Chapter Two: A Ruthless Soul

"Don't move." Mo Nian Nian frowned in displeasure.

The child struggled even harder. In their tugging, the bowl she had placed on the table crashed to the floor, shattering into countless pieces.

The child's body stiffened, dropping to his knees, trembling in small, helpless shivers.

Several shards lay beneath his feet; blood welled up and pooled across the floor.

Mo Nian Nian's brows knitted tightly. "Get up."

Tsk. So ruthless at such a tender age—he'll be quite a character in the future.

"I... was wrong." The child's hoarse voice sounded in the living room.

Blood spread beneath his feet, the air tinged with a metallic scent.

Mo Nian Nian disliked the smell, so she simply reached out and lifted the child up.

The moment she touched him, she was acutely aware of his trembling; he closed his eyes, as if bracing for some unknown punishment.

She tossed him onto the sofa, irritated. "Taking care of a child is such a hassle."

Especially one whose thoughts you can't fathom.

She found gauze and medicine in the drawer and threw them in front of him. "Can you handle it yourself?"

The child lifted his gaze, his deep, dark eyes lingering on Mo Nian Nian for several moments.

"Why are you staring at me? Take care of your wound."

The scent of blood in the air grew stronger, and Mo Nian Nian felt increasingly uncomfortable.

The child remained motionless, those black eyes staring fixedly at her. If not for the subtle shifts, he would seem no different from a battered yet exquisite doll.

[Host!!! We agreed to win over the protagonist with love and warmth!!!]

Mo Nian Nian: [...Fine, I get it.]

She sighed. "Forget it. Consider it a debt I owe you."

Resigned, she lowered her head and reached out to tear open the ragged hem of his pants.

The doll stirred, gripping his trousers tightly.

Mo Nian Nian snorted. "Do you think I could possibly be interested in your skinny legs?"

A flash of shame and anger crossed the boy's eyes. His pale cheeks flushed with resentment, glaring furiously at Mo Nian Nian.

Mo Nian Nian bent down to tend to his wounds.

He was thin, yes, but his legs were long—what a pity they were covered in scars, ruining any beauty.

She tutted quietly, applying the medicine in silence.

The child watched the crown of her head, her slender, fair neck exposed before him—so frail, so easily broken.

If he pressed just a little harder, he could send her into eternal slumber.

He clutched the piece of broken porcelain he had picked up from the floor, his gaze flickering.

He had truly had enough of this life.

"If you hadn't met me, who would even bother with you?" Mo Nian Nian asked, half-hearted. "Do you feel the world is full of love yet?"

System: [...]

Was it too late to request a rebuild? If it had sinned, let the main system punish it, not subject it to such a host.

The child hid the object in his hands, suppressing the murderous intent in his heart. He told himself again not to gamble his life on such a woman.

Mo Nian Nian received no reply and was dissatisfied. She tied a neat bandage over his wound, stood, and patted her hands. "You're really difficult."

[You're already a mature system—why can't you handle the mission yourself? Useless.]

The system wished desperately to show Mo Nian Nian the beauty of its native tongue, but it couldn't. It was so frustrated its data glitched, retreating into silence.

Mo Nian Nian was exhausted. She stumbled into the original owner's bedroom and fell straight into sleep.

Tasks could wait for later.

Early in the morning, Mo Nian Nian was woken by the enticing aroma of food. She groggily got up and opened the door.

The diligent child had prepared breakfast and left for school.

Mo Nian Nian ate the hot meal with satisfaction, her eyes narrowing contentedly. Whatever else could be said about this child, he was truly skilled.

If she could always eat such meals, that would be wonderful.

Mo Nian Nian, feeling benevolent, asked the system, [Tell me about this child.]

The system, wanting nothing more than to throw the entire storyline in her face, instead meekly recounted it from start to finish.

Through the system, Mo Nian Nian learned the gist: the boy's name was Jiang Hu—her... nephew.

Their family's relationships were complicated.

The original host had been adopted by the Jiang family, but only stayed for half a year before her biological parents reclaimed her.

She left before Jiang Hu was born.

Jiang Hu's early years were happy, but at twelve, the Jiang family suffered a calamity. Everyone died. Before her death, Jiang Hu’s mother sought out the original host, hoping she would take Jiang Hu in for a while.

The original host, remembering a bit of kindness from the past, agreed. Who could have guessed the entire Jiang family would perish, leaving Jiang Hu a hot potato no one could get rid of.

The original host was unlucky, too. Her family was once middle-class, but her father was diagnosed with cancer, and after spending a fortune, died. Her love-stricken mother followed soon after, leaving behind a house and a mountain of debts.

Now, she also had a burdensome child she couldn’t shake off.

Under such crushing pressure, the original host grew twisted, finding pleasure in bullying, beating, and tormenting Jiang Hu.

All of this led to Jiang Hu’s psychological distortion; once grown, he murdered the original host with ruthless cruelty and, using his high intelligence, committed numerous grave crimes.

The system’s eyes shone as it looked at Mo Nian Nian. [The protagonist is truly pitiful, so we must treat him well, right?]

Mo Nian Nian shot it a glare. [Right, pitiful—he’ll slice me to pieces when he grows up.]

[That was the original plot!! But you’re here now, Host! You must have confidence. We can change the ending and guide the protagonist to the right path! I believe in you!]

Mo Nian Nian couldn’t be bothered to argue. She pondered how to fulfill the mission—the original host had left an utter mess. If someone had treated her that way, she’d have killed them, too.

Maybe she should try being kinder to him?

Jiang Hu dawdled until nightfall before returning home. After all, whether he came back early or late, he’d be beaten—so better to delay.

That woman always found reasons and excuses to torment him, though last night he couldn’t guess what madness had come over her.

He opened the door, braced himself for punishment, placed his schoolbag on the sofa, and knelt straight before Mo Nian Nian.

The smile that had finally bloomed on Mo Nian Nian’s face froze and faded away.

The system hurried to remind her, [This is a rule the original host imposed on him.]

It was nothing more than another way to torment him.

Mo Nian Nian’s head ached. She suspected the original host was sent to make her suffer. “Get up. From today on, the house rules are abolished.”