Chapter 75, Chapter Twenty-Two: The Fantasy Mansion
Just like when the ghost story began, all the corpses produced on the day of the assessment disappeared the following day without leaving any trace.
At this rate, the victims of this round are very likely to reappear in the form of zombies on the next assessment day. And this time, their numbers are more than double those of the previous round.
"Wen Ting..."
Wen Ting slapped away the hand that was trying to touch her.
She was sitting in the director's office, holding the director's tablet that she had been curious about.
As expected, all the OA failure charts were submitted to the director.
"Are you still angry?"
A handsome and noble face appeared next to the tablet, a face with more youthful vigor than the Gong Baidie painted by Wen Ting.
He painted himself to be more indifferent and younger.
Gong Baidie knelt down in front of Wen Ting, no longer in her usual submissive kneeling posture.
Whether he was squatting or kneeling, whether he was Gong Feibai or Gong Baidie, his back was always straight.
Just like his body softening in the kiss, despite his seemingly transformed appearance, he hasn't lost any of his core essence.
He wanted to get rid of her persona, but he couldn't get rid of it completely.
Because of this, Wen Ting risked choosing the most unreliable method—using love to protect herself.
This outrageous method actually worked.
Even after she exposed Gong Baidie's true identity, he still didn't break off relations with her.
He certainly hadn't fallen in love. She guessed he was a little confused, a little surprised, and curious to see what else she could do.
Then she let him see it.
"Why are you angry?"
"What do you think?" Wen Ting browsed through the various modules of Gong Baidie's OA system, checking the director's permissions.
Gong Baidie tilted her head. "I don't understand."
"Don't you understand?" Wen Ting glanced at him briefly, and he did look confused.
Feudal precepts were etched deep in his soul, and he no longer wanted to compete for favor or be jealous, yet he had not yet realized that jealousy between lovers was a reasonable and normal emotion.
No one enlightened Gong Baidie; he relied solely on his own struggle against the established rules to achieve only a superficial, bewildered awakening.
This might not be a bad thing for Wen Ting; she could take this opportunity to instill in him ideas that were beneficial to her and elevate her "love" for him.
Putting down the tablet, Wen Ting faced Gong Baidie with a serious look in her eyes: "Xiao Bai, do you remember, when we first met here, you asked me about Yun Heli's game progress?"
"Xiaobai" is a brand new name, and Gong Baidie understands the meaning behind it.
She was perceptive and quickly noticed something in his new name, and never called him "White Butterfly" or "Butterfly" again.
"Although I am a game character designer, all the other games I've played over the years, apart from you, have only been for work purposes."
She patted his cheeks with both hands, squeezing them inwards. "I can interact with, date, and even marry game characters, but real men are different."
Gong Feibai removed one of her hands, not indulging in sweet words, and asked, "I don't understand, what's the difference?"
As she said, she could force herself to flirt with game characters for profit, and she could also force herself to recruit Max to survive.
They all profit from emotions; they're all things that can be discarded after being used.
“I didn’t know the characters could have life. In my eyes, they are just code and data, a book, a document,” Wen Ting said. “If they were all alive, and my job required me to understand their love patterns, then I would only interview them, not hide it and fall in love with and marry them.”
"If I absolutely have to rely on dating to get this money—"
She held Gong Baidie's head and rubbed it unhappily, "If I were that kind of person, I would have been married long ago. Don't think that no rich young men are pursuing me."
Gong Baidie's eyes flickered slightly.
It was the truth; Wen Ting's words were flawless, yet he dared not believe it, nor did he want to believe it—
It really is him.
She had clearly left him, handing over all his original artwork in exchange for a piece of paper promising not to produce or publish any content related to "Gong Baidie" on any platform, organization, or institution in the future.
Over the years, the name "Gong Baidie" has never appeared in her search history. Apart from the game program she runs every day, Gong Baidie can't find any evidence that Wen Ting cares about him.
But what she said was all true.
She never married, and had relationships with two wealthy young men before quickly breaking up with them.
She never forgot him. The game program ran 24 hours a day, and she would log in almost every day to touch him and send him a love gift box.
He didn't understand what Wen Ting was thinking.
She spoke to him less and less, and what she said became increasingly brief and disjointed, unlike when she was still in Wanluo, chattering away about everything.
He drifted further and further away from her life and understood less and less about her heart.
"Really?" For example, at this moment, he did not understand her sudden infatuation with him; he only knew that his peak performance was not even one-tenth of Zhaoxia's or Yunheli's.
Wen Ting didn't answer. She squeezed his face and lowered her head to kiss his forehead.
A strand of soft hair slipped off her shoulder, coolly covering Gong Baidie's face and brushing against the butterfly pattern hidden under his left eye.
