Chapter 145 Target? ? Even if the sky falls, there's always something going on...
You lie on the sofa, scrolling through videos of that family, and before you know it, you've fallen asleep.
The central air conditioning system operates quietly, occasionally emitting a low hum.
Until your stomach rumbles, waking you from your dream.
You groggily open your eyes, and suddenly the aroma of food wafts into your nostrils.
ah.
wrong!
What's going on? You suddenly sit up straight and stare wide-eyed into the kitchen.
Before you see anything, you can vaguely hear the sound of a spatula hitting a wok, and someone humming a tune softly. It sounds like a woman.
But it doesn't matter if it's a woman or a man, who will appear in your house!
Your back stiffened instantly; the dangerous situation you encountered as soon as you got home sent chills down your spine.
You quickly take out your phone and carefully read the rental agreement over and over again: Yes, this is the second floor belonging to the landlord's child, and it has been rented entirely to "you". It also states that you cannot be a sub-landlord - the landlord is downstairs, and you cannot share this apartment with any other person.
So who is this person cooking in the kitchen right now? Could it be the landlord?
How come you've never heard of American landlords coming to your rented apartment to cook for you?
You cautiously spread your arms to get up and balance yourself, quietly grab the metal clothesline that was casually hanging down next to you, hold it in your hand, and carefully approach the kitchen.
The biggest advantage of an open kitchen is that everything inside is on full display.
You see a strange girl with her back to you in the steamy kitchen.
She was tall and thin, wearing an oversized rainbow-patterned T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a pink cooking apron tied around her waist—you didn't see this apron when you were cleaning the kitchen yesterday.
A head of short, exaggeratedly blue-green wolf-tail hair stood out under the lights that were turned on due to insufficient indoor lighting, reflecting a blue hue throughout the entire kitchen.
Meanwhile, the person involved was swaying his body and humming a catchy pop song.
Because she was wearing headphones, her singing was terrible.
You stare at her retreating figure, trying hard to recall, but you're certain that there's no such person in your phone's photo album.
Of course, this isn't the first time the game has operated this way. Many character relationships, especially the closer and more dangerous ones, require you to personally communicate and connect with them before they gradually become clear on your phone.
The question is, what's the current situation?
Your heart rate gradually increases, your palms sweat, and you clench your teeth.
You can only hope that this person isn't a bad guy—you lift up the clothesline pole and, like a crab with its legs spread apart, incline closer little by little.
Just as you entered the attack range and were about to smash down, the woman suddenly turned around.
"Honey! You're awake?" She looked at you with surprise and delight.
You were so startled you nearly slipped and almost dropped the clothesline. What, darling?!
ah? ? ?
This word is even more shocking to you than she is to you.
Before you can even react, this person excitedly rushes towards you, arms outstretched, shouting: "Wrapped up!" And it's even in the language of flowers!
Before you could even figure out what was happening, with the metal bar still hanging in mid-air—or rather, your mind completely blank—the woman had already thrown herself into your arms.
Despite being taller than you, she kneels down and hugs your neck tightly, kissing your cheeks passionately—while you stare blankly with your mouth agape, completely bewildered—and chatter on in a thick American accent, saying, "My dear, you look so adorable!"
"Wait!" You finally snapped out of it, almost screaming for help, but could only manage to shout "wait."
Your thoughts are a complete mess, so you can only try to process them while they're still hot. You strain your way back, using both hands and feet to break free from her embrace.
"Who are you?!" you almost yelled at her.
Despite her gaunt appearance, the woman had surprisingly strong arms. With strength comparable to that of a mental patient, you managed to hold your own against her, and then you tried your best to turn your head away to avoid being kissed on the face again.
You managed to squeeze out a weak murmur: "Who...who are you?"
The woman blinked, looking at you with a very confused expression: "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Don't you recognize me? I'm your girlfriend, your beloved little Anbo baby!"
"How did you become so strong..." she said, looking disappointed.
