The Overlord Flower's Guide to Intercepting a Woman's Wife's Death and the Male Lead&

Song Qingqing gripped the iron railing of the upper berth of the hard sleeper berth tightly with her fingers.

Every joint in her body was throbbing with dull pain, accompanied by a chill that seemed to seep into her very bones, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

The two painkillers I swallowed half an hour ago had no effect whatsoever.

The basic repair medicine barely managed to patch up the gaping hole caused by the precipitous decline in her liver and kidneys, but her foundation was already completely rotten.

The mechanical voice in my head became a death knell.

The host's current bodily functions have been damaged by 37%, with a natural recovery period of six to nine months.

She struggled to turn over, and the canvas bag underneath her pressed against her lower back.

Inside were two changes of clothes, a pair of old cloth shoes, and a lonely household registration transfer certificate.

The face of Han Yuzhi on the platform when she left kept flashing before her eyes.

Those well-maintained hands trembled as they shoved a roll of warm money and food coupons into the lining of her cotton-padded coat.

"Qingqing, call your aunt when you get to Beijing."

That's three hundred yuan.

Song Qingqing reached into her inner garment and touched the small roll of banknotes through the fabric, calculating each penny in her mind.

Renting a room in Beijing, the worst partitioned room in a tenement building, costs eight yuan a month.

I cut back on food to the extreme, spending only 30 cents a day, which adds up to 9 yuan a month.

With the odds and ends of coal and matches, this three hundred yuan would at most allow her to live like a rat in a sewer for four months.

Four months later, there was no job offer letter, and no company was willing to hire him.

A person whose household registration is not registered can not even receive a food ration book.

She will starve to death in the winter in the capital.

The Song family?

Her father's cursing on the phone still echoed in her ears.

Song Ningning's mocking words were like daggers, each one piercing to the heart.

They would love for her to die out there so they could rightfully seize the resources that belonged to her.

The line with the Helan Mountain Military Region was completely severed by a death order from the division commander.

There was no way out.

[It is recommended that the host make contact with the main villain, Jiang Shuo, as soon as possible. The current system energy reserve is less than 40%. If it continues to drop below 20%, the system will forcibly go into hibernation.]

At that time, the host will permanently lose all assistive functions and the ability to repair their body.

Jiang Shuo, the villain whose ex-wife's cause of death remains a mystery.

This man has a handsome face and wields immense power, but he gambled it all with his life.

I initially thought that by saving his life, I could become the light in his life and control him.

Unexpectedly, it turned out to be a mad dog, a pervert, and completely beyond her control.

If she were to run into Zhou Bingheng, her only consequence of losing would be being driven out of Helan Mountain.

But if it were Jiang Shuo, messing with such a two-faced viper would leave not even a trace of bone behind.

But now, is there still a choice?

The train entered a long tunnel. In the darkness, Song Qingqing bit her lower lip and tasted blood.

She rolled out of bed, stumbled to the connecting area between the carriages, and pushed open half of the window.

The cold November wind blew in, dispelling the fog in my mind.

She reached into the deepest pocket of her cotton coat and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with two fingers.

A phone number was written on it.

She used this method when she reported Su Xingmian.

At that moment, all she could think about was getting rid of Su Xingmian and successfully winning over Zhou Bingheng, so she crumpled up the note without thinking.

But she didn't throw it away.

Even she herself couldn't tell whether her refusal to throw it away was due to a woman's vanity or a pre-existing backup plan.

Song Qingqing stared at the string of numbers and flattened it.

The system says that Jiangshuo is a backup gas storage pool.

As long as she stays by his side, the system can draw upon his luck to replenish her energy and repair her rotten body.

Trying to negotiate with a tiger will definitely come at a price.

But that's something you only need to worry about after you've survived.

The following evening.

Beijing Railway Station.

The green train puffed out a thick plume of smoke and came to a stop on the platform.

Song Qingqing, carrying her deflated canvas bag, got off the bus amidst the crowded throng.

As soon as her feet touched the cement ground, she glanced ahead.

