After Backstabbing The Villain, The System Allowed Me To Enter The Book Again - Chapter 13
Upon hearing this, Fang Xiaozheng quickly tugged at her twin tails, still chewing on a chip: “Let’s go—don’t get in the way of Xin-jie handling things.”
“Xin-jie,” Shen Chumo asked, puzzled, “why did they leave?”
“They had things to do. Do you want some?” Shen Huai Xin pushed all the snacks toward Shen Chumo. “Eat up before we head out.”
[Plot deviation value -2, current value 91. (Conclusion: Continue developing, small world collapse imminent)]
Shen Chumo stared at the snacks, picked up a corn stick coated in pink chocolate, popped it into his mouth, tore open a pudding, and opened an unopened mousse, shoving everything in at once. Shen Huai Xin turned her head, unwilling to watch.
“They’re all my favorites—thanks,” he said.
“You never have things you don’t like,” she replied.
Shen Chumo didn’t mind. He grabbed a piece of tissue to wipe his mouth. “It looks nice over there. Want to take a walk?”
Shen Huai Xin followed the direction he indicated, her heart sinking. She felt the invisible pull of the narrative, as if an invisible net was suffocating her.
She had never harmed anyone. The white lion cat in her rented apartment had been found on the street, filthy and with skin issues—there was no way to tell it was a white cat at first. Yet now, she was supposed to let someone fall into the water with her own hands—a moral line hard to cross for a 21st-century citizen with a basic education.
[System reminds again, in a somewhat coercive tone: Host, upon completion, there’s a full ten million reward. You can endure a bit.]
[Shen Huai Xin: I know. I understand the reasoning.]
“What’s wrong?” Shen Chumo noticed her unease.
Shen Huai Xin shrugged. “Nothing, just in a bad mood—maybe because you came.”
Shen Chumo ignored the latter half and suggested, “Singing could help. You always feel better after singing.”
Shen Huai Xin was taken aback and stayed silent.
In the book, Shen Chumo’s fall into the river is described like this:
The river’s surface was calm, but undercurrents raged. Tangled in countless supple water plants, he experienced repeated near-death moments. Upon each revival, his powers erupted, cursed black energy like hellfire burning through his ankle chains. His pupils turned pitch-black, towering like a deep-sea leviathan, cold and proud as he looked down upon the world.
This marked Shen Chumo’s first awakening.
Reading this, Shen Huai Xin thought it merciful that the original character hadn’t been killed on the spot, especially the revival point at the riverbed—it reminded her of the frustration of losing the only saved file in a game.
She stood up, distracted, and followed Shen Chumo, her steps growing heavier, leaving long, bare marks on the grass.
The dense forest offered excellent cover. A gust of wind blew, maple leaves drifting across Shen Chumo’s fragile, pale neck, carrying an unspoken sense of menace. The red maples rustled, and Shen Huai Xin’s palms grew sweaty as she observed the river, frantically typing on her phone.
Shen Huai Xin: Wang, weren’t there supposed to be safety measures? Barriers, lifeguards, floatation rings, warning signs—where are they?
Wang: Miss Shen, don’t joke. No need to rush; there haven’t been accidents here.
Shen Huai Xin looked up at the sky.
Shen Chumo picked up a stone from the ground, innocently: “Wanna try skipping stones? I saw it on TV dramas.”
“….”
Shen Huai Xin had no mood for skipping stones. Her fingers turned pale on her phone. She glanced around, hoping someone might help, but the area was deserted, and the students’ noise had vanished.
Plot kill incoming.
[System: Host, what are you hesitating for? Shen Chumo needs to awaken his powers; the plot must continue.]
[Shen Huai Xin: Can’t we do something else? Extreme sports, roller coasters, or a telecom scam leaving him in debt—equally thrilling.]
[System remains silent for a moment: Yellow card warning.]
Shen Huai Xin shivered. She instinctively reached toward Shen Chumo’s back, who was still awkwardly trying to skip stones.
The boy’s body, clad in a brown leather jacket over a sweater, appeared lean and tall, almost tree-like, blending seamlessly with the surroundings.
Grinding her teeth, Shen Huai Xin felt her conscience press down like a vice.
