In the interstellar era, Shang Jingyan’s low profile was almost unheard of. It was as if she clung to old-fashioned principles—letting her work speak first, only revealing herself afterward.

Because of this, some people who didn’t like her whispered behind her back, claiming that Shang Jingyan must be a textbook case of Emptiness Syndrome—pale, gloomy, and utterly unappealing. Otherwise, how could she create such “deranged” works?

Ao Qingxue quickly exited the game to browse the trending tags. Sure enough, she found a few scattered comments:
[Just wait and see. I guarantee I’m right. The reason she hasn’t dared to show her face until now is obvious!]

As the interview teaser spread across the livestream channels, it set off a frenzy among viewers.

“Sis, look! That new Dreamweaver is getting an interview tonight!” On V066 Star, Jiang Yubai, who had been watching the livestream, shouted excitedly.

Jiang Yuran, dark circles still under her eyes, rushed over. “What? Where?”

The two siblings had binge-watched all of Shang Jingyan’s works over the past few days. The first time they watched at night, they were so terrified they couldn’t sleep, lamenting in horror—What kind of Dreamweaver even makes stories like this?! Never again!

Yet, the very next day, they couldn’t help but crave more. Now, they had completely “fallen” and were even pulling others down with them, actively spreading the addiction online.

“I knew I had great taste!” Jiang Yuran scrolled through the trending topics, smug. Among all the Dreamweavers they had followed, Shang Jingyan was the least experienced and the least famous—until now.

The countdown had begun, and the two siblings eagerly sat before their holo-screens, waiting.

—

8 PM, Roseheart.

“Good evening, viewers! Welcome back to our ‘Evergreen Saplings’ interview series~ I’m your host, Mu Xiu. Tonight’s interview will be streamed live…”

In the castle corridor, the cameras were already rolling. A woman in a light green dress stood before the lens, introducing the segment. She was Mu Xiu, Shang Jingyan’s future editor.

Mu Xiu adjusted her glasses. “Our guest today is none other than the hottest new name on Evergreen—Shang Jingyan! ID…”

In this interstellar age, nearsightedness had long been curable. Mu Xiu wore glasses purely for aesthetic reasons—to add a touch of scholarly charm.

The cameraman noticed the soaring view count in the bottom right corner of the livestream. He was secretly impressed. Shang Jingyan’s popularity wasn’t just hype—this was the highest engagement he had ever seen for a new creator.

Anyone familiar with Evergreen had already picked up on one thing: the platform was investing heavily in this newcomer.

Rumor had it that Shang Jingyan had been invited to sign with the site, rather than applying herself. And unlike other newcomers assigned to junior editors, her editor was none other than the head of A-Group.

As the comments flooded in, Mu Xiu leaned close to the door, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Director Shang is right inside this room. Do you all want to see her now?”

[YES!!]

[Stop talking and OPEN THE DOOR!]

[OMG, she’s finally revealing herself!]

The door swung open gently. On Roseheart, it was still bright afternoon, and golden light streamed in.

Inside, a young woman sat by the window, wearing a casual button-up shirt. Between her fingers, she held a half-burnt menthol cigarette. Her hands were long and slender, her fingers elegantly jointed, nails painted black.

Outside the window stretched an endless sea of roses. The sunlight caught the waves of her silver hair, gilding them in gold.

Hearing the movement, she turned her head slightly, momentarily caught off guard. Then, she stubbed out the cigarette with a faint smile. “The interview’s started already?”

[OH MY GOD, THAT’S DIRECTOR SHANG?! I JUST FELL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT!]

[She’s so young?! And that aura—why is my heart racing?!]

[Wait, silver hair and green eyes… doesn’t she look just like that officer from Eldritch God?! Could it be…?]

The haters who had been lurking, waiting to mock her, were utterly dumbfounded. So much for “people resemble their work”—this time, the theory completely collapsed!

The comment section exploded, filled with frenzied screams and pink heart emojis.

Mu Xiu couldn’t help but think: If Shang Jingyan announced right now that she was switching to romance games starring herself, pre-orders would sell out instantly.

“It’s already eight—hope we’re not interrupting your creative thoughts?” Mu Xiu and the cameraman stepped inside. Even though they had met before, facing Shang Jingyan like this, Mu Xiu still found herself echoing the audience’s reaction.

A Dreamweaver like her was born to be in the spotlight—to captivate the entire universe.