Her expression was exaggerated and enthusiastic, magnifying her innocence to an extreme degree, making you momentarily doubt whether you should be so harsh on her.
"Let me catch my breath..." You backed away until you reached a dead corner of the house.
Your heart is still pounding wildly, simply because you're shocked!
First of all, how come she's also named Anbo? How many Anbos are there in this dungeon?!
Secondly... you look at her, and she looks at you. She even wants to get closer to you, so you quickly raise your hand to stop her.
Try to speak in a calm tone: "Hello Anbo, I think there might be some information gap here. I assume I don't know you right now, so perhaps you could—"
Before you could finish speaking, Anbo covered her mouth in surprise, her eyes widening, and exclaimed exaggeratedly, "Oh my god, baby, are you kidding me? You're my dear little princess of the Flower Kingdom! We've been together for so long! Have you forgotten?!"
“I understand.” Ambrose’s expression suddenly turned serious. She quickly stepped forward, took your hand again, and her sincere eyes were filled with tears. “It must be Fopouler. They did something bad to you. I knew it. They said you might have mental problems. It was all a lie and a conspiracy!”
Now it's your turn to interrupt her.
"You mean Fobolle contacted you?" you asked. You had completely calmed down.
You should know that they didn't even contact your parents in the Flower Kingdom.
“Yes, because I’m your girlfriend, and as your future spouse, I have the right to take responsibility for you after such a serious incident.” Anbo said, a hint of light appearing on his face.
Your eye twitched.
You always felt there was something strange about what she said.
However, the fact that she knows these things may indeed be closely related to your identity and the recognition you receive.
You carefully considered your words, then smiled at her with restraint and a sense of distance, saying, "I'm fine now. It's just that I haven't seen anyone for so long, you know, I'm a little stressed. I haven't forgotten you."
Seeing Anbo's smile brighten, you changed the subject, saying, "However, I need to rest now, so please leave first." You reached out to push her out.
Unexpectedly, she remained unmoved, especially after you "admitted" to your relationship with her; the half-hearted sadness and worry on her face vanished completely.
On the contrary—you don’t want to use this word, but it really is… a look of “doting”.
She looked at you with affection, shook her head, and stopped talking about the meaning of flowers: "Oh, baby, seeing that you are much better now makes me feel much better too. The way you were acting just now made me worry so much, as if you hadn't recovered at all. But look at you, you've gotten so tanned, and your complexion doesn't look very good either. Okay, go wash your hands and eat, I have to make sure my little princess comes back safely."
"Look, I specially made the most oriental Chinese dishes for you!"
You frowned. "Oriental," if you remember correctly, is a rather offensive word.
Using it to describe people and things from the East, especially the East Asian region, carries a certain Orientalist flavor of a condescending colonial perspective.
You glanced at the kitchen again—it was such a mess just now that you didn't even get a proper look, yet Anbo had prepared a very lavish feast.
However, the dishes emitting fragrance in the pot were unusually bright in color and the sauce was thick, which was completely unlike authentic Chinese cuisine.
With a hopeful look on her face, Ke Anbo took your hand and led you to the dining table: "Sit down, darling, sit down and try your favorite General Tso's Chicken!"
You stare blankly at her, the clothesline in your hand having fallen to the ground with a crisp sound.
You opened your mouth, hesitated, and tentatively asked, "General Tso's Chicken... I've never eaten it before."
Ambrose pouted, causing her lip piercing to roll slightly on her chin, drawing your gaze involuntarily.
Anbo pretends to be angry and gently pats the back of your hand: "Sweetheart, you're being naughty again! You clearly said before that your favorite thing is sweet flower vegetables! By the way, it's been so long since we last met, I've learned a few more flower meanings, let me tell you!"
She suddenly adopted a serious and exaggerated expression, cleared her throat, and pronounced in a stiff voice: "Baobei, Nizhen Piaoliang, Woxi Huanni, Chi Fanla!"
