Chapter 17

Bai Jiaojiao said it was impossible not to crave the big warm heater.

But he was the big villain—the kind who’d hold a grudge for every little thing. She’d already crossed the line today.

“Xiao Zhou, did you regain your memory today?” Bai Jiaojiao couldn’t help but ask.

Xiao Zhou glanced at the extra clothes on her blanket, seeming to understand something, and replied blandly, “I remembered.”

Bai Jiaojiao sat up straight. “What did you remember?”

“That we were misunderstood by others and had to get married, but after spending time together, I slowly fell in love with you…”

Bai Jiaojiao knew the moment he started talking that he was making it up again, but she didn’t interrupt right away.

She couldn’t—if she corrected him too early, he might just use that to spin a new, more convincing lie. Truthfully, he hadn’t remembered anything at all.

Even being denied, Xiao Zhou wasn’t annoyed. He simply said, “Jiaojiao, I can hold you while we sleep. It’s cold these days, easy to catch a cold.”

“No need, I’m not cold,” Bai Jiaojiao replied, but her hands honestly pulled the thick blanket over herself, placing her coat between them before curling up under the covers.

So heavy—it was hard to breathe. But at least it wasn’t so cold anymore.

Xiao Zhou was amused by her behavior but didn’t say anything more.

Anyway, once she fell asleep, he could hold her however he wanted.

But when he did try to hold her, he found that her body was ice cold—no matter how much warmth he gave, she remained chilly.

If not for her even breathing, he would’ve thought she…

Bai Jiaojiao had a long, long dream.

—

“Hey, poor Xiao family. The whole family’s gone.”

“Yeah, just when things were finally getting better, and young Xiao was doing so well, this happened.”

Voices—strangely familiar but still unfamiliar—echoed in Bai Jiaojiao’s ears. They sounded like villagers from Xiao Family Village, people she’d only seen a few times.

Her ice-cold body suddenly turned burning hot, then cold again.

So cold.

Where was her blanket?

Confused, she pushed herself up from the damp grass.

The ground was wet, as if it had just rained—frigid. She looked down at her pajamas, rubbing her arms for warmth.

Villagers passed by her one by one, but none of them noticed her. Everything looked both blurry and clear. She realized she was back in Xiao Family Village.

Hearing their conversations, her expression changed. Was this the part of the novel where Xiao Zhou’s family had the accident?

Was she dreaming about another timeline?

If so, could she maybe find the culprit and stop this from happening? Maybe even save his family in her own world?

Her eyes lit up with determination. Ignoring the cold, she ran toward Xiao Zhou’s house.

Just as she reached the gate, she saw the white funeral lanterns hanging there. People came and went in mourning clothes, all with somber faces.

Stepping through the doorway, she spotted a familiar tall figure kneeling on the ground—Xiao Zhou. Beside him was Xiao Qianwen, eyes swollen from crying.

“Brother Xiao Zhou, try to hold on. Uncle, Auntie, and Yueyue wouldn’t want to see you this upset.”

“I didn’t even get to see them one last time,” Xiao Zhou whispered.

Xiao Qianwen said more comforting words, but he didn’t reply. Eventually, her mother called her away.

“He’s already married, you visiting so often is inappropriate,” scolded a middle-aged woman who looked five or six parts similar to Xiao Qianwen.

“She doesn’t deserve Brother Xiao Zhou. His whole family’s gone, and she didn’t even show up…” Xiao Qianwen muttered, eyes downcast.

Bai Jiaojiao felt cold all over, but her body moved toward the house on its own.

Inside the mourning hall, only Xiao Zhou remained. Three black-and-white portraits were placed together.

Not long ago, they were all still alive, sharing dinner together.

A loud clap of thunder rang out, and rain began pouring outside. Bai Jiaojiao instinctively turned around.

The man who’d been kneeling was now standing. Slowly, he turned toward her.

She looked back.

