Wu Yun's father pressed a black card into my hand, urgency etched in his voice. "Beidou, don't leave yet. Take this card to Four Seasons Hotel in the east district. The front desk will arrange a room for you. I'll bring Yun'er to meet you tonight..."
Before I could respond, he hurried back to the villa. Perfect—saved me the trouble of finding lodging. Without hesitation, I hailed a cab to the hotel.
Upon arrival, I learned it was also owned by the Wu family. After the manager's instructions, staff treated me with utmost deference, assigning the presidential suite.
As I sank into dreamless sleep, rhythmic clicks of high heels infiltrated my consciousness. Clack-clack... drawing closer until they halted beside my bed—ghostly steps sending chills down my spine.
Before I could open my eyes, soft fingers trailed across my chest, igniting a primal response. My breath hitched—was this room cursed?
Then, the familiar rustle of paper... hope surged! Was my puppetry returning?
Opening my eyes, I found myself nose-to-nose with Wu Yun's porcelain features.
"What... how did you—"
She straddled me in one fluid motion, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. The sudden reversal left me reeling—this was faster than flipping a book!
I cursed inwardly. Promises of regret forgotten, now the "puppy" was kissing me!
But her actions felt off. She ground against me feverishly, her hand sliding southward... while wearing a blood-red funeral shroud. Even ignoring the eerie garment, her frigid aura froze my veins.
Could the shroud be manipulating her? Memories flashed: childhood escapes aided by shrouds, Granny Yin's warning about three shrouds as betrothal tokens. This must be one of them!
Gazing at the garment, conflicting emotions churned—was this help or chaos?
I couldn't take advantage. In desperation, I tore the shroud in two. Fabric ripped, revealing her bare skin beneath.
Good heavens—she wore nothing underneath!
The sudden exposure seemed to snap her out of it. She stared at me, dazed.
"What... what am I doing?"
I wrapped her in blankets, retreating as I explained. "I didn't touch you. You came onto me. Check the surveillance if you don't believe me. This shroud is the culprit."
Holding up the torn garment, I noticed an ominous crimson glow on the lining. A whiff revealed metallic stench—blood!
This wasn't my family's work. Granny Yin never taught such dark arts; she warned blood-stained shrouds were tools for soul manipulation.
Someone had tampered with it!
I tossed her clothes, turning away as she dressed. "Who had access to this shroud at your home?"
Just then, urgent knocking shattered the silence—and I jolted awake. It had all been a dream.