Evil Spirit

Li Jiaojiao has transmigrated into a book, but her mission isn’t to win over any male lead or supporting male character. Instead, she must correct the twisted worldview and gloomy personality of the supporting male, Duan Qinglian. Staring at the person barely clinging to life after being strangled by the Sword Line, then glancing at Duan Qinglian, whose eyes sparkled with excitement yet wore a gentle smile, Li Jiaojiao asked the System, “He wouldn’t get so happy killing that he’d slit my throat too, would he?”

The System played dead.

Inside the Teahouse, “Actually, love isn’t like that. It’s sincere, passionate, and unique-”

Watching one girl after another trying to get close to Duan Qinglian, Li Jiaojiao found herself unable to continue her speech about truth, goodness, and beauty. “Mm, I also don’t think it’s malicious, dark, or filthy.”

In a dark alley, Li Jiaojiao’s legs went weak at the sight of corpses strewn across the narrow passage. As she fumbled along the wall, trying to steady herself, a pair of pale, slender, icy hands slipped around her waist and pulled her into an embrace. A clear, gentle voice said, “I listened to you and didn’t kill indiscriminately. They tried to kill me, so I fought back.”

Inside the carriage. The face that usually wore a gentle, harmless smile was now drained of color. Leaning against Li Jiaojiao’s arms, a fine sheen of sweat appeared on Duan Qinglian’s smooth forehead. To help Li Jiaojiao dispel the poison in her body, Duan Qinglian had broken a seal, and his fever wouldn’t subside. Li Jiaojiao felt sorry for him and tried to get up to fetch a blanket from under the seat, but a pale hand gripped her tightly. His voice, usually soft and warm, now carried a threat: “If you dare leave me, I’ll snap your neck right now.”