You look at her silently, but Anbo waits for your praise with a happy expression, like a puppy waiting to be petted by its owner.
"You speak so well about the language of flowers," you said.
"I'd learn anything for you," she said, her tone always so formal.
Anbo gently patted your hair, ignoring your instinctive attempt to pull away, and said in a coaxing tone, as if comforting a child, "Sweetie, are you hungry and tired? Come on, sit down and eat properly. You'll feel better after you eat. You love my cooking the most, don't you?"
You were practically pushed to the table by her, staring blankly at the brightly colored, sweet and fragrant General Tso's Chicken on the plate, your mind filled with all sorts of random thoughts.
Meanwhile, the other person sits across from you with a smug look on their face, propping their chin up and smiling as they watch you eat, praising you non-stop: "You look so cute eating, just like my favorite Yazhou doll! Oh, by the way, did I tell you that I watched some anime while you were gone?"
Anbo talked incessantly about the new anime she was watching and her two-dimensional waifus (the "waifus" in otaku culture), while you could only blank out and mechanically chew on the chicken pieces.
To be honest, it tastes good. But you just have no appetite. You watch the person across from you opening and closing their mouth and feel nothing but absurdity.
Anbo, who claimed he would take good care of you, finally noticed that you weren't eating, but he just kept saying with a happy look on his face, "Eat more, baby, you need to eat more to be even cuter!"
Looking at her doting expression that seemed to take it all for granted, you felt a chill run down your spine, and your stomach started to spasm with nervousness.
But this is too strange!
If it's a flood, a monster, or a ghost, you have your own ways of dealing with it. At worst, you can smash this place up, and if you can't smash it up, you can run away! But what if you suddenly have a "girlfriend" of the same age who cooks for you and coaxes you to eat in a sickeningly sweet tone?
“Honey, you’re acting so strange today. You’re never this quiet before. Are you starving? Or did Fopo abuse you?” She emphasized the word “abuse” and declared righteously, “The US government is a bunch of right-wing pigs! Don’t worry, now that you’re back with me, I can cook for you and take care of you every day!”
But, but... when you look at her smiling face, which is plain and sunny, and whose words are so gentle and selfless, an indescribable fear and unease still rises in your chest.
You slowly raise your head and meet the excited Anbo's gaze. You're almost certain that no matter what you do, this woman who calls herself your girlfriend intends to stay by your side for a long time.
You forcefully suppressed your inner resistance and slowly opened your mouth, trying to keep your voice calm: "Then... how long will you stay here?"
The other person stares at you in surprise, then smiles sweetly: "Oh, silly, of course I want to be with you forever!"
no.
These two words popped right into your head: no means no.
Even if you've finished eating the food she made and are now sitting on the sofa, hugging your knees, idly watching Anbo bustling around the house cleaning, it won't work.
This woman walks around your house as if she's lived here for a long time.
She turns on your dryer, neatly folds the clothes you washed yesterday, and puts them in the drawer. Throughout the whole process, she hums a cheerful tune, as if she's doing housework for herself and thoroughly enjoys it.
The hidden rule in the instance is that your own little rental house is your safe house. Here, you are absolutely safe and can withstand all dangers.
This is just for you.
Now, this space has been completely invaded.
You were thinking about how to talk to her, so you found a way to start a conversation, walked up to her, and said somewhat awkwardly, "You've been helping me tidy up for so long, can I do it myself?"
She turned around, her face still bearing that bright and "doting" smile.
She gently takes your hand and strokes the back of it: "Oh, baby, you don't need to do these things. My oriental princess shouldn't be doing these rough jobs."
Goosebumps spread all over your body.
If what happened before only made you feel a little strange, now you're experiencing physical discomfort. But Anbo, completely oblivious or perhaps ignoring your discomfort, continues smiling as he goes about making your bed and tidying your wardrobe.
You stand still, silent, yet a tidal wave surges within your chest.
—Are you being too sensitive?
