004
On the first day of transmigrating into the book, Su Ximu encountered the domestic violence scene of his eldest brother beating his third brother. His brain was almost turned into a mushy pulp by these successive upheavals, but his instinct to save people still drove him to act quickly.
Squatting at the bedroom door, Su Ximu finally found the emergency number on his phone. He quickly exited the search page and began dialing.
The call connected quickly. After four regular rings, a voice came from the other end, enthusiastic yet tinged with something eerie: “Hello, welcome to the 4444 Citizens’ Hotline. How can I help you?”
Su Ximu hurriedly explained everything that had happened here and asked the other side to come over quickly.
Unexpectedly, after hearing his description, the person on the phone immediately lost all interest. Even the formulaic enthusiasm vanished as they mechanically asked: “Alright, what’s your address?”
“Wealth Avenue 837 Villa.”
Su Ximu felt relieved. Although the book didn’t specify the Su Family’s exact address, fortunately, the Original Host Su Ximu’s memories had it.
But as soon as he finished giving the address, the person on the other end hung up with a click.
Anxious, Su Ximu tried calling back.
Before he could even speak, the call was hung up again in a hurry.
It was as if he wasn’t a help-seeker in need, but some kind of ferocious flood beast.
Su Jianglou was grabbed by the hair by his eldest brother, his head slammed into the ground repeatedly. Bricks and stones flew, and he himself bled profusely from his head. But aside from occasional stifled grunts of frustration, he remained utterly fearless.
He knew his eldest brother wouldn’t kill their new little brother for now.
Because he was the one who brought Xiao Mu into this home. Only he had the right to kill Xiao Mu after he broke the rules, or to order other family members to do so.
Unless some weird entity more powerful than him broke into his dungeon and forcibly attacked his prey.
Feeling the intense pain and dizziness in his head stop, and seeing that his eldest brother had no intention of continuing the beating, Su Jianglou wiped his face with his hand and casually flung the blood onto the living room carpet. He then leaned back against the sofa.
The man in a black suit and pants, his face calm and showing no trace of the violence he’d just committed, stopped at his words. He removed his bloodstained white gloves and glanced sideways from above.
The floor, dented from the blows, blurred and twisted before restoring itself to pristine condition.
Su Jianglou, sitting on the ground, had a gruesome gash on his forehead that faintly revealed white bone beneath. It writhed and healed.
Behind the sofa near the staircase, where Su Xuanxiao’s gaze landed, the young man holding a golden long sword felt his heartbeat quicken.
He clutched the weapon he’d “snatched” from the Corridor Knight Sculpture, cautiously peeking half his face from behind the sofa, searching for an opportunity.
After confirming the emergency number was correct, he dialed it a third time, only to be cursed at as a lunatic by the person on the other end, who had finally lost patience.
He wasn’t sure if the customs in this transmigrated book’s world differed from his own, but with the massive crashes still echoing—turning what had started as a domestic violence scene into a potential murder—he couldn’t stand by coldly.
He had to act himself.
Holding what he judged to be the most intimidating and lethal weapon available to him, Su Ximu peeked out from behind the sofa. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him.
He dazedly looked up and found that the “eldest brother,” whose footsteps had still echoed from across the room just three seconds ago, was now right in front of him.
And it seemed… he had been discovered.
Su Xuanxiao looked at the sword in Su Ximu’s hand, his expression one of disapproval.
He reached out and effortlessly took the sword from the young man’s grasp.
Su Ximu only felt a brief daze before the weapon was gone. His gaze involuntarily met the “eldest brother’s,” and he felt as if he’d fallen into an abyss. Though his body remained in place, his soul experienced a clear sensation of weightlessness.
Until Third Brother, sprawled in front of the sofa, spoke up: “Xiao Mu gets scared easily, Big Brother. Don’t frighten him.”
Only then did Su Ximu feel himself back on solid ground.
Su Xuanxiao had no intention of continuing the exchange with his “new little brother.” He glanced regretfully at the sword in his hand and tossed out a line: “Your second brother will come home next week. Before that, clean up the mess. We’re family—I don’t want major conflicts breaking out between you all.”
