Reborn As A Doomsday Villainess-Chapter 15: Virus C137

As Qingran leaned back into the bath, allowing the warmth to soothe her tense muscles, but her mind refused to settle. The eerie certainty in Feng Yizhou's texts, the way her system refused to give her full access to his data—it all felt too calculated and too deliberate.

She closed her eyes, inhaling the lingering citrus scent.

If the apocalypse were a game of chess, then Feng Yizhou had already positioned himself several moves ahead. The question was: Was she just another piece on his board, or was she playing a game of her own?

Her fingers drummed idly against the rim of the bathtub.

"Lingquan," she murmured. "Do I have any past interactions with Feng Yizhou that I don't remember?"

[Ding! Scanning host's memory logs...]

[No direct past interactions found.]

Her brows furrowed. "No direct ones?"

[Ding! Indirect interactions detected. However, details are—]

"Let me guess," Qingran cut in dryly. "Classified?"

[...]

[Ding! Correct.]

Qingran sighed. Of course.

The more she learned, the more questions she had. But one thing was clear—Feng Yizhou wasn't a random stranger.

Somewhere, somehow, their paths had already crossed.

She just didn't know when.

Or worse—she didn't remember.

A chill prickled down her spine despite the warm water.

"Find a way to unclassify it," she ordered.

Lingquan hesitated.

[Ding! ...This will take time.]

"Then start now."

She wasn't going to sit around waiting for answers.

Because if Feng Yizhou already knew what she would do before she even did it...

Then she was already playing catch-up.

Qingran stepped out of the tub, the last traces of warmth clinging to her skin as she wrapped herself in a towel. Droplets of water trailed down her legs, pooling on the cold tiles beneath her feet. She sighed, rubbing her temples.

Feng Yizhou.

Even when she wasn't dealing with him directly, he still lingered in the back of her mind like an unsolvable puzzle.

She dried off quickly, slipping into an oversized shirt before padding back to her room. Lingquan had been uncharacteristically silent ever since she'd ordered it to dig into Feng Yizhou's background.

The longer it stayed quiet, the less she liked it.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, hoping that at the very least, the system had managed to scrape together something useful.

Before she could check, a sharp chime cut through the room.

[Ding! System Alert: A new event has been triggered.]

Qingran froze.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before she clicked the notification.

[Event Triggered: "An Invitation You Can't Refuse"]

[Time Limit: 12 Hours]

[Objective: Meet with Feng Yizhou.]

Her stomach twisted.

"What the hell?"

She hadn't done anything. Hadn't agreed to anything.

And yet, the system had already decided for her.

"Lingquan," she said slowly, her voice dangerously calm. "What. The hell. Is this?"

The system hesitated. That alone was an answer she didn't like.

[Ding! Host has previously accepted the task of collaboration with Feng Yizhou. This event is a direct continuation.]

Her eye twitched.

"You mean to tell me that accepting the collaboration automatically enrolled me in some event?"

[...]

[Ding! ...Yes.]

Qingran flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. She hadn't even done anything yet! She was just trying to gather intel, not schedule a damn meeting!

She ran a hand down her face. "And what happens if I don't go?"

[Ding! Event penalties will be applied.]

Qingran's fingers curled into the sheets. "Be specific."

[Ding! Possible penalties include: loss of system privileges, deduction of stored survival points, forced encounter with target at a less favorable time and location.]

Qingran shut her eyes. Forced encounter. That meant if she ignored this invitation, she'd still run into Feng Yizhou—just under worse circumstances.

She exhaled sharply through her nose.

"...This is blackmail."

[Ding! This is an optimized route for survival.]

"That's just a fancy way of saying blackmail, Lingquan."

[...]

Qingran sat up, rubbing her temples. Fine. Fine. If she was going to be forced into this, then she might as well go on her own terms.

She clicked on the event details again.

[Location: Sent upon acceptance.]

Her lips pressed into a thin line. The system wouldn't even let her see where she was supposed to meet him unless she confirmed?

"Lingquan, if I accept now, when do I have to go?"

[Ding! The event activates immediately after acceptance. Host will have 12 hours to arrive at the designated location.]

