Klein's morning began somewhat strangely, yet peacefully. Having already prepared all the ingredients, he made fenapta noodles—mixing them with meat sauce so that they tasted almost like restaurant-style mixed noodles. After that, he went to the door to open the mailbox.
Opening the door, he noticed a paper box placed on the stool, delicately decorated with several paper flowers. Beside the box were two yellow and purple flowers, arranged as if someone had carefully placed them there. Klein wondered in surprise who had sent such a curious gift.
Picking up the box, he took the yellow paper note placed underneath. On the note it was written:
> "Hello Mr./Ms.,
I hope your morning goes well.
I am your new neighbor, and I live in the unit next to yours, Unit 13.To get acquainted, I made some sweets. I hope you will accept them.
Your new neighbor,
Aria Nightshade"
Klein murmured the name "Aria Nightshade" in his mind, "It seems safe now, since the dog has been executed."
After placing the note from the box aside, Klein took today's newspaper from the mailbox. While eating, his eyes fell on a notice published in the Backlund Morning Post—it was about a Beyonder gathering.
Ling Shaomiao suddenly jumped awake at two in the afternoon.
Her eyes were still a little blurry, and her head felt heavy. Making rice cakes all night and then visiting every neighbor's door in the morning had completely exhausted her body. Without realizing it, she had fallen into a deep sleep.
But the moment she woke up, she felt a sharp sensation—
Hunger. A faint rumbling sound came from her stomach.
"Ah… I didn't cook anything…" Ling Shaomiao muttered.
She looked toward the kitchen, but she had neither the strength nor the patience to cook anything now. In the end, she took several fruits from the basket on the table—an apple, some grapes, and a pear.
She slowly began eating the fruits. As the juicy taste spread in her mouth, the hunger in her stomach eased somewhat.
After finishing, she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes unconsciously drifted toward the white coat placed in the corner of the room.
And immediately the words echoed in her mind again—
"You must kill Aman's parasite within one month."
Although her hunger had lessened, the pressure in her mind seemed to grow heavier.
Ling Shaomiao sat quietly beside the table. She still held the half-eaten apple in her hand, but her thoughts had completely drifted elsewhere.
She began thinking slowly. "Well… if I kill him directly, it might cause problems…"
Her brows furrowed. "That's Aman's parasite. Killing it directly might attract the attention of Aman's other clones."
She looked at the white coat. "Even though I have this coat… there's no point in taking unnecessary risks."
She stayed silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Besides… I don't even need to kill him with my own hands."
A spark of thought appeared in her eyes. Suddenly, it seemed as if an idea came to her mind.
She slowly said, "Wait… what if I slowly weaken him with poison?"
Ling Shaomiao leaned back in the chair. "That way it might look like a natural illness… and suspicion toward me would also be lower."
But the next moment she paused again.Ling Shaomiao sat beside the table, thinking slowly. There was deep concentration in her eyes.
She began calculating in her mind—"Poison will definitely affect his body… at least this body."
She looked out the window. "Since he is a parasite, his real strength might lie in his soul. But the body he is using is still as weak as a normal human. If that body is gradually weakened… eventually it will become difficult for him to maintain control over it."
She slowly tapped the table with her fingers.
"If the poison works slowly… within a month his heartbeat might stop."
Then she thought of something else. "In that case, I can use beer… it will be like adding fuel to the fire. Some poisons spread even faster when mixed with alcohol."
A calculating gleam appeared in her eyes. "I need to gather some poisonous plants…"
But suddenly her thoughts shifted elsewhere. She remembered the memories of her second transmigration.
Ling Shaomiao slowly closed her eyes. "During my second transmigration…"
"I was in the world of a novel set in the Ming Dynasty. There, I was a apothecary and a physician."
A faint bitter smile appeared on her lips. "But at that time I discovered myself in the body of a seven-year-old girl."
"My name back then was Yao Xi."
She remembered that time in her mind.
"My mother disguised me as a boy… and changed my name to Yao Xiao."
"After that, I entered the medical academy."
She slowly looked toward the table.
"Until the age of eighteen… no one discovered my true identity."
Distant memories floated in her eyes. "But in the end… the handsome prince Liu Haoyi, the protagonist of the novel, was the first to discover my true identity."
Ling Shaomiao remained silent for a few seconds.
There was a strange expression on her face—a mixture of nostalgia and incompleteness. "…But before even half of the novel ended… I died."
Ling Shaomiao slowly took a deep breath. She spoke calmly.
"At least I still know a lot about medicine and poison."