—Is it because you are a dual outsider that you find this form of address unusual?
No, you have to tell yourself, and you must, that this feeling is real.
This feeling of being forcibly labeled, this feeling of being molded by another person into a docile, sweet Eastern woman of fantasy, is utterly repulsive.
She didn't even realize that a different soul had taken over "your" body, and she didn't care about the terrible things you had just gone through. She simply continued to treat you the way she imagined you to be.
No, it's about shaping you.
You gritted your teeth. Yes, this is not something you can tolerate.
Anbo seemed to finally notice your quietness. She stopped what she was doing, exaggeratedly patted her forehead, and walked up to you with a smile. She tried to hold your hand, but you pulled it away. She was stunned for a moment, then didn't say anything: "Baby, what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
Her tone made your stomach, which you had just filled, ache. But facing someone who was also a woman and so humble, you could only say as politely as possible, "Anbo, I... actually, I don't really like it when you call me 'Oriental Princess' or anything like that..."
Anbo paused for a moment, blinked her big eyes, and looked at you with an extremely innocent expression: "But baby, isn't this a compliment? I think you are so beautiful and delicate, I really want to protect you."
You take a deep breath, trying to suppress your displeasure and anger, and look at her as calmly as possible: "I'll say it again, I don't feel like I need to be protected or called a 'princess'. I am who I am, an ordinary person."
Anbo didn't give you any reaction, only continuing to look at you with those innocent, pitiful, wet eyes, so you could only continue with difficulty: "What I mean is, I think everyone should be respected, should be seen as an independent individual, instead of being bound by some kind of fantasy or label. Can you understand?"
Anbo's eyes seemed to dry up instantly.
She was silent for a moment, then suddenly giggled: "Oh~ sweetheart, I told you, you're just too tired, that's why you're so nervous! I understand, are you afraid I'll leave you? Don't worry, I'll never leave you!"
“If you just don’t like me calling you ‘princess,’ I can stop calling you that, but I’m perfectly fine with you calling me that,” she said playfully, “my little feminist fighter.”
You stared speechlessly at her happy and confident expression.
What kind of "girlfriend" is this? Even to the body in the instance, she's nothing more than a bastard who imposes her twisted desire for control on this idiot.
Are these titles really important?
“You still don’t seem to understand what I mean,” you said. You wanted to explain further, but upon reflection, it was unnecessary. You simply said, “This is my house, please leave.”
Yes, this is your territory.
You're so fixated on your "romantic" relationship with this person that you've allowed her—a complete stranger to you—to subtly pressure you into doing what she asks.
That's definitely much more insidious than pure scoundrel, isn't it?
But in fact, this is your safe house, your territory without a doubt.
She, a complete stranger, brazenly acts as if she owns the place, even trying to interfere in your life and deprive you of your most basic freedom and dignity.
Once you realize that you possess the most fundamental freedom and security, the heat of anger rises from your chest, burning away all the unease and concessions that have arisen from being blinded until now.
You resolutely straightened your back and shouted at her clearly and firmly, "Anbo, I don't like your behavior. This is my home, please leave immediately."
Your voice was loud and powerful. Anbo turned around and stared at you in astonishment.
"Honey, what's wrong with you?" She seemed to never expect you to talk to her like that.
"Listen carefully, this is my house. You have no right to come in like this, and you have no right to stay here. Now, please get out! Get out!"
Almost instantly, the astonishment on Anbo's face gradually turned into grievance. Her eyes were like a well, quickly filling with tears. She recited the flower language again in a pretentious manner: "Department, blanket, I'm so grateful to you, I love you so much (emphasis) you (pronounced repeatedly). You're so fierce."
She looks at you with tears streaming down her face, her eyes filled with carefully calculated sincerity.
I see.
You can almost imagine how she pretended to be pitiful and used these fake tricks to gain your trust when she was with "you".
"She even learned the language of flowers for 'you,' so of course she respects you a lot!"