Qingran inhaled deeply.

So she had some time to prepare.

She could work with that.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll play along."

She tapped the confirmation button.

[Ding! Event accepted. Generating meeting location...]

A map popped up on her phone, a red marker blinking over a familiar district.

Her brows furrowed. That place... wasn't that—

Maybe she was just reading it wrong, perhaps it was a different place, definitely not the place she had fought her last battle with Red mask.

Qingran's grip on the phone tightened...

That location... She recognized it.

It wasn't just familiar—it was burned into her memory. The abandoned high-rise, the shattered glass, the suffocating scent of blood. That place was where she had fought her last battle against Red Mask.

Her stomach twisted.

Why there?

Her fingers hovered over the screen, eyes narrowing. This couldn't be a coincidence. Was Feng Yizhou trying to tell her something? Or worse—did he already know?

She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to stay calm.

Panic wouldn't help her. Thinking would.

If this was a trap, she needed to know what kind. If this was a test, she needed to know the rules. And if this was just another one of the system's sick jokes, then she needed to figure out who the hell was pulling the strings.

Qingran clenched her jaw and stood.

Twelve hours.

That was enough time to prepare.

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She wasn't walking into this blind. Not again.

"I don't know if you're mine or his system now Lingquan. I'll sleep on this, I still have work tomorrow.."

The night passed in uneasy silence.

Even as Qingran drifted into sleep, but her mind refused to settle. Dreams, fragments of something half-remembered flitted through the darkness. A shadowed figure. A familiar voice. Blood pooling at her feet.

When she finally woke, the morning light was just beginning to filter through the window. Her body felt heavy and her thoughts murky, like she had been running in circles all night.

She exhaled, rubbing her temples. No time to dwell on it.

After a quick shower and a change into her work attire, Qingran tied her hair back and checked her phone. No new messages from Feng Yizhou. Just the meeting details lingering in her notifications waiting.

She grabbed her coat.

First, work. Then, him.

When Qingran arrived at work, the atmosphere was tense.

She barely had time to settle at her desk before her supervisor, Director Zhou, strode into the lab, his expression grim.

"Gu Qingran," he said sharply. "Come with me."

The entire room fell silent.

Qingran kept her face neutral as she stood, ignoring the prying gazes of her colleagues.

As she followed Director Zhou down the long, sterile corridors of the research facility, she already had a feeling of where they were headed.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt.

Finally, they stopped outside a heavily secured area.

A group of men in dark suits were already waiting. Government officials.

One of them turned as they approached. Older, stern, with sharp eyes that immediately locked onto her.

"Miss Gu," he greeted, though there was no warmth in his tone. "You're finally here."

Qingran's expression remained impassive. "What's the situation?"

The man didn't waste time. "Last night, someone attempted to break into Lab 37."

He exchanged a glance with his colleagues before sliding a file toward her.

"There was an attempted breach at Lab 37 last night. This one more or less a close call."

Qingran's gaze flickered to the folder, but she didn't reach for it immediately.

Lab 37 was where Virus C137 was stored. A virus she had personally created five years ago. It had been part of a government-sponsored pharmaceutical competition—an event designed to determine the top scientist in the country.

She had won.

And they had locked it away.

She finally picked up the file, flipping through the pages with sharp eyes. "Who?"

"We don't know yet," Director Liu admitted. "But whoever it was, they knew exactly what they were looking for."

Qingran's lips pressed into a thin line.

Virus C137 wasn't lethal—at least, not in the way most would assume. It wasn't designed to kill outright. Its full capabilities had never been tested, which was why it had been sealed away, classified, and forgotten.

Or so they had thought.

The second official, a younger man with sharp features, leaned forward. "We need to know something, Miss Gu."

She met his gaze.

"Is there any possibility," he asked slowly, "that the virus could evolve?"

Qingran exhaled, placing the folder down.

"It's sealed tight," she said firmly. "To air, to space, to movement. It should be dead." Her fingers tapped against the table. "For it to evolve..."

She paused, her expression darkening.

"Then it means something—or someone—has already let it out."