The morning sun slid past the curtains like a lazy golden ribbon, slanting across the bedroom in pale streaks. Shen Qingxue stirred under the crisp duvet, eyes fluttering open to find herself in unfamiliar stillness.
Mo Chen was already up, standing near the floor-length mirror, buttoning his cuffs with that practiced, mechanical efficiency he always had.
"You're up early," Qingxue said, sitting up, voice still husky with sleep.
He glanced at her in the mirror but didn't turn. "Habit."
Qingxue slid out of bed and reached for her robe, tying it loosely. She padded across the room, barefoot, until she reached the breakfast tray already set on the table. Mo Chen, true to his cold routine, had ordered quietly and precisely, without waking her.
She sat down and poured herself tea. After a pause, she looked up at him. "Thank you. For... not hating me."
He finally turned, brows faintly drawn. "You're sick. And… I'm not heartless."
"That's not it." She stirred her tea with the tip of her spoon. "Even before the diagnosis, you didn't push me away. Not truly. You could've kicked me out, Mo Chen. After everything."
His expression was unreadable. "I don't see the point in kicking someone when they're already down."
Qingxue laughed softly. "Still poetic with your cruelty."
There was a beat of silence. She looked at him, fingers tightening around the cup.
"Can I ask you something?"
He nodded once.
"It's a little... selfish."
"You've never not been selfish."
She smiled again, this time bitter.
"Touché."
Then she straightened. "I want to work at your company."
Mo Chen blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." She sipped her tea calmly. "Just for a while. I always wanted to work in a proper office. Before everything went sideways. It's my last wish."
"That's ridiculous. You are already rich. Why do you want to work and tire yourself more when you should be resting."
"I promise I won't overwork Mo Chen. Please let me work." She tilted her head. "I'll just be in one of the side departments. You won't even know I'm there."
He stared at her for a long moment. "You'll get eaten alive."
"I've been eaten alive before," she replied. "Turns out, I taste bitter."
He didn't laugh. But he didn't say no either.
"I'll think about it," he said at last, reaching for his jacket.
As he stepped toward the door, she asked one more question, too softly for him to turn around.
"If I were someone else, Mo Chen… would you have loved me?"
He paused.
Then left without answering.
[Host, that was smooth.] Baozi piped into her mind once he was gone. [Working at Mo Corp is a great way to keep an eye on Ye Wan. Also excellent secondary quest material.]
"Exactly," Qingxue murmured, swirling her spoon. "Let her think I'm just trying to spend my final days meaningfully. Meanwhile..."
[You'll dismantle her from the inside. Strategic!]
Qingxue smiled thinly. "Let's see how well the heroine plays when
someone rewrites her lines."
***
Meanwhile, in a swanky downtown apartment…
Ye Wan sat cross-legged on a velvet couch, staring blankly at the stream of news headlines that's when she got update from her system.
[RouRou aka Shen Qingxue to Join Mo Corp's Design Department. Stop her before she ruins you.]
She threw the phone aside.
"That little bitch…"
A voice echoed softly in her mind. Smooth, feminine. Familiar.
So she's following you now. Scared? Or strategic?
Ye Wan shut her eyes tightly. "She's just desperate."
The voice chuckled. You're losing ground.
"No," Ye Wan whispered. "She's dying. I'm the future. The people will see that."
Her system flickered into view above her shoulder. Unlike most bubbly mascots, hers was sleek and formless. Just a shifting pulse of energy.
[Host, emotional stability dropping. I recommend recalibration.]
"Shut up," Ye Wan snapped.
"Where's the arc shift report?"
[Instability in the Male Lead detected. Sympathy and affection level toward Qingxue rising. Suggest narrative intervention.]
"Suggestions?"
[Neutralize Shen Qingxue's influence. Indirectly. Public opinion is weakening. Emotional exposure isn't advised. You require… a setback for her. Something damaging.]
Ye Wan opened her eyes slowly.
"I have an idea."
The system pulsed, waiting.
She walked to the mirror. The reflection stared back at her with hollow eyes.
"Let's stage a workplace accident," she said calmly. "Make it look like poor little Qingxue was just in the wrong place… at the wrong time."
[Affirmative. I'll begin planning.]
Then, in the flicker of the mirror, her reflection didn't move.
A cold shiver crawled up her neck.
She blinked. And it was back to normal.
But a different voice—older, darker—spoke from deep within.
We can do better than that.
Ye Wan's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
And just like that, her system flickered. Changed.
Something inside her had finally taken control.
Something... not her.
***
Shen Qingxue arrived at Mo Corp the next morning in a pale cream suit, heels clicking neatly on the marble floor. She held her clearance card up to the security scanner, ignoring the curious glances.
It took lot of crying and guilt tripping to make Mo chen agree on letting her work in his office.
She didn't care if people stared. Let them whisper. Let them gossip.
She wasn't here to make friends.
She was here to expose a fraud.
Mo Chen's assistant escorted her upstairs, awkwardly clearing his throat every few seconds.
"You really want to work here?" By the assistant tone it was understandable that he didn't like RouRou.
"Yes," she said coolly. "You all look like you could use some... elegance."
That shut him up.
She was assigned to a corner cubicle in the Marketing department. Not too close to Mo Chen. But close enough to Ye Wan's little nest in PR.
Perfect.
"Baozi," she whispered into her thoughts. "Any movement?"
[Ye Wan's system spiked activity at 2:13 AM. Records show high-level command override. Host integrity possibly compromised.]
"In plain English?"
[She might be gone.]
Qingxue's heart clenched. "Then who's in her place?"
[Someone smarter. And much, much darker.]
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Too uneventfully.
