Restricted Lovers [Complete] - 12

In Chapter Six of Episode Four,

Rihua and Yuehua, of course, wouldn't kindly explain to Xinghua.

Her semi-transparent body still revealed a faint color, but the two of them were incredibly skilled; their cheeks weren't flushed, and their eyes avoided my gaze. To Xinghua's question, they gently shook their heads and then, against their will, said, "I don't know."

Like most girls hearing a dirty joke, their feigned ignorance was perfectly natural, more convincing than any con artist in the world.

Rihua and Yuehua remained silent, but Xinghua's curiosity remained. She reached out to touch me, but Yuehua stopped her. Rihua, meanwhile, lifted the empty armchair.

"Wait!" I called out.

These two words, upon first use, possessed an instant, freezing effect on everyone who saw me.

Hearing my voice, the three of them froze, and before any worse reaction could occur, I quickly added, "I'm Xiao Mo."

"Xiao Mo?!" they exclaimed.

I quickly dispelled their hostility, and after hearing my story, they burst into laughter!

Sigh! How many are they now?

The truth will out, even the tightest seal will crack, and the more you try to hide a secret, the more people will find out. I really want to escape this terrifying human world as soon as possible!

"So, you were able to transform freely because of the elixir given to you by the gatekeeper?" After hearing the whole story, Rihua finally looked at me properly, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Semi-free," I corrected. The number of times and the time spent maintaining human form were very restrictive.

"But how are the possessions chosen?" Xinghua's attitude remained unchanged; she still didn't understand my "funny" side.

"I asked that question too, but the gatekeeper wouldn't tell me. Maybe it's a secret, or maybe he's not the one who decides," I said regretfully.

If I could, I'd love to know too.

"However, I still find this black-box operation very suspicious. The gatekeeper said that the possession objects were all marked with numbers beforehand for easy tracking, but judging from my possession experience, the soul doesn't necessarily possess the designated object without fail...

"To be honest, I only struggled a little and ended up possessing the wrong object, which shows that the error rate of possession is extremely high, and the possession object itself doesn't seem to have the characteristic of easily matching with the soul.

"The gatekeeper said I was an exception, but I guess some souls probably had the same problem as me, or even disappeared because they failed to possess the object or the possession object did

n't last long enough." If you possess a creature with a very short lifespan, or pick a disposable item, your luck is truly terrible!

"How could this be? I never thought Heaven would be such an outrageous place!" Xinghua said indignantly.

“Doing this disregards the rights of souls, and possessing others is an inaccurate practice.”

Rihua agreed, but also offered a different perspective: “But if we were in their shoes, and suddenly hundreds of guests wanted to stay at the villa, guests the ladies didn’t know or might not like, we would be very troubled too.”

“But that place is Heaven, and the manager is a god! Why can’t He use His divine power to solve this problem? Wasn’t the reform already known? Why does He act as if He doesn’t know about it?”

Yes, that’s what I’ve always found strange, but I can’t quite put my finger on it!

The reform couldn’t have been a unilateral decision by Hell; it must have been agreed upon by both sides before it began.

The laptop operated by the gatekeeper contained a list of souls whose abodes had changed after the reform, proving that Heaven knew about and accepted the reform, but there were no emergency containment measures, which must have been to allow wandering souls to carry out the act of descending to Earth.

I had already begun to question this when I first joined the extreme sports club.

The more people who find this approach illogical, the more it reveals Heaven's ill intentions. However, I am already part of the plan, and besides going with the flow, my meager strength is no match for the malice masquerading as good.

Rihua and the others are actually quite fortunate, like hermits, forever staying in this tranquil villa, living a simple life, wholeheartedly serving their master, unafraid of being drawn into strange schemes.

Later, under Xinghua's persistent questioning, I told her many things, such as meeting the beautiful landlady, joining the extreme sports club, the fun sports competition, and recently, shopping with Yotsuba and Ryua.

Although it was exciting, it was also tragic!

And they reciprocated with much: Rihua was sold by her parents at a young age, only seven years old. She originally worked at the main residence, responsible for sweeping, but became a nanny after the young lady was born. Shortly after the villa was completed, she was assigned here, and in the eighth year, she unfortunately passed away due to a hereditary disease.

Yuehua arrived at the villa shortly after its completion. At that time, the manor's staff was already at a minimum and couldn't be redeployed, so the villa, lacking manpower, had to advertise in the newspaper. Yuehua was one of the first maids recruited.

Before applying, due to the death of her parents, she had to abandon her studies and find a well-paid job to make ends meet. Deotin, understanding her background, helped her continue her studies and, after graduation, guided her to employment, treating her with immense kindness. Every weekend, she would volunteer her days off to return to the villa as an unpaid maid.

Two years after graduation, on a rainy night on her way to the villa, she died in a traffic accident caused by another driver driving under the influence.

"I have no relatives. When I identified the body, Miss Lina cried until her voice was hoarse, and Miss Linxi stood by, weeping until her eyes were almost blind. I couldn't bear it, so I decided to stay here," she said.

As for Xinghua, she was originally a street child who was brought back after begging from Linxi and Lina, and has worked at the villa ever since. She was usually responsible for shopping, but tragically died in the mad incident where a man, driven to suicide by a breakup, drove his car into a store.

"My reason for coming back is similar to Yuehua's," Xinghua said with a smile, but my nose stung with tears.

"But Uncle Zhao is enjoying his old age peacefully. The only ghosts in the villa are the four of us," Rihua said.

Looking at the three of them, I suddenly felt that Linxi and Lina were right; although Rihua and the others weren't human, they were kind ghosts. If Fenghua knew about them, perhaps she wouldn't be so afraid!

To ease the sadness in the air, I told a few jokes, making them laugh until tears streamed down their faces. It turned out I was incredibly unlucky at being funny.

Finally, I asked them to keep my secret, at least until I returned to heaven, and they didn't refuse.

Afterwards, Rihua personally took me back to the master bedroom, resolving my biggest worry.

The next morning, the phone rang by the bed.

Lina slept soundly. Linxi groaned softly, turned over, and continued her unfinished dream.

The phone rang for the sixth time before a sleepy-eyed Fenghua reluctantly sat up, picked up the receiver from the low cabinet, and, brushing aside her messy bangs, said in a drowsy voice, "Hello?"

"...Six o'clock...right...once...to...get up...to...wash...breakfast...is...already...prepared......" a faint female voice trailed off.

"Who are you? Don't joke like that!" Fenghua seemed still half-asleep.

"I...am...Ri...Hua, Miss...Feng...Hua...we...just...met...yesterday...!" the female voice said plaintively.