“Not at all, I was just spacing out.” Shang Jingyan stood up, pouring a cup of tea for Mu Xiu.

As she lifted the teapot, her sleeve slipped halfway up her arm, revealing a glimpse of a black ram-head tattoo—sending the comments section into a frenzy once more.

[OMG, she’s so cool. Does anyone know what that tattoo means? It looks just like her profile pic. I tried looking it up before, but I couldn’t find any references to a ‘ram-headed human’ symbol.]

[I knew she was young, but seeing it like this really puts things in perspective… My 18-year-old self: stressing over college majors. Her 18-year-old self: three major works, signed by Evergreen.]

[I was expecting her to be reclusive and introverted, but she’s so effortlessly charismatic! Her personality totally fits her style.]

[Wait, the background… is she at Roseheart?]

[LOL, didn’t expect Director Shang to visit a romantic tourist destination.]

[Ahhh! You guys probably haven’t been to Roseheart recently—it’s not just a romantic getaway anymore (covering face emoji).]

“That’s great to hear! Evergreen has compiled the top eighteen audience-voted questions for today’s interview. Director Shang, do try to answer as many as you can!” Mu Xiu scrolled through her screen, smiling.

“First question: Will you be incorporating more romance into your future works? Haha, this viewer even added, ‘Mutual Affection Illness and White-Bone Lianyun are my top CPs this year—I NEED MORE!’”

Shang Jingyan chuckled. Classic interstellar audience—first question, straight to romance.

Her smile made her green eyes shimmer. The comment section imploded.

“My answer? There are far more things worth screaming over.” Shang Jingyan leaned back in her chair. “Romance isn’t a major focus in my storytelling. I include it only when it serves the plot.”

Mu Xiu let out an exaggerated “Wow,” and the comments erupted in surprise.

Even though Shang Jingyan’s previous works hinted at this, hearing her say it outright still shocked the audience.

This was a rare stance in today’s industry.

Starting off with such a bombshell, Mu Xiu’s heart raced—not from fear, but from sheer excitement.

She had a strong feeling that if Shang Jingyan ever became a big name in the future, this interview would go down in history as an all-time classic.

“The second and third questions kind of overlap, so I’ll combine them. Is Eldritch God really your first work? Your style feels so polished—how did you develop it?”

That was a tricky one. For this body, it was technically a debut work. But for Shang Jingyan herself? Definitely not. And she didn’t want to erase her true first creation either.

Shang Jingyan replied, “Not exactly.”

Before Mu Xiu could follow up, she added, “No one becomes great overnight. I’ve created a lot of works before this, but you probably won’t be able to find them.”

She blinked, flashing a mysterious smile.

A perfectly truthful yet evasive answer.

【Ugh! This woman is teasing us and refusing to give us closure!】

【Oh, thank god. I was starting to think some people were just born on a different level… Turns out Director Shang also had a long buildup before this!】

【I need to know what kind of wild ideas she’s had before. Will they resurface in a more polished form later? They have to, right?!】

The next few questions focused on specific plot points in Eldritch God. Shang Jingyan answered them all, and the chat immediately went wild:

【Omg, I’m obsessed.】

【This is gold, I’m eating so good.】

Shang Jingyan: “…”

She seriously couldn’t understand how her response—‘The male lead will forever be the Eldritch God’s chosen, eternally bound to her, descending together as one’—was making people extremelyexcited.

“…Eleventh question—this one was added last-minute, but I’m sure everyone’s been curious for a while. Director Shang, was that police officer in Eldritch God played by you?”

Shang Jingyan didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned to Mu Xiu. “Can I borrow your work ID for a second?”

“Huh? Oh—sure…!”

Mu Xiu felt Shang Jingyan take the badge hanging from her neck, and for some reason, her face heated up.

Shang Jingyan’s expression shifted into the cold detachment of her character, the officer. She slid the badge onto the table, then looked straight into the camera.

“I’m going to have to ask you all to come with me.”

Then, as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer, her icy demeanor cracked. A warm smile melted through, like spring thawing winter’s last snow. She spread her hands.

“And there you have it.”

【AAAAAA I’M COMING WITH YOU!!!】

【Director Shang! Take me first! Everyone else, back off!!】

【You’re too good at this. Have you considered directing a romance drama? 🥺】

【OMG, IT WAS HER!!! MOM, THE ACTOR YOU COULDN’T FORGET HAS BEEN FOUND!!!】

【Lowkey, can Director Shang please do more cameos? I need more of this face on my screen.】

【Young, a creative genius, amazing acting skills, and gorgeous… what kind of life hack is she using?!】

Mu Xiu snapped out of it, half-laughing. Had she seriously just been flustered by a Dreamweaver several years younger than her?

