After Yuan Qingli was pulled into the mirror by an irresistible suction force, the scene in front of her suddenly changed.
The familiar corridor layout, yet it is now more magnificent, bright, and clean.
The windows are bright and clean, and the place feels lively.
The corridor was empty, and she was all alone.
Looking around, I realized I was on the 12th floor, with the staircase not far ahead.
Combining this with what the gossipy ghost said, this should be the Yihong Courtyard from fifty years ago.
Just then, a sound came from the stairwell.
"Grab her!"
"Don't let her get away! Hurry!"
Looking closely, several black figures rushed towards her like a whirlwind, instantly surrounding Yuan Qingli.
“One, two, three… six people.” Yuan Qingli silently loosened her clenched fist.
They showed no mercy or pity. The two men stepped forward and pinned Yuan Qingli's hands behind her back. With a jingling sound, half a circle of cold, hard objects were placed on her slender, porcelain-white wrists.
Yuan Qingli realized it might be handcuffs.
Who are these people? They're incredibly audacious...
The brothel's security guards? Bodyguards? Did they treat her like an intruder?
Hotels usually have surveillance cameras, so it's plausible that someone in the monitoring room might have noticed him appearing out of nowhere.
She looked up, her eyes full of confusion, but she didn't see any surveillance equipment at the end of the corridor.
Or perhaps, she also has a status here?
Yuan Qingli pretended to struggle, shouting "Let me go, help!" a few times without any real pain, before being lifted up by two bodyguards.
They carried Yuan Qingli and followed several men in black to the thirteenth floor.
Yuan Qingli was led into a room, but the room number was blocked by the tall figure of one of the bodyguards, so she couldn't see it clearly.
However, based on the direction and number of steps taken from the elevator, Yuan Qingli guessed that the room was probably between 1303 and 1305.
Pushing open the door, a tall, muscular man wearing a ghost mask sat beneath the heavy curtains.
A ray of sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains, illuminating half of the man's face, making the demon mask appear even more ferocious, as if it were resisting the light.
He fiddled with a Jianzhan teacup on the coffee table with his left hand, while idly rubbing the wheel of a silver lighter with his fingertips with his other hand. A dark blue flame suddenly appeared, but it was extinguished in an instant after he saw Yuan Qingli.
"Sir, number 07 has been brought back."
Yuan Qingli noticed the ghost mask's cold gaze fall on her, like a python spotting a long-sought treasure, its tongue greedily and disgustingly licking it indiscriminately.
Caught off guard, she was kicked hard in the knee, causing her to stumble and fall without kneeling down, a slight pain shooting through her kneecap.
Yuan Qingli turned her head and glared at the bodyguard who had kicked her knee. What, was this ghost mask an emperor? So she had to kneel down for him?
Sorry, but aside from Heaven, Earth, and her parents, she only kneels before the dead.
"What kind of hunter-prey game are you playing with me here?" Ghost Mask used a voice changer, his voice deep and hoarse, like coughing phlegm. "If you die, you'll be of no value to me."
He walked over slowly, raised his hand and pinched Yuan Qingli's chin, forcing her to expose her entire face to his eyes, as if he were examining a product.
A hint of fear appeared on Yuan Qingli's face, her eyes widened slightly, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes.
"Such beautiful eyes would be perfect for that young lady. She passed the medical exam and the match was successful. We still need to send fresh ones over."
After he finished speaking, he let go of her hand and, with a hint of disgust, took the wet wipe handed to him by the bodyguard and wiped his fingers little by little.
"Medical exam passed, match successful"—these eight words struck her like a bolt of lightning. She vaguely guessed what was going to happen.
Yuan Qingli's thin shoulders trembled slightly, and tears streamed down her face. She dared not say more, but some lines were universally applicable.
Yuan Qingli's lips trembled, tears streaming down her face. She looked pitiful and desperately struggled, pleading, "Please... let me go... let me go..."
She cried her heart out, her mind racing. She was number 07, which meant there were other people in the same situation as her here.
Could it be!
The long-tongued ghost asked her to save those people?
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