Yuehua and Xinghua were sobbing in the background, creating a harmonious and tragic melody that almost made me laugh!

"

Ah

...

Police immediately recognized the man as the burglar who had broken into five houses recently, making this his sixth. They were just about to release the surveillance footage for public identification when he was apprehended so quickly – quite a stroke of good news!

The intruder from last night, tied to an armchair and unable to move, seemed conscious. Upon seeing the police, he immediately began shouting and complaining about what happened last night, revealing details about Rihua, Yuehua, Xinghua, and me.

He went further, accusing me of severely injuring his thigh with a fruit knife and threatening to file charges of "excessive self-defense" and "attempted murder" in court.

What a case of the thief crying "stop thief! "

Linxi seemed to mistake me for Uncle Zhao in her description, completely disregarding the intruder's desperate struggle, and released a new official statement based on Xinghua's report.

“How rude of you to call the three of us ghosts! It's probably because we hit him on the head with a candlestick when we subdued him last night, causing him to talk nonsense. Officer, please take him to the hospital for a check-up before taking him to the police station; we're worried he might have a concussion.”

“Don't worry, that's for sure.” Two police officers escorted the man to the ambulance, one on each side.

Linxi and the others saw him to the door, and I followed them to the stairwell. Before getting into the ambulance, the police turned to them

and said, “Thank you for your assistance. If you have time, please come to the police station to give a statement to help close the case.” “We will cooperate fully.” Linxi readily agreed, watching the ambulance and police car drive away one after the other, exchanging a smile with Lina: “They're really something!”

After a whirlwind breakfast within an hour, Fenghua was ready to leave. Having survived the night, she was determined this time; Lina's pleading and tears had been completely ineffective.

“The purpose of leaving school must be achieved. Otherwise, you can come back with me this time.”

“No way!” Linxi said, “Our house was burgled last night, the windows need to be repaired today, and I also need to go to the market with Lina to get some new things.”

Feng Hua chuckled, “What, you’re afraid I’ll trick you into coming back?”

Linxi retorted, “Don’t be so arrogant! How about we do something else: you stay, and Lina and I will visit your uncle in your place!”

Fifteen minutes later, Feng Hua got into her car and, with the two seeing her off, returned to the opposite hilltop.

Feng Hua’s father was indeed ill, but it was a mental illness. He was instantly cured upon seeing Feng Hua. However, Feng Hua wasn’t the only one who returned; her father’s lover and two lovely daughters also came. The family had a harmonious lunch together, and Feng Hua spent a pleasant afternoon with her innocent and lively little sister.

Dinner was also harmonious, filled with laughter, and everyone was very satisfied.

However, a phone call suddenly interrupted, forcing Feng Hua to return to school urgently.

She pulled out a chair and jumped up: "I'm sorry, Father, I have to go

now." "Isn't it a holiday? Who's the inconsiderate guy?!" Perhaps because Feng Hua rarely comes back, I could still hear her father's furious voice from the second floor: "Don't bother with him! If he has any complaints, he can come to Vicenta on Monday to talk to me in person!"

"It was a call from the dorm. My roommate is in some trouble and can't find anyone to help. Friends should help each other when they're away from home, isn't that what you taught me?"

Feng Hua kissed her father's cheek. Ten minutes later, amidst the reluctance of her two younger sisters, she hurriedly completed her visit, carrying her duffel bag—and me inside—while repeatedly promising to come back next time.

"I'll definitely come back next time" is itself an indefinite promise, proving that business people are all smooth talkers.

Back in the dorm, Fei Yue thought something had happened to Feng Hua and asked in surprise, "Weren't you supposed to be back tomorrow? Why are you here so early!"

Feng Hua threw her luggage bag on the sofa and breathed a sigh of relief, "Good job! If it weren't for your life-saving call, I would have been laughing my head off!"

"How could that be? I just called to check on things..."

"Ah... the dorm is so nice!" Feng Hua lay down on the sofa and said happily, "It's small and comfortable, lots of people and it's lively, and the air is much better!"

"You seem a little strange..." Fei Yue asked worriedly, "Did you have a fight with your uncle?"

"It's nothing, we don't have anything to argue about anymore." Feng Hua suddenly sat up, picked up her luggage and went upstairs, "I'm going to take a shower first, and then I'll come back to review next week's lessons."

"That's good... but are you really okay?" Fei Yue asked again and again to make sure.

"It's nothing!"

While Feng Hua went into the bathroom, I slipped away. Although I hadn't slept the night before, I'd managed to nap a bit during the day. My head was still a little dizzy, but I'd deal with catching up on sleep first, back in the pretty landlady's room. And this time, even if I saw something else, I wouldn't reach for it.

Why invite trouble!

It took me a minute to safely slip into the pretty landlady's room.

She was doing her homework at her desk. I thought I was quiet enough, without making a sound, but she still threw down her pen, jumped onto her chair as if she'd seen a ghost, and turned around. Seeing it was me, she coughed awkwardly before sitting down again.

"It's you… I thought it was a cockroach!"

That was terrifying! She's so sensitive!

But judging from her reaction, at least I'm a little higher up than a cockroach?

"Isn't it a holiday? Why aren't you relaxing?"

"I was just about to rest."

She closed her textbooks, stacked two or three original texts in a row, and pushed them to the top left corner of her desk. "Where have you been these past two days?" She turned off the desk lamp, held a hot cocoa, and sat on the edge of the bed, asking.

"Um, this..." This calm question inexplicably terrified me. I couldn't see through her thoughts, so I stammered, "You're not... angry anymore?"

Her wrist twitched, and I immediately slipped behind the dressing table.

A few drops of cocoa spilled onto the carpet. She looked at my cowering figure and sighed, "Forget it, if I got angry about everything, where would I get all that energy? I believe Nengyuan will keep it a secret!"

Did that mean she wouldn't hold it against me this time?

Such a good thing! I wondered if I was dreaming.

"Do you have anything else to do tomorrow?" she asked.

"Uh, no." I shook my head, then began to guess her intentions, "If you want me to clean the room..."

She smiled but didn't say anything.

I don't know what she's planning. Even though I was so tired I was about to collapse, I didn't dare close my eyes all night.

The next day, around ten o'clock, she pulled out a handbag and tried to put me inside.

I looked at her with suspicion. This day had finally come. She must be planning to kill me and dump my body in the middle of nowhere, or perhaps give me as a gift to her childhood friend, that delinquent boy!

"What are you going to do?" I asked suspiciously, though I knew she would never tell the truth.

"I'm thinking of a way to make sure you're not easily discovered," she said.

I knew it! She definitely wanted to get rid of me!

Women are indeed fickle creatures!