Ling Shaomiao stood by the window and thought for a while. She slowly began organizing her plan.
"Right now my biggest goal is… how to attract the attention of the rich and nobles as a fashion designer."
She looked around the room. The house was not big, but there were a few things here that could be useful. Suddenly an idea came to her mind.
"I can use newspapers to promote the designs…"
Then she remembered something else. "And I found an old camera in this house."
A faint excitement appeared in her eyes. "If I take pictures of the clothes and print them as advertisements… it might attract people's attention."
"But before that, I need to create several excellent dresses."
She walked toward the fabrics spread across the table.
For the next two hours, she focused entirely on drawing designs.
Lines of pencil on paper began forming new shapes one after another—skirts, gowns, waist cuts, sleeve patterns… everything slowly became clear.
Then she took out some silk fabrics. She folded them and spread them to one side so the layers would fall like waves.
This idea had come from a fashion show of a band she had seen in real life. On the stage, the models' gowns had used such flowing silk, which looked very beautiful under the lights.
Following that memory, Ling Shaomiao began arranging the fabrics. On the floor of the room, a large gown slowly began to take shape.
In fact, some work had already been done on the gown—probably started by the previous owner of this body. Ling Shaomiao sat down with a needle and thread in her hand.
Slowly she began working according to the design. After some time, new folds, layers, and delicate stitches began to appear on the gown.
Two hours later, she stepped back slightly. About half of the large gown was now complete.
When the afternoon sunlight came through the window and fell on the silk, the fabric shimmered faintly. Ling Shaomiao looked at the gown and slowly nodded.
"This… isn't bad."
Ling Shaomiao opened the drawer of the table in her room and took a pearl from the box she had found. Holding the pearl in the light, she examined it carefully.
"Is this really a real pearl…?"
she wondered.
If it truly was real, it would not be cheap. So she decided to take it to a jewelry shop to have it examined.
Around five in the afternoon, she prepared to go out. She wrapped the pearl in a small cloth and put it in her pocket, then closed the door of the house and stepped outside.
After walking a few steps down the street, she suddenly stopped. Standing right in front of her was Mrs. Wilson—the woman she knew was actually one of Aman's parasites.
The woman was trying to carry several boxes into her house. Ling Shaomiao's heart skipped a beat.
Just then the woman looked at her and smiled.
"Miss Nightshade," she said,
"Could you help me for a moment?"
Ling Shaomiao's throat went dry. She unconsciously swallowed.
"O-of course," she said. Her body suddenly felt cold.
Ling Shaomiao stepped forward and helped pick up the boxes.
Together they carried them inside the house. After entering, she looked around—the room was somewhat messy. Papers were scattered on the table, some old books were stacked to one side, and several items lay scattered on the floor.
Ling Shaomiao tried to appear natural. In a light voice she said,
"Mrs. Wilson, why don't you hire a housemaid?"
Mrs. Wilson—Aman in disguise—said while opening the boxes,
"I cannot trust anyone."
There was a strange steadiness in her voice.
"Oh…"
Ling Shaomiao placed the boxes beside the table.
Then she calmly said,
"Well then, I'll take my leave, Mrs. Wilson. If you ever need anything… please call me."
She bowed her head slightly.
"Miss Nightshade, stay and have some beer with me." Mrs. Wilson said calmly.
Ling Shaomiao's heart trembled slightly. But she did not show anything unusual on her face.
She politely bowed and said,
"It would be my honor."
At this moment she knew—in his eyes she was only an ordinary person. So for now she was not a threat to Aman. Still, an unknown uneasiness stirred in her chest.
Mrs. Wilson gestured toward the sofa in the living room. The room contained old wooden furniture, a small table, and several bottles placed beside it.
Ling Shaomiao slowly walked over and sat on the sofa. Mrs. Wilson opened a bottle and poured beer into a glass, handing it to her.
A faint bitter smell came from the glass. Ling Shaomiao took it in her hand.
A moment of hesitation appeared in her mind, but she did not show it. She touched the glass to her lips and took a small sip.
The beer was cold, and the taste was bitter. While talking casually, she slowly took a few more sips.
Before long, half of the glass was empty.
Just then she felt something strange. The things in front of her eyes began to blur slightly.
The light in the room seemed to sway. Ling Shaomiao frowned.
"What…?"
Her head began to spin.
The glass almost slipped from her hand. The next moment her vision blurred even more.
The strength in her body suddenly seemed to disappear. She could no longer hold herself up.
Ling Shaomiao slowly collapsed onto the sofa.
The room became silent again.