“Twelfth question: Building 18 has been out for a while, and Rouge Comb is about to finish airing. Are you currently working on anything?”

The audience probably expected her to tease a new project, but Shang Jingyan simply replied, “Yeah. I’m studying for my exams.”

The chat: ?

【Oh, right! The membership exams for our star system are coming up. I’m studying too.】

【Wait, Director Shang is taking the exam in her first year?! Isn’t that super fast?】

【Her efficiency is insane. She’s done multiple projects and she’s still prepping for exams?? Give me half her brain, please!】

“Thirteenth question—what’s your psychic power level?”

“I haven’t tested it in ages, so I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I find out.”

【That was… a very casual answer.】

【It’s fine, the exam results will be public anyway. Director Shang, go ace your test 🐶】

【Her psychic power has got to be high. A-tier minimum. If I had her skills, I wouldn’t care about standardized ratings either 🐶】

Mu Xiu felt a little regretful about this one—psychic power rankings were a great marketing hook for Dreamweavers. But Shang Jingyan had mentioned before that standard home-use scanners probably couldn’t even read her level; she’d need an appointment with a professional medical-grade machine. So they never got around to testing it.

“Fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth questions—I’ll group them since they touch on the same topic. Director Shang, was it true that you were broke while creating Eldritch God? Or did you use default models purely for artistic reasons? There are also rumors that you were in debt at the time—is that true?”

The chat erupted in reactions:

【Whoa, bold questions.】

Evergreen’s interviews were known for being unfiltered. They didn’t shy away from tough topics. Of course, all these questions had been pre-approved by Shang Jingyan.

She answered plainly, “Yes. I was broke. And I had a lot of debt.”

She had seen discussions about this online—probably spread by the previous owner of this body’s so-called ‘friends.’ Rather than let rumors run wild, it was better to tackle them head-on.

“I signed up for that themed event specifically to pay off my debts. The first-place prize money happened to be exactly what I owed.”

Shang Jingyan didn’t like playing the pity card. The original interview outline had planned to dwell on her struggles after losing her mother, but she had vetoed that section.

She decided to treat it like a funny anecdote instead. “Youthful ignorance, y’know? I don’t even remember where all that money went, hahaha.”

That was the truth. She’d combed through the previous owner’s memories and still couldn’t figure out what she had done with all that borrowed cash.

The chat, initially hyped to be jealous of her meteoric rise, suddenly felt a bit complicated about it.

【Wait, so this is actually a grind story? Damn, I admire her even more now.】

【Still, that’s crazy. ‘The first-place prize just happened to match my debt’—so she was aiming for nothing less than first from the start?!】

【She’s never mentioned family… her situation must’ve been rough. Sigh.】

“Seventeenth question: Rouge Comb’s final episode airs this Saturday. Any hints for viewers?”

With only one more episode than Eldritch God, the short drama was already at the three-quarters mark. The chat hadn’t realized how close the finale was and collectively panicked.

“A hint, huh…” Shang Jingyan tapped her chin and smirked cryptically.

“While watching, keep these four words in mind: The more you think, the scarier it gets.”

The phrase existed in the interstellar era, but it wasn’t widely used. Shang Jingyan was confident that soon, everyone would understand its meaning.

Mu Xiu shivered involuntarily and cleared her throat. “Alright, last one—eighteenth question. Director Shang, any final words for your fans?”

A standard closing question.

But this time, Shang Jingyan put on a serious expression, looking straight into the camera.

“As you can see, I’m currently at Roseheart. Here’s an early teaser: Roseheart is launching a brand-new experience, featuring me and my works. If you get the chance, you have to come check it out.”

Mu Xiu: “?”

She couldn’t help but laugh—this kid actually used an interview to sneak in an ad!

【Hahaha, Master Yan, you’re too cute!】

【An amusement park attraction? No wonder she’s at Roseheart right now. Damn, now I’m really looking forward to it…】

【I’m so going!】

–

Jiang Yuran and her brother hadn’t expected the interview to go over this well. There wasn’t a trace of the usual nervousness or shyness you’d expect from a newcomer—Shang Jingyan was completely at ease, even effortlessly tossing out and picking up on jokes.