You certainly won't fall for that, you simply emphasized in a cold, hard voice: "Now, get out of my house immediately!"
You step forward, grab her arm, and forcefully shove her toward the door.
Once you took action, Anbo's grievances quickly dissipated.
You watched helplessly as her expression instantly became twisted and terrifying.
She suddenly opened her eyes wide, her originally bright blue pupils turning pitch black, the whites of her eyes gradually becoming stained with a murky yellow, like rotten egg yolks.
Her mouth split upwards, revealing a set of rotten, blackish-yellow teeth beneath a bizarre and exaggerated smile.
"How dare you treat me like this?!" Her voice suddenly became low and shrill, with a kind of inhuman tremor. "You should feel honored! My God, how dare you not be grateful for the pampering I give you! Don't all you oriental girls like to be pampered like this?!"
As she spoke, her arm began to swell rapidly, her muscles and bones bulging out in a twisted manner, and her skin turned a mottled yellow, as if she had jaundice.
"I just love you, this adorable little doll!" Her voice grew shriller, almost piercing your eardrums. "You belong to me! You all do! All of you oriental girls are here for us to love and care for!"
Her words made you want to vomit. Thinking of how you acted in Japan, you mustered all your strength and shouted, "Get out! Get out of my house! This is my territory!"
But Anbo only let out an even sharper laugh: "This place no longer belongs to you! With the key, I have the right to enter! You gave me the key yourself! You said I'm the second owner here!"
You chuckled and said, "Well, thank you for telling me that."
You ram into her, now a massive creature, with all your might, then turn and rush towards her backpack in the living room, trying to find her keys and snatch them back.
Then you heard the monster howl behind you, and it pounced on you, pinning you to the ground: "Don't touch my things! You should obediently accept my orders! You are not allowed to resist me!"
You were wrestling wildly on the floor, rolling from the living room to the kitchen, smashing cups and plates, and shards of porcelain cut someone's skin, blood dripping onto the floor.
"Be good, my darling, the more obedient you are, the more I like you!" Every word Anbo, now a monster, lashed out at you, her twisted face covered in sticky liquid.
Her skin was increasingly resembling some kind of slippery, yellowish fungus, and was even gradually decaying.
Using her physical advantage, she swept all the knives out through the half-open ventilation window.
Damn it!
You struggled free from her grasp and staggered back to the bedroom—you knew there were no more weapons in the living room, but the bedroom…the bedroom absolutely had to have something…something!
Anbo caught up with you instantly, pinned you to the ground, and her face was now completely distorted, like a lump of mud about to flow down.
"I love you so much. Come on, let's go back to your happiest home."
You kick and punch her, your arm reaching desperately towards the bedside table.
Your inner voice screams desperately, "Please! There has to be something, there has to be something that can help me!"
Your fingertips finally barely reached the cabinet, your neck almost dislocated from the effort—you, you, almost there, just a little more, you—you finally pulled open the drawer!
My fingers groped around haphazardly, not knowing what it was, but I managed to grab a thin, long object.
Is it useful?
When you took it out and looked at it clearly, a brief moment of confusion replaced all your emotions—it turned out to be a piece of firecracker.
What are firecrackers used for?
Before frustration and panic could even set in, your eyes widened the next second as you remembered the universal rule in the instance: "No firecrackers here."
Your understanding of this rule was originally based on some tired jokes about shootings, but now…
If the rules say "there are no firecrackers here," then what exactly is in your hand right now?
Perhaps... it's not an ordinary firecracker at all!
How do I light it?
Or perhaps, it doesn't need to be lit?
Without hesitation, you quickly threw the firecrackers at Anbo.
"Bang!" A piercing explosion rang out instantly, so much so that your ears were still ringing for several minutes later.
The monster screamed and fell off the bed.
Her body stopped twisting in an instant, and her face and everything else returned to the original girl's appearance. She stared at you in astonishment, clutching her lower abdomen, her lips slightly parted, and blood was gushing out.