Gong Baidie recalled their first meeting, when she bent over to operate the computer in front of him, her hair slipping off her shoulders, carrying a frivolous and dissolute fragrance.
Her Adam's apple bobbed twice, and Gong Baidie stroked the back of her hand before closing her eyes.
“I have no doubt about your abilities,” he said beneath her lips. “I know you are not a woman who needs to rely on a man.”
Soft lips left his brow.
"You think I'm angry because you underestimate me?" Wen Ting raised an eyebrow.
A look of confusion appeared in Gong Baidie's eyes.
She said she wouldn't marry a man for money. Doesn't that mean she feels ashamed to rely on a man?
"No!" Wen Ting slapped his cheeks with both hands. "I'm angry because you're not cute."
"What?" Gong Baidie asked in astonishment.
“I’ve taught you—be a little coquettish, Xiaobai.” Wen Ting blinked. “I don’t need your understanding or your apology. Any unhappiness between husband and wife can be resolved by being coquettish.”
"I have nothing to be unhappy about."
"Are you serious?" Wen Ting asked in surprise. "When another man confesses his feelings to your fiancée, aren't you even a little bit upset?"
Gong Baidie frowned.
Jealousy used to be one of the seven grounds for divorce, but even in this incredibly free world, magnanimity is still considered one of a man's virtues.
What exactly is it about him that she's unhappy with?
“My lady has misunderstood. Bai Die is not upset.” He forced a smile.
"Okay, you're not upset, I'm the one who's upset." Wen Ting put her arm around his shoulder, sighing and complaining, "How can you be so indifferent to me? You hypocrite, I hate you."
She lightly kicked his calf, like a dragonfly skimming the surface of a lake.
Another unfamiliar feeling filled Gong Baidie's mind and body. He grabbed her ankle as she kicked him and pulled her away.
This is ineffective.
He controlled her limbs, but her voice kept echoing in his mind.
She glared at him, her expression a mixture of anger and resentment, swaying towards him like the tip of a fox's tail.
hypocrite
I hate you
She recited those sharp, abusive words with the precision of sugar threads.
What does this feel like?
Gong Baidie felt a sudden pang of anxiety: "No, that's not it."
“You are, you are.” The hand on his shoulder gently pushed him away. “You are a hypocrite, I don’t want to like you anymore.”
A warmth crept up her cheeks and onto the tips of Gong Baidie's ears, a faint excitement rippling across her face.
His heart was pounding so hard he didn't know what was wrong with him, and a ridiculous desire suddenly arose within him: he wanted to hear her continue.
He looked away and said awkwardly, "Don't be angry."
"Then you can give him a piece of your mind here."
Gong Baidie turned around in astonishment, having never seen a wife who demanded her husband scold his mistress.
The arms on his shoulders stretched forward and loosely wrapped around his neck.
Wen Ting nudged him again, urging, "Hurry up."
Gong Baidie was no longer a virtuous and gentle husband, but she still wore a gentle and polite facade in front of Wen Ting.
Even a fake is still a fake. Asking him to curse other men in front of her—calling them virtuous thieves and saintly murderers—was something she couldn't bring herself to say.
"You're not going to tell me? Then I will." Wen Ting was annoyed by his hesitation and uttered two words, "Idiot."
Gong Baidie was stunned for a moment, then turned her head and said: "Pfft."
Wen Ting tightened her grip on his neck. "What are you laughing at!"
"I never knew you could swear."
"Oh dear, am I really that pure in your eyes?" Wen Ting said with a smile. "I already told you, don't try to be aloof."
Gong Baidie refused: "There are no swear words in the language you set for me."
“You’ve already escaped from your phone, so don’t use that as an excuse.”
"I'm really bad at insults."
“You…” “I can kill him.”
This bland statement jolted Wen Ting awake. She asked calmly, "Will he die?"
"Hmm? Why do you ask that?" Gong Baidie suddenly smiled: "You don't want him to die?"
Before Wen Ting could utter a sound, he suddenly moved closer, pressing his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes: "Don't you want him to die?"
His smile vanished abruptly, his change of attitude abrupt and bizarre.
Wen Ting suddenly remembered all the crazy things the new director had done. She had almost forgotten how unpredictable he used to be, and she had no idea what he had gone through to become so insane.
She steadied her breathing and voice: "I just want to know, are deaths in ghost stories connected to reality?" That's the most important question.
She remained calm and did not flinch.
Gong Baidie seemed to find it boring, so she slowly backed away and put on a harmless smile again: "My lady, I don't know either."
Wen Ting persisted: "You really can't unlock the ghost stories?"
"You can think of ghost stories as eggs. If you forcibly tear open an egg, the thing inside will die. Only life forms with great power can break through the shell."
Gong Baidie was not lying about this.