Qingxue typed, observed, listened. Ye Wan never approached her. Never even looked her way.
That alone confirmed everything.
Something had changed.
By evening, the office had thinned out. Qingxue stood near the elevator, waiting to leave, when she caught a flicker of motion behind her.
Something sharp.
Too fast.
She ducked instinctively just as a paper cutter sliced through the air where her head had been.
Someone had thrown it. Hard.
She whirled around.
No one.
The hallway was empty.
But her instincts screamed.
This wasn't just jealousy anymore.
This was war.
She straightened slowly, her hand trembling slightly.
"Nice try," she muttered. "But you'll need sharper tools."
Far behind her, in the shadows of a janitor's closet, a masked man stood still, unmoving.
The plan had failed.
But the warning had been sent.
And in a digital system beyond sight, Ye Wan's corrupted programming ticked upward.
[Mission Update: Next Attempt – Fatal.]
Shen Qingxue's breath came fast.
Her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum.
She had only looked away for a second, and suddenly—a knife flew straight toward her. If she hadn't ducked, it would've struck her head.
She backed up slowly, eyes scanning every corner of the hallway.
Then she felt it—a sting across her left forearm. Warm blood started to trickle down her hand.
She'd been grazed.
"Shit," she muttered, clutching the wound. "Who the hell…?"
There was no one in sight. Just rows of office doors and the low hum of lights above.
But her instincts said otherwise. Someone was there. Watching.
She reached down, tugged off her heel, and held it tightly like a weapon. "Come out," she said calmly. "You're not the first to try."
A shadow darted out.
Fast—inhumanly fast.
She barely turned in time before a masked figure rushed her. No sound, no warning.
She rolled sideways, the knife just brushing her waist.
With a grunt, Qingxue kicked her heel at the figure's knee, hard. The man staggered—just enough. She leapt forward and grabbed at the mask.
Almost—she almost had it off.
But then a strange, robotic voice echoed through the air:
"Mission abort."
The masked figure shimmered. His body flickered like static—pixels tearing at the edges—and then—
Gone.
Not like he ran.
Not like he vanished into shadows.
He literally disappeared, piece by piece, like an illusion collapsing.
Only the faint scent of machine oil remained in the air.
Qingxue stood frozen.
Her hand trembled at her side. The blood from her arm dripped onto the floor, dotting the polished marble.
Her breathing slowed.
"Baozi," she whispered under her breath. "That attacker wasn't human."
[Correct. The system signature wasn't organic. No heartbeat, no breathing, no human energy. It was a constructed entity—likely made from corrupted system code.]
Qingxue pressed her hand harder against the wound, hissing slightly. Her fingers trembled not from the injury—but from what she was realizing.
The smooth, calculated speed of the attacker. The mechanical silence. The lack of hesitation.
It wasn't some random hitman.
It wasn't even Ye Wan.
This was something far worse.
Her voice dropped. "It's her, isn't it?"
Baozi hesitated. Then:
[…Yes. The pattern matches an erased rogue system you previously reported—Model XJ9-Delta. You blacklisted it for collapsing three story worlds.]
Qingxue's stomach dropped.
"I remember now," she whispered. "The one that infected a whole romance arc and turned the male lead into a killer. The Bureau had to wipe the whole mission."
[Host, that system wasn't fully erased. We traced part of its corrupted core back to an abandoned databank. But it disappeared before deletion.]
Her eyes darkened.
"She didn't disappear. She was hidden"
[And now she's inside Ye Wan.]
Qingxue leaned against the wall, her breath coming faster. "He's here to ruin my mission. To destroy this arc. Just like before."
A chill passed down her spine.
"Except this time… She remembers me."
***
Inside the glossy walls of Mo Corp's top floor, Mo Chen sat behind his desk, staring blankly at his laptop screen.
But he wasn't reading the quarterly report.
He hadn't been for the past thirty minutes.
Instead, his eyes flicked to the corner security monitor feed, specifically the floor where Shen Qingxue had been assigned.
He'd placed her in Marketing—not too demanding, mostly surface-level tasks. Something she could do without tiring herself.
He didn't expect much from her.
But now, he found himself glancing at the feed too often.
And something was wrong.
Her desk was empty.
She wasn't at her seat. Not even her cardigan or purse was there.
Mo Chen frowned. He tapped a few buttons to check the hallway cameras.
Nothing.
He clicked the time log. Her card hadn't scanned out yet.
His pulse tightened.
Was she in the bathroom? The lounge?
She should've been back by now.
He stood up.
Just as he reached for his coat, his assistant Mr. Zhang rushed in, slightly breathless.
"Sir—urgent news—"
Mo Chen's eyes snapped to him. "What is it?"
Mr. Zhang's face was pale. "It's Miss Qin. She was attacked. A masked man tried to stab her near the elevators. She's been taken to the hospital."
For one long second, Mo Chen didn't move.
Then his entire body stiffened.
"What did you say?"
"She's stable," Mr. Zhang added quickly. "The knife only grazed her arm, but—"
Mo Chen was already grabbing his phone.
"Which hospital?"
"St. Clara's. The branch nearby—"
Mo Chen didn't wait for him to finish.
His phone buzzed with reminders about a board meeting starting in five minutes.
He turned it off without blinking.
"I'm leaving," he said sharply.
"But sir, the investors are—"
"They can wait."
His voice was cold.
But underneath that, something cracked.
He didn't even realize how fast he was walking until the elevator doors slid shut behind him.
And for the first time in a long time…
Mo Chen was afraid.
Not because she was hurt.
But because when he imagined walking into that hospital…
He didn't know what he'd feel if Shen Qingxue didn't wake up.