Maybe It's Not Over Yet?

"Giving it to you is kindness; not giving it is only natural. Besides, Director, there's no kindness between us, is there? You don't think I don't know about last night, do you?"

The other two reacted first. Di Zhonghai shot up, pointing at Song Weishi, spittle flying. "Song Weishi, do you want to lose your job?! Look at what you're doing! When the police get here, you'll be arrested!"

Xiao Wang hurried to help Director Zhang up, while the remaining three stayed put.

Song Weishi turned her gaze to Di Zhonghai, her expression icy. "Without a signal, the police won't be coming. Director Zhang tried to kill me last night. The knife's right here. Let him tell you himself if it's true."

Holding the knife, Song Weishi sent a chill down everyone's spine. The face was the same, but her aura was completely different from usual.

She was as cold as a blade of ice. Zhong Xiaomin, sitting nearby, even felt the temperature in the room drop along with it.

Director Zhang was stunned by the shoe, unable to come to his senses for a long while.

Instead, it was the taciturn Xiao Li who stood up and came to Song Weishi's side.

Zhong Xiaomin and Wang Jie also rose. The four of them formed an invisible wall, leaving the other three with no room to advance.

Song Weishi had been a law-abiding citizen before. Though her friendships and family ties were thin, she'd never done anything illegal.

She only thought for a moment before making her decision: let those three get out of this room and fend for themselves. That was her way of paying them back in kind. Killing someone outright, she still couldn't bring herself to do.

Besides, she'd asked the System; killing these people now wouldn't help her energy value. Why bother with blood on her hands, making her feel uneasy?

The break room's security was decent. Once they were out, they couldn't get back in without tools, and Song Weishi wouldn't give them that chance anyway.

"I'm giving you one chance now. Grab your luggage and get out."

Di Zhonghai tried to step forward and say something, but facing her knife, his previous arrogance instantly deflated.

People used to living in a peaceful society always yield in roundabout ways. Xiao Wang shot her a glare, dragged the unconscious Director Zhang out.

With a creak, the door groaned shut, accompanied by the rustle of plastic film. Cold wind poured in from outside. A few seconds later, only the four of them were left in the room.

Wang Jie nervously grabbed Song Weishi, looking her over. "Xiao Song, are you okay? Did that bastard Zhang Yuan really lay a hand on you?"

Song Weishi shook her head and, seeing Wang Jie's messy hair, handed her a comb. "I'm fine. The moment I opened my eyes last night, he ran off scared."

The others pulled her aside, whispering and asking questions, only relaxing once they confirmed she was unharmed. Outside, the sky had darkened. Song Weishi knew the three had only been cowed by her bluff. Everything in this room had been set up by them, so the trio's consciences pricked them for a moment, but once they realized what was going on, they'd be back in force.

The other three in the room hadn't grasped that yet. After the scare this afternoon, they still harbored illusions about the outside world and people.

Song Weishi couldn't tell them anything more right now, because doing so would only throw their fragile little group into further panic.

She made herself a cup of instant noodles. The original owner had been depriving herself these past few days to benefit others—who knew how she'd developed such a personality.

Song Weishi had no memory of her previous life, as if this body were merely a beautiful shell, waiting for her to return and inject it with a soul.

She ate the spicy beef noodles and gnawed on a duck leg—one of the few full meals the original owner had enjoyed in days.

After eating and washing up, Song Weishi began inspecting the break room. The square room had a window, with a security door installed outside it.

In the corner was a pile of odds and ends, mostly various daily items and scenic area service signs that could serve as fuel.

Zhong Xiaomin, seeing her rummaging through the junk, curled up on her bed and asked curiously, "Sister Song, what are you looking for? We already went through everything when we came in. There's no food left."

Song Weishi mumbled a vague reply. "Just checking if there's anything to keep warm with."

As she spoke, she spotted a box that had been opened, filled with aluminum-foil delivery insulation bags—a whole box of them, left behind by someone.

She picked up a few, various sizes, apparently collected from takeout orders. These things were excellent at retaining heat. They felt featherlight in the hand, and the moment they got near a heat source, warmth radiated through them.

A smile spread across Song Weishi's face as she tore the insulation sheets open and laid them out on her bed.

Wang Jie came over, watching her with curiosity. "Xiao Song, do these actually work?"

Song Weishi nodded, saying little, and handed the extras to Wang Jie.

Seeing the two of them lay them out, Xiao Li walked over too, ready to use what remained. The box of insulation sheets was soon empty.

Zhong Xiaomin, lying in bed, was too cold to get up. She only scrambled down when she saw everyone else had some, but only two sheets remained in the box, each torn to just forearm length—nowhere near enough to cover her whole body.