Her trembling hand drew closer, but Shen Chumo remained oblivious, watching the ripples form on the water. She steeled herself, withdrawing her hand.
[Shen Huai Xin: I can’t do it.]
She closed her eyes, tense, bracing for the system’s punishment. Suddenly, a splash sounded—Shen Chumo had fallen into the river.
[Shen Huai Xin: ? I didn’t even touch him. God, save him!]
[System: Be thankful he stumbled himself; otherwise, you’d be punished.]
“Splash—” Shen Huai Xin plunged into the river.
Without time to think, she relied on the swimming skills she hadn’t lost since childhood, desperately heading toward Shen Chumo.
Shen Chumo choked on water, memories from a dream flashing through his mind.
In the dream, his last sight before falling in was a girl’s outstretched hand. Then the current swallowed him. A voice, cold and distant, deeper than his own, echoed—ominous as eternal ice from the far north, authoritative and hypnotic, like speaking through a crack in the gates of hell.
It said: “You will not die. You will gain the power to destroy the world. You must fall into the water.”
It continued: “You must see the true nature of humans—they are shameless, evil, and pitiful. No one treats you sincerely, not even your ‘sister.’”
“I won’t listen to you!” he shouted, resisting with all his might. “You lie!”
“You know whether I lie or not.”
“No—you are a demon! I won’t be swayed by you!”
The voice paused. “Shen Chumo, the demon is you.”
Now at the riverbank, he realized that his foot had stepped forward, bewitched, into the exact river from his dream—the one that had drowned him before. Previously, something had obscured his vision, leaving him unaware and unguarded.
Was the dream real? A malicious prophecy? Or a predestined outcome?
Raging currents forced water into his mouth and nose. Noise rang in his ears like static from an old TV. Yet he sensed another splash nearby. Moments later—or perhaps only instants—something grasped him tightly.
Shen Chumo knew it was water plants, just as in the prophecy. But why were they wrapping his arms first instead of his legs?
“Hold on—”
A girl’s voice called nearby—not from the shore, but close.
Shen Chumo shuddered, finally seeing her face above the water. Soaked, her once-perfect makeup gone, hair plastered to her face, she looked nothing like the confident figure from his dream—only red-rimmed eyes, filled with worry.
Who was she worried for? Shen Chumo didn’t understand.
A wave hit, making her shiver violently. He could hear her coughing and struggling. The trembling of her fingers, transmitted through the arm he grasped, was intense. Waves of undercurrents attacked her frail body.
In the dream, he couldn’t reach this reality. Here, it felt like his heart was being squeezed.
The voice had promised he would not die.
But she might.
Risking her life to save someone immortal—this was too uneven a bargain, hardly worth it. If he died, her benefit would be maximized.
The grip on his arm loosened. Shen Chumo saw her eyes close, seemingly unconscious, drifting with the water. As her hand slipped from her sleeve, he clasped it in his own, fingers interlocking tightly.
…If he didn’t act, she would die.
He pulled her into his chest, keeping her nose above water, straining every muscle to swim toward the shore. Breathless, unaware of technique, he could only rely on sheer force.
Waves crashed over him. He was submerged again, but his hands never let go of Shen Huai Xin. His only thought: She must survive!
Suddenly, an unknown force surged from within him. His hands grew strong enough to easily lift her, swimming toward the shore. He didn’t notice the ink-like trails left behind in the water, disappearing like spilled ink.
Shen Huai Xin thought, if she drowned, it would be a wrongful death.
Her rescue had been deemed a major OOC violation, triggering a heavy electric shock, knocking her unconscious despite her excellent swimming ability, rendering her useless and a liability.
The suffocating pain was unbearable—chest pressed under an invisible weight, darkness overwhelming, despair and fear reaching unprecedented levels.
When she finally opened her eyes, a handsome face loomed close. His lips drew near, eyebrows furrowed, no trace of mockery.
“Cough…” she turned her face, coughing heavily.
With her actions, the warmth on her chest vanished. She gasped, struggling for air, too focused to care where his chest pressed, simply cherishing the fresh breath she’d earned.
[Plot deviation value -23, current value 68. (Conclusion: Survival or destruction, that is the question. Host, continue to strive.)]