She just said she didn't want to break her promise and send me away, and now she's changed her mind! People say women are very vengeful, as venomous as scorpions. She's been so nice to me these past few days; she definitely had ulterior motives!

"I don't want to," I said, shrinking back.

She noticed my caution.

"If I wanted to throw you away, I'd put you in an opaque garbage bag, clearly marked flammable,"

she said impatiently.

That was indeed her style, but how could I know if she was using that to deceive me?

I didn't know whether to believe her or not, but her eyes didn't seem to hide any ulterior motives. If she really didn't intend to harm me, then my hesitation seemed a bit unreasonable?

Thinking it over, I asked, "Besides me, what else is in your purse?"

"Things I bought." She knew my concerns perfectly well.

So it was a date!

My face flushed; I'd foolishly thrown myself into it.

"Where are we going?" I couldn't see anything in the purse, and despite my repeated questioning, she still ignored me.

"To buy things." Her voice was so soft I could barely hear her.

"Of course I know that, but where are we going to buy them?" I couldn't help but raise my voice, and she immediately patted the purse nervously, telling me to shut up.

I knew she was afraid of being overheard, but it was pitch black inside the purse. I wasn't blind or a radio; not being able to see my surroundings made me uneasy.

The bus was crowded and noisy, so I kept quiet and didn't move. But since we got off, she's been walking for at least five minutes. The noise has lessened considerably, and we've heard music from shop after shop, but she still hasn't stopped. I'm really afraid I'll be sold off without even knowing how.

"We're almost there! Just bear with it a little longer! It's already hard enough taking you out like this, please don't add to my stress!" I could tell her emotions were nearing a breaking point.

Actually, I can't blame her for her bad temper. On the crowded bus, she had the misfortune of encountering both a pickpocket and a pervert. To protect her purse from being stolen, she was even groped on the buttocks. Although she immediately yelled "Pervert!" and the man was beaten to a pulp by the angry male passengers, she was clearly still furious.

I couldn't provoke her any further, so I suppressed my agitation and let her continue leading the way.

A few minutes later, she finally entered the store. Anime music was playing, and a cool breeze, carrying a sweet scent, seeped into my purse, making me sneeze slightly.

"Can I come out now?" I tried to move slightly.

She didn't answer, but gripped my purse tightly, blocking any gaps so I couldn't twist or turn.

"Hello...hello?" There were definitely people inside, so I didn't dare shout too loudly, but she ignored me and seemed to move even faster.

"Let me out!" I panicked. What did she want?

"Shut up! Do you want to be exposed in front of strangers?" she whispered, her tone fierce.

"What kind of place is this that I can't know about?" Could this be a laundromat where she wanted to throw me into a coin-operated washing machine and turn me into a pile of powder? Or was this actually a claw machine arcade where she wanted to throw me into a machine when the staff wasn't looking, so she could openly transfer ownership?

Her response was to place me on a hard, flat surface, like a table, pressing down on the purse so I couldn't move and couldn't breathe.

"Mmm...mmm!" The sunken leather gagged my mouth, and I struggled, trying to unzip the purse.

"...I'll let go if you promise not to talk anymore."

"Mmm...mmm!" Oh no, I couldn't speak!

I forced a "yes," but the words stuck in my throat. I could only nod frantically, hoping she would understand.

"Miss, I'm sorry," a gentle female voice said, "Pets are not allowed in this establishment."

"Sorry...my phone was vibrating..." the pretty landlady quickly removed the purse, smiling awkwardly.

"However, I noticed your phone vibrates a lot and very irregularly. I happened to have it serviced at the telecom company's repair department before. If it's convenient, could I have your phone diagnosed for free?" the gentle female voice added.

The pretty landlady hesitated for a moment, then hurriedly declined, saying, "No, no need, thank you for your kindness."

But anyone could tell her flimsy lie wouldn't fool anyone. Not only was her acting terrible, but who would hold their phone down with both hands and refuse to answer it when it rang?

Not daring to open her purse in front of her, the landlady felt too ashamed to stay any longer. Clutching her purse, she quickly fled!

Once outside the shop, she immediately went into the fire escape alley and started arguing with me.

"I'm sorry… how was I supposed to know it was just a shop assistant restocking nearby? I thought you were just going to leave me there! If you had said so earlier, I wouldn't have acted so impulsively…" I said, feeling wronged.

She berated me for a full five minutes before I finally managed to apologize. Based on her thousands of words of complaints and accusations, I finally realized that the shop was a doll shop, and she had gone there to buy me some clothes to cover my body, so that everyone would immediately recognize me as a sex toy.

Indeed, disguising oneself as an ordinary doll has its advantages; at least something so common in girls' rooms is more likely to draw the attention of visitors.

"We've already been kicked out, it's too late to say anything now!" she said angrily, zipping up her bag.

"So... are we going back?" I asked hesitantly.

"Let's find another one." She wasn't about to give up so easily.

After wandering around the area for almost twenty minutes, we finally found a second shop.

She went inside and browsed for over ten minutes before opening her purse to let me out for some fresh air, tossing me a few outfits.

"Try these on and see if they fit?"

I asked, rummaging through the clothes, my brow furrowed.

These were clearly women's clothes. While the styles were very unisex, the fabric patterns and cuts were obviously not suited for men.

Take this suit in my hand, for example; the brown vertical stripes didn't seem particularly gender-neutral at first glance, but when unfolded, it was clear that the jacket was fitted at the waist, and the trousers were flared. What man would wear something like this!

Just looking at them made me feel embarrassed; I didn't even want to touch them. But when I thought about how this was a doll shop, and that she must have carefully selected these few items, I just couldn't muster the courage to say no.

"Doll shops have proper fitting rooms?" The only solution I could think of was to change the subject.

I steered the conversation to our surroundings. Surprisingly, even this doll shop selling small-scale items had a fitting room like those for regular clothes. It had clothes racks, but on one side of the wall, about 100 centimeters off the ground, there was a rectangular wooden table with rounded corners, and a mirror hung on it.

"Some customers let their dolls try on clothes before buying anything," the pretty landlady said.

"Try these on first. If they don't fit, I'll pick out other types for you to try on."

What could I do?

Under her gaze, I gritted my teeth, temporarily abandoning my male pride, and tried on the clothes one by one.

Looking at my constantly changing reflection in the mirror, I looked more like a clown than a model.

Of course, it didn't fit; the terrible feeling was faithfully reflected in the mirror.

This was a doll shop, selling doll clothes; there was no need for mirrors that made customers look taller or thinner to deceive themselves. So, the fitting room used the most ordinary, cheapest, and most neutral mirrors.