You sat up, panting, and calmly dialed 811.
"Yes, she's harassing me and trying to do something bad to me. She needs emergency care now." You hang up the phone and sit next to her, watching her.
You are incredibly grateful for your luck, which allowed you to not only touch the "firecracker" but also to not completely kill it.
You're going to be staying here for more than half a month, and you don't want your place to become a haunted house.
Most importantly, you don't want to get involved in any more murder cases.
However, you realize another problem.
Are you legally carrying a gun? Although it may seem that you didn't directly use a firearm, this small "firecracker" did indeed cause a ballistic trajectory.
Ah, this…
You feel like the sky has fallen, and you're really going to jail this time.
—Knock knock knock.
Who is it? Is someone knocking on the door? Has 811 arrived so quickly?
Then you'll have no choice but to open the door.
To everyone's surprise, when they opened the door, they found a seemingly kind couple standing outside.
They look familiar... Ah, the landlord! You saw their photo together in the housing contract.
"Hello, I didn't know you were at home..." You don't know how to explain, especially since you have blood on you.
The woman in front of you, with tears in her eyes, stepped forward and hugged you: "Good boy, you did the right thing, congratulations, you're finally free!"
The man echoed, "That must have been a terrible experience, especially since something like that just happened to you! We don't want to bother you!"
In a daze, the landlord and his wife accompanied you to the hospital, met with the police, and gave a statement. They testified for you about this Anbo—as they said this, Fobol Anbo, who was waiting nearby, picked at his ear and walked out reluctantly—who had been harassing you and subjecting you to long-term mental abuse.
“We wanted to help you back then, but you kept saying you loved her and that you were very close!” The landlady rolled her eyes at Anbo, who was still lying in the hospital bed, then held your hand. “That’s great, it’s good that you’ve figured things out yourself. Congratulations!”
"But you're lucky you're not—what's that word again? Cisex heterosexual straight woman, otherwise if you encountered a man in the same situation… Anyway, if you were blocking our way, we would have called the police beforehand!" the landlord said.
"Okay, okay." You give a thumbs up. You've already let everything go in one ear and out the other. You feel like you're dreaming.
Even as the group of people—the landlords and two Fubos—escorted you out of the police station in the dark, you still couldn't believe that you had been so easily let off the hook.
You asked cautiously, not daring to look at Fobolleambo's face: "Didn't I use, uh, bullets? Does this really not count as illegal possession of a firearm?"
Fubo was furious, but felt it wasn't appropriate to lash out at the victim like that, so he just laughed loudly and stepped aside to let her colleague explain.
"Likou State has the strictest gun control, so they developed firecracker shells from your country to skirt the law. But first of all, this does not meet the definition of a firearm, so from a broad perspective, it is not regulated. Of course, strictly speaking, this thing should not be allowed, but Likou State controls these things very strictly, and the citizens are against owning guns, so before you, no one actually used this thing."
"You, on the contrary, are perfectly justified in defending your life and property. Look at all your injuries. You're such a brave fighter protecting yourself. Tell me, who can arrest you?"
"Oh! I see~" you laughed.
"Stop laughing." Anbo came over and grabbed your shoulder. "You'd better behave yourself. You're still under our surveillance. If you keep causing trouble, we won't be able to explain ourselves!"
"Oh~" you said.
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Author's Note: Today is Kongtong Tiger's turn! ^^ This chapter was actually inspired by how to discern and bravely reject any feelings that are objectified under the guise of cultural differences! Don't overlook any small details, always respect your own feelings, and this applies not only to couples but to any relationship. I chose to write about couples to add a touch of humor. ^^ And the name Amber is because Tiger, who gave himself the English name Amber when he was 10, is always mistaken for an American by the Germans =. = So consider this Tiger's cameo appearance in an episode. ^^ I'm really exhausted. I need to eat something good before sleeping and then getting up to write again. My brain is blank, there's nothing inside. Can someone fill me with some knowledge and skills? =. =
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