CHAPTER 46: CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: SIXTH SENSE TINGLING

A good night of sleep in a rather comfortable room was enough to put An Ning in a good mood when she woke up in the morning.

What made this morning even better was knowing that Shen Xiyu played by the rules and stayed in Room Type D.

While she had nothing against him, okay, never mind. She did have a bone to pick with him because he was the main male lead in the original timeline.

His success partly came from Sun Qiaolian which in turn meant that the demise of her family indirectly benefited Shen Xiyu.

Underneath that gentleman facade was a man cold to the bone. Hypocrisy was practically his middle name.

And of course, the fact that everyone constantly compared him to Shen Bojun, saying he could not measure up, only made him even more twisted.

So knowing that Shen Xiyu had not enjoyed a good night’s sleep while she had slept like royalty was, without a doubt, the happiest thing to happen today.

With that satisfaction warming her mood, she headed out to join the others for breakfast.

*****

Everyone gathered in the common space as they ate their breakfast. They heaved a collective sigh of relief because the production team wasn’t that inhumane yet.

However, Wu Shiyun was not one of those sighing in relief.

Her family consisted of her parents, her older brother and herself. Her older brother was the pride of the Wu family, the legitimate successor of the Wu Group. For that, Wu Shiyun was eternally grateful.

Of course, she technically had as much claim to the successor position as her brother did. But she knew better.

Throughout her childhood and adolescence, there had always been people who tried to sow discord between her and her brother, whispering that she should fight for the successor position.

They spoke as if ambition were a simple switch she could flip on, as if the corporate world were some glamorous battlefield where she only needed to step forward and claim her place.

Wu Shiyun had ignored all of them.

She knew herself better than anyone else.

Her brother was born for business.

She was not.

And more importantly, she possessed the kind of small-animal’s sixth sense that warned her whenever someone was trying to stir trouble.

One glance, one tone, one misplaced smile, she could always tell when intentions were not clean. Thanks to that instinct, every attempt to pit her against her brother had gone nowhere.

She sidestepped every trap, every whisper, every poisoned suggestion.

In the end, she remained exactly what she had always been: the cherished princess of the Wu family.

Her brother adored her.

Her parents doted on her.

Her place in the family had never been something she needed to fight for.

And now, that same sixth sense was tingling again.

A soft prickle at the back of her neck.

A quiet warning in her chest.

The unmistakable feeling that someone, somewhere, was plotting mischief.

Wu Shiyun’s chopsticks paused mid-air.

Her gaze slid toward the director, who was smiling far too cheerfully for this early in the morning.

His cheerful expression was stretched just a little too wide, like someone hiding a secret behind a smile.

Her instincts whispered the obvious truth. The director was up to no good.

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

He was feeding them breakfast.

Warm porridge.

Freshly steamed buns.

Even tea.

And everyone else was eating happily, blissfully unaware. Someone muttered under their breath, "Why is the food so good today? I don’t trust it."

Wu Shiyun, however, had fought enough social battles and dodged enough family politics to recognise a pattern when she saw one.

This was not kindness. This was preparation.

She had half a feeling the director was feeding them only to ready them for slaughter.

Wu Shiyun set her bowl down slowly.

The others were still chatting, still laughing, still enjoying what looked suspiciously like a peaceful morning. But Wu Shiyun’s instincts were screaming loud enough to drown out the clatter of cutlery.

She had seen this pattern before.

At charity galas.

At corporate dinners.

At family events where "surprises" were rarely pleasant.

Feed them well, lull them into comfort, then drop the trapdoor.

Her gaze sharpened on the director.

He was hovering near the table, smiling like a benevolent uncle, an expression that would have been comforting if it weren’t sitting on the face of a man who had gleefully watched them chase chickens for entertainment.

He caught her stare.

And his smile widened.

Wu Shiyun straightened.

Yes.

Absolutely yes.

Danger.

An Ning, seated a few chairs away, noticed the shift in her posture. She took a sip of tea, her expression unreadable and elegant as ever, as if already prepared for whatever chaos would unfold.

Jiang Shuyue looked tired. Shen Xiyu looked like he wished he could crawl back to Room Type D and sleep instead. Sun Qiaolian pretended to be unbothered. Zhou Zhenyu was quietly eating his bun with the calm of a man who had decided not to think too deeply about anything before 10 a.m.

And then the director clapped his hands.

Wu Shiyun flinched.

"Good morning, everyone!" he chirped.

Wu Shiyun’s stomach dropped.

Here it comes.

"That was a lovely breakfast, wasn’t it?" the director continued.

The cast exchanged wary looks.

Except Zhou Zhenyu, who nodded earnestly.

The director beamed brighter.

"Wonderful. I’m glad you’re all full and energised..."

A beat of silence rippled across the room.

"...because your first morning mission will begin in fifteen minutes."

Wu Shiyun closed her eyes.

Slaughter. Absolute slaughter.

The room sank into silence.

Fifteen minutes.

Not thirty.

Not an hour.

Not even enough time for nerves to settle.

Wu Shiyun inhaled sharply, mentally lighting incense sticks for her own survival.

The director clapped again, delighted by the collective dread. "Please finish up and gather outside the storage shed. All equipment will be provided on-site."

Equipment.

Another terrible word.

An Ning’s brows lifted ever so slightly. "Equipment usually means trouble," she murmured, almost to herself.

The little melon inside her bracelet hummed with excitement, a private vibration only she could sense. Drama! Morning Drama!

Across the table, Shen Xiyu pinched the bridge of his nose, already defeated. Jiang Shuyue straightened her posture as if bracing for impact. Sun Qiaolian smoothed her hair, ready to look graceful no matter what disaster awaited. And Zhou Zhenyu finally paused mid-chew, the realisation dawning on him a few seconds too late.

The director flashed his brightest smile yet. "Don’t worry. Today’s task is simple."

Everyone tensed.

Director and "simple" did not belong in the same dictionary.

Wu Shiyun pressed her lips together. "We’re doomed."

An Ning set down her tea with a pleasant smile that should have worried everyone else.

"Let’s go find out," she said.

And just like that, the morning peace ended. The real chaos began. Somewhere far away, the production team laughed quietly.