Even if that weren't the case, every time I changed clothes, I could see my beautiful landlady's expression in the mirror, like she'd drunk a huge cup of bitter tea.

The mismatched look was secondary; my flat, barrel-like figure was truly miserable trying to fit into clothes with a three-quarter shape. The waist was cinched, my hips flattened, and the buttons were loose at the top but so tight at the bottom they looked like they were about to burst.

I looked at her pleadingly, only to find her hands always behind her back, as if hiding something.

"Any other options?" I turned around and asked, it was really impolite to speak to her reflection in the mirror.

She remained silent for a while, seemingly unwilling to talk, before finally placing the things she was carrying on the wooden table. My face almost immediately fell when I saw them. She seemed to have given up on this plan, but I had given her the opportunity to pile these clothes in front of me.

Completely feminine, and fulfilling every girl's dream!

Maid outfits, belly dance costumes, Arabian women's clothing, nun's habit—it got increasingly absurd later on, even Chinese bridal gowns and mourning clothes made an appearance!

Glamorous, elegant, sexy… there’s every type imaginable, and this mountain of clothes…

God, have mercy on me!

Even so, if she insisted I choose one to wear, I, living under her tyranny, wouldn’t dare refuse.

Seeing my reluctance, she probably thought she was foolish to take these clothes, so she blushed and snatched them back, saying, “What’s the rush? I don’t want to see you wear them either; they’re just disgusting

!”

If you don’t want to see me wear them, then why did you take so many?

“…Fine, I’ll wear them.” I sighed. If I really wanted to do anything for her, besides leaving, committing suicide, or returning to heaven, the only thing I could do was fulfill this small wish of hers!

“No need.” She stubbornly said, “I haven’t fallen so low that I need you to be my courtier!”

“Actually, I’ve always wanted to wear these kinds of clothes.” Okay, since she wouldn’t budge, I had to temporarily bury my values, pick up the maid outfit, and put it on without thinking.

“Don’t be silly, that’s completely unbearable to look at!” she stopped me.

It's okay, I was prepared to be laughed at anyway. Even if I can't amuse myself, I can still amuse others.

But the situation was worse than I expected. I had absolutely no idea how to wear this outfit.

There was no top, just a skirt with two long fabric strips sewn onto the front. I tried for ages, completely clueless about how to wear a maid outfit. I just haphazardly pulled the skirt up to my waist, tied the strips in front, and hastily made a bow.

"Laugh if you want!" I said, utterly embarrassed. And she actually pursed her lips and chuckled, a truly beautiful sight.

How long had it been since she smiled at me like that? Apart from the time we were trapped in the box, she hadn't really smiled at me before; even though it was because of my clumsy and stupid outfit, I felt it was all worth it to receive her smile in return.

"This is how you wear it."

She pulled out a white turtleneck shirt with ruffled sleeves from the pile of clothes next to me. After I put it on, she pulled up the two fabric strips on the skirt.

She originally intended to wrap the straps around my shoulders and then cross them behind my back, but since I had no shoulders, she had to cross them in front of my neck first, then cross them again in the same way behind my back, and finally tie the remaining part into a big bow at my waist.

"Okay, it's pretty, take a look for yourself."

I knew she was referring to the clothes, but I still turned around curiously to see how I looked after changing.

Goosebumps!

It wasn't that it looked bad; frankly, the wide skirt actually concealed my unsightly lower body, but the area above my waist looked a bit strange.

And the shirt, from the collar to the sleeves, didn't create the proper slope for the shoulders; part of it sagged, and part of it slipped down to my arms, lengthening the sleeves so that my hands were buried under the cuffs, making me feel like a child wearing adult clothes.

But overall, it still looked better than neutral trousers.

However, this wasn't the most unsettling part. The urge to immediately take this outfit off was because—it was a woman's clothing!

Yes, it was that simple. The biggest reason for my discomfort

was the awkwardness of cross-dressing. Even though the clothes might look nice, they just looked strange on me. With

my straight figure and thin legs, I was definitely not a clothes hanger; I looked like a pillar! Another reason weighing heavily on my mind was that my beautiful landlady was standing right behind me. If it were a man, I might have just laughed and vented my frustrations, but she was my beautiful landlady, so I had to swallow my bitterness. Besides, she was probably comparing me to a store-bought Barbie doll in her mind, and the difference in appearance was obvious. One looked so good in the pretty clothes, while the other… Sure enough, I had barely thought that when she couldn't help but laugh. Oh well, let her laugh! The entertainment value of the maid outfit far outweighed its practicality anyway. In Chapter Seven of Episode Four, the deadly interview , I took off my maid outfit, imagining myself with a face as thick as a city wall, impenetrable even to cannonballs. I then began to change into the dance costume, a combination of a cute top and a low-waisted skirt, revealing most of my limbs and belly, which made her laugh again, and the effect was strong. Since I was already going all out, I pretended to be intoxicated, striking poses in front of the mirror, twisting my waist and swaying my hips. The round gold sequins on my waistband jingled like bells. With my eyelids half-closed, I said provocatively, "How about it, am I beautiful?" She couldn't help but burst into laughter. I frowned, saying with a hint of reproach, "You're so annoying, I'm an absolute beauty!" She laughed for a while, struggling to stop her laughter as if she had been tickled. Just as she was about to speak, there was a knock on the fitting room door: "Miss, are you alright?" She immediately and reflexively stepped in front of me, but this was unnecessary, because the door was locked. At the same time, I immediately climbed back into her handbag. The mirror was right behind me, so the protective measures I took from the front weren't enough. But even so, it warmed my heart. When we first met, she was trying every possible way to kill me. Now it's different. Does this mean our relationship is gradually improving?

After I hid, I signaled to her that she could open the door. She then unlocked it and, with a normal expression, opened the fitting room door.

A young man stood outside, wearing an employee uniform, with an ordinary, average face. His tone was both gentle and enthusiastic as he asked, "I heard your voice. It seems you encountered something unusual. Is there a defect in one of our items?"

The pretty landlady, seemingly afraid of repeating the same mistake as the previous store, became nervous.

"No, it's nothing. I was just… on the phone. I'm so sorry I forgot to turn down the volume and disturbed others! I'm really sorry! All the items in the store are beautiful, but… it seems we don't have what I want." She smiled, then picked up the babydoll dress from the wooden counter and hurried out of the fitting room.

The young man warmly took the dress from her, without questioning her hastily made-up excuse.

"Leave the putting things back in their place to me! But miss, it's too early to be disappointed. If you're looking for men's clothing, it's on the second floor; other types are on the third."

