SVIP Box

When it came to leadership, Cheng Shuili was well-versed in the subject.

Although she didn't act like one, that didn't stop her from remembering the mannerisms of the leaders from her past life.

In the eyes of most people, helping subordinates solve problems was a sign of leadership, but Cheng Shuili knew that was only the most basic level.

True leadership could be summarized in four words: making work out of nothing.

"Temporarily sealed?"

Cheng Shuili frowned slightly, her tone carrying a touch of perfectly measured dissatisfaction and scrutiny. "Is that how your procedures work? The director is away, yet you don't deal with such a safety hazard immediately? Are you waiting for the entire backstage to be dismantled next time?"

Cheng Shuili was clever; she only spoke of the procedure itself, and since she didn't know the specifics, she didn't bring them up.

As for the director, that was something the puppet in front of her had mentioned itself, so it was absolutely true.

By bringing it up with the tone of someone who had known about it all along, she only increased the credibility of her fabricated identity.

The leading puppet's simple-lined eyes seemed to widen, and for the first time, its flat tone stuttered: "This... the director said... wait for him to return..."

"Wait for him to return?" Cheng Shuili gave a soft hum, cutting it off. "By the time he returns, he'll likely be looking at a pile of scrap and a performance accident. Do you want to take responsibility for that?"

She took a small step forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over the puppets busy repairing curtains and cleaning. Her voice wasn't loud, yet every gray figure's movements faltered for a moment.

In her heart, she marveled at how easily scared these things were; she hadn't even used a tenth of the tactics her former bosses used, and they were already terrified.

On her face, however, was an expression of "you are all so unprofessional," as she questioned them again: "Has the basic workflow become this slack?"

The leading puppet's head seemed to droop even lower. "Ap-apologies... we were just following the usual..."

"The usual practice is to bundle things up and throw them aside when trouble happens? That was fine for muddling through before," Cheng Shuili interrupted again, her disappointment clear. "Now, I am here. Starting today, it changes."

Her tone was firm and beyond questioning.

The leading puppet's body stiffened visibly, its simple-lined eyes staring straight at Cheng Shuili as if seriously considering her words.

Cheng Shuili didn't give it a chance to think too deeply, her sharp gaze sweeping over the other gray puppets behind it who were peeking over.

"What? Do I need to teach you how to do your jobs?"

Her voice suddenly deepened, carrying the cold, impatient chill of someone used to being in charge.

This was something most people truly couldn't fake.

The leading puppet shivered and lowered its head almost immediately, its flat voice becoming hurried and submissive:

"No, not at all! Please give your instructions!"

It worked.

Completely bluffed.

Cheng Shuili felt a sense of certainty in her heart, but her face maintained that indifferent, "my time is very valuable" expression. She casually tossed out a few universal requirements and told the gray puppets to carry them out.

Only then did she turn her gaze back to the leading puppet, adopting the posture of a superior and giving a light cough.

This was clearly implying something.

But the gray puppet could mistake its own leader, so naturally, it couldn't understand her hints.

Cheng Shuili waited for quite a while, and seeing no movement from the puppet, she turned to glance at it.

It stood to the side, its body twisted into a knot from nervousness, its expression equally tense; it clearly didn't know what it should be doing.

Cheng Shuili paused at this almost naive reaction before coughing twice and speaking up: "Take me somewhere to rest for a while, and we can discuss the problems in this theater properly."

The gray puppet suddenly realized, nodding quickly and bowing to signal for Cheng Shuili to follow it.

It led Cheng Shuili, carefully sidestepping through the area where the curtain had been torn and then stitched back together.

It lifted a corner of the heavy velvet, and a more clamorous and chaotic scene rushed toward them.

This was indeed the theater's backstage, a massive, dim, labyrinthine space separated by countless scaffolds, curtains, and cluttered props.

The air was filled with a mix of dust, wood shavings, and the smell of cheap perfume.

Warm yellow light came from sporadic bulbs hanging from the ceiling and scaffolds, swaying and casting countless shifting shadows onto the layered dark curtains all around.

Cheng Shuili swept her gaze across the room and saw actors of all shapes and sizes.

