“Xiao Xiaoxin”
Bang bang bang.
In the middle of the night, someone knocked on Lin Du’s door.
Bai Li pricked up her ears and poked her head out from the sofa.
There were three more knocks on the door.
She shouted toward the kitchen, grabbed a blanket from the sofa, and scrambled to hide behind the couch.
Bai Li only left her eyes exposed, staring cautiously at the door.
“Lin Du!”
“What’s wrong?”
Hearing her voice, Lin Du walked out of the kitchen, wiping the water stains on his apron.
Bai Li crouched on the ground, shaking the dull-looking wristband on her wrist toward him, then nodded toward the door.
“Can you get the delivery for me?
I’m not in a good position to open the door right now…”
“Oh, got it.”
Lin Du nodded, quickly walked to the door, and pulled it open.
“Hello, your delivery.”
As soon as the door cracked open, the rider in a yellow vest handed a paper bag forward.
Lin Du reached out to take it, but the rider suddenly looked up, gave Lin Du a once-over, and furrowed his brow.
Then the rider leaned back, looked up at the doorframe as if confirming the house number.
“What’s wrong?
Is there a problem?” Lin Du asked.
“Ah.”
The rider snapped out of it and shook his head.
“No, nothing.
Here’s your food.
Please take it.”
“Thanks.”
The moment Lin Du took the bag, the rider turned and quickly went downstairs, as if avoiding a plague.
He paused at the corner, glanced back at Lin Du secretly, muttered something, and continued down.
Confused, Lin Du closed the door and looked down at the paper bag in his hand.
What was inside?
Why had the rider looked at him so strangely?
Could it be some weapon sent by a Strange Person?
He examined the item carefully—a white paper bag with neatly pressed edges and a silver cursive print of a brand name he’d never seen.
The bag wasn’t heavy; it felt light in his hand, and the contents were soft through the paper.
“Bai Li, what did you buy…?”
He said as he brought the bag up to his eyes.
“Don’t look!”
Bai Li jumped out from behind the sofa, pounced like a fox, grabbed the edges of the paper bag, and yanked it toward herself.
Riiip—!
Caught off guard, Lin Du instinctively tightened his grip on the handle.
The bag tore in the middle from the pull, letting out a crisp tearing sound.
The mouth of the bag split open, and a few bundles of white fabric wrapped in clear plastic tumbled out, landing softly on the sofa.
The living room fell silent instantly.
Bai Li stood frozen, still holding half the paper bag.
Lin Du lowered his head and looked at the white bundles on the sofa.
The plastic wrap was transparent—he could clearly see what was inside.
Lace trim, thin straps, and a little pink bow in the middle.
After staring for a moment, he realized something was wrong.
He looked up at Bai Li.
“Uwah…”
Bai Li’s face was already bright red.
Her lips moved, and indistinct sounds squeezed out of her throat.
She let go of the torn bag fragments, frantically gathered up the transparent plastic packages, and shoved them into her arms.
The plastic rustled in her hands; one packet slipped from her elbow and rolled to Lin Du’s feet.
Lin Du bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to her with his head turned.
“Th…thanks.”
Bai Li kept her head down, snatched it back, and together with the others in her arms, she turned and ran into the bathroom.
Her slippers slapped against the floor a few times, and the bathroom door slammed shut with a bang.
Lin Du stood in the entryway, still holding the other half of the paper bag.
Coming to his senses, he folded the fragment into a thin piece and tossed it, along with the piece Bai Li had left on the sofa, into the trash can.
Well, that makes sense.
I did wreck the place where she was staying before, and she ended up without clothes.
No wonder the rider gave me that look—the goods didn’t match the person.
He shook his head.
My occupational habit kicking in again.
I immediately think of Strange People whenever I notice something off.
Puff puff—!
The water on the stove in the kitchen had boiled over, the lid jumping gently from the steam.
Lin Du turned around, walked into the kitchen, and turned off the flame.
In the bathroom, Bai Li kept her head down, placing the plastic packages on the counter.
Her original undershirt was a bit torn, and the spare one had gone missing in the earlier fight at the house with the Blazing Knight.
She had only meant to buy two identical plain cotton undershirts.
But when she opened the app, she somehow clicked into a different category without realizing it.
By the time she snapped out of it, several of these items were already sitting in her cart.
Damn big data!
Bai Li lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror.
She tilted her face up, and the person in the mirror stared back.
