Did I Succeed in Redeeming the Villain Today? - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: “It Belongs to You Now.”

Mu Qiuyu hung a bit of bait on her fishing rod, and Lu Ning took it hook, line, and sinker.

This was a rare opportunity to understand Mu Qiuyu; how could Lu Ning possibly refuse? Originally, she had been worrying about how to make use of the agreement to “tell one story about Mu Qiuyu” per meeting. In her original world, Lu Ning had only seen a few brief lines describing Mu Qiuyu’s past.

The topic Mu Qiuyu brought up was perfect—inferring the “terrible things” in Mu Qiuyu’s memory covered a wide range and provided more clues at once.

“Go ahead,” Lu Ning said with a nod.

Mu Qiuyu smiled contentedly, gently swirling her cup. “This world reflects her emotional state. The details manifested here are mappings of things that left a deep impression on her, just as my presence here represents all the beautiful emotions she has suppressed.”

“But you said you felt the ruins over there looked like the factory you visited today…” Mu Qiuyu paused. She seemed to be implying something, or perhaps she was searching for words as she looked at Lu Ning. “But since she had never been to that place before, why was it ‘terrible’?”

“Yeah,” Lu Ning agreed, but then her gaze froze as realization dawned.

The current Mu Qiuyu had never been there. But the Mu Qiuyu in the original novel had.

Perhaps Mu Qiuyu’s Inner World was linked to the original plot? Those ruins represented the terrible things she was supposed to experience. Because Lu Ning had blundered into helping her avoid that encounter, the ruins had failed to materialize and vanished.

Lu Ning looked toward the land now covered in Timothy grass. A hazy mist shrouded the vast world. The moon remained a crescent, its jagged half-face staring down at the dark, damp forest.

Suddenly, she had an epiphany. Perhaps her role as a “gardener” reshaping the ecology of this world was meant on a psychological level. She wasn’t just planting flowers; she had to guide Mu Qiuyu like a mentor, preventing her future from becoming the tragedy written in the book—clearing away the lingering shadows of the original plot.

As Lu Ning’s eyes grew clear and determined, Mu Qiuyu watched her quietly from across the table. Then, she spoke: “I have a fairy tale. It left a deep impression on me—one I can’t forget even if I wanted to. Do you want to hear it?”

“Does it count as our ‘one story’ about Mu Qiuyu?” Lu Ning asked cautiously.

Mu Qiuyu chuckled softly. She really liked the word “our.” She shook her head. “Consider it a gift—a topic for our afternoon tea.”

Hearing this, Lu Ning decided instantly: “Yes!”

A story that left a deep impression on this Mu Qiuyu surely left one on the outside Mu Qiuyu as well. If she “accidentally” mentioned it one day, the outside Mu Qiuyu might think they shared the same taste, closing the distance between them.

“Then drink your tea slowly, and I’ll tell it to you.” Mu Qiuyu smiled and refilled Lu Ning’s cup.

White steam billowed, and the girl’s voice intertwined with the sound of pouring tea. The heat weighed down her slow, deliberate tone, landing heavily on the ground with the weight of reality.

“Once upon a time, there was a little hedgehog living in a forest. She had a mother and a father who loved her very much. Life in the forest was dangerous, but as long as she was with them, she would eat round apples and dusty mushrooms every day, returning home with fruit stuck to her quills.”

“Until one day, while picking mushrooms, she fell into a hunter’s trap.” Mu Qiuyu took a sip of tea. As she mentioned the “hunter,” her eyes flickered toward Lu Ning before dropping back to her cup.

“The hunter didn’t like hedgehogs and wanted to feed her to his hounds. The little hedgehog was terrified; she curled into a ball, and her quills hurt the hounds’ mouths. The hunter thought it was interesting, so he kept her, intending to return her once her wounds healed.”

“The hunter’s cabin had no apples or wild mushrooms. The hedgehog’s quills only made the puppy whimper in pain, but she was still very happy. Why? Because the hunter had nimble fingers and would scratch her back. In the winter, humans burned wood in the house, so there were no cold winds, and the little hedgehog felt warm all over.”