There were characters wearing hoods like Little Red Riding Hood or the Big Bad Wolf, but more were humanoids cobbled together from tattered costumes and puppet joints, stuffed with padding, wearing various masks—each different, yet all possessing an inhuman stiffness and strangeness.

The maintenance puppets shuttled between them, busy and silent.

They propped up fallen prop racks, picked up scattered feathers, wiped dust off tables with rags, or like sheepdogs herding unruly flocks, gently but firmly persuaded certain actors who had gotten too close to dangerous areas to move away.

The gray puppet led Cheng Shuili, walking inward along a relatively spacious passage.

As soon as they entered, the actors stopped as if they had smelled something fishy, and countless gazes converged from all directions.

Those gazes weren't entirely malicious; they were mostly numb, or filled with hollow curiosity.

For those wearing character hoods, the empty eye sockets were deep and dark. For the patchwork humanoids, the crude eye lines on their masks also turned in the same direction.

The background noise of muttering, practicing, or arguing all died down eerily at this moment.

Only the rustling of the maintenance puppets wiping and moving things continued, yet it only made the atmosphere more oppressive.

Cheng Shuili did not stop, nor did she even shift her gaze.

She maintained that cold, slightly displeased aura, as if she were accustomed to everything around her, even somewhat annoyed by such pointless attention.

Yet, in her heart, she was once again grateful that she had bluffed this leading gray puppet.

She saw clearly that for these actors, there was almost only one reaction to a stranger appearing suddenly: attack!

And the only reason they remained in place without rushing forward now was entirely because of the leading puppet standing in front of Cheng Shuili.

The puppet was completely unaware of its role; when it felt those gazes, it even straightened its simple body further, lowering its flat voice to explain to Cheng Shuili:

"These actors... are sometimes a bit curious. Please don't mind them; they wouldn't dare disturb you..."

Cheng Shuili gave a soft "hm" from her nose as a response.

Her gaze swept over a few nearby patchwork actors who wanted to crowd closer, her eyes calm and waveless, carrying a top-down sense of detachment and warning.

Before she even had to say anything, the gray puppet had already taken a step forward, its flat voice suddenly rising with the specific urgency of maintaining order:

"Back! All of you, back! Do not obstruct the path!"

It even subconsciously waved the tool it didn't have in its hand, making a gesture of driving them away.

The movements of those few restless patchwork actors stalled, their masks seeming to reveal a sense of reluctance or confusion, but they truly stopped their advance and even slowly backed away a short distance.

Cheng Shuili's heart stirred slightly.

These actors seemed to have an ingrained fear or obedience toward the management of the maintenance puppets.

Even when facing her, a clear outsider, as long as the maintenance puppet showed its attitude, they would restrain themselves.

This gave her even more room to operate.

"Lead the way," Cheng Shuili said again, her tone remaining that same, unquestionable flatness.

"Yes, yes, this way please." The gray puppet responded quickly, leading her to walk briskly through this somewhat crowded area and turning into a passage piled high with crates and hung with old, moth-eaten costumes.

In the dim light, those hanging robes looked like silent, bloated ghosts.

The further in they went, the dimmer the light became, and the air grew increasingly stagnant.

The feeling of being watched by countless hollow gazes didn't completely disappear, but it seemed blocked by the layers of obstacles, becoming blurred and distant.

Finally, the puppet pushed open a small door with peeling paint set into a wooden partition and stepped aside to invite Cheng Shuili in.

Inside the door was an extremely simple room.

The room held a transparent glass coffee table and two chairs that looked rather luxurious. Most importantly, this seemed to be the theater's SVIP box.

Not only could one see the stage scene, but one could also see the theater guests' seats.

There were a few people sitting in the seats now, and judging by their attire, Cheng Shuili could tell at a glance that they were all players.

It seemed her guess was correct: the common clearance techniques only led to the theater's audience area.

And she...

She had come all the way from backstage, sat in an SVIP box, and even become a leader in the hearts of these puppets.

The difference between these two routes would certainly lead to many different outcomes.

Cheng Shuili was already beginning to look forward to it.

After walking around the room once, she turned to look at the gray puppet still standing behind the door: "Close the door."

