By the time Yang Haoran regained his composure, he found himself standing in a straight corridor, facing a door with the number 501 on it.
The midday sun streamed through the corridor’s glass windows, slightly dazzling. Yang Haoran rubbed his eyes and gradually adjusted to the light.
He paced a few steps in the corridor and looked out through the glass. Below was the residential complex’s common area. A winding path paved with smooth, cobblestone-like pebbles meandered like a slithering snake. Lush green grass bordered both sides, and sunlight glinted off a fountain, creating a brilliant, shimmering reflection that was both blinding and strikingly real.
Upon closer observation, he could see small groups of people chatting under the shade of trees in the complex, with occasional figures moving about.
Breathing in the air and feeling the slightly scorching heat of the sun on his arms, Yang Haoran was astonished. It felt too real, just like an actual world.
“Click…” Suddenly, the sound of a door opening came from behind him. Yang Haoran turned around and saw a plain-looking middle-aged woman wearing a floral-patterned dress. She was holding a black trash bag, seemingly on her way out to dispose of it.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The middle-aged woman eyed Yang Haoran, who seemed to be lurking suspiciously. Seeing that he was just a young man, she relaxed slightly and questioned him. Yang Haoran glanced at her door number; she was a resident of unit 502, directly across from 501.
He knew that 501 was the address of the “bitch” and the female protagonist, her owner. The resident of 502 was briefly described in the world of the story: this middle-aged woman, named Sun Ying, was a housewife.
In the original work, Sun Ying was portrayed as a rather paranoid woman. Because the female protagonist across the hall was exceptionally beautiful and had an alluring figure—which Sun Ying described as “like a vixen”—she often suspected her husband of having an affair with her.
Ever since her family moved here, her husband had become much colder toward her after meeting the female protagonist. He frequently called her a “haggard old woman.” Not daring to vent her anger on her husband, she directed her resentment toward the female protagonist, harboring intense jealousy. She was a typical, embittered woman.
Most importantly, she had accidentally witnessed her husband occasionally encountering the female protagonist and greeting her with a beaming smile. The stark contrast between that radiant smile and the scornful face he showed when calling her a “haggard old woman” was deeply glaring.
Yang Haoran recalled Sun Ying’s background. Sun Ying was a supporting character in the initial training chapter. According to the plot, she would appear later; he hadn’t expected to run into her now.
“Auntie, I’m here to see the resident of unit 501.”
Yang Haoran radiated a harmless, innocent smile as he spoke.
“Are you here for that vixen—what are you to her?”
Sun Ying spoke bluntly, almost letting slip a curse before catching herself and rephrasing.
She looked at Yang Haoran suspiciously. Given his age, could he be that vixen’s child?
“Auntie, you’ll find out in due time.”
Naturally, Yang Haoran wouldn’t reveal anything prematurely; he had to follow the plot.
“Click…” The resident of unit 501 seemed to have heard the noise in the corridor and opened the door. The three of them faced each other in silence.
“Aunt Shen?”
Yang Haoran was stunned when he saw the female protagonist’s appearance. She was an enchantingly beautiful妖精 (yāojing, seductress/femme fatale), with lustrous black hair cascading like a waterfall. She leaned lazily against the doorframe, her captivating, amber-like eyes exuding endless allure. Her delicate and pretty nose and her rosy, full lips shimmered with a tantalizing gloss under the light, incredibly inviting.
Wasn’t this the devilish Aunt Shen? Was she the female protagonist of “The Bitch and Her Master”?
A huge question mark popped into Yang Haoran’s mind.
“Little Ranran, you’re here?” Shen Qing’s beautiful, enchanting eyes were mesmerizing as she greeted Yang Haoran with a smile.
“Vixen,” Sun Ying muttered under her breath, disgusted by Shen Qing’s provocatively seductive demeanor.
“Oh… oh, oh.”
Yang Haoran’s brain momentarily short-circuited. He had come here to experience some carnal pleasures but never expected the female protagonist to be the devilish Aunt Shen who had watched him grow up. It was completely beyond his expectations.
Seeing Yang Haoran’s dazed and foolish expression, Shen Qing found it somewhat amusing. “Come in, Little Ranran. The food is all ready, just waiting for you to eat.”
She emphasized the word “eat” deeply, making it sound意味深长 (yìwèishēncháng, meaningful/suggestive). She stuck out her tongue and licked her rosy lips, like a succubus ready to devour a man’s essence.
Sun Ying couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Cursing the slut under her breath, she slammed her door shut with a loud bang and left with her trash bag.
In a daze, Yang Haoran was pulled by Aunt Shen into the apartment. It was a three-bedroom, two-living-room unit, decorated with simple elegance. The living room was tidy and spotlessly clean. He was led to the sofa and sat down.
He then watched as Aunt Shen busied herself, bringing out dish after dish from the kitchen and arranging them on the coffee table in the living room.
In the original work, the female protagonist of “The Bitch and Her Master” was an erotic manga artist who earned a living by drawing illustrations—which shared similarities with the real Aunt Shen’s profession of writing erotic novels.
Yang Haoran recalled the plot of the initial training chapter. The scene before him seemed to match the story, but there were differences. For instance, in the original, the male protagonist went directly to unit 501 and knocked on the door without encountering Sun Ying. His own brief delay had led to meeting Sun Ying, indicating that the plot wasn’t fixed.
Depending on individual choices and developments, the story could evolve differently. It seemed the original work of “The Bitch and Her Master” only provided a framework.
When Shen Qing had brought all five dishes and one soup from the kitchen to the coffee table and sat down opposite him, Yang Haoran had a closer look at Aunt Shen’s face. Her beauty was even more striking up close: her captivating eyes, sensual red lips, and her tall, jade-like nose were so perfectly sculpted that every feature seemed flawlessly designed, like a masterpiece carefully sketched by a painting virtuoso.
Gazing at Shen Qing’s stunningly beautiful face, he试探道 (shìtàn dào,试探道, probed/tested the waters): “Aunt Shen, do you know Liu Ruoxi?”
He wanted to试探一下 (shìtàn yīxià,试探一下, sound out/test), to see if this was just a character who looked identical to Aunt Shen or if she was the real devilish Shen.
“Have you lost your mind, Little Ranran? Isn’t that your mother?” Shen Qing shot him a coquettish glare with her charming eyes.
“Then what are we doing here…” Yang Haoran trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished.
“You know the plot, don’t you, Little Ranran? Just follow it later. Don’t you want Aunt Shen to acknowledge you as her master and become the bitch beneath your crotch? Or perhaps you feel心疼 (xīnténg,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼,心疼