Li Mei sat on the cheap, worn mattress of the motel room, counting the cash Zhao Min had sent her. It was a meager sum—only enough for a few nights—but it felt like a king's ransom. The paralyzing fear that had gripped her since leaving Mr. Chen finally receded.
Small Enjoyment: The headache that had pounded in her temples for two days instantly eased. The System had paused the immediate existential threat. She had survived.
A cold, calculating satisfaction washed over her. Zhao Min was predictable. His kindness was an open door, a weakness she could always exploit. She felt a brief moment of superiority: she might be broke, but she was the clever one. She still controlled his emotions.
"He'll never let me truly fall," she whispered, a thin, cruel smile touching her lips. "Not when he blames himself."
The next morning, feeling momentarily stable, Li Mei checked out of the cheap motel. She used some of the cash to buy a coffee and a new phone charger. She decided to go to the most exclusive area of the city to apply for high-end retail work—clinging to the belief that her old success would return.
She sat on a park bench, reviewing her old contacts. As she opened her purse to check the remaining cash, she felt a sudden, heavy shadow fall over her.
Two men in cheap, ill-fitting suits were standing over her. They were rough, their faces cold and expressionless. They weren't police; they were something worse.
"Li Mei," the taller man said, his voice flat. "We've been looking for you. You skipped town pretty fast."
Li Mei's heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't know these men. "I don't know you! Get away from me!"
"We know your name," the second man snarled. "And we know about the money. The cash you just received? That money was supposed to pay a very large gambling debt left by your ex-fiancé, Mr. Chen. He promised us he'd have his 'personal funds' delivered to us this morning. Now he's cut you off, and we found out you took the cash."
The Big Suffering: The Karma Reversal had struck back, turning Zhao Min's innocent gift into a dangerous liability. The funds were contaminated, drawing a massive new threat toward her.
"I don't have his debt! It was my friend's money!" Li Mei pleaded, clutching her purse tight.
The tall man didn't care. He grabbed her arm with brutal strength. "We don't care about the source. We care about the money. And now we care about you. You're coming with us until Mr. Chen pays up."
Li Mei fought, but it was useless. She was shoved roughly into a beat-up sedan, her short-lived stability instantly destroyed. She realized with chilling certainty that the brief respite she got from Zhao Min's cash had only made her situation ten times worse.
Trapped in a dirty, isolated storage room, Li Mei was left alone, terrified, and contemplating her fate. She had gone from temporary homelessness to being held captive by dangerous criminals in less than four hours.
She managed to smuggle her phone out and saw the absurdity of her predicament. The pain and fear were overwhelming.
Why? she thought, despair washing over her. Why does everything good turn so violently bad?
She realized the truth: the System was not just removing her luck; it was actively using her attempts at self-preservation to punish her. Her only source of relief was Zhao Min's pity, but acting on that relief only drew worse threats.
She was caught in the true Push/Pull Karma Cycle.
Her immediate panic was replaced by a calculated, cold resolve. She needed to contact Zhao Min again. Not to ask for cash—that was clearly too dangerous—but to ask for something small, subtle, and emotional. She needed to keep his \text{Pity Level} high enough so the System would just mute the Karma, not launch another attack.
She took a photo of the bare concrete floor of the room she was in and sent it to Zhao Min, along with a desperate text.
"Min, I'm terrified. I think I've been kidnapped by bad men. I don't know why. I'm so scared I'll never see the light again. Please, just tell me you're okay. It's the only thing keeping me alive."
She didn't ask for rescue; she asked for emotional validation. She was feeding his desire to be a savior without risking his physical involvement.
She knew she couldn't risk revealing the true cause of her misfortune, or Han Yue would use it against him. Li Mei had to maintain the illusion of the Tragic Victim—the only role that guaranteed her continued, fragile survival.
The game had just become deadly.