Jiang Qianyu’s proposal gave Lu Yunzhi pause for careful thought.

Her instinct was to refuse—she knew better than anyone just how uniquely demanding this job was.

But then again, Jiang Qianyu wasn’t wrong.

True, the missions were dangerous, but she wouldn’t need to set foot on-site.

She could sit safely at home, directing everything through her computer screen. Truly, little real danger existed.

The monsters she faced couldn’t possibly kill her through a monitor.

At worst, it might inflict psychological strain on Jiang Qianyu. After all, the creatures were horrifying to look at, and casualties during missions were all too common. Lu Yunzhi worried Jiang Qianyu couldn’t withstand the mental and visual shock.

As for the so-called “secrets” of the Nightwatchers? It hardly mattered. As long as they weren’t broadcasted widely—just shared within family—the higher-ups would turn a blind eye.

“Xiao Yu, I understand what you mean… but… the missions I handle… how should I put it? They’re genuinely terrifying,” Lu Yunzhi stammered, torn between not wanting to dismiss Jiang Qianyu’s kindness and struggling to voice her worries.

“A hundred times scarier than any horror movie you’ve ever seen—and all in crisp, uncensored HD. Bloody, violent… you’d lie awake all night, trapped in nightmares.”

She delivered the words with deliberate, dramatic inflection, hoping to dissuade Jiang Qianyu.

To her surprise, Jiang Qianyu simply finished the cold coffee in her cup and calmly replied, “Compared to my wife risking her life on dangerous missions while I sit home helpless… what’s a little horror?”

“Besides,” she added with a faint smile, “once you get used to it, it’s no big deal.”

Lu Yunzhi finally understood: Jiang Qianyu wasn’t joking. She genuinely wanted in.

“Xiao Yu… knowing too much really isn’t a good thing.”

“And does ignorance bring happiness? I’ve never felt that way. Not once.”

“I…”

Seeing Lu Yunzhi’s lingering hesitation, Jiang Qianyu smiled. “How about this, Yunzhi? Your strength sits between Class B and Class A. Ordinary Class B missions are no longer much of a challenge for you. Let’s start with one as practice—it’ll help me adjust to your work and sharpen our teamwork.”

“One mission will show if I’m suited. If not, we’ll cross that bridge then.”

“Think about it… what if it *does* work out?”

Lu Yunzhi fell silent again, her expression conflicted. Finally, she gritted her teeth. “Fine. Let’s try. But listen, Xiao Yu—if it really doesn’t work, you’ll stay home quietly afterward, okay?”

“Of course,” Jiang Qianyu replied, her smile unwavering.

She *was* using Lu Yunzhi—but call it mutual benefit.

She’d plant her puppet inside their mission zone. If anything happened to Lu Yunzhi, she could rush in immediately.

Her mind wasn’t brilliant, but sharper than the “silly girl’s.” Watching the live feed would let her make sounder choices.

At lunchtime, Lu Yunzhi brought takeout back from a nearby restaurant.

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the home atmosphere felt different after her week away.

Not worse—the old oppressive weight had vanished, though she couldn’t pinpoint how.

While clearing dishes, she spotted Jiang Qianyu in her wheelchair, gently brushing their daughter Bai Dongqing’s hair in the sunlight. With tender care, she styled a neat scorpion tail braid and fastened a cute red bow hair clip.

The little girl stood smiling at the mirror, turning her head this way and that, joy radiating from her face—uncontainable, genuine.

Dong Qing had smiled before, but those were timid, forced things, masking fear.

Lu Yunzhi had once doubted herself and even asked Dong Qing directly, but got little reply.

Now the difference was unmistakable. A hint of shyness remained, but the fear was gone.

Especially in the afternoon, Bai Dongqing nestled in Jiang Qianyu’s lap as she patiently taught her to read.

Lu Yunzhi had never witnessed such warmth between them.

Jiang Qianyu, too, seemed transformed.

*Maybe she really did figure things out*, Lu Yunzhi thought.

Shaking her head, she sliced fruit onto a plate and carried it over. “Xiao Yu, Dong Qing, come have some fruit.”

·

·

Time slipped into afternoon.

Lu Yunzhi went upstairs to catch up on paperwork; Bai Dongqing kept reading.

Jiang Qianyu set down the mop and began mopping from her wheelchair—a tricky task.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she caught something in her peripheral vision.

The disc she’d accidentally acquired last night was half-slotted on the shelf. She pulled it out, removed the disc—and froze. The engraved image was *moving*.

Inside the shadowy little house against a crimson backdrop, a grim-faced man frantically pounded the window. From her angle, he seemed to be slamming *against the disc itself*, straining to shatter the seal and escape.

Jiang Qianyu silently raised her other hand. Thick strands of black Soul Threads erupted from her palm, pierced the disc, and sank inward like inky tentacles, tightly binding the struggling man.

His lips formed silent pleas.

She ignored him, letting the Soul Threads devour the last trace of his lingering soul attachment.

The essence slightly sated her hunger. Once the man vanished, steeped in bitter resentment, the scene emptied completely.

Strangely, a faint, resonant connection now hummed between her and the disc—as if erasing him had condensed the entire scene into the disc, placing it under her direct control.

*What’s the use of controlling a scene?* she wondered.

More importantly, it demanded a price—just like resurrecting her puppet last night. She’d need to expend soul energy as a medium to fully command it.

“So… mastering a scene is like carving out my own kaidan territory?”