The Supreme Emperor

Qin Wuji felt he might not live to see tomorrow.

Not because he had offended anyone, but because his landlady Aunt Zhang’s footsteps were echoing in the stairwell.

He glanced at his phone. One in the morning. Collecting rent at this hour? Was that reasonable? No, Aunt Zhang had never been reasonable.

He leapt out of bed, but had nowhere to hide. His room was a mere eight square meters, with nowhere to conceal himself. He couldn’t even fit in the wardrobe.

A knock sounded at the door.

He instinctively shut his eyes and silently wished, “Please... make her leave?”

Suddenly, Aunt Zhang cried out from outside, “Oh! Why is my leg cramping all of a sudden? Never mind, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Her footsteps faded away.

Qin Wuji stood frozen.

Had he... just done something?