Chapter 68: The Blood-Soaked Sofa

Tanya appeared utterly exhausted, her spirit drained, and she gazed at Chu Ning with eyes full of terror. She longed to keep a safe distance from him, yet found herself unable to move.

“The terms of your transaction involve me, don’t they?” Tanya’s voice was cold and clear, as if she’d summoned every ounce of courage just to utter those words.

The moment she suspected she might be the object of some deal, her heart churned with resistance, helplessness, sorrow, and despair—a dizzying mix of emotions, as if a bottle of colored dyes had overturned in her chest.

The diary’s numbers recorded time, serials, and money—there could be no such thing as coincidence in this world. The last entry in Wang Jinkai’s secret diary was from the day he met Tanya.

Tanya gave a self-mocking laugh. The price listed for her in the diary was not low; in fact, it was rather steep. At least she had not underestimated her own value.

Silently, she flipped through the amounts recorded in the diary, then sighed and closed it—perhaps it should be called a ledger rather than a diary.

“Tell me,” she said, stretching her leg playfully to hook Chu Ning, who stood by the bookshelf, forcing him to turn and face reality. “How long have you been doing this sort of thing? What happened to those before me?”

She was done playing cat and mouse with Chu Ning. Even if it cost her life, she was determined to learn the truth. She’d had enough of living in constant fear.

Besides, Tanya felt she’d already avenged herself—she had nothing left to tie her here. With nothing to lose, she pressed Chu Ning, even if her recklessness might bring death upon her. What mattered most was her gamble—the chance to gain the result she desperately wanted.

If she won, there would be joy all around; if she lost, she’d simply face death a little earlier. Chu Ning often muttered about devouring her; perhaps he wasn’t just trying to frighten her, for she had, indeed, been delivered to the villa in the northern suburbs as a commodity in a transaction.

“Are there any good people left in this world? What a laughable notion,” Tanya said bitterly. How could she have ever been so naive as to trust Wang Jinkai? To be handed over so foolishly—she could scarcely believe her own stupidity.

She’d nearly thanked Wang Jinkai on her way out; the thought of thanking someone who had betrayed her made her want to disappear into the ground.

“Well, there are still good people. Aren’t you one of them?” Chu Ning looked at the newly emboldened Tanya in surprise—clearly, the harshness of the world had left its mark on her.

Tanya nearly hurled the diary at him in anger but restrained herself. Had she lost control, she might not have survived to see the next day.

Once she’d calmed, regret crept in. Why hadn’t she just played along with Chu Ning as before? Why force a confrontation that might destroy her?

Seeing Tanya’s stubborn gaze, Chu Ning realized he had no choice but to explain. Drawing on his memory, he fabricated a story that closely resembled the truth.

He felt wronged—somehow, he’d ended up carrying the blame for things beyond his control, with no way to shrug it off. What a wretched fate!

The worst part was that he hadn’t even benefited from these transactions. If he’d reaped the rewards, he might have grudgingly accepted it, but reality was just the opposite. He felt unbalanced—forced to clean up after his past self.

“Do you remember the sofa in the villa in the northern suburbs?” Chu Ning’s voice took on a somber tone. “That’s where it all began—a sofa that craves blood. You noticed the red and black stains on it, didn’t you? All colored by blood.”

He paused, adjusting his voice, then continued. In truth, even he wasn’t sure what was real—he was simply recounting what he remembered, mixing half-truths with omissions.

He couldn’t just feign ignorance. “I’ve lost my memory; all the past has nothing to do with me—please don’t come to me about it.” Saying that would get him beaten for sure; it was a classic scoundrel’s excuse, and he wasn’t that shameless.

“The bloodthirsty sofa is cursed,” Chu Ning continued. “Unless the original owner is erased from this world, only then does the curse break with the host’s death. Otherwise, there’s no way to escape the sofa that grants boundless power.”

Tanya listened, entranced, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was wrong. Chu Ning’s tale was captivating—she couldn’t help but want to hear more.