After the shop assistant's brief explanation, the pretty landlady suddenly understood. However, having already picked up quite a few clothes, even though serving customers was a basic duty of the shop assistant, she still seemed to feel bad and reiterated that she could put things back in their place herself.

But the shop assistant didn't accept her suggestion.

"I bet I know better than you which cabinet has which type of clothes. It won't take much time, trust me," he said.

So the pretty landlady thanked me repeatedly, her face flashing with apology and guilt for being deceived, her heart pounding, and she carried me up to the second floor in one go.

Perhaps because she was worried that I would reveal my true colors, she was iron-fisted and decisive this time when picking out clothes. In just a few moments, she carried more than a dozen outfits into the fitting room. She no longer watched me change with a playful and relaxed expression, but was somewhat nervous.

I didn't say much; I just tried on whatever she brought. Since it was men's clothing, no matter how strange I looked, it wouldn't be as awkward as women's clothing.

Her goal this time was clear: the more my body was covered, the better, ideally even my face! Therefore, the clothes I wore were all from famous heroes, like Batman, the Flash, Spider-Man, and the masked hero Sullenberger…

She didn't have a particularly strict aesthetic sense and immediately added these outfits to her shopping list (was she serious…?).

She finalized the list in less than half an hour, finally relaxing. Overall, the purpose of the trip was achieved.

Since we were already at the store, she took me to the third floor to kill the rest of the time.

The zipper on my bag was only zipped up to nine-tenths, not completely closed, so seeing outside wasn't difficult, just at a limited angle. I looked at the so-called "other" floors; the shelves were filled with non-human costumes without any main body.

"Non-human costumes" referred to monster costumes, like dinosaurs, aliens, or ordinary animal costumes.

"Without a subject" means that the non-human costume itself is hollow; it's designed to be worn over a doll. Although it resembles a doll, it can't be considered a normal doll. It's only there to enhance or strengthen a certain trait or personality—perhaps cute, perhaps righteous, or perhaps terrifying.

Moreover, the biggest advantage of other types of goods is their high level of concealment. Wearing it might reveal my face, but with just that small exposed area, who would know my true identity? Generally, no one would be so bored as to strip a doll of its clothes!

In short, it's a category perfectly suited for me.

The beautiful landlady's eyes sparkled with excitement and fascination. Truly suitable disguise clothes are plentiful here!

Compared to that, the flashy but impractical clothes on the first floor are utterly insignificant, and the few potentially usable garments on the second floor become irrelevant; the goods on the third floor are clearly functional, satisfying this requirement, and she can even choose her preferred style, combining practicality and fun.

I didn't mind what she picked. The monster costumes might be much heavier than the clothes on the first and second floors, but at least it would be more relaxing. And most of them looked pretty good; as long as the internal cutouts were long and wide enough, I'd be happy to accept them.

In short, as long as she liked it.

Since everything was fine on the second floor, she was no longer tense and happily browsed the shelves.

She proved once again that women are passionate about shopping, yet indecisive. Every item seemed similar, and she hesitated for a long time, unable to choose her favorite.

Finally, she realized something.

"Looking isn't as reliable as trying them on."

Then, she picked up the shopping basket by the stairs and swept some of the costumes she liked into it.

Yes, only some, because she liked so many things!

Besides what she was holding now, I tried on eight more baskets—eight baskets piled high!

I tried on every single outfit on the third floor, except for the bizarrely designed ones—it was a nightmare!

My limbs were aching from trying them on, and she was completely mesmerized, saying every single one was beautiful. Every "beautiful" made my heart sink, fearing she might hesitate, forget how they felt, and ask me to start all over again.

After a long and arduous process, I finally finished trying on all the doll costumes I thought I'd been given endless options. Excluding the ill-fitting and overpriced ones, four remained that she absolutely loved.

She hesitated between the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Bull, and Giraffe costumes, finally deciding to ask for my opinion.

"Which one do you think is better?" she asked.

When a woman asks you to consider something, she doesn't really want your advice, but rather your support.

I understand this, but since she didn't show a strong preference, it was hard to be sure which one she actually liked.

I pondered for a moment and decided not to tell the truth: "I think they're all good."

This was obvious, but also the safest approach, used to probe for clues. She reacted immediately, raising her voice, "I'm asking you this very seriously!"

She was angry, which meant this was truly a difficult question; otherwise, she might have simply answered,

"Hmm, is that so... then I'll choose this one."

Since that was the case, she definitely needed to hear my answer, but I wasn't stupid enough to just point to one of the costumes and say, "I want this one!" What if she changed her mind later? I'd be in trouble then!

So I first pretended to carefully evaluate the four items, pondered for a while, and then said in a drawn-out, ambiguous tone, "Actually, all four outfits are very beautiful, each with its own unique style, and they're comfortable to wear. You could say they're the best of this floor. Your taste is better than mine, so to be honest, I'm not very confident in my choices.

"If you insist on asking for my opinion, I think the Azure Dragon and White Tiger are both very cute, the Bull is very imposing, and the Giraffe matches my skin tone, so it won't be too conspicuous. It just depends on how you want me to look in them." I cleverly shifted the question back to her.

It worked. She seemed unaware of my thoughts, nodded, and said, "Then let's go with the Azure Dragon!

The White Tiger's fur gets dirty easily, so cleaning it might be difficult; also, let's buy an extra Bull, just in case we don't have a change of clothes."

"Then let's do it this way." She

went downstairs, paid the bill, and the young shop assistant who had knocked on the door paid for her.

He was clearly impressed by the pretty landlady; while taking the money and giving her change, he kept glancing at her purse, perhaps wondering what kind of phone she used, or what kind of doll she had.

The pretty landlady noticed his gaze, but subtly and naturally lowered her hand, concealing her purse on the other side of the counter until it was out of his sight.

The young man understood, made no further comment, simply handed the landlady his change and receipt, and said in a loud voice, "Thank you for your patronage, welcome to visit again."

The landlady smiled and nodded, her awkwardness indicating it was merely politeness, then left the shop, finding a secluded spot to put the costume into her purse.

Before that, she held one in each hand and said to me, "Pick one to wear first, so it doesn't take up too much space."

I pointed to her right hand without objection: "Let's go with the bullfighting costume, it's brown, and it matches my skin tone, it'll look like one piece when you wear it."

She handed me the bullfighting costume to put on, then put me and Qinglong into the purse, returned to the street, and planned to retrace her steps.

Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps, as if chasing something, and two men rushed past the beautiful landlady, abruptly turning around and grinning at her. One man carried a bulky black camera on his shoulder, while the other held a microphone.

"Ah! Big discovery, big discovery! We've spotted a beautiful young woman on the street!" the man with the microphone exclaimed excitedly, as if discovering a new continent.