Her slightly baby-fat cheeks lifted gently.
She spun around, tilted her head, then compared herself to the mop behind the door.
Have I grown taller?
Well, no, she hadn’t.
She tore open one of the plastic packages, ripped off the seal, and pulled out the fabric inside.
It was light as a feather and felt smooth like silk.
As she shook out the fabric, she mentally reviewed the plan.
I’ve handed the script off to Chi Yu.
Speaking of which, for a game NPC, he’s way too versatile.
Answers every question, and they’re actually detailed, like some kind of advanced AI.
But I’ve never heard of a game in this world being so immersive that NPCs feel like real people, blurring the line between reality and virtual.
Does Lin Du have some kind of mysterious trial version?
Or is it actually an online murder mystery game, with that so-called Chi Yu being a real person playing a role?
The script was settled.
Next came the props and stage.
Bai Li hung her old undershirt and short-sleeve on the towel rack, then slipped the thin fabric on.
She adjusted its position in front of the mirror.
In the mirror, the girl’s shoulders looked even more delicate, the lace at the collar like a ring of petals blooming along the curve of her collarbone.
She turned sideways, then back, her tail swaying gently behind her.
Bai Li bit her lip and pulled the straps up a little.
“Feels… not bad?”
She had to admit, this piece was much more comfortable and breathable.
But then she thought again—winter was fine, no one could tell.
But when summer came…
the thin short-sleeve would easily show what she was wearing underneath.
No, someone would definitely notice and start gossiping.
Bai Li shuddered slightly.
She sighed.
I’ll just buy two more undershirts later.
The impulse buy is fine, I’ll just wear them at home on weekends.
Bai Li unwrapped each new item one by one and rinsed them under the faucet.
Oh well.
The clear water washed over the lace and chiffon, carrying a faint scent of starch.
Before coming to this world, she hadn’t known that new underwear needed to be washed before wearing.
She only learned that later from someone—that not washing them could irritate the skin and cause allergies.
Bai Li wrung out the washed pieces, shook them out, and hung them on the towel rack.
She went back to thinking about the show.
The script was locked, so it was time for props and stage.
They’d need to build a set on stage that looked like the Demon King’s Castle, with the Hero’s Sword, the Demon King’s Staff, and maybe even a glowing magic circle if possible.
Commissioning someone to make all that would be far too expensive.
Bai Li twisted the faucet shut, flicked off the water droplets, and suddenly remembered something.
In the warehouse of the Starfall Society’s branch, there might be some unused stuff.
There was that Fishbowl Head who was good at illusions—he’d been caught the moment he crossed paths with the Blazing Knight.
His alchemy equipment was still piled up in the corner of the warehouse gathering dust.
Those devices could project images, which would be more than enough for the stage.
And not only that, but there were also those over-the-top decorative swords, beautiful wooden staffs…
All of those were handcrafted by Strange Person artisans, far superior to the fake weapons from the school’s prop room made of foam plastic and gold foil.
Bai Li’s eyes lit up.
Excited, she lifted her hand a little too high.
Splash—!
The undershirt and short-sleeve hanging on the towel rack were knocked off by her slap and fell into the basin of water in the sink.
Water splashed out, hitting her thigh.
Bai Li froze for a moment, then frantically fished the two pieces of clothing out of the water.
The undershirt and short-sleeve were soaked, water still dripping from the edges.
Her other clothes had only been washed this morning and were all hanging on the balcony to dry—not a single dry piece left.
Bai Li looked down at the new clothes she was wearing.
I can’t exactly go out in this.
Even if she trusted Lin Du as much as she did, she couldn’t just walk out like this.
She had been a guy before—she knew too well what guys were like.
No matter how honest and well-behaved they seemed on the surface, there was always a chain of rationality in their hearts.
And at the end of that chain was a beast.
Once they saw something, were stimulated by something, that beast would struggle desperately, trying to break the chain.
Reason held, but sometimes it slipped.
Bai Li bit her lip and stood at the bathroom door, listening to Lin Du’s footsteps in the living room.
Staying here isn’t a solution.
She took a deep breath, cracked the door open, and stuck her head out.
“Lin Du?”
Lin Du was facing away from her, standing by the kitchen counter, pouring warm milk into a cup.
He turned back and saw her little face in the crack.
“What is it?”
Bai Li swallowed and spoke slowly:
“Um… could you… lend me a piece of clothing…”