Seeing Tanya propping her chin with one hand, listening intently, Chu Ning grew more confident. He lowered his voice mysteriously. “Can you guess who the sofa’s latest owner is?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. “That’s right—it’s in the northern suburb villa, so now I possess the bloodthirsty sofa, the shortcut to success. To satisfy its hunger, I have to make blood sacrifices at intervals—to appease the sofa.”

“That’s why I frequently ordered new ‘goods’ from Wang Jinkai—to feed the sofa’s endless appetite,” Chu Ning said, his gaze complex as he looked at Tanya. She would be the last transaction.

Of course, everything he’d said was a fabrication—life was rarely so bizarre. It was simply a ploy to distract Tanya.

“What does the curse of the bloodthirsty sofa actually do? Are there any side effects?” Tanya asked with concern, already thinking of how best to guard against Chu Ning. Knowledge was power.

“Uh, the bloodthirsty sofa has no side effects,” Chu Ning replied awkwardly. He couldn’t invent a flawless lie on the spot—if it was too outlandish, Tanya would only become suspicious.

Noticing Tanya’s face grow cold, he hurried to add, “Think about it—if you were offered a tool that could make you powerful, without any cost, isn’t that the most frightening curse of all?”

Tanya studied Chu Ning, pondering his words. If she were in his place, would she resist the temptation to seize power?

Since becoming a wraith, she’d often lamented her weakness and longed to grow stronger quickly.

The thought made her shudder. If she truly possessed the bloodthirsty sofa, would she behave even more recklessly? The human heart is frail—she knew better than anyone how fragile her self-control was.

Seeing Tanya relax, Chu Ning felt a surge of relief. He’d managed to convince her, at least for now.

“Did you notice the book next to the diary?” Chu Ning’s attention shifted to the bookshelf, where he’d spotted a brand-new volume.

There was no title on the spine, nor any sign it had ever been opened—it looked as pristine as if fresh from the printer.

In fact, the shelves were full of untouched books; Wang Jinkai, as they knew, was a dabbler in the arts. He liked to display books but would never actually read them.

What made this pale red book stand out to Chu Ning—amid so many—was its unusual material. Its appearance was as perfect as the diary’s, though the colors were different; both looked more like works of art than mere books, with intricate cover designs and patterns that spoke to their uniqueness.

Even more crucially, Chu Ning, after touching the diary, noticed that it emitted a faint blood-red glow visible only to him. The longer he held it, the deeper the color grew—almost blinding.

He felt a strange connection to the diary, as though it had once belonged to him, though he remembered nothing about it.

“It must be the fault of my former self,” Chu Ning thought. What had his past self done—given the diary as a gift to Wang Jinkai?

Then he noticed the pale red book on the shelf—it, too, glowed faintly as the diary did, though its hue was more subdued and its red cover made the glow less obvious.

Squatting, Chu Ning pulled out the book that resonated with him. Again, the cover bore no title. On the flyleaf was a message—one left especially for him: “Death comes as scheduled; the curse cannot be escaped.” Signed: your former friend, Wang Jinkai.

With anxious hands, Chu Ning flipped through the pages, desperate for more than the meaningless numbers that had filled the diary.

“Whew, thank goodness—it’s actually worth reading.”

He became absorbed in the dense writing. When he saw the author’s name, he was taken aback—he hadn’t expected Wang Jinkai to write so much. It exceeded everything he’d known about him.

Line after line of text battered Chu Ning’s senses. There were no hidden codes or cryptic devices—he could understand every word, yet the cumulative meaning left him silent for a long time.

“What’s written in there that has you so spellbound? It’s not more of those diary illustrations, is it?” Tanya waved a gloved hand in front of his face, but Chu Ning remained lost in the book.

He brushed aside Tanya’s black glove and kept reading, terrified that the book might vanish or self-destruct once read—such things were not impossible in tales of the supernatural.

He couldn’t abandon the pursuit of his former self, not even if the odds were a thousand to one.

If the clues vanished, he’d have to start his search all over again.