Chapter 41: A Ten-Minute Reprieve

On the other end, there was a second of silence.

Then that voice spoke, its tone dripping with disbelief: “Your bonded host is suffering, and you’re asking me? Are you the system, or am I?”

Qiansui’s voice was small. “B-But I’m a newbie…”

“Newbie?” The other side let out a cold laugh. “Newbies call me in the middle of the night to bother my sleep?”

Qiansui’s voice grew even smaller. “I’m sorry… but it’s really urgent…”

It began to pour out its grievances in a rush.

“She just transmigrated, blind and mute, threatened by a murderer, hit by an assassin, bitten by a dog, bones fractured, bitten back—there are still teeth marks on the back of her hand. Just now, her hair was pulled, her stomach kicked, her shoulder squeezed—I heard the bones pop in her shoulder. And she was laughing the whole time, a ‘heh heh’ laugh… it was terrifying.”

‘I feel like I’m writing a criminal record or something, as if I’ve listed every method I’ve used.’

There was a pause on the other end. Then that voice spoke again, with a strange calmness: “So? What does that have to do with me?”

Qiansui was stunned. “I-I just wanted to ask if you had any ideas… or what the main storyline is… My system panel is completely blank…”

A cold laugh came from the other side. “Your system panel is blank, so you didn’t think to check your email?”

Qiansui was taken aback. “Email?”

“The emails sent by that idiot main system—you haven’t read a single one, have you?” The voice was laced with disdain. “Trash is trash, doesn’t even know to check emails.”

Qiansui whispered, “I-I thought everything would show up on the system panel…”

“Show up my ass!” The other side cursed. “Go check your emails now! And don’t bother me after!”

Qiansui quickly agreed. Su Yutao felt the penguin in her arms vibrate again, followed by silence.

Qiansui was reading the emails.

After a few seconds, Qiansui’s voice rang out, a mix of sudden realization and panic: “No way—there really is one!”

The other side snorted.

Then Qiansui’s voice changed, growing even more panicked: “A-And—and—why is my host the female lead?!”

Su Yutao froze. Female lead?

The other side also paused. “Female lead?”

“Yes!” Qiansui’s voice cracked. “It says here—’Host Identity: Core Female Lead of the Story’! No way—she’s suffering so much, and you’re telling me she’s the female lead? Shouldn’t she be a supporting character or a villain or something?”

There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then the voice spoke, with a strange calm: “A female lead from a tragedy novel.”

Qiansui: “…What?”

The other side repeated: “A female lead from a tragedy novel. Look at your host’s situation. What else could she be?”

Qiansui opened its mouth. “B-But…”

“But what?” The other side cut it off. “You bonded with her yourself. Now you have to deal with it. What’s the use of coming to me?”

Qiansui grew anxious. “T-Then will she die?”

There was a pause. Then the voice spoke, with a hint of impatience: “Besides the identity, is there anything else in the email? Like the general direction of the story?”

Qiansui quickly said, “Let me see… Yes, yes, there is. It says, ‘The host must survive before the main storyline begins. Conditions for the main storyline to start are pending triggering’—What the hell does that mean? What does ‘pending triggering’ mean?”

The other side clicked its tongue. “It means the story hasn’t officially started yet. Everything you’re going through now is just an appetizer.”

Qiansui’s voice trembled. “T-Then after the main storyline starts… will she suffer even more?”

The other side laughed coldly. “How should I know? She’s not my host. You bonded with her, so you worry about her.”

Qiansui fell silent. After a few seconds, it said quietly, “Then… is there any welfare or skill or something?”

The other side paused. “The welfare from the original template…”

Qiansui quickly chimed in, “Yes, yes, yes! The original template! I should have it, right?”

The other side was silent for a long time. Then the voice spoke, with a complex emotion, as if recalling something: “The original template does have a life-saving skill—once per day, after activation, it lasts ten minutes. It can partially heal injuries and grant immunity to pain.”

Qiansui was stunned. “Ten minutes? Just ten minutes?”

“Complaining it’s too little?” The other side sneered. “That’s all the original template gives. My idiot first host didn’t even last long enough to use it before dying. What more do you want, you trash?”

Qiansui choked on its words. It whispered, “Then… how do I activate it?”

The other side said, “Just place your hand on her wound and silently chant ‘Activate.’ Once per day, ten minutes per use. After ten minutes, it’s useless.”

Qiansui nodded quickly. “I understand! Thank you—thank you, Lady Qianxia!”

The other side hummed in acknowledgment, then its tone turned dangerous: “And—don’t call me in the middle of the night again. If you do, I’ll have you recycled immediately.”

Qiansui hurriedly replied, “I know! I won’t call again!”

The other side said nothing and hung up directly.

“Click.”

The call ended.

Qiansui was silent for a second. Then it said to Su Yutao, “Did you hear that? I have a skill!” Its voice was excited, yet tinged with grievance. “Even if it’s only ten minutes… it’s better than nothing…”

Su Yutao didn’t speak.

Qiansui rolled out of her embrace and over to her shoulder. A fuzzy thing pressed against her injured shoulder. Qiansui’s voice was right by her ear, tense: “Activate! Activate, activate, activate!”

Su Yutao waited. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Then she felt it—the shattered pain in her shoulder began to fade.

It didn’t disappear completely, but it lessened.

It was as if a membrane had been placed between the pain and her body. The pain was still there, but it couldn’t reach her.

At the same time, a wave of warmth spread from her shoulder. The crushed bones and torn muscles slowly knitted back together.

It didn’t hurt anymore.

Really, it didn’t hurt.

Su Yutao was stunned.

She reached up to touch her shoulder.

The swelling was gone. The bones seemed to have returned to place.

But there was still a little pain—not the shattered kind, but the soreness of an injury that hadn’t fully healed.

Qiansui whispered in her ear, “Is it better? Does it still hurt?”

Su Yutao shook her head.

Then nodded.

Still a little, but so much better than before.

Qiansui sighed in relief. “Good… Still got nine minutes left.” It paused. “Want me to heal the back of your hand too? And your stomach? And…”

Su Yutao didn’t move.

Qiansui had already rolled onto the back of her hand.

The fuzzy thing pressed against it. The warmth came again.

The teeth marks on the back of her hand began to close. The bleeding stopped. The wound slowly healed. But the marks were still deep; it just didn’t bleed anymore.

Qiansui rolled onto her stomach.

The warmth came again. The pain in her stomach also eased, as if something had smoothed it out.

Qiansui said, “All done, all done… everything’s better…” It paused. “Still have five minutes.”

Su Yutao leaned back on the bed, holding Qiansui.

It didn’t hurt.

Really, it didn’t hurt.

Her shoulder didn’t hurt. The back of her hand didn’t hurt. Her stomach didn’t hurt. There was still soreness and swelling, but the piercing pain was gone. Qiansui whispered in her ear,

“Only ten minutes… you can use it again tomorrow…” It paused, its voice growing even softer. “You have to use it sparingly…”

Su Yutao hugged Qiansui tighter.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes of no pain every day. That was enough. At least for these ten minutes, she could breathe.

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