"Yes." The gray puppet immediately turned back, standing outside the door of its own accord and carefully closing the door panel, cutting off the faint noise and peeking from the outside.

Only then did Cheng Shuili relax a little.

She let out a long breath, sat in a chair, and turned to look outside.

The door was pushed open a crack, and a figure flashed in looking somewhat disheveled, then quickly shut the door tight.

Clearly, this was also a player.

This person wore a dark, agile outfit, but the cuffs and trouser legs were stained with quite a bit of moss and mud, and their hair was somewhat messy. Their breathing was a bit rapid; they had clearly experienced some trouble in the corridor earlier.

Cheng Shuili stared at them, lost in thought.

Looking at this comparison, the route she chose seemed to be the better one.

Or rather, it was just right for her.

After all, most people wouldn't enter a dungeon with a bucket of water, nor did they have a cheat item like the Abyss Ring.

Cheng Shuili stopped imagining that unknown path in her mind. Judging by the situation in the audience seats, it should be waiting until the players had mostly arrived, or until a certain checkpoint was reached, before the next part of the process began.

The time that followed was just a matter of patience.

Cheng Shuili reached out to take the box of watermelon slices she had used to lure Little Red Riding Hood, placed it on the coffee table, opened it, speared a piece with a fork, and popped it into her mouth, enjoying it leisurely.

The refreshing, sweet juice rippled on her tongue, temporarily dispelling the stale, cloying scent in the air.

While eating, Cheng Shuili watched the movements in the audience area below through the glass without drawing attention to herself.

As time passed, more and more players appeared in the audience seats.

Most of them were vigilant, carrying the characteristic tension of entering a dungeon, carefully looking for seats, rarely communicating with each other, only sizing each other up with their eyes.

Occasionally, a few who were in the same team would talk, but their voices were kept very low, and they were quickly drowned out by the theater's own faint, rustling whispers and the off-key humming coming from deep within the stage.

Cheng Shuili counted; including the one who had just entered, there were about twelve people in the audience.

Most importantly, she didn't see A Gentle Kiss among them.

Cheng Shuili wasn't sure if she hadn't arrived yet or if she had taken another path like her, but regardless of what happened to A Gentle Kiss, it didn't have much to do with her.

She had just popped the last piece of watermelon into her mouth and put down her fork when the light inside the theater dimmed without warning.

All lighting focused on the massive stage ahead, and the audience seats plunged into an ambiguous gloom, barely allowing one to see the outlines of the people nearby.

The theater's heavy scarlet curtain slowly pulled open to the sides amidst the teeth-gritting sound of a winch turning.

A set of ordinary static scenery was displayed on the stage.

A cottage built with rough wooden boards and colored paper in a whimsical, childlike style, with paper trees beside the house and a few brightly colored mushroom puppets scattered under the trees.

The warm-toned cardboard and puppets worked hard to create a fairy-tale-like warmth.

The windows of the cottage were painted with smiling arcs, and a thin, exquisite, motionless wisp of smoke made of cotton batting even rose from the chimney.

The leaves of the paper trees were a full, tender green, and the mushroom puppets were round and cute, bearing exaggerated smiling faces.

Everything looked as if it had been cut and pasted directly from a children's picture book.

Immediately after, the actor entered.

A short figure wearing a puffy dress and a Little Red Riding Hood headgear walked slowly toward the wooden house with her back to the audience.

After posing, she became like a statue, no longer making a single movement.

There was no cue, no music, and no narration.

In the gaze of all the audience, a prop axe that had been set up long ago descended from the sky, striking straight toward the only actor on the stage.

Looking at the axe, which looked fake to the extreme, it passed through the puppet's head, followed by a dull creak of wooden boards.

It wasn't just the little puppet on the stage; even the floorboards had been slashed open by this axe, which appeared to have no lethality.

The padding and the puppet's fabric were scattered all over the floor. It hadn't even finished a single movement before its performance ended just like that.

And that red hat...

The second before the axe struck, it flew lightly toward the audience, carried by a gust of wind from who knows where.

In the silent and tense gaze of all the players, the hat seemed to have chosen its target, landing precisely on the head of one of the players.

The person was wearing an ordinary dark coat and looked to be about thirty years old, their face somewhat blurred in the dim light.