The beautiful landlady was somewhat flustered. She tried to walk past them, but was stopped by a hand.

"Hey, miss, please don't rush off. We're reporters from 'Eek Weekly,' please don't be afraid,"

the man said, handing her a business card from his jacket pocket.

The pretty landlady looked bewildered, and the man immediately feigned surprise, exclaiming in an exaggerated tone, accompanied by utterly comical gestures, "Eh...you haven't heard of this weekly magazine? This magazine is a weekly bestseller, always at the top!

'Exciting topics, exclusive reports, diverse content, and amazing page count—guaranteed to make you exclaim, 'Eh...is this a weekly magazine?!' Oh!"'

After this "freezing man" finished speaking, the pretty landlady seemed to freeze as well.

This long-time dominator of gossip magazine bestsellers, this stinking source of pollution that fearlessly exposes secrets without fear of power, was known to everyone, yet everyone also kept their distance.

The reporters at *Yi Weekly* were exceptional, each possessing three unique skills: entanglement, manipulation, and fabrication.

They excelled at creating something out of nothing, embellishing stories, making the dead seem alive, and even writing about the living to the point of death. They were like gods and Buddhas, powerful figures who could freely manipulate life and death, summon wind and rain, and stir up trouble—truly heroes among heroes. Their intelligence gathering surpassed that of the CIA, and their ideological danger was no less than that of any criminal.

The story of *Yi Weekly* is a myth from long ago!

It has been established for a long time, a well-established name. When it initially sent out signals across the ocean requesting access, it was met with a firm refusal from the government, contradicting the people's wishes. The boycott and protests stemmed from the fact that the continent it parasitized quickly became covered in mold and began to rot.

Once all the nutrients were greedily drained, it left its poor host to fend for itself, then, swaying its bloated body, set sail in search of another fertile, tender piece of meat.

And so, it chose this place.

The government, well aware of its power—capable of eroding a country faster than any disease—constantly used electronic and print media to "vaccinate" its citizens. However, before its arrival, the weekly magazine had also infiltrated domestic radio stations, tampered with telecommunications, and spread brainwashing signals everywhere, causing the people to succumb to the strain.

These infected individuals also carried trace amounts of... The virus's infectivity, imperceptibly and gradually weakening the immunity of those around it, went unnoticed for so long that the government failed to promptly send reported infected individuals to concentration camps, resulting in a resounding success for the brainwashing operation.

After a week of standoff, everyone except the incredibly resilient military, morally upright civilian groups, some government officials who remained for the sake of votes, and the president, collapsed!

The fallen officials mechanically proclaimed daily on various programs: "Information is free... we cannot use harsh measures to stop and destroy it... this is evidence of democratic regression... founding and publishing newspapers is a freedom." "...The people have the right to know..."

Seeing the nation in peril and the situation critical, the President immediately assumed military command, leading the three armed forces. Ignoring domestic opposition, he launched an attack on the *Yi Weekly* merchant ship anchored at sea.

However, the ship's crew had undergone genetic evolution; their intelligence and physical abilities were beyond human comprehension. They used evasive tactics to paralyze the Nationalist army's surveillance, then used verbal attacks to lower the enemy's morale, followed by a diversionary tactic, and finally, with lightning speed, they broke through the dense barrage of fire, successfully landing on the beach and launching separate attacks on the vital points of the three armed forces.

In just one day, they suppressed all the troops and even took the President hostage.

"All we're demanding is freedom of speech!" "The publisher of *Yi Weekly* was moved to tears on television, his eyes brimming with emotion, flashes of light illuminating the tears welling up.

A small minority of powerless citizens watching on television launched a fierce attack, but eventually even the president yielded. *Yi Weekly* stated that it had no intention of ruling the country, only requesting an office building and equal treatment with other weekly magazines in the country, asking for no special privileges.

This statement softened the hearts of those affected, who lined the streets between the presidential palace and the office building to welcome *Yi Weekly*, celebrating its arrival with thunderous cheers.

The day after its move, *Yi Weekly* paid off twenty years' worth of rent in one lump sum, demonstrating its commitment to long-term operation and fair competition with other weekly magazines, making the opposition less harsh.

And *Yi Weekly* ..." After infiltrating this land, the brainwashing activities ceased, and the infected gradually returned to normal.

However, perhaps due to lingering influence, most of the infected still held a favorable impression of *Yi Weekly*, leading to its booming sales and putting immense pressure on competitors.

A small number of infected individuals, after recovering, returned to normalcy and vigorously advocated for national salvation, continuing to reject the existence of *Yi Weekly*. Therefore, to establish a foothold, *Yi Weekly* adopted a strategy of recruiting talent and using Han Chinese to control Han Chinese, accelerating its localization in hopes of integrating into society.

This clever tactic proved effective; *Yi Weekly* suddenly became much more approachable, and coupled with people's tendency to tire of the old and crave the new, the topic quickly shifted away from "Should *Yi Weekly* be established here?" "It started circulating online.

Before long, *Yi Weekly* had become a part of society. People gradually became accustomed to its existence. The weekly covered travel, food, lifestyle information, and the fascinating, albeit secret, scoops from the political and entertainment circles that drove people crazy!

People criticized it fiercely, yet paradoxically loved reading it, hypocritically maintaining their dignity by saying, 'I just want to see what dirty stuff it has to write this time!' Because of this mentality, *Yi Weekly* continued to enjoy long-term sales success.

Then, inexplicably, another completely different claim emerged: '*Yi Weekly* is a positive and objective publication!'" "

This is probably its only advantage, because *Yi Weekly* is completely ignorant of partisan politics. They don't side with any faction; they dig where there's a need, digging relentlessly. They don't care about the backgrounds or influence of political figures, nor do they care about entertainers.

They only believe in profit, and their only true god is the magazine's publisher. As a result, politicians and celebrities are all insecure, fearing their masks will be torn off and their scandals will become public knowledge.

Suddenly, high-risk groups become self-disciplined, and the usual corruption and womanizing disappear instantly. This is indeed true.

It can be said that *Yi Weekly*'s corruption has actually corrected the corrupt atmosphere, just as its slogan says, 'If you have a clear conscience, you won't be afraid of a knock at the door at night.' Many people are happy to see this change and even hope that *Yi Weekly* will continue its efforts.

However, I don't quite agree."

Although I'm not a particularly loyal reader of *YiWeekly* , and I believe that exposing the hypocrisy of the upper class and creating a strange, pleasurable balance in the hearts of ordinary people is a form of charity, I still hold reservations about the reporting

in *YiWeekly*. After all, *YiWeekly* is a profit-driven organization; it can expose the ugly private lives of high-ranking figures for profit, and it can also conceal wrongdoing and promote good for profit—in short, accept bribes.

