Tag: Handsome Male Lead

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Adopted by an Overworked Office Worker After Turning into a Cat – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – Picking Up a Cat

Read more: Adopted by an Overworked Office Worker After Turning into a Cat – Chapter 1

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Lin Yan was walking home.

At 11 p.m., Lin Yan shut down his computer and hurried out of the office. Before leaving, he glanced at his phone one last time. After confirming there were no more messages, he finally closed the office door.

He hadn’t even walked far after leaving the building when his phone started ringing nonstop.

I’m screwed, Lin Yan thought.

Sure enough, as soon as he answered, a coworker informed him that there was an error in the code and the project proposal hadn’t been submitted yet.

Lin Yan’s company had a psychopathic CEO named Lu Heng.

Their boss was famous for being a control freak — every big and small matter had to pass through his hands. Every rule he set after taking office had to be followed strictly. Miss a deadline and you’d get verbally abused at best, fired at worst.

Just last week, he fired a programmer whose code was a complete mess. A few days ago, he fired an office clerk who forgot to print the documents for a client meeting.

Lin Yan believed that if he couldn’t even do his own job properly, getting fired was only a matter of time. He depended on this job to survive in the big city — he absolutely could not afford any mistakes.

Fortunately, the project deadline was tomorrow, so there was still time to fix it.

“Alright. I’ll revise it and send it tomorrow.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

“Um… the boss wants it tomorrow morning.”

Lin Yan pressed a hand to his forehead. Why didn’t they wait until tomorrow to tell him? He clearly remembered being told yesterday that the project had a two-day deadline.

Not even a full day, and now it was due.

Lin Yan understood immediately.

That bastard Sun Ning had deliberately hidden the real deadline.

Fine.

Lin Yan ground his teeth.

“I told you yesterday,” the person on the phone said, still sounding accusatory.

Lin Yan couldn’t be bothered to argue.

“Send me the revised file.”

After hanging up, Lin Yan sighed. He slung his backpack over his shoulder; the faint lines at the corners of his eyes seemed a little deeper. Work aged people quickly. Luckily, Lin Yan had good looks to begin with — even with the exhaustion, his handsome face was still hard to hide.

Nine to five, no weekends, no life.

When would this ever end?

Life as corporate livestock was brutal.

Lin Yan turned around and looked at the company building. His back somehow felt a little more hunched than before. He hesitated, wondering if he should go back to the office.

If he returned now, who knew when he’d get home — maybe he’d have to work through the night.
Better to go home and do it. At least he could rest a bit.

The big city glowed with neon and noise. Even close to midnight, there was no sign of quiet. Lin Yan’s apartment wasn’t far from the office — just a ten-minute ride on a shared bike.

But the glittering night of the big city was about to teach Lin Yan a lesson.

At this hour, how were there no shared bikes left?

And just at that moment, heavy rain started pouring down. Lin Yan gave up on looking for a bike, pulled an umbrella from his bag, and walked to the intersection to hail a cab.

He opened the Didi app, ready to call one.

The moment it loaded — twenty yuan minimum.

Lin Yan sucked in a sharp breath.

It was only a short distance, yet it was that expensive. He looked at his three-digit balance and sighed.

He had even been thinking about installing an electronic lock on his door. The landlord’s lock was terrible — it often wouldn’t open — but the landlord refused to replace it.

He had just been officially hired recently and had only moved into this new rental not long ago. Between buying smart home devices, he had already spent quite a lot of money. At this point, the cash in his pocket would only last him until next month’s paycheck.

He thought about it.

I’ll just walk home. Call it exercise.

He hadn’t gone far when he stopped.

It felt like he had heard something.

He stood still and listened carefully.

Nothing.

So he started moving again. After a few steps, he stopped once more.

Yes.

A cat’s cry.

Lin Yan looked around instinctively, especially toward the corner and the clump of grass, but he couldn’t see any cat.

Maybe I imagined it.

He kept walking.

Then the sound came again.

Lin Yan stopped and began searching for the source of the meowing, turning his head toward where it was loudest.

His gaze swept past the streetlamp, past the trash bins—

—and under the traffic light, he actually saw a cat.

Who would’ve thought the cat was waiting at the intersection?

Lin Yan found it strange.

Do cats… watch traffic lights?

What a well-behaved cat.

He walked over.

The light turned green.

The kitten started crossing the road.

Lin Yan: This is unreal. It really knows how to follow traffic lights.

The next second, a motorcycle came speeding toward them. A bad feeling hit Lin Yan instantly. He rushed forward. The rider saw him and slammed on the brakes.

Because of the speed, the sudden stop sent the rear of the bike spinning.

Lin Yan grabbed the cat and jumped backward, tripped over a roadside stone block, and rolled twice.

“Ow—d*mn it.”

“Are you blind?!” the rider shouted at him.