Mu Qiuyu’s voice was clean and clear, easily pulling the listener into the story. Lu Ning sipped the milk tea along with Mu Qiuyu’s gentle voice. A warm current surged into her heart, making her feel as warm as the little hedgehog.

Lu Ning bit into a pearl that had escaped into her mouth, its dense sweetness exploding. Then, she seemed to think of something; her eyes, washed by the steam, sparkled as she looked at Mu Qiuyu. “She likes fluffy things, but do you prefer prickly ones instead?”

Mu Qiuyu was stunned, not expecting Lu Ning to notice that. She had indeed chosen a hedgehog as the protagonist because she liked them.

“You are very observant,” Mu Qiuyu nodded. The hot tea through the cup warmed her palms, a rare comfort for her body.

“Of course.” Lu Ning didn’t hide it, tilting her chin up with a proud smile. Still immersed in the tale, she pressed: “And then?”

“Did the hedgehog and the hunter live happily ever after?”

Looking at Lu Ning’s shining eyes, Mu Qiuyu shook her head. “When winter passed, the hedgehog’s wounds healed, and the hunter returned her to the thicket where he found her.”

“The hedgehog returned to her world, only to have her mother tell her that her father had been taken by a big brown bear. Her mother went to save him and disappeared as well.”

“The little hedgehog was left alone, foraging in the forest and fighting for survival against a cunning pair of foxes. She forgot the happy times with the hunter and finally died in the snowy ground surrounded by the thicket on a freezing night.”

The cold winter wind extinguished the fire in Lu Ning’s heart; the story had taken a sharp turn for the worse. No matter how gentle Mu Qiuyu’s voice was, the freezing snow made her tone cold.

“How could it end like that?” Lu Ning couldn’t understand; her mood plummeted. No wonder Mu Qiuyu found it unforgettable—even Lu Ning wouldn’t be able to forget it now. This wasn’t a fairy tale at all!

Just as Lu Ning’s rebellious spirit rose to argue the definition of a “fairy tale,” Mu Qiuyu said: “Not every encounter is the beginning of a story. The hunter was just a brief interlude in the hedgehog’s short life.”

“And because it was one of her few good memories, it became the hedgehog’s fairy tale.”

Lu Ning fell silent. She couldn’t argue; she just felt pity for the hedgehog. “If only the hunter had taken her home when he left, her fairy tale would have been longer.”

“Yes,” Mu Qiuyu nodded. The steam from the tea drifted across her face. She looked up through the mist at Lu Ning. “Why didn’t he take her home?”

“Maybe there will be a little hedgehog here in the future.” Lu Ning rested her chin on her hand, looking out at the world beyond the white light.

Hearing this, Mu Qiuyu’s eyes lit up. “You want to raise a hedgehog?”

“If this place can have them, it wouldn’t be bad.” Lu Ning thought for a moment and shared her ideas. “I mainly think a standard of a good environment is signs of biological activity. Hedgehogs are generally adaptable; they can turn the soil, eat pests, and enrich the food chain here. The richer the food chain, the better the ecology.”

As Mu Qiuyu listened to Lu Ning’s serious analysis, her eyes dimmed slightly. Lu Ning didn’t notice the change; she looked down at the watch on her wrist.

It was $1:25text{ AM}$ in the outside world. There were less than five hours until sunrise—time was running out.

Realizing this, Lu Ning finished the milk tea Mu Qiuyu had poured. “I can’t chat anymore. I need to inspect the Timothy grass to see if I can plant flowers. Thanks for the milk tea; let’s talk more next time!”

In a hurry, Lu Ning rushed outside after speaking. The white light swallowed her silhouette, gradually erasing her from the space. Mu Qiuyu watched Lu Ning run away; the chains rattled as she moved.

She wanted to go out with Lu Ning—to see how she inspected the land, how she weeded and planted flowers. But the chains gripped her ankles tightly. She could only stand in her light, watching the person disappear.

