Jiang Qianyu made no move to control the scene inside the disc.

She’d already lost too much of her soul last night. That hollow, soul-deep hunger gnawed at her nerves constantly. She could still pretend to be normal—for now. But if it intensified even slightly, she feared she might truly lose control.

Besides, she hadn’t yet figured out what purpose this scene served her.

She’d deal with it later, once she could replenish what was lost.

Pushing her wheelchair outside the shop, Jiang Qianyu looked up at the building across the street. The second-floor fire-damaged room no longer felt eerie. Even the two pitch-black handprints on the security window’s iron bars had vanished—as if confirming the monster was truly gone.

“Mom, what are you looking at?”

Bai Dongqing walked over and followed Jiang Qianyu’s gaze upward.

“Nothing,” Jiang Qianyu said with a gentle smile, ruffling Dong Qing’s hair. “Just wondering how that fire started.”

Barely seven or eight hours had passed since that morning’s confession, yet Bai Dongqing had already let her guard down around this “enlightened stepmother.” Years of fear had left instinctive wariness in her body—but Jiang Qianyu saw the little girl was genuinely trying to adjust.

“I don’t know,” Bai Dongqing tilted her head. “But didn’t you say the aunt across the street burned her husband? And told me to learn from her?”

“No—I mean *why* she set the fire. And about learning from her… Mom takes that back. You absolutely shouldn’t.”

Brushing it off, Jiang Qianyu wheeled back inside.

She’d just been pondering:

If the monster lured anyone who saw the house using spiritual or soul-based power, then hunted them based on their choice—

Save it or not, death was inevitable.

What if they tried another way?

Not save it, not kill it—but bring back the arsonist, the wife, and shove her into that second-floor room at midnight. What then?

Would it resolve like horror movies—vengeful spirit freed, moving on to reincarnation?

Jiang Qianyu almost laughed. Last night’s thing wasn’t a ghost. Far worse.

·

·

That evening, Lu Yunzhi shuffled downstairs in bear-print pajamas, yawning.

“What a cozy nap.”

She glanced at Jiang Qianyu prepping ingredients, then at Bai Dongqing reading quietly—*whoosh*—and wrapped her arms around Jiang Qianyu from behind.

“Hehehe… what’s for dinner?”

“Just these,” Jiang Qianyu placed greens in her hands. “Your turn to cook, Miss Hunter.”

“*Me* cook? Seriously?”

“Or hold me steady while *I* cook,” Jiang Qianyu shrugged.

Meant as a joke—but Lu Yunzhi actually did it: one hand supporting her, watching her stir-fry.

Afterward, she sighed admiringly, “Wow! No wonder you’re my wife—skills! Why didn’t I know this before?”

“Because you were never home. Did you expect our daughter to help me cook?” Jiang Qianyu shot back with an eye roll.

Lu Yunzhi fell silent. Head bowed, expression wilted. “Sorry… I really didn’t think of that.”

Of course daily tasks were hard for a disabled person raising a child alone—even small things.

Suddenly, she understood Jiang Qianyu’s words from that morning:

*Mutual support. Compensating weaknesses.*

She couldn’t cook; Jiang Qianyu could, but couldn’t move freely.

By steadying her now—they perfectly balanced each other.

“Um… how about trying your morning idea tonight?”

Jiang Qianyu froze mid-dishwashing. “Tonight?”

“Yep! Nothing urgent. There’s a Class B Hunter mission nearby. I’ll grab HQ’s recording gear—round trip’s quick.” Lu Yunzhi pulled a laptop from her bag. “Regular gear won’t cut it, but HQ’s streams live with zero lag. Old trick—we’ve tested this. Bigger missions mean more advisors.”

Jiang Qianyu took the laptop, surprised. “Aren’t we rushing?”

“Nah! I’m energized. But if you’d rather wait…”

“No. Tonight.” Jiang Qianyu shook her head.

“Got it! I’ll send mission files en route. Review first.”

7 p.m. Pitch dark. Lu Yunzhi slung her giant guitar case and hurried out. At the door, she flashed a grin back. “Count on you tonight, my strategist Jiang!”

That was her nature: decide, then act—fast.

But speed bred recklessness, carelessness, impulsiveness.

Poor prep. Charging in headfirst.

Jiang Qianyu worried: *Will she listen during the mission?*

“One step at a time,” she sighed, watching the taxi pull away.

Honestly… Lu Yunzhi felt good to her.

If possible, she wanted to accept her—and be accepted.

Marry first, build feelings later… a little odd.

“No matter what… she *must* survive,” Jiang Qianyu murmured.

This was her idea. No injuries. No risks. None.

“Dong Qing, go rest upstairs. Sleep in Yunzhi’s room. Remember: no matter what noise comes from outside—don’t look. Anything happens, come straight to me.”

The words barely left her lips when Lu Yunzhi’s message arrived—a file.

Title: *The One Outside the Door*.