Lin Yan’s hand was scraped raw, little red spots appearing on his skin, and his clothes were soaked. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but he didn’t feel any pain at all. He scrambled to his feet, still clutching the cat tightly to his chest.

Seeing the cat in Lin Yan’s arms and the blood on his hand, the rider’s earlier arrogance faded by half.

“Watch where you’re going.”

Lin Yan nodded with an embarrassed smile.

“Meow.”

The kitten squirmed in his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the way he was holding it, and let out a small protest.

“Easy, easy. It’s okay now.”

The rain that had just started had already soaked the kitten. If Lin Yan hadn’t noticed it, the consequences would’ve been unthinkable.

Lin Yan adjusted his grip, supporting the kitten’s dangling legs. The street was empty — had this kitten wandered out on its own?

He waited for a while.

No one came.

Lin Yan decided to take the kitten home first.

After walking for more than twenty minutes, he finally reached home. He set the kitten down and used a freshly washed bath towel to dry it. Since the kitten had just been caught in the rain and the hot water hadn’t heated up yet, Lin Yan didn’t dare give it a bath directly.

He had read before that kittens dislike bathing — getting wet can easily cause stress, and once a cat becomes stressed, the consequences can be serious. So all he could do for now was carefully dry the water from the kitten’s fur.

During the drying process, Lin Yan gently held the kitten in place. The kitten struggled a little at first but soon stayed completely still.

Watching the kitten not move at all, Lin Yan’s heart melted.

How could it be so well-behaved?

After that, Lin Yan released the kitten and took out the ceramic cat bowl he had bought some time ago, pouring some water into it.

Lin Yan had always wanted to raise a cat. Not long ago, he had applied for adoption. The organization he applied to was very formal — they assessed the adopter’s financial situation and work schedule before deciding whether to approve the application.

When they saw that Lin Yan worked at a tech company — one of those so-called internet giants — they rejected him on the grounds that his working hours were unstable. On top of that, he had been extremely busy lately with work and moving, so he hadn’t had time to think about it anymore.

The only thing he had done was buy a bowl for a future cat.

Now it finally came in handy.

Under the warm yellow light of his apartment, Lin Yan could clearly see the kitten’s appearance: short silver-gray fur, big round eyes, and as it drank water, its tail swayed from side to side.

Was this the power of fluff?

In less than an hour, Lin Yan had already made up his mind — he would take responsibility for it and raise it for the rest of its life.

He leaned down for a closer look, lying almost flat on the floor. The kitten was very clean and wore a leather collar around its neck. Lin Yan looked all around it but couldn’t find any owner’s contact information on the collar.

Logically speaking, a clean kitten with a collar should belong to someone.

Lin Yan took several photos of the kitten and posted them in a few stray animal groups he had joined.

Everyone in the groups was very enthusiastic. Several people replied that they hadn’t seen the cat before, and some even helped repost the photos on other social platforms.

After more than ten minutes with no one coming forward to claim it, Lin Yan thought for a moment. Without the slightest hesitation, he placed an order for cat supplies: cat litter, a litter box, a bag of cat food, and a teaser wand. After picking and choosing, he spent several hundred yuan.

Lin Yan made a decision.

He would be eating instant noodles next week.

The kitten sipped the water one mouthful at a time. Its whiskers were long and got pushed up by the edge of the bowl, making it a little uncomfortable, but it was far too thirsty to care.

When it noticed the person lying on the floor watching it, the kitten lifted its chin proudly and looked the human up and down.

Cat: This guy… looks kind of familiar.

Seeing the kitten raise its head, Lin Yan stood up and squatted. As he moved, the work badge hanging around his neck slipped into the kitten’s view.

Future Technology Company
Programmer: Lin Yan

The kitten stared at the words very seriously.

Lin Yan couldn’t help laughing at how focused the kitten looked and reached out to pat its head.

“So cute.”

…

Lu Heng was the CEO of Future Technology Company. He had only been in the position for three months. Since childhood, his father had raised him with almost obsessive strictness, training him to do everything by the book.

But he had a secret.

He was a cat.

More precisely, whenever he stayed up too late, he would turn into a kitten.

He had just taken office, work was overwhelming, and staying up late was the norm. So by day he was the cold, serious CEO; by night, he became a silver tabby cat.

Although he wasn’t very big as a cat, when he was human, he stood at 188 centimeters tall.

This condition had lasted for a long time. At first, Lu Heng tried to fix it by simply getting a good night’s sleep and returning to normal.

But life worked that way — the more he wanted something, the harder it was to achieve. Eventually, Lu Heng gave up.

When he couldn’t sleep at night, he would turn into a cat and wander around.

Gradually, he also discovered a pattern: as long as he didn’t fall asleep before 11 p.m., he would immediately turn into a cat. The next day, shortly after getting off work, he would turn into a cat again.