She looked at the others with pleading eyes. Wang Jie and Xiao Li each shared one with her, but Song Weishi didn't meet her gaze. She made her bed and curled up under a makeshift quilt of clothes.

The fire crackled. She wrapped her head, tucking her face into the covers, leaving only her eyes exposed. The blanket didn't smell great, but after a moment of adjustment, she felt herself relax a little.

Seeing that Song Weishi wasn't going to lend a hand, Zhong Xiaomin gave up and flopped back onto her own bed. Hers was right next to Song Weishi's, and she made a show of rustling the insulation sheets as she laid them out.

Song Weishi ignored her and began recalling the details from the story. When the snowstorm first sealed the park, they'd found this break room, along with a fully charged power bank, so their phones were never dead. The power bank had been entrusted to Zhong Xiaomin.

What these people didn't know was that once they stepped outside, there'd be signal. But with snow this thick, they hadn't figured out a way out.

Or rather, they preferred waiting for someone else to rescue them. Their internal drive was zero.

Song Weishi stared at the dancing flames. Aside from all this, she felt her memories growing hazy.

She couldn't recall the scenes describing the original owner's death, only a vague impression.

She'd been killed by her companions. Director Zhang had failed, so she should have escaped her original fate by now, right?

Of course, there was another possibility: last night had only been an appetizer. The real trial might not have come yet.

Song Weishi even felt the urge to have the System pull out the book and show her.

Who knew if the mall would allow it after unlocking? Didn't all transmigration stories come with some kind of cheat?

It couldn't be that her cheat was just this useless System, could it?

At that thought, she heard the System's voice: "Host, the original novel cannot be unlocked."

Song Weishi was startled and turned over slightly. "I wasn't talking to you. Why can you hear what I'm thinking?"

"Apologies, Host. Once your energy value is sufficient, you may apply to block the System's audio-visual."

In other words, right now, the System could hear all her thoughts.

Song Weishi found it utterly exasperating—what was the difference between this and being under surveillance?

Of course, she wasn't about to tolerate it. To the System's eavesdropping, she opened her mouth and let out endless malice. "Artificial idiot."

System: ...

Song Weishi: "I know you're listening. I said you're an artificial idiot. You deliberately don't tell me about dangerous things, hoping I'll die. You're not a real System. I said you're an artificial idiot."

System: T~T

Seeing the System's emoticon, Song Weishi finally felt a bit better.

Unconditionally attacking everyone who's unkind to her—that was her new rule for herself.

She hadn't slept well last night, and the temperature in the room wasn't too low, so Song Weishi soon felt drowsy.

Her eyelids grew heavy. She planned to catch some sleep while the others were still awake.

The three lay on their beds chatting, assuming the sick one—Song Weishi—needed extra rest. After today's events, everyone felt uneasy.

They discussed the watch schedule. Amid their voices, Song Weishi drifted off clutching the dagger.

The moon hung high in the sky; the window was buried under snow. The room was pitch black, with only the flames in the braziers still dancing.

Song Weishi woke to the cold. Her feet were frozen, as if someone had slipped ice into her blanket—no matter how she tried, she couldn't warm them.

She made no extra movements, afraid of letting the warmth escape. Her feet, in three layers of socks, still had some feeling.

Song Weishi had never endured such a bitter winter before coming here. She opened her eyes, turned over, and felt for the dagger tucked beside her pillow.

Behind her, a figure tiptoed out of bed. She seemed cold, hissing breaths of air, even letting out a muffled cry when she bumped against the iron bed frame.

Zhong Xiaomin looked at the sleeping people, panting as she rose again. In the darkness, she saw the person before her sleeping with her back turned.

The insulation sheets on Song Weishi's bed shone conspicuously in the firelight. From under her pillow, Zhong Xiaomin drew a utility knife and crept silently to Song Weishi's bedside.

She remembered what Director Zhang had told her last night—to come out, and he'd given her a pack of the fried noodles he'd taken from Song Weishi in return.

She'd known what Director Zhang intended, yet she'd agreed as if possessed. Or perhaps, deep down, she'd also hoped for more food of her own.

After all, she had no backbone, just like Song Weishi had been—until today, when she saw Song Weishi completely transformed.

Zhong Xiaomin's unease and panic reached a peak. She didn't want to latch onto someone who'd once been weaker than her, becoming everyone's target of bullying. Even if no one treated her that way, she feared it all the same, twisting even the normal looks the other two gave her during the day into something else.

The weak Song Weishi was gone, which meant next would come her turn. She was terrified.

Human logic was strange. She didn't know why she'd developed such a twisted heart, but with what she'd done last night—letting Director Zhang in—she knew there was no turning back.

Zhong Xiaomin slowly extended the utility knife, reaching toward Song Weishi's bed, muttering to herself in a voice only she could hear, as if to comfort herself: "Just once, once and it'll be over, heh-heh."