Therefore, the objectivity cultivated by *YiWeekly* needs to be questioned, but its promotion of integrity and its highly entertaining and stimulating nature are undeniable.

Regardless of the accuracy of the reports or the extent of personal bias, it is indeed a cheap publication, suitable for passing the time, easily forgotten, and not requiring extra mental effort—no wonder it's so popular (although many still disdain it, and the interviewees weren't entirely willing).

However, its potential dangers cannot be ignored; if it were truly so good, the previous host wouldn't have met such a tragic end. It's ultimately a harmful thing. Journalists are morally weak, shameless, and relentless in their pursuit of their goals; if they can't achieve their objectives, they'll fabricate stories.

In other words, it's a double-edged sword, offering benefits to society while slowly corrupting it.

Initially, it might experience culture shock, requiring a gradual adaptation to the national atmosphere. But once it becomes fully aware of what readers want, knows how to create even more sensational topics to attract attention, and understands how to ruthlessly rake in profits, the country is finished!

It will drain everything it can, accumulate enough funds to move on to the next island, and then abandon this empty, parasitic entity to its fate once more.

However, that's at least twenty years from now!

But my vision isn't that far-reaching. I simply dislike the idea of the beautiful landlady being interviewed, whether by *Yi Weekly* or other media reporters.

People enjoy scoops, that's true, but if they're the ones being exposed, it's not so interesting.

Besides, I look terrible right now; if the beautiful landlady gives an interview, it exposes me to danger as well.

There was one thing I didn't understand. The pretty landlady might be from aristocracy, but she didn't fit the typical profile of *Eye Weekly*. Judging from the reporter's tone, it seemed they didn't understand she was a student of Sefer. If that was

the case… then why? The man with the microphone quickly answered, "Our interview topic today is 'Stunning on the Street,' specifically targeting beautiful young women on the street. We'll briefly introduce your backgrounds as requested by our male readers; and also satisfy the curiosity of our female readers, peeking into the secrets of your beauty!"

"I'm sorry, I don't wish to be interviewed," the pretty landlady said, frowning, her wariness obvious.

"Don't be like that. If you don't want to reveal your real name, you can publish anonymously,"

he began, using his persuasive tongue to explain that they weren't annoying paparazzi; although the weekly had a large circulation, street interviews only took up a small portion of the space, and readers' attention wouldn't linger for long. They only needed a few minutes of interviews due to their diverse themes.

He then emphasized that readers would be curious, but wouldn't ask for the same level of probing questions as they would for celebrities. Therefore, they would never ask interviewees overly private questions or engage in any aggressive or coercive behavior.

The pretty landlady still refused.

"I'm sorry, I'm really in a hurry, you'll make me miss the city bus!"

the interviewer said with a smile. "How about we pay for the taxi fare? You're the most beautiful girl we've met today, and I sincerely hope more people can share this joy."

"But I'm sorry..."

"We only need one more person, so please help us out!"

He interrupted the pretty landlady, speaking in an even more enticing tone: "Besides being published in the magazine, the video will also be available on the 'Eek Weekly' website for the public to view. It will greatly help boost your fame and your future entry into the entertainment industry. What's there to hesitate about? "

If you prefer to keep a low profile, the video doesn't have to be published. We'll only put two photos of you with the contents of your purse in the weekly magazine, along with a brief introduction of no more than 500 words. The space is limited, so it won't be too eye-catching." "

The pretty landlady and I suddenly changed our expressions.

'I'm really sorry, but I have absolutely no interest in being featured in print media. I believe I have the right to decide whether or not to give an interview, and I don't want to say anything more,' the pretty landlady stated firmly, making it clear that she wouldn't back down even if the other party made further demands.

But what makes a reporter a reporter is their unwavering willpower and resilience—to put it nicely, their tenacity; to put it bluntly, their shamelessness.

He continued to smile, as if using this as a common tactic of playing hard to get, seemingly ignoring the pretty landlady's firm refusal; beneath his seemingly friendly face, his eyes were instinctively scanning the landlady's handbag.

When I met those sharp, probing eyes inside the handbag, I immediately shuddered, but I forced my eyes wide open, afraid to focus, as if a ghost were standing right in front of me." I could avoid its gaze, but I couldn't meet its eyes either. I could only pretend to pass through its body nonchalantly, looking at the scenery in front of me naturally.

I tried my best to remain calm and expressionless, my gaze blank, avoiding any change in expression, as if I were truly a mindless, lifeless object, simply accepting my master's arrangements and staying in any place where I had no right to object or choose.

The pretty landlady noticed the reporter's subtle movements and immediately became alert, hiding her purse behind her back. But this action played right into the other party's trap.

The reporter's lips curled up, and the light in her eyes shone even brighter, as if she was determined to successfully interview the pretty landlady: "You have several beautiful dolls in your purse! You just came from a doll shop, didn't you? That's a place suitable for a girl your age. Is it because you're often in contact with cute dolls and beautiful, elegant clothes that you have such an elegant demeanor and radiant aura?"

The pretty landlady blushed. She gripped her purse tightly, zipping it up as if to salvage the situation, until there wasn't a single gap left, before saying with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, "I really have to go!"

"Hey, please wait!" "

The man slyly blocked her path, determined to succeed, saying, 'It's not shameful for a girl your age to play with dolls! These days, even men are attracted to their allure, especially middle-aged men in their thirties and forties. Their enthusiasm for dolls is no less than any girl's, and even this behavior is tacitly accepted by society. What's there to be ashamed of?'"

"Get out of my way!" the beautiful landlady practically roared in anger.

"It's infuriating! What kind of doll is so mysterious that it can't be shown publicly? I bet everyone else is curious too!" the reporter excitedly guessed. "Is it an antique doll, decades old? Or a limited edition? Or perhaps a doll specially made for you by an internationally renowned doll designer?"

"None of those! Please stop making things difficult for me, I really have to go!" The beautiful landlady finally lost her patience. I felt her suddenly leap to the right, the two men moving to try and block her, but she suddenly darted to the left, bypassing them, and hurriedly ran forward.

"Don't lose her!" "This is absolutely the most exciting report!"

I heard the reporter with the microphone say to his partner carrying the camera, while shouting to the pretty landlady behind him, "Miss, if it's just a regular doll, why are you running away? Are you hiding something, or are you afraid of hurting your precious doll? Don't worry, we will be very careful and won't let the doll get damaged in the slightest!"

The pretty landlady ignored them and just hurriedly ran forward.

