Lu Meng’s expression was a mix of shock and suspicion. She had read no fewer than a thousand transmigration novels and watched all the classic dramas—systems accompanying transmigration were practically a staple in early web novels!
She had thought as much—who would transmigrate without any memories of the original body?
A mechanical voice in her head, issuing tasks, a golden finger—wasn’t this the standard setup for a wish-fulfillment heroine?
After her initial shock and fear subsided, Lu Meng pushed aside Xiuli, who had rushed over in a panic when she suddenly leaped off the bed, asking what was wrong. She settled back onto the chaise lounge, accepted the tea Xiuli handed her, took a sip, and instead of immediately engaging with the system, began brainstorming wildly.
She thought of post-apocalyptic systems with farming and space abilities, where the protagonist could simply vanish inside and never come out. She recalled systems with shopping platforms and tasks—maybe she could tire of this world and move on to the next, achieving immortality. She even remembered one novel where the system provided heavy weaponry—landmines, rocket launchers, even depth charges—blowing up anything that displeased her. In this era of cold weapons, wouldn’t that make conquering the world a breeze?
At the very least, there should be some alluring perfume or something. With a system, victory was practically handed to her!
Lu Meng’s imagination ran wild. She envisioned herself becoming a martial arts master, scaling walls with ease. When that happened, how dare Wu Linxuan act like a dog? She’d crush his—
But before she could finish plotting her rise to power—debating whether her imperial harem should feature certain types of beauties or if she should just break the world and ascend to godhood—the mechanical voice spoke again.
"Host, hello. I am your system. Detecting excessive brain activity that may lead to self-inflicted idiocy. Please restrain yourself."
Lu Meng’s runaway thoughts screeched to a halt. She cleared her throat, then remembered that protagonists usually communicated with their systems mentally.
She tentatively thought, Hello! Can you tell me what functions you have? Why did you only show up now? Do you know I almost died because of the plot? Or do you have some life-saving mechanism that activates during emergencies?
"You’re overthinking it," the system replied in its emotionless tone. "As for what you were just imagining—"
Lu Meng held her breath, fingers trembling, the corners of her eyes flushed with excitement.
"—I have none of that."
Lu Meng: "..."
"I am a plot-correction system. No shopping platform, no golden fingers, no storage or production capabilities—nothing that would disrupt the world’s balance."
The system continued, "Of course, I won’t force you to complete tasks. My purpose is to ensure the smooth progression of the plot and the stable operation of this world. The main system has detected that certain classic lines must be delivered at key plot points. Your current line is: Wu Linxuan, you’re so cruel. The delivery window is ten days."
Lu Meng understood every word, yet none of it made sense.
Her heart sank. Slumping from her upright posture, she dismissed the maids with a wave before speaking aloud, "You call yourself a system with no functions at all?"
The system replied, "You can call me something else if you prefer."
Lu Meng: "...At least tell me there’s some life insurance?"
System: "That depends entirely on how tough you are."
Lu Meng: "What about protagonist halo?"
System: "No such thing."
Lu Meng: "You must have a plot summary, right?!"
System: "...Apologies. Data lost. Only some classic lines remain."
Lu Meng: "Then get lost. I don’t need a system."
System: "Understood."
And just like that, the system fell silent. Furious, Lu Meng got up, slipped on her shoes, and paced like an ant on a hot griddle.
But after a while, she tired herself out and retreated to her bed.
Why bother stressing? This system was as good as useless. At least there were no forced tasks. If the system didn’t care about her, why should she care about it?
Lu Meng reached acceptance quickly. At least she now knew Wu Linxuan’s full name.
Still, the "classic line" the system mentioned jogged her memory. It was what Zhangsun Lumeng had said to Wu Linxuan after he killed Yuehui—her first outburst, tearing at his clothes before collapsing.
That was also the first time Wu Linxuan carried her back to her secluded courtyard, marking the beginning of their anguished love story.
Early male leads all shared the same quirk—they hated physical contact. If one ever held someone, the entire book would harp on how special that person was.
He was willing to touch her—how extraordinary!
Lu Meng sighed. Back when she first read stories like this, she’d been young and impressionable, thinking such behavior was cool.
But now, faced with this plot and a useless system, she had to figure things out herself.
As her maids helped her wash up, Lu Meng realized her situation was different from Zhangsun Lumeng’s.
If she dragged Yuehui inside to tend his wounds now, it would be a very public scene.
Besides, Lu Meng didn’t know the first thing about this world’s medicine.
What if she just… ignored him?
Would the male lead’s personal guard really drop dead outside her door? She refused to believe it.
Despite her fondness for Yuehui’s character, for the sake of both their lives, Lu Meng decided to do nothing.
She went to bed early, instructing the maids to seal the windows tight—no bloodstained groans would disturb her tonight.
Lu Meng slept soundly. The next morning, refreshed, she pushed open her door to breathe in the crisp dawn air—only to remember Yuehui was still standing guard.
Mid-yawn, she noticed him swaying unsteadily. A bad feeling struck.
She spun around to flee, faster than a rabbit, but the weight of the plot crushed her efforts.
Before she could take a step, the towering man collapsed forward—right on top of her.
