11: Chapter 11 Jiang Chen roared: Dare to look at my wife? I will punish you no matter how far away you are!

The tactical hall originally used for interrogating spies had now been converted into a massive "Love Strategy Command Room."

On the giant screen in the center, which was originally used to display global nuclear strike targets, was a freeze-frame of a hand-drawn profile photo of Ji Linglong.

Beside the photo, various data analyses were densely annotated:

[Micro-expression analysis: Corners of the mouth raised by 15 degrees, pupils dilated, indicating extreme pleasure.]

[Psychological profile: Extremely attention-starved, possessive, prone to violence, suspected antisocial personality (Taichu Realm limited edition).]

[Strategy advice: Avoid being a simp, avoid being a holy mother, must adopt a "domineering suppression + gentle pampering" combo.]

Jiang Chen sat in the special chair in the center of the command room, covered in heart rate monitoring patches, with tactical bone-conduction headphones in his ears.

Behind him sat three full rows of people.

The first row consisted of a top expert team from the Chinese Academy of Sciences' Institute of Psychology.

The second row consisted of experts in micro-expression research from several top domestic universities.

The third row was even more outrageous, occupied by five well-known domestic gold-medal screenwriters—the kind who wrote hit after hit, masters at manufacturing industrial saccharin and melodramatic romances.

"Comrade Jiang Chen, take a deep breath."

Lei Keming stood in front of the command console, holding a walkie-talkie, his expression more grave than when directing an anti-terrorism operation.

"The situation is dire. Although we sent a return gift and temporarily stabilized her emotions, according to the analysis of the psychological expert group, Ji Linglong is an old... ahem, senior maiden who has lived for eight hundred years, and her emotions are extremely unstable."

"Your mission is to use your words to continuously deepen her attachment to you and completely lock in her 'love brain.' Do you understand?"

Jiang Chen swallowed, feeling immense pressure: "Leader, what if the conversation falls apart?"

"Falls apart?"

Lei Keming sneered and pointed at Professor Chen Shuhua, who was wiping her glasses nearby.

"Then we'll just have to let Professor Chen give you an amnesia injection and send you to Siberia to plant potatoes. After all, those who know too many state secrets are either sons-in-law or dead men."

Jiang Chen tensed up: "I guarantee I will complete the mission!"

"Very good." Lei Keming checked the time.

"According to her pattern, she should be finishing the first ten episodes of 'the legend of zhen huan' soon. Attention all units! Prepare to engage the enemy!"

"Buzz—"

As soon as he finished speaking, the cheap mobile phone on the tactical table vibrated.

Everyone sat up straight instantly; that uniformity reminded Jiang Chen of a military parade.

The screen lit up.

Video request.

"Connect!" Lei Keming ordered.

"Psychology team, monitor emotional fluctuations! Screenwriter team, prepare the script! Action!"

Jiang Chen pressed the answer button with trembling hands.

The screen flashed.

This time, the background was not that bloody square, but a cave with soft lighting.

Ji Linglong was sprawled without any image on the massage chair that had just been sent over.

She had thrown the "black gold" solar panel outside the cave under the sun, with a thick, long wire pulled inside to connect to the chair.

It had to be said, Made in China was impressive.

The massage chair hummed, kneading the Saintess of Taichu until she looked intoxicated.

She held a bottle of happy water with only half left in her left hand, and swiped on the military-grade tablet computer with her right hand; her posture looked exactly like a modern female college student lounging at home on a weekend.

Except for the priceless flowing cloud water sleeve dress on her body, and the life-bound Flying Sword resting casually on the table next to her that could crush a tank.

"Husband~"

Linglong's voice was lazy, permeated with an indescribable charm.

She glanced at the camera from the corner of her eye; that gaze actually carried a bit of arrogant pride?

"This Seat... ahem, This Palace just finished watching the story of the woman called Consort Hua."

Linglong sat up straight, actually mimicking the style from the TV series, raising an orchid finger and gently stroking her own cheek.

