On the Edge of Suffocation

Help!

She was about to suffocate.

Who was so vicious, strangling her while she slept?

Her neck was so fragile—squeeze it hard enough and she would die on the spot.

A powerful instinct for survival forced Yan Yi to open her eyes.

She woke with a jolt and saw a young man standing close by, his eyes bloodshot, his face twisted and ferocious.

His blood-stained hands were clamped tightly around her throat.

Broad daylight.

Breaking in to commit murder.

Was there no law left in this world?

Yan Yi struggled instinctively, thrashing with both arms and legs in desperate resistance.

It was useless.

The pressure on her neck only grew heavier, as if he truly meant to strangle her to death.

In the midst of the struggle, Yan Yi sensed something was wrong.

The violent man before her had black hair bound high, dressed in a dark brocade robe.

He looked utterly unfamiliar.

As her consciousness fully returned, realization struck—

She had transmigrated into a book.

The system’s teasing voice echoed in her ears as it had assigned the task:

Seduce and harvest the energy of the greatest villain in the book—the Demon Lord Wen Xiaoran.

Succeed, and you may return to the real world.

Cold sweat drenched Yan Yi’s back.

Her?

A perfectly ordinary college girl with no strength to speak of?

Was this really a task she could complete?

This was grossly overestimating her.

Besides—

She was straight.

To “harvest” this gloomy, twisted, violently insane ultimate villain.

To pin him down and do unspeakable things.

She might as well be told to die—at least then she might leave behind a whole corpse.

Yan Yi stole a glance at the ferocious Demon Lord.

She was baffled.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a male-oriented restricted novel?

She had only entered the book on the second day.

Not a single restricted scene so far—

But bloody violence was everywhere.

“Waa—ugh—”

Yan Yi trembled violently.

She couldn’t stop herself from sobbing and crying aloud.

Painful groans escaped her throat.

The scene was pitiful beyond measure.

Truly heart-wrenching to hear.

Eye-watering to see.

“What are you crying for?”

The villain spat out the words viciously, clearly annoyed.

Yan Yi choked.

Her wailing stopped abruptly.

She was about to be strangled to death—she wasn’t even allowed to cry?

Seeing her face flushed red, her eyes bloodshot, unable to speak, Wen Xiaoran finally loosened his grip slightly.

His scrutinizing gaze bore down on her.

“Speak.

Who sent you?”

“Huh?”

Yan Yi’s mind froze for a second.

Who sent her?

Could she say it was the system?

Of course not.

Her lips twitched, bitterness surging in her chest.

Among all transmigrators, who was unluckier than her?

The system issued the mission in a few words—

Then disappeared.

She had been a second-year undergraduate majoring in traditional Chinese medicine.

On holiday, lazing in bed, she binge-read a hugely popular restricted novel overnight.

Relying on comment-section spoilers and skipping chapters, she barely forced herself to “finish” the book.

She roughly knew the endings of the main characters.

The moment the words “The End” appeared—

Yan Yi grew so angry her blood surged.

Her vision went black.

She collapsed flat onto the bed.

When she opened her eyes again, the system informed her in a sinister tone—

She had become the villain’s kept canary.

And the canary’s ending in the original book was—

To be tormented to death by the villain.

She had only paid attention to this cannon-fodder canary—who barely appeared, had no name, and died miserably—

Because the canary had been an herbalist.

That sparked Yan Yi’s sympathy.

She felt a strange kinship.

Staying alive was the priority.

Yan Yi racked her brain, searching her memory for information about the canary.

The author brushed it off in one line—

A woman forcibly taken and gifted to the Demon Lord by someone seeking favor.

With that, Yan Yi forced herself to calm down.

Don’t panic.

Don’t lose control.

The canary was just a mortal.

Trying to forcibly harvest the Demon Lord was impossible.

She would have to rely on wits.

“L-Lord…”

The moment she spoke, she realized how hoarse her voice was, as if it had split apart.

Fearing she might anger him, she deliberately lowered her voice.

Her gaze softened as she spoke slowly and gently.

“Don’t you remember?

I was a gift sent by your subordinates.”

Wen Xiaoran frowned, clearly unconvinced.

“A gift.

Or a spy?”

A spy?

Yan Yi’s limbs went weak.

Her whole body trembled.

Her mind raced.

The original text never mentioned the canary being planted as a spy.

The Demon Lord must only be suspicious, not certain.

Earlier, Wen Xiaoran had uncovered an internal traitor.

He cleaned house immediately.

Without blinking, he slaughtered dozens.

Blood flowed through the estate.

Yan Yi had been so terrified she passed out on the spot.

No wonder he suspected her.

“My lord worries too much.

I am no one’s spy.

Just a weak, useless gift.”

As she spoke, Yan Yi slowly lifted her face.

Her watery eyes shimmered, tears gathering instantly.

With a blink, clear tears spilled over.

Her already bloodshot eyes made her look even more pitiful.

She cautiously observed his reaction, hoping for mercy.

Instead—

The hand at her throat suddenly tightened again.

It felt as if her neck would snap.

“Worry too much?

Are you questioning my judgment?”

“N-no—”

Yan Yi burst into tears.

She squeezed out broken syllables, desperately trying to explain.

“I—I wouldn’t dare, my lord.

