That Dropped Chinese Novel’s Useless Me Says No to the System

Chapter 112 Big Eye

The three of us slipped quietly back into the Spring-Come Inn’s rear kitchen.

The place was blazing with heat. Pots bubbled, steam slammed into our faces. I crouched down and stared for a long time at the rows of wine jars lined neatly on the ground—sure enough, every single one was sealed tight.

Three whole layers around the mouth. No way to tell what was inside.

“Can’t smell a thing,” I muttered, leaning closer for another sniff. My nose almost pressed to the paper seal. “Looks perfectly normal to me.”

“Your nose is only good for sniffing out meals,” Hua said, flicking his fan with undisguised disdain.

I was about to argue back when an old cook poked his head through the back door.

He caught sight of us sneaking around the wine jars and almost dropped the ladle in his hand. He flapped both arms like a panicked chicken, clearly trying to shoo us off.

My heart clenched. I quickly gestured back at him, pointed at the wine jars, then made a big circle with my hands—trying to ask, “Can we buy one?”

The cook froze, then shook his head furiously, making muffled “mm-mm!” sounds that were obviously “No! Not for sale!” He even reached out to push me toward the door.

“Hey, hey, hey—don’t push. I’m not done looking—”

Before I finished, there was a sudden thunk.

I whipped around. Hua had somehow already crouched down, scooped up one of the jars, and pressed it to his chest.

“Move!”

His fan snapped shut with a loud crack, and the next instant he shot out the door like a greased eel.

“What?!” I stared after him in disbelief—until Lian grabbed me by the back of my collar.

“Don’t stand there. Run.”

So I was practically dragged along, tripping and stumbling as we scrambled over the back wall. I nearly lost a shoe at the top.

Behind us, the old cook finally realized what happened. He stomped on the ground and let out frantic muffled cries—unable to shout properly, only able to panic silently. I looked back at his flushed, furious face and almost burst out laughing.

When we landed on the other side, I clutched my stomach, panting. “Great. All the buns I ate this morning… gone toward scaling that wall.”

Hua patted the jar in his arms smugly. “Hey, this isn’t stealing. It’s borrowing. For research.”

“Borrowing?” I rolled my eyes. “If you’re not returning it, it’s stealing.”

“Who says we’re not returning it? Once we’re done, we’ll put it back,” Hua said dead seriously. “We’re helping them check for safety hazards. Public service.”

I snorted. “Didn’t think being mute had a benefit—makes sneaking things out way easier.”

Lian hauled me forward by the back of my collar. “Less talking. Move.”

Thinking of the eerily silent kitchen, I quickly nodded. “Right, right—back to the ruined temple. Otherwise the next thing we know, we’ll have people chasing us with… whatever the hell they use here.”

—

We carried the jar all the way back to the ruined temple, panting.

“Hey—” I had just set the jar down when I spotted Juan already waiting inside.

“Huh?” I blinked. “How’d you get back before us? Didn’t you go ask around in the kitchen?”

Juan didn’t answer. Instead, he rushed toward us, face even paler than before, and snatched the jar straight out of Hua’s arms.

“Hey!” Hua didn’t even have time to react before—

CRASH.

Juan smashed the jar on the ground. Shards flew everywhere.

“You—!” I jumped three feet in the air. I grabbed Juan’s shoulders. “What are you doing?! We almost died climbing a wall to get that!”

Juan turned around, and tears burst down his face as he sobbed, choking on his own breath. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… The boss of Spring-Come Inn told me to break any wine you brought out. If I didn’t… if I didn’t… I’d never see Jiu and Liu again…”

My heart stopped cold. I spun around to look for them—and only then realized the two kids were gone.

My throat seized. No sound came out.

Lian’s face darkened. “So. They’ve been watching us.”

Hua snapped his fan shut. The noise was like ice breaking. “Perfect. They’ve started threatening kids.”

I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak. “Then… who do we look for now?”

Lian was silent for a moment. His eyes dimmed slightly. “I’ll go to Senior An again.”

I instinctively tried to follow, but he stopped me. “You stay here. Look after Juan.”

He turned and disappeared into the night.

Hua and I remained in the ruined temple, comforting the tear-streaked Juan. I closed the half-broken temple door and lit half a candle. But the unease in my chest only grew heavier.

The sky dimmed. Shadows stretched long across the broken floor. When the candle burned halfway down, I finally muttered, “Why isn’t Lian back yet? We really can’t split up again. If we split again, one of us won’t come back.”

Hua leaned against the wall, fan tapping lazily. “This time, splitting up isn’t even an option.”

I blinked. “What do you mean—”

Before I finished, footsteps sounded outside the temple.

Then the door was kicked clean off its hinges and crashed to the floor.

A freezing gust blasted inward, snuffing out the candle with a sharp puff.

Torchlight flooded into the temple. Dozens of people surged inside, faces blank, torches burning high.

At the front stood a plump middle-aged man, smiling with squinted eyes.

Juan froze, trembling. “The… the boss of Spring-Come Inn…”

I swallowed hard as cold prickled up my spine. My heartbeat hammered painfully. I whispered, “We’re done. This time we really found trouble.”

The innkeeper glanced back at the man who kicked the door, barely lifting a finger. The kicker instantly turned white, ducked back two steps as if wishing he could disappear into the broken doorframe.

I blinked—this innkeeper was terrified by a door-kicking sound?

Hua stepped forward, half shielding Juan and me.

The innkeeper’s cheeks quivered. He waved his hand.

Several burly men surged forward, reaching for us.

My heart jolted. Then something clicked.

If they’re that scared of noise—

I took a deep breath and screamed at the top of my lungs:

“HELP! MURDER! SOMEBODY HELP—!!”

My voice shook the roof tiles.

Everyone froze. Like they’d been struck by lightning. Their shocked faces twisted into something like fear—even the innkeeper stumbled back half a step.

The silence lasted only a heartbeat.

Then a piercing shriek sounded outside—like wind through a bamboo pipe mixed with a dying night bird’s cry. It scraped against the bones.

Torch flames flickered violently, bleaching their faces deathly pale.

The shriek didn’t stop. It grew sharper, drilling into our ears. One by one, the torchbearers collapsed backward, torches scattering across the ground. Sparks leapt wildly, shadows writhing like they were alive.

Pain stabbed my skull. I grabbed my head, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Juan was already curled up on the floor, face drained of color.

“Move!” Hua snarled through clenched teeth. He grabbed me and Juan, hauling us toward the exit. The wind outside was brutally cold, like blowing straight from the abyss.

When I lifted my head—I froze.

The night sky had turned a murky red.

At its center hung a giant blood-red eye. Suspended above the heavens, its pupil slowly contracted—focused directly on us. Cold, indifferent. Watching.

When its gaze fell on me, a chill shot down my spine; my limbs stiffened. I could hear whispering—soft, indistinct—like something calling my name.

My vision went black. The world tilted and collapsed into a bottomless pit.

All sound stretched long—long—until it dissolved into absolute silence.