Watching his retreating back, it was hard to imagine such warm words as “we’re family” coming from the man who had just brutally beaten his brother.
“B-Big Brother.”
Unexpectedly, the one who called out to stop him wasn’t Su Jianglou, but the spendthrift “little brother” who had just destroyed one of his auction sculptures.
“Maybe you know that domestic violence is actually… actually called intentional assault.”
Su Ximu fiddled with the hem of his clothes, avoiding the man’s gaze, his voice small: “Intentional murder is possible too. You’d go to jail.”
Su Xuanxiao finally deigned to speak: “Did you call the police then?”
“I-I did.”
Facing “Big Brother” Su Xuanxiao, Su Ximu always felt a bit scared and started stammering involuntarily.
When facing Third Brother, perhaps because the novel stated that Su Ximu got along best with Su Jianglou, and since he’d seen Third Brother first today, after the initial panic, he wasn’t as afraid anymore.
Su Xuanxiao nodded and continued his calm questioning: “What did they say?”
“He hung up.”
“And then? Did you call back?”
“Yeah.”
They called him a lunatic.
The stern, cold-faced family head pressed on, eyeing the boy who looked aggrieved after just a single “yeah”: “Who did I hit? Him?”
Su Ximu turned back in the direction “Big Brother” indicated and, upon seeing Third Brother sitting on the ground, widened his eyes.
From the bedroom, he might not have seen everything clearly, but he was sure he’d witnessed “Big Brother” smashing Third Brother’s head into the ground… right?
Yet Third Brother’s forehead now showed no injury at all.
“Th-that red stuff…” Su Ximu stammered, then spotted a bucket of paint that seemed to have just been knocked over in the corner.
Su Xuanxiao’s lip curved slightly. He turned and went upstairs, leaving the boy—who had been righteously stern just two minutes ago—standing there, doubting himself.
Su Jianglou, who then stood up, added fuel to that doubt.
Su Ximu began to wonder if too much had happened today, making his nerves overly tense.
At that moment, he heard Third Brother comforting him.
“Big Brother’s just a bit strict in personality. Don’t be scared. Xiao Mu, you forgot? Big Brother dotes on you the most.”
Seeing the boy blink without responding, Su Jianglou gave an example: “See, Big Brother beat me today and didn’t touch you.”
Su Ximu’s mouth fell slightly open: “Ah?”
In the time that followed, Su Ximu watched as the other man went upstairs to shower and even found him a fresh set of clothes. He urged Su Ximu to wash off the red paint he’d gotten on himself downstairs. Throughout, he showed no awareness of being an injured party.
Only then did Su Ximu confirm that Third Brother truly wasn’t badly hurt. Maybe this really was just how “Big Brother” and “Third Brother” interacted.
A novel was still just a novel, after all—it couldn’t describe every detail of every character’s life.
When the novel truly became his life, there were still so many unknowns in this world.
Like how the emergency number here was 4444, and after reporting the incident, the police didn’t even show up.
Perhaps that was the true meaning of “customs differ every ten li, every hundred li.”
He couldn’t fully project his original world’s mindset onto this one.
But… if he had transmigrated here and replaced the original Su Ximu, then where had the original Su Ximu gone?
Did he meet with an accident after getting drunk, or had they swapped bodies?
If it was the latter…
Standing under the shower, Su Ximu pumped some body wash. Surprisingly, it smelled like the orange scent he’d loved since childhood.
But he’d never used body wash like this before—he only used soap.
He had no doting brothers, no home in the Villa District, no endless pocket money as described in the novel.
What did he have?
His most loving grandmother, who had already passed away. Parents whose faces he could no longer clearly recall.
His home was tiny—two small rooms left to him by Grandma. Inside were old newspapers and bottles she’d collected before falling ill. He couldn’t bear to sell them or throw them away, so they stayed there.
He had a card with five thousand six hundred yuan on it. Money he’d saved from working after coming of age.