The crowd outside the station exit consciously left a small area clear.

A man wearing a military overcoat stood there.

He was extremely tall, with a back as straight as a javelin, and his hands were casually tucked into his coat pockets.

The dim yellow light from the platform cast a sharp shadow on one side of his nose.

The noisy hawking of baskets around him seemed to be blocked by an invisible wall when he got to him.

Jiangshuo.

The man turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of more than ten meters and locking onto her.

Song Qingqing tightened her grip on the canvas bag strap, and with her legs feeling weak, she walked over step by step.

Just a step away, Jiang Shuo stopped there, his gaze sweeping from her disheveled hair to her bloodless lips, and then to her old cloth shoes.

That was a completely undisguised appraising posture.

"You suffered along the way."

A deep voice boomed over, carrying a deliberate gentleness and consideration.

Song Qingqing was about to reply.

My mind was racing.

[WARNING! Target Jiang Shuo has been detected engaging in intensive information gathering activities against the host!]

Two of his entourage members appear to be professionals engaged in intelligence work. Host, please exercise extreme caution!

Song Qingqing felt a chill run down her spine.

I didn't dare turn my neck, but only glanced to the side and behind me out of the corner of my eye.

An old man was squatting against the wall on the left, smoking a pipe. The pipe had already gone out, but he was still puffing on it.

A few steps to her right stood a young man wearing a hat, holding an evening newspaper, his position perfectly blocking her escape route.

They sang in unison, attacking from three sides.

The pomp and circumstance used to welcome this person is no different from that used to interrogate a criminal.

Jiang Shuo reached out and took the canvas bag from her hand.

During the handshake, his knuckles pressed against the back of her hand, intentionally or unintentionally.

The cocoon is a bit rough, and the temperature is a bit high.

The force he applied was extremely precise, revealing an undisguised desire for control.

"The car is parked outside. Let's go."

Speechless all the way.

The car drove into the western suburbs and stopped in front of a two-story gray-blue building.

The walls here are about half a meter higher than those of ordinary houses.

Two expressionless men wearing dark jackets stood by the pillars of the iron gate in the courtyard.

The door was pushed open, and the room was very warm from the heating.

The living room is simply furnished, with a solid wood coffee table in the center and a pot of freshly brewed tea steaming.

A plate of mung bean cakes was placed next to it, still glistening with oil.

As Song Qingqing changed her shoes, she glanced into the bedroom through the half-open door.

The newly fluffed cotton quilts and white sheets with blue floral prints were laid out smoothly.

Inside the half-open mahogany wardrobe, two fine woolen overcoats and a silk shirt hung neatly.

She measured the shoulders and length with her eyes.

They were all her size.

The fabric wasn't freshly made; there are subtle indentations on the shoulders, indicating it's been hanging in the closet for at least a week.

Jiang Shuo didn't just decide to pick her up today.

All her choices, even the timing of her phone call, were within this man's calculations.

Song Qingqing walked to the sofa and sat down.

Jiang Shuo sat down opposite her and picked up the teapot.

The water flowed in a straight line, landing steadily in the white porcelain cup without spilling a single drop of tea.

"Have a hot drink to warm yourself up."

Song Qingqing picked up her cup and took a small sip.

The best jasmine flowers are served in water at the perfect temperature, not too hot to drink.

Jiang Shuo didn't rush to speak.

He leaned against the back of the sofa, his right leg crossed over his left.

One hand rests on the armrest, and the long, slender index finger taps lightly on the leather surface.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The only sound in the living room was this monotonous noise.

It took Jiang Shuo more than two minutes to stop pointing.

"I've heard about the mess that's been going on in Helan Mountain."

Song Qingqing's hand, holding the cup, froze in mid-air.

"Your report detailing the Zhou family's daughter-in-law's background was intercepted. A high-level confidential letter from above directly crushed the investigation team sent down by the Political Department."

Jiang Shuo speaks very slowly, as if he were talking about everyday matters at home.