I’m only telling the truth.

W-woo…”

She was terrified.

But she had no choice but to grit her teeth and play this deadly mind game.

Tears streamed down uncontrollably, dripping onto Wen Xiaoran’s blood-stained hand.

Blood and tears mingled, soaking into the floor.

“Stop crying!”

Wen Xiaoran barked sharply.

His brows were drawn tight, as if enduring intense pain.

He looked close to his limit.

“My lord.”

The attendant beside him stepped forward, his expression grave.

“Is your lordship having another headache?”

Yan Yi had nearly assumed he was mute—

Watching her be abused without blinking.

Wen Xiaoran didn’t respond.

He flung Yan Yi to the ground and rubbed his temples hard.

Yan Yi gasped for breath.

She touched her burning neck.

The bead hanging at her throat was still there.

She secretly sighed in relief.

When she first arrived, the system had given her a lustrous red crystal bead.

Teardrop-shaped, about the size of a fingertip.

She was told to make Wen Xiaoran ingest it before attempting the task.

After much thought, Yan Yi trusted ancient wisdom—

The most dangerous place is the safest.

She tied the bead on a thin cord and hid it beneath her clothes.

Wait.

The attendant said Wen Xiaoran had headaches.

So this happened often.

Could it be related to the love gu inside him?

Yan Yi leaned against the wall, head lowered, searching her memory.

Soon, an idea formed.

She braced her hands against the ground and carefully crawled forward.

But the moment she moved—

Wen Xiaoran reacted instantly.

A blood-slick, icy blade flashed across her throat.

“Looking for death.”

The blade gleamed.

The temperature plummeted.

Yan Yi swallowed hard, frozen in place.

She was utterly terrified.

Cold sweat soaked her back.

She cursed silently—

This wasn’t a male-oriented restricted novel.

This was a European-style ultra-violent horror film.

“M-my lord…”

Her voice trembled.

Her body shook like a candle in the wind.

Yan Yi cherished her life.

She didn’t want to die at the start.

Summoning her courage, she said softly:

“I have some medical knowledge.

I know a method to ease headaches.

May I try?”

“Oh?”

Wen Xiaoran tilted his head, interest flickering.

“A mere gift knows medicine?”

Yan Yi: “…”

She felt subtly belittled.

Steadying her breath, she explained carefully:

“Before being sent to your estate, I read several medical texts.”

Her words were humble and reasonable.

Finding no obvious flaw, Wen Xiaoran inclined his head.

The attendant stepped forward and helped Yan Yi up.

He wanted to see—

Just how much trouble this timid gift could cause.

Yan Yi’s hands shook violently.

She dragged her heavy legs forward.

Her voice quavered.

“M-my lord.

Do you have spare herbs?

I need them to prepare incense.”

Wen Xiaoran sat back, one arm propped on the long table.

He kneaded his throbbing temples, ignoring her.

The attendant quickly stepped in.

“Miss, please follow me.”

Yan Yi followed him out, recalling his identity—

Wen Feng.

The old Demon Lord’s adopted son.

Raised alongside Wen Xiaoran.

When reading, Yan Yi had laughed at his name for a long time.

But in person, he looked gentle and harmless.

Entering the herb storage, Wen Feng noticed her glances and leaned closer kindly.

“Miss, is something wrong?”

“N-no.”

Yan Yi quickly looked away.

Then asked casually:

“Can I use the herbs here freely?”

Wen Feng smiled.

“Of course.

You’re preparing medicine for my lord.”

About a quarter hour later, Yan Yi carried a small tray of prepared incense.

She approached Wen Xiaoran’s table slowly.

Sensing movement, he glanced over.

“Finished?”

As Yan Yi added incense to the burner, her hand shook.

The incense spilled onto the table.

She stammered:

“Yes—my lord.

I—I’ll light it.”

Wen Xiaoran reached out, gripping her slender wrist.

“You’re afraid of me.”

Yan Yi stiffened.

Cold sweat beaded at her temples.

Of course she was afraid.

He was the greatest villain in the book.

Taking a breath, she answered carefully:

“My lord is imposing.

I am but a mortal.

Of course I fear you.”

Wen Xiaoran scoffed and released her.

“Hurry.”

Yan Yi rolled her eyes inwardly.

Who was the one who interrupted her?

She lit the calming incense and retreated to a corner.

She watched him discreetly.

According to the book, Wen Xiaoran suffered from a love gu.

It flared every full moon.

Without relief, he could die.

But this didn’t seem like a gu episode.

Just a headache.

The one who planted the gu—

Was his own father.

Realizing this, Yan Yi finally grasped the novel’s twisted core.

She marveled inwardly.

As Wen Xiaoran’s expression eased, Yan Yi carefully stood.

She approached lightly.

“My lord.

Do you feel any better?”

Her voice was extremely gentle.

Wen Xiaoran paused.

He looked at her with a strange intensity.

“What did you say?”

That single glance froze her in place.

The red faded from his eyes.

Revealing amber pupils, clear as glass.

Just as described—

Resembling his mother.

Yan Yi’s heart jolted.

The incense worked.

Which meant—

The realization chilled her again.

She clenched her resolve.

She reached out and gently held his wrist.

“My lord.

Let me take your pulse.”