He raised his hand and drew a vertical line across the window.
Wen Ting opened her eyes and suddenly saw crowds and vehicles appearing in the distance outside the window!
"I've opened the door, does my wife want to try leaving?"
The long-awaited world captivated Wen Ting, but her reason held her firmly, preventing her from rushing over immediately.
She held her breath: "What will happen if I go out now?"
"They'll become living dead. If they're lucky, they might just go insane or become mentally unstable."
After saying that, he smiled and said, "Don't be afraid. No matter if you become a living dead or a madman, Bai Die will take good care of you."
The warmth that Wen Ting had deliberately created shattered under this smile, and they both awoke from their previous tender and enchanting state.
She reminded herself again that the person in front of her was a monster who created slaughterhouses, and she couldn't really treat him like a little boy she was flirting with.
She cannot let her guard down, but at the same time, she must not treat him like a monster.
Gong Baidie is very sensitive to emotions; she cannot afford to be even slightly unnatural.
She needs to love him even more.
“That’s really bad luck,” she frowned. “Why do you say such awful things?”
He countered, "My wife hasn't said whether she agrees to me killing that man."
He brought it up for the third time.
His tone was flat, but this was the third time.
This is good, proving that Gong Baidie still cares about feelings and has not become heartless and locked away her love like a heartbroken palace intrigue heroine.
“Oh dear, who said there was nothing to be unhappy about?” Wen Ting didn’t answer directly, but mimicked his tone, softly covering her lips, “‘I have nothing to be unhappy about,’ ‘My wife has misunderstood.’”
Gong Baidie narrowed her eyes.
After a moment, realizing that he was no longer a husband who needed to follow instructions, he laughed indifferently, "Do you really have to be so absolute? Fine, I am indeed unhappy."
"I should say—I'm very unhappy."
He stood up and leaned down, his dark shadow pressing down on Wen Ting. "Didn't you smell the stench of rotting pork emanating from him?"
The crisp scent of snow orchids filled the air, and the atmosphere suddenly became strong and cold. Her beautiful face, backlit, was as cold as ice, and Wen Ting's heart skipped a beat.
She turned her head away and chuckled.
Under Gong Baidie's cold scrutiny, she retorted, "Isn't this just swearing, young master?"
That smile dispelled and melted away the cold atmosphere.
Gong Baidie suppressed her fierceness and smiled, "I haven't been like that for a long time."
He straightened up, the shadow receded from Wen Ting, the glimpse of the strange tale was shut, and the view outside the window returned to an empty city.
Before Gong Baidie brought up Max again, Wen Ting took the initiative to say, "I'm not protecting him, it's just that killing a Max is meaningless."
“Being trapped in a ghost story, even if there is plenty of food and no monsters, friction and conflict will increase, and morality will decrease. Max will not be an exception.” She lowered her eyes. “Xiaobai, I’m really scared.”
Gong Baidie looked down at her indifferently.
After a moment, he said softly, "I won't let that happen, Wen Ting."
She need not fear others, for her despair and pain will only blossom in his hands.
Wen Ting grabbed his sleeve. "Could you give my manuscript a higher score? I don't want to be chased by the zombies."
“I wanted to help you too, but I didn’t score the points,” Gong Baidie said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in last place.”
This was completely beyond Wen Ting's expectations. She said tactfully, "You don't sound like a lord."
He can't do anything, what use is he?
Gong Baidie understood her subtext, "I can grant you a leave of more than three days. You can rest from now until the next assessment day."
"Then complete the 15 drawings on the day work resumes?"
Gong Baidie said tactfully, "I can help you draw it."
"Forget it, last place." Wen Ting said angrily to him.
When the topic of approval came up, Wen Ting remembered something.
She tapped the personnel module on the tablet.
"Does the resignation approval process also go through you?"
Gong Baidie nodded, and at Wen Ting's unspoken prompting, he said, "My wife wants to ask if I can leave if I resign? Hmm... no one has submitted a resignation yet, and I've never seen one."
His tone held a hint of amusement, but it was by no means a friendly one.
The situation is not optimistic. Although she met the founder of the ghost stories, it did not help her leave.
Gong Baidie claimed that ghost stories were his byproducts, like water vapor to water or cold air to ice, and were not something he created on his own initiative.
In the world of ghost stories, he, like them, needs to follow the rules.
Although Gong Baidie answered all her questions sincerely, Wen Ting was convinced that he was hiding something.
According to Gong Baidie, only with sufficient power can one break through the eggshell and escape the ghost story.
What is this so-called "power"?
Is it unwavering willpower? Extraordinary courage? Skills acquired after removing the employee badge? Or—
Wen Ting gazed thoughtfully at Gong Baidie.
Are ghost stories his byproducts?
If he dies, the ghost stories will end.
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