"Your father was furious with the Song family. He threw all your personal belongings out of the main house this morning. I've sent someone to retrieve them for you."

"Your dear sister Song Ningning happily moved into the large second bedroom you've lived in for over twenty years the very next day."

Song Qingqing's breathing became erratic.

"Oh, and also, Han Yuzhi really dotes on you. She secretly slipped three hundred yuan into your clothes before you boarded the train, right?"

Jiang Shuo tore open each of her wounds, which she thought she had hidden so well, and exposed them to the air.

Including the life-saving money she relied on to survive.

Exactly.

This kind of intelligence network, which peels away layers of skin and tendons, is even more terrifying than having a knife pointed at her directly.

Song Qingqing slowly placed the teacup back on the table.

The bottom of the cup struck the solid wood with a dull thud.

What do you want?

Jiang Shuo stared at her for a while, his eyebrows relaxing and revealing the joyful expression of a hunter seeing his prey.

I want you.

Song Qingqing remained silent.

"But I don't do business at a loss." Jiang Shuo tapped the armrest again with his index finger. "You'll have to offer something in return."

He leaned slightly forward and fixed his gaze on Song Qingqing's face.

You have a secret.

Even though she was prepared, Song Qingqing still broke out in a fine layer of cold sweat on her back.

Jiang Shuo crossed his arms and leaned back.

"What you do is completely illogical. Your judgment of the situation is as decisive as if you could foresee the future. You understand the thoughts of those children from privileged families better than an old man who has lived half his life."

"And those unorthodox drugs you used to set a trap, I had the dregs tested, and no pharmaceutical factory in the whole country could make them."

"Including the day you suddenly appeared and saved me."

[WARNING! The backup target Jiangshuo has been identified as a high-level perceived threat!]

[Exposure of system mechanisms is strictly prohibited. The host is advised to immediately activate the alternative explanation plan!]

My heart rate reached its peak.

Song Qingqing could feel the blood pulsating in her eardrums.

She dug her nails into her palms, using the pain to forcefully suppress the surging fear.

She looked up.

"I have precognitive dreams."

Jiang Shuo raised one eyebrow slightly but didn't say anything.

"I can dream about things that didn't happen. Not everything happens, but I can see the big picture clearly."

Song Qingqing steadied her voice.

"For example, in the last few years, which side will rise to the top overnight, and which families will fall into the mud overnight?"

The living room fell completely silent.

Jiang Shuo pulled his hand out of his arm and stood up, using the sofa armrest for support.

He walked up to her and bent down.

Rough fingertips pressed against her skin, his thumb and forefinger wedging into the most vulnerable part of her jawbone.

With just a little force, you can crush this cartilage.

Jiang Shuo's thumb lightly brushed against the corner of her lips.

"Marry me."

The distance between the two people closed to within a fist's width.

The man had deep-set features, sharp eyebrows and eyes, and an aggressive air that made people want to avoid him.

Extremely tempting, yet extremely dangerous.

A scene suddenly flashed through Song Qingqing's mind.

The Gobi Desert in Northwest China.

Zhou Bingheng knelt on one knee and gently warmed Su Xingmian's icy hands.

He wrapped the woman in his military overcoat, feeling it unnecessary to even glance at anyone else.

That instinct to wholeheartedly protect someone.

She never got it in her life.

And the man in front of her was pinching her chin.

All he could think about was how much benefit her precognitive ability could bring him and how many political enemies it could help him eliminate.

The only thing left was that this face still caught his eye.

"it is good."

Song Qingqing heard herself utter a single word, steady and even.

A satisfied smile appeared on Jiang Shuo's lips.

He released his grip and straightened up.

"Go register and get your certificate tomorrow morning."

Jiang Shuo walked back to his previous seat and refilled his teacup.

"That's right."

He paused his teacup in mid-air.

"Precognitive dreams? I happen to be free tonight, could you tell me one?"

Song Qingqing stared at that profile and removed her hands from her knees.

"no problem."

She chuckled softly and straightened up.

"Which family's fortune-telling would you like to hear from first?"