She had taken over, steering the whole thing like a pro.

As she waved goodbye to the camera at the end, Jiang Yuran felt a pang of disappointment. “Aw, why is it over already…?”

The siblings exchanged a look. Jiang Yubai, on the same wavelength, said, “Let’s tell Mom—once that attraction’s ready, we’re going to Roseheart!”

–

On the other end, Shang Jingyan wrapped up the interview. Mu Xiu extended a hand and smiled. “Director Shang, that was a pleasure.”

On camera, Mu Xiu was witty and charming, but the moment filming ended, she switched into a composed, professional demeanor—her glasses suddenly seemed much more fitting.

Shang Jingyan found her a pleasant collaborator. They parted ways, and just as she closed the door behind her, a notification popped up on her wrist communicator:

Account credited: 10,000 star coins.

Shang Jingyan: “?”

The source was an anonymous account. X71 chimed in: [Yan Yan, I’m sorry! I couldn’t trace the sender. Their encryption is top-notch.]

[…No need. I think I already know who it is.]

The thought had barely formed when another anonymous message arrived:

[Your message was well conveyed. Nicely done.]

That tone—it could only be the “Reality Matter and Nature Society.”

Even though they were praising her (and even throwing money at her), Shang Jingyan still found them vaguely irritating.

She had never liked being controlled or judged from above. The Reality Matter and Nature Society hadn’t done anything yet, but their subtle, ever-present attention was starting to get on her nerves.

…Would it be possible to flip the script once she got big enough and start threatening them instead?

She gave it some serious thought.

–

Shang Jingyan’s interview had plenty of buzzworthy moments, especially that last question. Over the following week, as Xue Tourism & Culture amped up their promotions, hype spread like wildfire. Soon, anyone even remotely interested in travel had heard about “Roseheart’s new attraction.”

–

“Good evening.”

On Friday night, Shang Jingyan arrived at the unfinished Eldritch God castle to check on its progress. There, she ran into Xue Jiang, who was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, a jacket slung over her arm, and a pink construction helmet on her head.

As the boss, she didn’t really need to be at an unfinished site, but showing up in person was a statement.

The castle’s exterior was covered in an optical screen, hiding whatever lay beneath.

“Your interview was perfectly timed,” Xue Jiang said with a casual smile, handing Shang Jingyan a safety helmet.

The haunted house was almost done, and all the promo materials were lined up. As soon as the interview ended and she saw how well things were going, Xue Jiang seized the moment to drop the announcement.

The teaser for the haunted house was already out, sitting pretty on the interstellar trending list.

As the dominant force in exile system tourism, anything the Xue family did got instant attention. Their decision to collaborate with a rookie Dreamweaver? That was a shocker.

【Expanding an IP into real-world attractions? Xue Jiang’s really going all in, giving a newbie this level of treatment!】

【Most Dreamweavers take years to reach this milestone, and Shang Jingyan nailed it with her first short series…】

【Wait, does this mean they’re building a full-on theme park based on Shang Jingyan’s work? That gothic castle in Eldritch God was actually pretty cool. I’d totally book and spend a night there.】

【Speaking of gothic vibes—my architecture professor saw the news and got super curious. He’s planning a visit once it opens.】

【The haunted house concept is the real highlight, but the first teaser was so cryptic. It’s killing me! I need to know more!】

【“Immersive real-world experience”? Like a full-dive game? Why focus on an in-person attraction?】

–

“Opening day is in a few days, right?” Shang Jingyan asked.

Xue Jiang nodded, glancing at her watch. Then, as if offhandedly, she said, “The final episode of Rouge Comb airs soon. Want to gather some people to watch? The castle’s private viewing rooms are free tonight.”

Shang Jingyan: “…?”

It was only nine o’clock. What did she mean by “soon”?

A realization struck her. “President Xue, don’t tell me—you’re too scared to watch alone?”

She was asking if she wanted to invite people, but really, she wanted the company.

Xue Jiang: “…”

With a straight face, she said, “Nonsense. It’s just… team bonding.”

Shang Jingyan nodded. “Got it. If everyone’s scared together, then no one’s scared.”

Xue Jiang: “…”

When she asked in the group chat, a bunch of people immediately chimed in—they all wanted to watch the finale but were too scared to do it alone at midnight.

As the time approached, Shang Jingyan settled into the private theater room, feeling a strange sense of deja vu.