Xiao Zhou looked the same as she remembered—wearing an old coat from a few years ago.

But his eyes… How could she describe them? Bloodshot. Mad. Grief-stricken. Regretful. Full of murderous rage—and they were fixed on her.

Wait—could he actually see her?

The man walked straight toward her and suddenly grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the ground.

Xiao Zhou’s lips curled into a cold smile. “You dare show your face?”

Feeling the burning heat and pressure on her throat, Bai Jiaojiao froze. Wasn’t she just dreaming? Wasn’t she supposed to be invisible and untouchable here?

No one wants to face a Xiao Zhou who just lost his whole family! And in this story, the original her was part of what triggered the tragedy!

The pressure on her neck grew stronger, the air thinning. She clawed at his hand, tears falling onto his skin. Finally, she managed to gasp:

“Xiao Zhou… let go…”

His gaze faltered as he stared into her glassy, tear-filled eyes.

Then, suddenly, he threw her hard onto the ground.

She passed out.

—

When Bai Jiaojiao came to, she was freezing. The walls were familiar—Xiao Zhou’s house—but not the version from the real world. There was no mattress, no thick blanket, not even her coat. Just some straw hastily laid out. No warmth at all.

Strangely, she hadn’t caught a cold, but the rough feel of the straw was painfully real.

The door suddenly burst open, and a man walked in with a violent air, tossing three mantou (steamed buns) onto the straw.

Bai Jiaojiao whispered, “I want lion’s head meatballs…”

“Liar,” Xiao Zhou said darkly, staring at her, then left and locked the door behind him.

Bai Jiaojiao felt wronged. What had she lied about?

Wasn’t it the original character who did all that? Why was it all on her?

Too cold. She opened a cabinet. Empty.

Of course. A blackened Xiao Zhou wasn’t about to leave her anything warm or kind. A single look from him could freeze her solid.

She looked toward the wall, toward the direction where the three portraits were likely kept, then solemnly arranged the three mantou.

“Don’t worry,” she said sincerely. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you in the other world. Here… I came too late.”

She bowed deeply.

Just then, the door opened again. Xiao Zhou came in holding an axe.

It still had fresh wood chips on it—he’d clearly been chopping wood just moments ago.

Bai Jiaojiao paled and scrambled backward. The man raised the axe.

Xiao Zhou said flatly, “Didn’t you say you want to go back to the other world to save my family? Let me help you on your way.”

He’d heard everything she said earlier!

The axe rose higher and higher, as if he truly meant to cleave her in two.

Bai Jiaojiao panicked. “No, that’s not what I meant…”

“Heh.” Xiao Zhou sneered.

Thud!

He chopped through her pants.

Her perfectly fine pajama bottoms were now a pair of split-crotch pants.

This… was the real revenge of a dark, twisted villain.

Bai Jiaojiao curled up into a ball. If she’d reacted even a second slower, she might’ve wet herself from fright.

Xiao Zhou walked over, yanked her up, and said harshly, “Get up. We’re going to see my parents.”

She couldn’t resist—he was too strong. And truthfully, she did want to go pay respects.

She pushed against his painful grip. “I’ll go myself.”

Xiao Zhou sneered. “Don’t try any tricks.”

He shoved her so hard she nearly fell again.

She felt wronged. Not long ago, the amnesiac version of him had been coaxing her gently, holding her close.

But now—this was the real him.

Still…

“Can I get a new pair of pants?” Bai Jiaojiao asked meekly. Even though she had another layer underneath, wearing crotchless pants was already mortifying in modern times, let alone in a courtyard where anyone could walk in.

His eyes were full of cruelty as he glanced down at her. “Don’t you like it this way? Let everyone see just how slutty you really are.”

Bai Jiaojiao summoned her courage and walked out, repeating to herself: I’m just the supporting character, not Bai Jiaojiao, it’s okay…

Just then, footsteps echoed from nearby.

“Brother Xiao Zhou, we’re all here.”