their “ailments.” Money alone had limited pull.

“Yunzhi,” Jiang Qianyu asked gently, “can outsiders *voluntarily* join these missions?”

Lu Yunzhi blinked, confused. “Outsiders? No—well, technically yes, but they’re usually victims monsters target. Killed on sight.”

“No,” Jiang Qianyu smiled. “What if an outsider *chooses* to help?”

“You’re nuts!” Lu Yunzhi’s voice jumped. “Who’d willingly go there? Suicide!”

“Suicide alone, yes. But with the Nightwatchers?”

Jiang Qianyu’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly.

“No way!” Lu Yunzhi shook her head hard. “Bringing non-professionals is dangerously irresponsible—for us and them. They’d need protection, break formation…”

“What if they don’t enter physically,” Jiang Qianyu pressed, “but give remote guidance instead?”

Lu Yunzhi froze. Outsiders were risky because they lacked skill and needed guarding. But… if they stayed off-site? No danger. No disruption.

She scratched her head, looking adorably lost. “Uh… Xiao Yu? What’s ‘remote guidance’?”

“You livestream the mission via phone or camera. I watch from home and guide you in real time.”

Shifting from “participant” to “I,” Jiang Qianyu felt like the Big Bad Wolf tricking Little Red Riding Hood.

“Not having initiative isn’t a flaw. I’ll handle the thinking. You be the muscle. I’ve got a knack for strategy. My weak legs and frail body are my limits—but that’s where you shine. Together, we cover each other’s gaps.”

“We’re a pair. If we can’t trust each other, who can we trust?”

She sighed, gazing upward at a forty-five-degree angle. “Yunzhi… these past days, I’ve thought a lot. It’s time to change. The selfish me from before must fade. Our family came together haphazardly for silly reasons—but a home is a home. I truly want it to *feel* like one. Not you working while I laze around, complaining or throwing tantrums. If I can, I want to contribute.”

“And for me… even through a screen, it’s a way to stay by your side. To know you’re safe, understand what you face. That’s the bare minimum a partner should do.”

Lu Yunzhi stared at her, silent for a long moment. To say her heart wasn’t warmed, wasn’t moved—that would be a lie. The loneliness and confusion from years of missions… words could never capture it. If only someone had been there then—even just offering guidance through words—she would have been utterly content.

...