This was the first time since coming to this world that she was watching her own work on a big screen. It almost felt like she was back in a movie theater in her past life.

The fourth episode opened with a tense, fast-paced fight scene—Gao Xiaoyun was sprinting across the desolate wilderness, glancing back every so often, while Gu Lang pursued her. Behind him, countless white bones erupted from the ground at his command, clashing against the enchanted weapons chasing after them in dazzling bursts of light.

Then came a flashback. In the last episode, the imperial court had taken notice of them, and the experts sent by the emperor were far beyond the level of the previous swindlers and shamans. Forced to flee, the two had no choice but to leave the Gao household behind.

Thick fog rolled in. The sound of pursuit abruptly stopped. Gao Xiaoyun looked up—right in front of her stood the same secluded nunnery from before.

Panting, she stepped inside. After a moment of silence, she opened her hand to reveal the comb she had been clutching tightly. Her voice held a strange mix of emotions.

“It doesn’t completely obey you, does it… Gu Lang?”

Beside Shang Jingyan, Xue Jiang let out a quiet “Ah.”

Gu Lang and Soft Tresses Entwined were clearly two separate entities—that much was obvious. One was made of bones, the other of hair. Even their appearances were completely different.

Xue Jiang had always suspected their relationship was more of a partnership than a simple master-servant dynamic, but to what extent? Now, it seemed her guess had been right. Gu Lang hadn’t used the comb to help Gao Xiaoyun out of pure kindness.

Gao Xiaoyun pressed further, “You left it behind… Is it going to kill a lot of people?”

She didn’t care about the people of the Gao household. What she really wanted to know was how the comb chose its victims.

Gu Lang turned to face her, his voice eerily calm. “And what of it?”

“I can give you a good life. So what if it kills a lot of innocent people?”

Gao Xiaoyun instinctively took a step back—then froze, tension creeping into her body.

She couldn’t hide it. No matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, some part of her was starting to be wary of this ancient demon.

Shang Jingyan scrolled through the live comments flashing across her wrist device.

【Honestly, I’d be scared too. The power imbalance is insane. When someone can ‘help’ you with a flick of their wrist, how do you know if they’re really doing it for you… or for their own reasons?】

【Nooo, please don’t tell me my ship is about to sink! I can’t take a bad ending!】

【Gu Lang feels so… inhuman. Just like the Eldritch God. He doesn’t care about people at all.】

【Did you guys notice? He barely used any effort fighting off those pursuers. So why didn’t he just take down the Gao family himself instead of using the comb?】

【Wait, does that mean he can’t kill people?】

【His plan was actually perfect—let the comb wipe out the Gao family, then elope with Gao Xiaoyun. But the real question is, what will she choose…?】

Gu Lang fell silent. After a long pause, he smiled faintly.

“Ah Yun,” he said, “you are exactly as I thought.”

He continued, “Then, I will help you achieve your wish.”

And what would that be?

To marry into a good family and escape her prison?

That would only be another cage.

To kill everyone in the Gao household?

Then how would Gao Xiaoyun survive afterward? How would she fend for herself?

No—she needed power. She needed time. She needed the ability to wait for the day she could truly choose her own path.

Gao Xiaoyun stared into his gentle, smiling eyes, her voice unsteady.

“…What?”

She didn’t understand what Gu Lang meant, but a deep sense of unease took root in her chest. To her, this was just a conversation. But to Gu Lang… it felt like he had already reached a conclusion.

The night fog swirled.

Gu Lang’s robes, like burning paper, began to peel away into ashes. Beneath the deep blue fabric, half of his body was nothing but bone. Through the gaps in his left ribcage, his heart could be seen, still beating.

He was disintegrating, withering away.

His skin began to crack and fall apart. The face of a beautiful man crumbled, revealing the raw, exposed surface of an eyeball.

“Gu Lang? …What are you—what are you doing? Gu Lang!!”

Gao Xiaoyun’s voice rose in panic. Beside Shang Jingyan, Xue Jiang’s eyes widened in shock.

Gu Lang reached into his own chest—

And pulled out his heart.

A person holding their own bleeding heart in their hands—horrifying, right?

No one could argue otherwise. The live comments exploded into screams.

But—

What if he was offering that heart to you?

In the flood of frantic messages and desperate “ahhh”s, it was impossible to tell how many were terrified, how many were horrified—

And how many were left completely speechless in awe.