Where's the cute girl we were promised? She's completely wiped out S-rank dungeons!

An Xiaomei withdrew her gaze and secretly glanced down at Song Yuan's expression. Song Yuan showed no sign of worrying about Qiao Ran and led her forward.

Whether a player will encounter a "heartbroken wife" and suffer mental pollution is indeed determined by their luck stat. Whenever they were about to pass through the corridor, Song Yuan would have An Xiaomei go up one floor:

Since the two of them are traveling together, their luck stats will be split. An Xiaomei's original luck stat of 88 will be reduced to 44. Even so, An Xiaomei still has a 22% chance of encountering this NPC, and if that happens, she will be unable to continue.

Song Yuan remembered that each time it deducted 20 health points, and if An Xiaomei had it deducted again, her mental points would be reset to zero. The three people led by Fu Zhengyang were already difficult to deal with; adding another indiscriminate killer monster would be even worse.

Although An Xiaomei was a B-level player, she was exceptionally timid. When Song Yuan asked her to go upstairs alone, she was so frightened that she cried, her thin legs trembling. Fortunately, she was obedient enough to do whatever she was told, her only request being:

"I'm scared if I'm too far away from you. Can I come a little closer?"

Seeing her pitiful, teary-eyed look, and considering that it wasn't an unreasonable request, Song Yuan readily agreed.

"Yes, but don't get too close, no more than half a meter."

An Xiaomei was delighted to see that she had agreed so easily, and tentatively asked:

"Then...can I hold your clothes?"

It was yet another request that seemed unnecessary. Song Yuan, carrying the water pipe, walked ahead and agreed without turning her head: "Until you meet Wang Daqiang or Fu Zhengyang, you can hold hands if you want."

"Okay! I'll just take a little bit..."

Song Yuan was only wearing a combat vest, which, to be honest, wasn't very convenient to hold. An Xiaomei stretched out two fingers and carefully pinched a small part of the black hem of the vest. Looking at Song Yuan's slender yet powerful back, she lowered her head and smiled a little shyly.

Just when she felt completely safe, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her:

An Xiaomei's dark pupils shrank to tiny dots. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something to Song Yuan in front of her, but before her vocal cords could vibrate and produce the first indistinct syllable, everything went black and she knew nothing more.

Instead, a pair of eyes filled with jealousy and murderous intent appeared.

The woman's eyes were murderous. One hand still firmly gripped Song Yuan's clothes, while on the other hand, her pink, beautifully rounded nails were quietly growing longer and sharper. She contemptuously raised her hand, gestured towards Song Yuan's fair nape, and raised her sharp claws to stab!

"Oh right, I forgot why you were sent to the mental hospital."

Song Yuan turned around without warning, and the murderous intent in An Xiaomei's eyes vanished instantly. Her once incredibly sharp nails returned to normal, and when she saw Song Yuan looking back at her, she stared blankly.

"Ah... wh, what's wrong?"

"Why are you raising your hand?"

Song Yuan asked疑惑地问道, "Is your scalp itchy?"

"But...maybe a little?"

An Xiaomei responded uncertainly, scratching her scalp—though it wasn't actually itchy at all. She looked at her with a slightly apologetic expression:

"Sorry, I wasn't listening carefully. What did you ask me?"

So Song Yuan repeated herself: "I'm asking you, why were you admitted to the mental hospital?"

Hearing this question, An Xiaomei was clearly disappointed. She remained silent for a while, then, after calming herself down, she honestly told Song Yuan:

"Actually, I don't remember, or rather, I don't remember everything."

I had a husband before I was admitted to the mental hospital, and he's my ex-husband now. He treated me very badly, often lost his temper with me, and even hit me..."

Thinking of that dark time, she couldn't help but clutch Song Yuan's clothes tightly.

Her ex-husband was a medical student, a glamorous and elite man in the eyes of outsiders. Everyone thought she had married the best man in the world. But that devil pretended to be gentle and considerate to outsiders, but in reality, he was using his professional knowledge to inflict all kinds of inhuman torture on his wife in places that outsiders could not see.

Whenever he had a bad day at work, he would come home with a smile, then silently pull out his belt. Every time this happened, she knew that the torture was about to begin.

Her ex-husband knew perfectly well what kind of injury fell under the category of "minor injury." Every time she was tortured until she was covered in wounds, crying and screaming, thinking she was about to die, the hospital would just casually give her a "minor injury" diagnosis. In the end, this matter would always be suppressed by that devilish man, only to result in even more terrifying torture.

"Later, I remember one day I just couldn't hold back anymore."

At this point, An Xiaomei couldn't recall anything: "I got into a fight with him... After that fight, he divorced me, and during the court hearing, he said I was mentally ill and sent me to a mental hospital."

As An Xiaomei finished speaking, she sadly raised her hand to wipe away her tears:

"Forget it, I'm so grateful he let me go. If he hadn't sent me to the hospital, I wouldn't have met the director and you. Without the director's treatment, I wouldn't be here now."

After listening, Song Yuan turned her head back and continued on her way. Her tone was neither comforting nor sarcastic, completely calm and even:

"Is that so? I see."

Weird.

Because she herself was mentally ill, Song Yuan had also studied psychology. How could a man with such a twisted mentality possibly give up on his "prey" whom he had tormented for so many years just because of a single fight? An Xiaomei must have omitted something very important.

Of course, you could tell from her micro-expressions that she wasn't lying; she genuinely didn't remember.

A brief silence fell between them. Less than five seconds later, An Xiaomei's pure, clear gaze was replaced by cold, bloodthirsty indifference. Because Song Yuan had interrupted her, the woman was now extremely dissatisfied.

She extended her scarlet tongue, licked her luscious red lips, and stretched out her sharp claws:

This time, she's determined to deliver a fatal blow!

"Hush - be quiet!"

Just as she was about to succeed, Song Yuan turned around first, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and pulled her behind the wall. Her speed was so fast that it was almost a blur.

Having failed twice, the woman was furious and could only log off in frustration. An Xiaomei logged back in, looking at Song Yuan's serious profile with a blank expression, and asked, "Ah... what happened?"

Song Yuan squatted down beside her, holding up a finger to warn her to shut up again: "Don't talk. Did you hear anything?"

An Xiaomei: "A...voice?"

In the quiet stairwell, after the two quieted down, An Xiaomei did hear a rustling sound—a sound that was clearly not coming from the NPC "Heartbroken Wife," who only scratched or banged her head against the wall.

The sound was coming from one of the rooms ahead. It sounded like a small brush sweeping across the floor, making a "swish, swish, swish" sound, mixed with some slight knocking noises.

An Xiaomei's skin crawled with goosebumps. She quickly clutched Song Yuan's clothes, and even more chillingly, she began to hear voices:

"...How could it be so dirty...How could it be so dirty! Ah...When he comes back and sees this, he'll definitely be disappointed in me again..."

"Ah...don't abandon me, don't abandon me! Why can't I even do this little thing right...no, no, no, it's because I didn't do it well enough, it must be because I didn't do it well enough..."

Song Yuan silently mouthed two words to An Xiaomei: "Come here."

He then stood up and walked over alone. Most of the rooms in the corridor had their doors closed, except for one that was ajar.

An Xiaomei's legs felt weak and limp, and she struggled to her feet, gripping the wall. At this critical moment, she dared not hold onto Song Yuan's clothes any longer. Holding her breath, she watched as Song Yuan pressed herself against the wall, peering through the crack in the door.

Inside was someone Song Yuan never expected.