Chapter One: Entering the Small World

What met her gaze was a pair of eyes, unfathomably dark, hollow, numb—if one looked closely, they might catch a fleeting trace of disgust and revulsion, negative emotions flitting by in an instant.

Mo Nianian held a stick in her hand, as thick as a child’s arm, and it was mere inches from falling upon the half-grown boy before her.

The boy was so emaciated that calling him skin and bones would be generous. He knelt straight on the floor, his face expressionless, and the skin exposed on his body was crisscrossed with scars.

Some were fresh, some old—burns, welts from beatings, knife wounds—all ghastly to behold.

Mo Nianian paused for a moment, calling out to the system in her mind.

“This is your male lead?”

The system’s little wings quivered with excitement, shining faintly.

“Yes, yes! That’s the male lead, truly pitiful.”

Mo Nianian clicked her tongue, her expression one of distaste, and slowly withdrew the stick.

What a poor thing—she couldn’t imagine how the original host had been so cruel.

She spoke lightly, “Get up.”

The pitiful child before her didn’t move a muscle, kneeling upright as if he hadn’t heard her at all.

Mo Nianian had wandered in darkness for a long time before arriving in the body of this girl who shared her name. Now, all she wanted was a meal and a good night’s sleep.

She stood, found a piece of leftover bread in the half-sized refrigerator, and chewed as she asked the system, “What’s with this kid?”

After a moment’s silence, the system asked, “Host, didn’t you read the strategy guide?”

Mo Nianian paused, entirely unapologetic. “That thing’s so long—who has the time to read it page by page?”

The system fell silent for longer. “Then do you know what our mission is?”

She shot it a look, as if eyeing a fool. “I may not have read the guide, but I do have common sense, all right?”

Everyone knew that for a male lead to eventually dominate his world, he first had to endure hardship. The more miserable he was at the start, the sweeter the triumph later.

But often, the male leads were tormented so cruelly that they turned dark and vengeful. Now, the small worlds were full of such cases. The male lead was crucial to the stability of each world—if he fell to darkness, what would remain?

Thus, Mo Nianian was forced to take up the mission of saving the male lead and preventing his corruption.

Not that she thought there was anything wrong with turning dark—she wasn’t some saint. Who, after suffering such abuse, would still want to save the world? That would be madness.

“Alert! Alert! Host is exhibiting extremely dangerous thoughts! Issuing warning!” The system’s voice screeched.

Mo Nianian swallowed her last bite of bread and rubbed her ears. “Shut up.”

The system meekly fell silent, then gazed at her with puppy-dog eyes.

She ignored it, walked to the child still kneeling in the living room, and stared at him for a few moments. The boy remained motionless, completely disregarding her presence.

She nudged him with her foot. “Hey, I’m hungry.”

The boy stiffly raised his head, glancing at her. At last, a flicker of something different passed through his pitch-black eyes.

“I said, I’m hungry.”

He studied her for several moments, as if searching for something. Only when he was sure he saw no malice in her did he stagger to his feet, nearly collapsing in the process.

Dragging his legs, he shuffled to the kitchen and began preparing a meal.

Mo Nianian didn’t feel a hint of guilt. She simply sprawled on the sofa, nibbling on half a piece of bread.

The system was aghast. “Host… Normally, you’d be radiating warmth and kindness now, letting the male lead experience the world’s goodness to keep him from straying down a dark path!”

She continued eating, not even looking up. “You said it yourself—normally.”

Besides, warmth and kindness? What on earth were those?

The system’s data nearly glitched. “But… but you’re making a sixteen-year-old, gravely ill child cook for you…”

Under Mo Nianian’s deathly stare, the system’s voice grew smaller and smaller, until it was as timid as a quail, and eventually it dared not speak at all.

It simply couldn’t handle this host. Why had it been assigned to her?

Mo Nianian mused, “It… might not be very nice.”

“Exactly! So we should—”

But before the system could finish, she pulled a cushion over her face, her voice thick with drowsiness. “Whatever, I’m taking a nap. Wake me when food’s ready.”

With that, she drifted into a deep sleep.

The system had its doubts about its own existence. If it could, it would have lit a sorrowful cigarette. All it wanted was to be rebuilt from scratch. With a host like this, was the male lead not doomed to turn even darker?

Ah, life was hard. The system heaved a sigh.

Yet, it didn’t dare defy Mo Nianian’s orders. When the child finished cooking noodles and brought them over, the system woke her with the deference of a eunuch serving the emperor.

It silently despised itself for this.

Mo Nianian opened her eyes to find the boy staring at her, unblinking and silent—a little unsettling.

She adapted quickly, took the bowl, and started eating.

Despite looking so frail and thin, the boy could cook a decent bowl of noodles. Mo Nianian was quite satisfied.

Once she was full, she finally took the time to examine both the boy and the house.

There was little to say about the child. If the system hadn’t told her he was sixteen, Mo Nianian would have guessed thirteen at most. He was the picture of long-term abuse—a pitiful thing whose mind must be twisted beyond recognition.

Frankly…

The system began coughing violently.

She waved a hand. “Fine, I get it.”

She said this aloud, but the boy showed no reaction.

“So, you’re mute?” Mo Nianian scrutinized him.

He looked up, a surge of malice flickering in his eyes before he looked away, as if conceding the point.

She stroked her chin. “Truly mute?”

A mute child was troublesome indeed—what a hell-mode opening. Clearly, the powers that be overestimated her.

The system whispered, “The male lead isn’t mute.”

If anyone was mute, it was her! Its poor male lead—now fallen into the hands of a real villain.

“Hmm? Then why doesn’t he speak?”

“Maybe… he’s too scared because of your abuse?” the system guessed.

“It was the original host, thank you.” Mo Nianian corrected it as she reached out, intending to check the boy’s condition.

But before she could touch him, the boy—who had been as quiet as a puppet—suddenly began to struggle violently.