Stars exploded in Lu Meng’s vision—not from the sight of Yuehui’s strikingly handsome face (his mask had slipped off), but because the back of her head had smacked the ground.
Terror seized her. Head injuries were no joke! In an era where even a cold could kill, how would she treat a concussion?!
Then, as if resurrected, the system chimed in: "Relax, host. I scanned you. Your skull’s thick enough."
Lu Meng: "..."
Dizzy, she heard her maids shrieking as they rushed over, trying to haul Yuehui off her.
But their strength was no match for his dead weight. Halfway through, they lost their grip—and Yuehui’s face plummeted back down, his teeth sinking into Lu Meng’s neck.
Yowch! She flinched.
This guy had quite the bite.
After finally managing to push Yuehui off, Lu Meng was helped up by her maids, her mind still filled with the image of that unruly, shameless dog Wu Linxuan.
"Go, Xin Ya, fetch the physician," Lu Meng said, feeling the warmth from Yuehui's body where he had fallen on her—now gone cold. Once the dizziness faded, her hands trembled with fear.
If not for the faint breath still lingering, Lu Meng would have thought she'd let this cannon-fodder male supporting character die right then and there!
Her courage was nothing extraordinary—just that of an average person. She had never seen a dead body in her life. The most terrifying experience she'd had was witnessing a car accident from afar, catching only glimpses of the crowd gathered around, yet even that had left her legs weak.
If Yuehui had truly died at her doorstep, collapsing onto her because she refused to follow the plot, Lu Meng knew she shouldn’t blame herself—his fate was sealed regardless—but she doubted she could shake off the guilt anytime soon.
Lu Meng ordered Yuehui carried to the servants' quarters for treatment, then found herself too shaken to eat more than a few bites of breakfast. She vaguely recalled reading somewhere that in this world, nothing truly mattered except life and death.
Faced with such stakes, Lu Meng adopted an unprecedented level of seriousness. She not only summoned a physician but also sent Xin Ya to check on Yuehui twice, ensuring he was alive and not completely cold before she finally relaxed.
In fact, Yuehui’s physique was so robust that despite standing all night with severe injuries, he didn’t even develop a fever—just fell into a deep sleep.
Only then did Lu Meng remember the system’s abrupt remark earlier that morning, calling her "hard-headed."
With little hope, she called out to it in her mind: "Can you, by any chance, diagnose illnesses?"
System: "No."
Lu Meng: "...Then how did you know I didn’t have a concussion?"
System: "I can detect the host’s vital signs, but I cannot interfere or provide treatment."
Strangely, Lu Meng felt somewhat relieved.
"Well, that’s still a minor skill..." She sat on the reclining couch, watching through the open window as the physician was escorted out by her maids. Thinking of Yuehui, she asked, "What happens if I don’t recite those classic lines you mentioned?"
System: "No punishment. If you don’t say the lines within the allotted time, you’ll temporarily lose the ability to speak anything else."
"I’d go mute?" Lu Meng was horrified.
System: "Not exactly. You’ll regain speech once you say the lines."
Only then did Lu Meng feel at ease. She tried discussing the plot with the system, only to realize it knew even less than she did—it was purely a slacker system, cobbling together a few classic lines to trick the main system into thinking everything was running smoothly!
Lu Meng felt she had uncovered the system’s weakness and threatened, "You’d better give me some cheat abilities, or I’ll report you!"
System: "Don’t bother. You have no way to report me."
Lu Meng choked, then huffed, "Then I’ll wreck the plot, like last night! The main system will realize you’re slacking off!"
System: "...Host, are you truly unhappy in this world? Do you really have nothing you care about?"
System: "If the main system destroys me, you won’t survive either."
Lu Meng immediately fell silent. With several chests of gold, silver, and jewels now in her possession, how could she not care? She was living her best life in this world!
Her eyes darted around before she finally relented. "Fine, go away. Don’t let me see you again, you useless thing!"
System: "Understood."
With that, the system went completely offline, ignoring all further calls.
Yuehui, fortunately, recovered. After waking, he reported to the guards before personally coming to thank Lu Meng—and stubbornly insisting on being punished.
Lu Meng had only read about "prostrating oneself with a rod for punishment" in idioms, but Yuehui delivered a live demonstration.
A battle-scarred, devastatingly handsome bodyguard with well-defined pectorals, kneeling with thorny vines on his back, begging to be whipped.
Lu Meng nearly spurted nose blood, thankful she’d been drinking plenty of cooling herbal soups lately.
She didn’t even dare let him past the outer chamber door. He knelt in the courtyard while Lu Meng peeked through the window, wiping imaginary nosebleeds as she sent Xin Ya to shoo him away.
Such a fuss over nothing!
But sometimes, the plot was inescapable. Yuehui, more stubborn than a door hinge, believed collapsing onto Lu Meng was an act of disrespect—not only did he demand she whip him, but afterward, he insisted on prostrating himself before Wu Linxuan to atone.
Hearing this, Lu Meng nearly lost her mind.
Brother, what are you doing?
This is repaying kindness with enmity!
Are you trying to stir up drama, determined to drag me into a scandal?
