Chapter 32 - The Violet Omen and the System's Retribution
The transition from a world of slimes and stone statues back to the sterile reality of her primary residence was always a disorienting blur of sensory deprivation. One moment, Que Tang had been a cold, calcified monument to a tragic hidden ending, her consciousness drifting in the void; the next, the familiar, expensive scent of her high-end apartment flooded her lungs. The "Hidden Ending" notification still flickered in the periphery of her vision—*“Stay with me, or I shall go with you”*—a bittersweet sentiment that had earned her a staggering five thousand points, yet left her with a lingering, throbbing headache.
She did not wait for the system’s congratulatory chime to conclude its digital fanfare. Her eyes, sharp with a volatile mixture of exhaustion and simmering resentment, locked onto the floating black furball known as Xiao Xianggu. The cat let out a cheerful, rhythmic "Meow~", its tail swishing with the smug satisfaction of a job well done. It likely expected a reward, perhaps a premium serving of dried small fish, for the successful collection of the soul fragment.
Instead, it met the icy, unblinking gaze of a woman who had reached her absolute limit with "idiot-style" plots and nonsensical sacrifices.
Que Tang moved with the practiced, clinical efficiency of a high-level manager handling a corporate crisis. Without uttering a single word, she rummaged through a mahogany drawer, producing a roll of heavy-duty industrial packing tape. The harsh, screeching sound of the adhesive tearing—*skreeeee*—echoed through the quiet living room like a declaration of war.
Before the system cat could process the threat or activate its defensive protocols, Que Tang had its paws bound. Front to front, back to back, the creature was rendered a helpless bundle of fur. To ensure total silence, she slapped a final strip of tape over its mouth in a perfect, mocking 'X'. Not satisfied with mere binding, she found a length of sturdy twine and lashed the cat to the rotating mobile of a nearby baby stroller—the very one housing her current cultivation target.
"Mianmian, look. I’ve brought you a new toy. A special, interactive kitty," Que Tang murmured, her voice dropping into a deceptively sweet coo as she reached into the stroller.
Ruan Mianmian, the infant center of this *7D Beauty Dreamland* mission, looked up with wide, sparkling eyes. Seeing her guardian, she let out a delighted gurgle and reached out her tiny, chubby hands, immediately latching onto Xiao Xianggu’s whiskers with a surprisingly firm grip.
"Mmph! Mmm-ph!" Xiao Xianggu’s eyes welled with tears as it swung helplessly from the mobile, its dignity discarded along with its mobility.
"I won't let you off so easily this time," Que Tang whispered, her shadow looming over the bound cat. "Mianmian, keep playing. Don't let the kitty get away."
She leaned down to kiss the child’s forehead, but as she did, her movements froze. Her breath hitched in her throat. There, amidst the soft, downy hair of the infant, was a streak of color that shouldn't have been there. She reached out with a trembling finger, parting the locks to reveal a distinct, vibrant tuft of violet hair.
Que Tang’s brow furrowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn't a mere aesthetic quirk. In the vast, convoluted multiverse of her missions, that specific shade of purple was a harbinger of chaos. It was a color she had only ever seen on *her*—the one whose name she dared not speak, the "Three-No" girl with the fractured soul who had become the deepest, darkest shadow in Que Tang’s memories.
The trauma of Himiko and her various incarnations—Toyosuki-iri-hime-no-mikoto and the rest—surfaced like a cold tide.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly from domestic comedy to a tense interrogation. Que Tang reached over and flicked off the overhead lights, leaving the room in shadows. She grabbed a high-intensity desk lamp and angled the harsh, white beam directly into the cat’s teary eyes. With a swift, merciless motion, she ripped the tape from Xiao Xianggu’s mouth, ignoring the tuft of fur that came with it.
"Explain," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Why is Ruan Mianmian’s hair turning purple? That color belongs to a very specific, very dangerous variable!"
"Meow-ouch! Host, mercy!" Xiao Xianggu wailed, its voice cracking. "It’s just the game mechanics! This is a *7D Beauty Dreamland* cultivation quest, and the engine is based on the classic *Princess Maker* logic! In those old-school Western-style simulations, children often have fantastical hair colors. Purple is perfectly normal for a high-potential protagonist! It’s just a random aesthetic proc, I swear on my meow-integrity!"
"Liar!" Que Tang barked, turning Mianmian around so the child was face-to-face with the cat.
The baby, oblivious to the existential dread gripping her guardian, simply laughed and lunged for the cat’s ears again. "Meow... Meow..." Mianmian mimicked, her tiny voice chirping with a chillingly familiar cadence that sent shivers down Que Tang’s spine.
GLOSSARY OF NEW TERMS:
Chinese | English | Notes
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三无 | Three-No | Refers to "No expression, no feelings, no words" (Kuudere).
精分 | Split-personality | Short for "Schizophrenia," used in web novels to describe characters with multiple souls or personalities.
美少女梦工厂 | Princess Maker | A classic life simulation game series that influenced the "cultivation" genre.
