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Join the ServerThat person let go. The woman’s body slid to the floor and lay still.
Then she turned and looked at the man.
The man was still lying on the ground, unconscious, unaware of anything.
She walked over and looked down at him.
Then she lifted her foot and stepped on his head.
“Bang.”
A dull thud.
The man’s body twitched once, then went still.
“Bang.”
Another blow.
He stopped moving.
Completely still.
Su Yutao curled up on the floor, clutching Qiansui, her teeth chattering.
She could hear her own heart—racing, pounding, threatening to explode.
She heard the footsteps of that person—light, steady, heading for the door.
Then a voice, on the phone.
– Hey, I’ve killed two bugs here. Figure out how to handle it.
There was a long pause on the other end.
Then Mole’s voice came through, laced with disbelief:
– Sis, Sister Lin? It’s late, I didn’t think you had a mission tonight. What were you doing that needs cleanup?
That person clicked her tongue. Her voice was flat:
– I told you to do something, so don’t talk back.
Mole didn’t dare ask further. – G-got it. Send me the address.
The call ended.
Silence filled the room.
Only the chair that had been knocked over by the woman was still swaying, creaking softly.
Su Yutao curled up on the floor, clutching Qiansui, her entire body frozen.
She didn’t dare move.
She was afraid of that person.
Afraid that she would twist her neck like she did the woman’s.
Afraid that she would stomp on her head like she did the man’s.
She was terrified.
The footsteps returned.
Stopped in front of her.
Silence.
Su Yutao could feel that gaze on her.
That person bent down, grabbed Su Yutao by the back of the neck, and lifted her up.
Su Yutao hung there, holding Qiansui, like a dead cat, completely limp.
Not because she didn’t want to move—she couldn’t.
Her body wouldn’t obey.
That person carried her out.
As they passed the woman, Su Yutao caught the smell—the scent of blood, just like that rainy night.
She didn’t dare look down. She just curled up, hugging Qiansui, burying her face in the fuzzy fur.
Down the stairs.
That person carried her, step by step.
Su Yutao dangled in midair, her feet unable to reach the steps.
Qiansui whispered in her ear: “Going down the stairs… first floor… second floor…”
Su Yutao didn’t dare move.
She just curled up, listening to that person’s steady footsteps, one after another.
Out the building door.
The night wind rushed in, cool against her skin.
Su Yutao began to tremble.
Not an uncontrollable shiver—a chill that seeped from the marrow of her bones.
That person carried her into the complex.
The footsteps were neither fast nor slow.
Su Yutao hung there, like a cat scruffed by the neck, curled into a ball.
Qiansui whispered in her ear: “Entering a building… going upstairs…” That person carried her, step by step upward.
Su Yutao could feel the steadiness of that arm—carrying her like a sack, no swaying, no jolting.
Open the door.
Enter the room.
Close the door.
That person tossed her onto the couch.
Su Yutao fell into the cushions, still clutching Qiansui, still shaking.
That person stood before her, silent for a moment, then that voice came from above, flat:
“Don’t tell the daytime me about what happened today.”
Su Yutao didn’t move.
She was still trembling.
“Did you hear me?”
Su Yutao nodded.
Nodded frantically.
Lin Qingxue stood by the couch, looking down at the curled-up Su Yutao.
She was silent for a moment, as if thinking, as if something amusing occurred to her, and then that voice sounded again, indifferent:
“This penguin is important to you, isn’t it?”
Su Yutao nodded.
But that felt wrong.
So she shook her head instead.
The person chuckled coldly.
“Alright. Time to test the results.”
“Give me the penguin.”
Su Yutao’s entire body stiffened.
She hugged Qiansui tighter, shrinking into the corner of the couch.
Lin Qingxue didn’t move. She just looked at her.
“Give it to me.”
Su Yutao shook her head.
She was afraid to refuse, but she did it anyway.
Qiansui was in her arms; she could feel that fuzzy body trembling.
Qiansui was scared too.
But she couldn’t give it up.
If she did, she didn’t know if she’d get it back.
Lin Qingxue watched her, said nothing.
Instead of taking the penguin, she reached out and grabbed Su Yutao by the throat.
Su Yutao’s breath cut off instantly.
That hand was neither tight nor loose—just enough to block her windpipe.
She could inhale, but not deeply.
She could exhale, but not fully.
Like a membrane clogging her throat, stifling her to the point of nausea.
Su Yutao’s hands began to shake.
She remembered that woman—the sound of her neck snapping, a sharp crack, and then silence.
She remembered that person’s hand gripping the woman’s neck, a simple twist.
Su Yutao trembled all over, her teeth chattering. Qiansui slipped from her hands; she couldn’t even retrieve it.
She just shook, just feared.
Lin Qingxue let go.
Su Yutao collapsed on the couch, gasping, coughing violently.
Lin Qingxue looked at her and spoke again:
“Give me the penguin.”
Her tone was the same as ordering a dog to release something from its mouth.
Su Yutao panted, pulling Qiansui back into her arms.
She held it tightly, but her hands trembled.
Lin Qingxue watched her hesitation, said nothing more.
She lifted her foot and stepped on Su Yutao’s head.
Not hard—just resting there.
But Su Yutao could feel the weight of that foot, the texture of the sole pressing into her hair.
She remembered that man—that foot coming down, a dull thud, and then silence.
Su Yutao didn’t dare move.
She froze on the couch, as if turned to ice.
Her hands still held Qiansui, but she dared not squeeze.
Lin Qingxue withdrew her foot and reached for the penguin.
Su Yutao’s fingers were still hooked on Qiansui’s fuzz, but she didn’t dare tighten them.
Lin Qingxue pulled it away with a light tug.
Su Yutao’s hands were empty.
She curled up on the floor, hugging herself, not daring to move.
Qiansui was no longer in her arms. She couldn’t hear that soft voice.
She didn’t know where Qiansui was, or what that person intended to do with it.
She could only curl up and wait.
Lin Qingxue took the penguin and walked aside.
Su Yutao heard her rummaging—a drawer opening, rustling, something being taken out.
Then an unfamiliar sound—the crinkle of plastic wrap.
Lin Qingxue came back, stopping in front of Su Yutao.
“Didn’t you like this thing so much?”
Her voice was flat.
“I’ll show you what it is you really like.”
Su Yutao froze.
Then she heard it—”Rip.”
The sound of threads snapping.
Su Yutao heard cotton being pulled apart, shreds of fabric falling to the floor, plastic beads rolling—pattering, scattering everywhere.
That sound was tearing, ripping, dismantling something. One after another.
Rip. Rip. Rip.
Cotton was pulled out, fabric was torn, stuffing was shaken loose.
Su Yutao’s hands began to shake.
Was that Qiansui? She couldn’t tell.
All she knew was that something was being torn apart.
The sound was light, slow, as if dismantling a trivial toy.
Rip.
Rip.
Then it stopped…
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To be honest, if I were in the MC’s situation, I would have committed suicide a long time ago