"That line, 'Bitch is just hypocritical,' suits my taste perfectly. The women in this mortal imperial palace, although they have no strength to truss a chicken, have a ruthlessness that is much stronger than those hypocritical senior sisters in our sect."

In the command room, the head of the screenwriter team—a fat uncle with long hair—waved his fist excitedly: "It's a hit! The character persona substitution is successful! She is currently imitating Consort Hua!"

Lei Keming's order came through the earpiece: "Go along with her! Use the tone of Prince Guo! Be more affectionate!"

Jiang Chen bit the bullet and squeezed out a smile he thought was affectionate: "Linglong, if you entered the palace, you would definitely be the most favored, and there would be no room for Consort Hua."

"Hmph."

Linglong snorted, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but rise.

"Smooth-talker. However..."

Her tone shifted, and her eyes suddenly turned cold.

The murderous aura emanating from her bones caused the temperature in the command room to drop to freezing, even through the screen.

"Just now, when I was sunbathing and charging outside the cave, the Holy Son of the Heavenly Sword Sect, who has been pestering me, actually dared to fly a sword over my head."

Linglong narrowed her eyes, her fingers gently tapping the armrest of the massage chair.

"He saw me lying on this chair and actually dared to stop and stare. Although he didn't speak, I could feel that he was looking at my feet."

"Husband."

She leaned close to the camera, her beautiful face filled with yandere-style cruelty.

"Tell me, should I dig out his eyeballs? Or should I just chop him up and feed him to my Treasure-Seeking Mouse? Just like how Consort Hua punished that... with the 'One-Yard Red'?"

"Beep—!!!"

The heart rate monitor in the command room sounded an alarm instantly.

Jiang Chen's heart rate soared to 140.

This was a death trap!

If he said to kill, it would seem too brutal; if he said not to kill, would she think he was a wimp who didn't even get angry when being cuckolded?

"Don't panic!"

The psychologist's voice rang out urgently in the earpiece.

"She is a classic case of histrionic personality disorder combined with excessive possessiveness! She is testing your bottom line! If you urge her to be kind, she will think you don't love her! If you are even more ruthless than her, she will think you care about her! This is the reverse application of the gaslighting effect!"

"Screenwriter team! Lines!" Lei Keming roared.

"Got it!"

The fat screenwriter typed a line on the keyboard, which was projected onto the teleprompter in front of Jiang Chen.

"Read it! Have some presence! Be crazy!"

Jiang Chen looked at the words on the teleprompter, and his vision went black.

This line... is this something a carbon-based organism can say?

"Read it fast! She's about to draw her sword!" Lei Keming urged.

On the screen, Linglong's hand had already reached for the Flying Sword on the table, her eyes becoming increasingly dangerous: "Why is Husband silent? Could it be that you think I am too cruel?"

"No!"

Jiang Chen slammed the table and stood up abruptly.

He widened his eyes and, following the requirements on the teleprompter, mobilized his life's acting skills to twist his facial muscles into a ferocious and fanatical state.

"Cruel? What kind of cruelty is this!"

Jiang Chen roared at the phone, his voice hoarse.

"That bastard! How dare he look at my woman with that kind of gaze? That is blasphemy! That is a capital crime!"

"Dig out his eyeballs? That's letting him off too easily!"

"If I were there..."

Jiang Chen took a deep breath, gritting his teeth.

"I would definitely peel off his skin to make a lantern! Grind his bones into powder to use as a footrest for my Linglong! Let him never be reincarnated! Even if I have to chase him to the Nine Nether Yellow Springs, I will smash his bones and scatter his ashes!"

After finishing this, Jiang Chen felt oxygen-deprived.

The entire command room fell into dead silence.

Everyone stared at the big screen, even their breathing stopped.

If this performance failed, would this crazy Saintess think Jiang Chen was more perverted than her and come through the internet cable to kill someone?