Cannon Fodder in an Era Drama — I Survive with Acting

Chapter 222: The Last Chance

Before she could think it through, the sound of footsteps came from outside the door.

Wang Gui was gone.

Her heart plummeted at the realization.

She was trapped all alone in this eerie little room.

Yang Meiling rushed forward and kicked the door panel hard a few times.

She kicked the iron door with all her might, the impact making her knees go numb.

But the door didn’t budge at all.

Instead, the violent shaking sent dust from the walls raining down.

She bent over, covering her mouth and nose, and began to cough violently. Her throat was dry and itchy, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Each breath drew in more dust, making her dizzy.

Gasping for air, she leaned against the cold door and slowly slid to the floor, her heart pounding with fear.

Her back was pressed against the iron door, a chill seeping through her clothes and into her very bones.

She curled into a ball, hugging her knees, her unfocused gaze fixed on the darkness ahead.

’What will they do to me?’

’Why is Song Qingya doing this to me?’

Just as her mind was filled with resentment and unease,

the air in the room grew heavy, making it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from outside the door.

The sound was so soft it was almost imperceptible.

Yang Meiling immediately clamped her mouth shut, her whole body tensing as she strained to listen.

Her pupils dilated slightly, her gaze fixed intently on the iron door.

Her heart began to race, and a cold sweat broke out on her palms.

Then came a few soft clicks.

That wasn’t the sound of a key turning in the lock.

’Someone’s picking the lock!’

After a few deft movements, there was a crisp CLICK.

The old iron lock sprang open.

The door was slowly pushed open from the outside, just a crack, letting out a faint CREAK.

The night air, damp and cool, flooded in, making the cardboard boxes in the corner tremble slightly.

A short figure, hunched over, slipped nimbly inside.

The person was dressed in dark clothing, the brim of their hat pulled down low, obscuring most of their face.

’Song Chenglu?’

Yang Meiling’s eyes flew wide, her pupils constricting violently.

She blinked hard, afraid it was a hallucination brought on by terror.

But there was no mistake—it was Song Chenglu!

Song Chenglu quickly turned back, placed her right hand lightly on the door, and carefully eased it shut.

She turned around, squinting in the faint moonlight that filtered in through the window.

Their eyes met for a brief moment in the darkness.

Yang Meiling scrambled to her feet and grabbed Song Chenglu’s arm.

"Shh, be quiet!"

They both crouched down, their backs against a cold iron rack, hearts pounding furiously.

In the pale moonlight filtering through the small, high window, they could just barely make out each other’s faces.

"Why did you come back?"

Yang Meiling demanded in a hushed voice.

"I thought you slipped away in the chaos! Aren’t you the expert at saving your own skin?"

She paused, swallowing hard, her eyes fixed on the other woman.

"It’s crawling with people out there, and you dared to come back? Do you have a death wish?"

Now they were in the same boat, and neither could escape.

They both knew this all too well.

Song Chenglu said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She just kept her head down, her right hand clenched into a fist.

The pain kept her alert, and it also reminded her.

’I’ve already been exposed.’

The outside was already completely surrounded.

The footsteps of patrols rose and fell, and beams from flashlights periodically swept across the window.

’That man, Fei Jin... he’s meticulous and ruthless.’

’How could he possibly let any clue slip by?’

’He must have people in place, just waiting for his prey to walk into the trap.’

Yang Meiling stared at her pale face. A flash of suspicion in her eyes gave way to a cold, vicious glint.

"Chenglu," she said, stepping closer and lowering her voice to a near-whisper, "we can’t wait any longer! If we delay, neither of us will make it out alive!"

She swallowed and continued, "I just overheard a nurse say that Old Man Yuan is having surgery first thing tomorrow morning! Song Qingya is the chief surgeon! This is our chance—a golden opportunity!"

"This opportunity is too good to pass up! It’s also our last chance!"

"We have to make our move, right there on the operating table!"

"As long as something happens to him," she spat out each word through gritted teeth, "Song Qingya, as the chief surgeon, will have to take full responsibility! Her reputation, her status, that precious deanship she’s been eyeing... it’ll all come crashing down!"

"Let’s see how high and mighty she acts after that!"

Song Chenglu remained silent, her eyes downcast, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

But her clenched jaw relaxed slightly, a corner of her mouth twitched, and her gaze grew deeper.

Yang Meiling keenly sensed the shift in her mood. Delighted, she quickly fanned the flames.

"Once it’s done, you just stick with me!"

"My family may be ruined, but we still have our foundations, and some connections left! I can get money! Real money!"

"We’ll go far away!"

"We’ll go south! Find a place where no one knows us and start over... We won’t have to live in constant fear anymore."

"If you just help me this one time... we can both survive."

"It’s better than being dragged back and left to their mercy, right?"

’Yes,’ she thought. ’Even if the path ahead leads to an abyss, it’s better than being in Song Qingya’s clutches, completely at her mercy.’

’I can’t live like that anymore.’

’Living in constant fear, as insignificant as dust.’

She looked at Yang Meiling’s eyes, which burned with a crazed light.

Song Chenglu suddenly felt that while Yang Meiling was insane, her madness had a purpose. Unlike her own.

She had spent all these years in a daze, living like a puppet.

Staring into those eyes, she felt as if she were seeing another possible version of herself.

She thought of how she’d been living like a stray dog these past few days, and then she thought of Song Qingya’s high-and-mighty demeanor.

’I have no power, no backing.’

’But Song Qingya?’

’She has everything. Even a man like Fei Jin is completely devoted to her.’

’I hate her!’

’I hate Song Qingya’s perfection, I hate her composure.’

’Why should she have all the good things in the world?’

Song Chenglu snapped her head up. The weakness in her eyes vanished completely, replaced by a savage look.

"Fine."

"I’ll do it."

Yang Meiling grinned and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Now you’re talking!"

This was the Song Chenglu she knew.

In Dean Yuan’s hospital room, Fei Jin waited until he was sure the hallway was empty before quietly approaching Song Qingya.

Once sure that no one else was around, he drew near the chair where she sat slumped in exhaustion, his gaze fixed on her.

Seeing the exhaustion on her face, he could barely hide the concern in his eyes.

Fei Jin’s heart ached so much he could hardly breathe.

He knew she had barely slept a wink these past few days.

"Cheng Peng and his men have Yang Meiling under control."

"They moved fast. They’ve secured her room, and she can’t contact anyone right now."

"It’s safe for now, so don’t worry yourself sick."

He paused before adding.

"I’ve already arranged for patrols around the perimeter. They’ll report any sign of trouble immediately. You need to rest right now, not keep pushing yourself."

"I’ll keep an eye on things here. Go lie down on the bed for a bit."

He pointed to the small, temporary cot set up in the corner.

"If you collapse, who’s going to take charge? Dean Yuan is counting on you."

"Get some proper sleep, okay?"

Song Qingya was indeed exhausted.