Su Ximu thought that saving five thousand six hundred yuan was already quite a lot.
But in the novel, a single bottle of wine the Original Host and his friends sneaked off to drink at a bar cost more than that.
Though arriving here and taking over the Original Host’s life wasn’t his intention—he’d been passive about it—Su Ximu still couldn’t convince himself to enjoy these things that didn’t belong to him with a clear conscience.
If he just slept and woke up tomorrow back in their respective places, that would be perfect.
Su Ximu finished washing up and walked out of the bathroom in clean clothes, thinking this.
When he emerged, Su Jianglou was already sitting on the bedroom sofa waiting for him. He extended an invitation: “Want to go for a run after breakfast?”
Su Ximu originally wanted to say no.
But then Su Jianglou added: “I just argued with Big Brother and I’m in a bad mood. Wanna go?”
Su Ximu: “Sure.”
Forty minutes later.
Before heading out, Su Jianglou took a Family Badge and hung it on his little brother. As he helped hang it, the brothers inevitably drew close. Catching that familiar scent, his dark golden eyes narrowed in the sunlight, his mood improving from the start.
His luck was pretty good.
The very first time, and he’d found such a great Xiao Mu.
Even the way he held a weapon, trying to protect him, matched his imagined grown-up Xibao perfectly.
Weird entities wouldn’t be moved to tenderness by a prey’s desire to protect them, but they could briefly soften upon touching fragments of memory.
So why couldn’t Second Brother come back a few days later?
He really didn’t want to lose this little brother so soon.
“Xiao Mu, I didn’t find your ID Card in your room this morning. You must’ve lost it last night when you were drunk. Remember not to lose this Family Badge again, or the security and neighbors who don’t recognize you might treat you like a bad guy.”
Su Jianglou’s tone carried an eerie undertone as he reached out to straighten the badge on Su Ximu’s chest.
Su Ximu understood. Wealth Avenue was a famous rich neighborhood with strict security.
He tugged at the badge’s cord to confirm it was secure and wouldn’t fall off, then nodded in assurance: “Yeah, I won’t lose it.”
Real World
C City Strange Tales Confidentiality Bureau Meeting Room
The leaders of Action Groups A, C, G, and H—who had barely rested a few hours—along with Bureau Chief Zhao Yanhan, gathered back at the conference table.
“Rao Fei’s intel came through ten minutes ago via the No. 282 weird item. He entered a newly opened dungeon, temporary code name 【Diligent Gardener】.”
“You all aren’t busy right now, so help me power the No. 282 item. We need to keep Rao Fei connected to the Real World.”
Group A Leader nodded and took the initiative, placing his hand on No. 282—a device resembling a hand-crank telephone. He asked simultaneously: “What grade is Rao Fei’s dungeon this time?”
“B+ Grade.”
The other group leaders in the room waited for the Bureau Chief’s next words.
If it was just B+ Grade, there was no need to call them all in and expend this much effort to maintain communication.
Sure enough, Zhao Yanhan’s follow-up was: “Dungeon location: Wealth Avenue.”
Everyone in the room drew a sharp breath.
“A mere B+ Grade dungeon went to Wealth Avenue?!”
Did Wealth Avenue even have dungeons below S Grade?
“Rao Fei only has one death chance left, right? I’ll contact the Mental Hospital.” That was from Group B’s deputy leader.
“Let him be careful. Don’t want him having no chance to even return to the Mental Hospital.”
Wealth Avenue—oh man, Rao Fei heading there might not even beat the weird entities picking up balls by the Playground Slide.
At that moment, Group A Leader, who had kept his hand on the weird item, wore a strange expression as he reported, “Rao Fei sent a message. He said he encountered a weird creature wearing a badge in the dungeon. It didn’t feel threatening, so he wants to go up and give it a try.”
Bureau Chief Zhao nodded calmly. “Let him go ahead. Group A, prepare the obituary. Group A Rao Fei, lost in the dungeon. Handle family benefits as per martyrdom.”