"Taxi!" I heard her shout several times, but no car stopped, and not a single passerby even bothered to ask if she needed help.

I knew she was doing this not only for herself but also for me, but I was powerless to offer any assistance. I could only watch helplessly as she, like a victim being chased by a murderer, desperately let her will to survive drive her steps until one side gave up.

She would never walk into the trap, but the man behind her would never let go of such a juicy prey. This would be a fierce tug-of-war, a fight to the death, a zero-sum game.

If this continued, her chances of survival were slim. I judged the distance behind her and said in a faint voice that she could hear, "Dump me!"

"What did you say?" she asked softly, but her startled tone showed that she wasn't deaf.

"Turn into an alley, somewhere they can't see you, throw me into a trash can or some corner, and I'll find my way back," I said.

As things stood, this was the only option! That way, even if I'm unfortunately discovered by reporters,

as long as I've taken off the mascot costume by then, I can find a way to distance myself from her.

"No, they're following too closely! Even if they leave you behind, they'll be discovered immediately!" she insisted.

"It'll definitely work! The alley has many short corners. Even if they follow closely, they can't be in your sight all the time. You just need two seconds to throw me into an empty house, or somewhere inconspicuous! Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to be exposed. Even for your reputation, we have to take the gamble!" I insisted.

There were two of them, and they were experts at chasing news. Their stamina and endurance far surpassed that of the pretty landlady. If I didn't separate from her soon, they might use a two-pronged attack, leaving me powerless to escape!

"Okay," she agreed, then quickly turned into the alley.

"She ran into the alley! Where are you going!" a reporter shouted from behind, seemingly excited. It seemed they really intended to surround me from both sides. I felt a growing unease.

The outcome would soon be decided!

But after entering the alley, a strange thought of taking a chance inexplicably arose within me.

"Unzip your zipper a little, I want to see the scenery around here."

"Scenery?" she asked, puzzled, but still obeyed my suggestion.

I peeked slightly out of my bag; the surroundings were completely unfamiliar—the mottled cement walls, the dirty puddles on the ground. Every old alleyway, though different, was strikingly similar!

Suddenly, a familiar scene caught my eye, only to vanish in an instant.

No, it wasn't a hallucination; I felt like I had just passed through this area a few days ago!

I excitedly stammered, "Turn right, turn right, then go straight."

She immediately complied, her panicked state only intensifying with the closer we got.

Yes, this was it! It was the place I had run through, the escape route Peacock had led when she was disoriented and carrying Yotsuba! It

was truly a stroke of luck; as long as I didn't get entangled before entering the underground shopping arcade, I could completely escape the reporters and return to my dorm!

“Left, right, and then left again! Yes, that’s it! Now go straight ahead, then turn right at the end, and then…”

Following my memory, she ran forward with all her might, but before the last right turn, she tripped and fell heavily, her purse slipping from her hand.

“Hey, got it!” A hand reached out from around the corner and grabbed it, and a crew member carrying a camera walked out triumphantly.

“Give it back!” The pretty landlady, ignoring her injuries, scrambled to her feet and tried to grab it back, but the crew member raised his hand, as if toying with a child, taking advantage of his height to bully the pretty landlady.

“Try it if you can get it! But I still hope you announce it yourself; the law is still a troublesome barrier!”

He had just finished speaking sarcastically when the beautiful landlady unexpectedly bumped into him, the force so great that he lost his balance, and the camera on his shoulder slid backward. He immediately broke out in a cold sweat, hurriedly trying to steady himself with both hands, but the purse in his hands now became an obstacle. He was forced to make a choice—either let go or destroy the expensive camera!

He quickly decided to give up the purse, but he didn't return it easily. Instead, he threw it far away, and when the beautiful landlady turned around to pick it up, the purse had already fallen into another person's hands.

“Well done!” The man holding the microphone waved the object in his hand triumphantly and said sinisterly, “Thank you for accepting our interview, Miss. Now let's see what kind of rare doll it is that its owner is so unwilling to let it be revealed to the world…”

He slowly, slowly unzipped it.

“No!” The beautiful landlady suddenly went berserk, lunging forward and tightly grabbing the opening with both hands, pulling and tugging at the man.

“Why bother, miss? We’re not that bad people. Just ten minutes of interview, just ten minutes!” the man pleaded. “If it gets a great response after publication, we’ll give you a generous interview fee.”

“What you’re doing is illegal!” the pretty landlady exclaimed angrily.

“No, the videotape is in our hands. We’ll edit the process perfectly, leaving no flaws.” He couldn’t help but reveal a hint of smugness.

“In this society, freedom of speech is absolute, and people have the right to know. Look around, there’s no one else here. You’re in a vulnerable position right now, so you can only accept our suggestion. If possible, we respect the law and hope you can reveal the truth. If you agree, I’ll return your purse.”

“Don’t even think about it!”

“Alright, since you’ve decided to let us do it, miss, we’ll overstep our bounds.” The man suddenly raised his voice, gently pushing the pretty landlady’s hand away. The accomplices immediately moved closer, gleefully zooming in with their camera lenses.

"Alright, the answer is finally about to be revealed! This is truly a breathtaking moment!" The reporter shoved the beautiful landlady aside forcefully, speaking in a mysterious tone, while deliberately slowing down the unzipping of his bag to whet the appetite.

The staff member, while taking photos, swallowed hard. He stared intently at the frame, constantly adjusting the shooting angle as if aiming for the best quality.

Suddenly, a hand reached between the bag and the lens, blocking the view.

Slender, white fingers—it was a woman's hand.

Both men looked up in surprise at the unexpected person who had disrupted the filming. And I, too, glimpsed the girl's face through the slightly parted fingers.

"Ryua!" A glimmer of hope seemed to ignite in the beautiful landlady's fragile voice.

"I know what you want, nothing more than a dog bone." Ryua's expression was blank, but her tone was full of mockery.

The man with the microphone put on a professional smile and blatantly lied, "You're this lady's friend, right? I'm sorry, but she just agreed to the interview."

"He's lying!" the pretty landlady shrieked immediately.

"Then how about something better in exchange?" Liuya seemed unconcerned about the truth, simply stating, "An exclusive interview with Sang. Singood."

A flicker of eager excitement crossed the reporter's eyes, but almost immediately he chuckled dryly, "Hey, miss, don't make it sound so serious, this joke is too unrealistic!"

"What if I'm right here?"

His voice was like a powerful electric current. The man with the microphone turned around, utterly astonished to find a 190cm tall blond man leaning motionless against the wall, a cold smile playing on his lips.

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, his hair standing on end with excitement.

Stay tuned for the sequel to *Restricted Lovers*.

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