Lu Ning’s departure seemed to take everything in the space with it. The garden table carrying the tea set vanished from Mu Qiuyu’s side, and the empty bed crumbled into dust. A breeze blew, leaving nothing but an excessively clean white void.

The leaves rustled, and the flowers that had been blooming so vibrantly withered, as if they had completed a full cycle in a fleeting moment. Mu Qiuyu sat quietly, guarding the empty land.

She said they would talk next time. But she didn’t know how long she would have to wait for “next time.”

The girl silently raised her hand and clutched her chest. Thinking of something, a bit of pleasure slowly filled her downcast eyes.

You’ve gone to plant flowers.

You are waiting outside too, aren’t you?

The streets in the early morning were silent as the bustling city entered hibernation. The pet hospital sign was dark, but the interior was brightly lit. Blue and red lights flashed across the large glass window as a police car drove away. The night wind rustled the leaves of the roadside trees, scattering the smoke curling around a person’s fingers.

Mu Jingqin went out to see off the police who had recorded the case. She leaned against a tree that caught her eye. As the guardian, she had been staying by Mu Qiuyu’s side. But she hated the smell of hospitals; once the police were done questioning, she lit a cigarette outside.

Gray smoke was slowly exhaled, vanishing into the wind. Mu Jingqin took a casual puff and looked indifferently into the transparent pet ward. She saw her niece sitting quietly inside, watching the “rag-doll” cat lying in the compartment.

The kitten had been cleaned up, but its tail and front leg were in casts. It hadn’t woken up and wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. As a vessel for the System, it lay in the hard compartment. The nearby equipment beeped slowly and steadily; all its vitals were very low.

Mu Qiuyu knew better than anyone that a System wouldn’t die just like that. As long as Lu Ning wanted, she could change bodies after repairing herself—she could even look exactly like this kitten.

But Mu Qiuyu wanted this kitten.

The girl knelt before the equipment, her calm eyes staring at the monitor data. She thought if she had enough points now, she could exchange for items, or even rewrite the plot to make the cat recover completely.

In the silent night, Mu Qiuyu heard the sound of desire prying open the soil to grow. She saw clearly that she had stepped into the trap meticulously laid by the System.

And yet. She was willing.

“Little girl, have some water.” Just then, the doctor handed Mu Qiuyu a cup.

“Thank you.” Mu Qiuyu took the water and thanked her softly.

“It will get better.” The doctor looked at Mu Qiuyu guarding the kitten, her gaze firm. She knew better than anyone how bad the kitten’s condition was, yet she was glad it had such a good owner. She placed her hands on Mu Qiuyu’s shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. “We’ll work hard together. As long as you don’t give up, we won’t give up either.”

When all available methods are exhausted, the only thing left is not to give up. Mu Qiuyu didn’t like this kind of meaningless encouragement. In the past, whenever her subordinates said such things, she would scold them coldly. But this time, she moved her lips and didn’t argue.

The warm water slowly transferred its temperature to the girl kneeling before the compartment. Her legs were getting tired, so she shifted her posture.

Tinkle.

In the silence, a faint bell sound rang from her school uniform pocket. Mu Qiuyu paused and took out the small gold lock Lu Ning had fought to get back for her. The gold lock was stained with flecks of blood that hadn’t been wiped clean—a lingering tremor after a thrilling ordeal.

Mu Qiuyu traced the lines of the bloodstains; memories drifted back.

“The elders of the past were always worried that children’s lives were fragile, so they used a lock to secure their lives, seeking safety and longevity. Mama hopes our Little Qiu will also be safe and live long, and that everything goes your way.”

Mu Jingyi’s gentle voice rang in her ears. Mu Qiuyu stared at the gold lock for a long time. Making a decision, she suddenly stood up and opened the door to the pet ward compartment.

The thin gold chain drew a circle around the kitten’s neck. Mu Qiuyu placed the gold lock on the kitten.

“It’s yours now,” she said.

But it was as if she were also saying: “Wake up soon.”

Support