That was the rule he had figured out so far.

Lu Heng’s workload piled up every day, and his sleep had never been good to begin with. Trying to fall asleep before 11 p.m. was nearly impossible.

Of course, the pattern didn’t always hold. A few times, he transformed into a cat without any warning.

To avoid embarrassment, he had a small room built inside his office, filled with cat supplies. Whenever he suddenly turned into a cat at work, he would hide in there to avoid being discovered.

After that, he added a new rule: anyone entering the CEO’s office had to knock and only come in after receiving a response.

Fortunately, his secretary was extremely capable. Whenever someone came looking for him, the secretary personally checked first. Without a reply, no one was allowed to enter.

Tonight, a little after 11, Lu Heng transformed into a kitten again. He checked the time — there shouldn’t be anyone left in the company at this hour. He didn’t want to stay in the office.

He padded downstairs on light paws, lifted his little head proudly, and then dashed toward the company entrance.

According to his usual plan, he would cross the street and go to the small grove across the road.

Before he could even cross—

he was suddenly grabbed.

At first he tried to struggle, but the person holding him rolled twice on the ground, and when Lu Heng opened his eyes, he felt dizzy.

Then he realized—

the person had been trying to save him.

Little Cat Heng didn’t even have time to say thank you. He had to get away quickly — falling into the hands of a bad person would be disastrous.

Just as he stretched out his legs, the man clamped them tightly.

Plan failed.

All four limbs were trapped, and Little Cat Heng couldn’t move at all.

After struggling for a long while, he exhausted himself without managing to shift even an inch.

And that was how he ended up following Lin Yan all the way home.

Lin Yan watched the kitten sit obediently by the door. Once the supplies arrived, he immediately began arranging everything for the cat. He spent ages setting up the tent-style cat bed, but the kitten refused to sleep in it, choosing instead to curl up near the door every time. Lin Yan figured it was probably still unfamiliar with the place.

Little Cat Heng thought it over for a long time.

Why wasn’t this person going to sleep?

His original plan was to run away the moment the man went to bed.

But it was nearly 1 a.m., and this man was still working overtime in front of the computer. Every time the kitten so much as twitched, the man’s gaze immediately locked onto him. Back and forth, several times — Little Cat Heng never managed to get anywhere near the door.

He had barely taken two steps when the man came over holding a cat teaser.

I am not a cat who gets distracted so easily… unless I absolutely can’t help it.

Lin Yan was working the whole time, but his mind was completely on the kitten. The moment the kitten moved, his eyes followed. If he weren’t rushing to finish this module today, he would definitely be cuddling the cat right now.

The newcomer wasn’t familiar with the environment yet and needed his company. So Lin Yan hammered at the keyboard with one hand while using the newly delivered teaser wand to play with the kitten.

On the verge of tears, Lin Yan cursed Sun Ning’s ancestors eight hundred times in his heart. If it weren’t for that bastard, he would be one of the happiest people alive right now — because he’d be holding the cat and giving it a proper cuddle.

After playing back and forth for more than ten minutes, the kitten finally curled up beside him and fell asleep.

There was a warm little life resting on Lin Yan’s leg. It kept making soft purring sounds. Even while working overtime, he didn’t feel tired at all.

Early the next morning, Lin Yan woke up to find himself sleeping on the couch with the kitten in his arms. When he turned over, the movement woke the still-sleepy cat. The kitten yawned and lazily stretched, clearly having slept very well too.

Lin Yan checked the time. There was still a bit before work, but he needed to send the project to Sun Ning early. He hurried through washing up and said goodbye to the kitten.

As he was leaving, the kitten followed closely behind him.

Lin Yan waved.

“I’m going to work. Bye-bye, Mimi.”

He looked back several times before finally closing the door.

The moment the door shut, the kitten sniffed the air. After confirming that the scent was fading, it immediately transformed into human form.

He was completely naked — and then he suddenly remembered something.

The kitten reappeared, now wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit. The pant legs were far too short, and the shoulders were tight, but they were the only wearable clothes he could find in the closet.

Lu Heng tidied up Lin Yan’s wardrobe, then calmly walked out the door.

…

Lin Yan rushed into the elevator, a steamed bun still in his hand. Once inside, he opened the plastic bag and took a big bite. The rich aroma of meat instantly spread through the air.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, someone outside stopped them.

The doors opened.

Their gazes met.

The man outside was wearing an expensive suit. The tailoring was flawless, outlining his figure and making him look striking and imposing. One hand held the elevator door while the other rested in his pocket. His strong presence made Lin Yan, standing inside the elevator, feel slightly intimidated.

The newcomer’s tousled bangs rested lightly against his forehead, making his features appear even more refined. He lifted his eyes, casually and without expression, toward the person inside the elevator.

Lin Yan immediately pulled the bun away from his mouth.

“President Lu,” he said around the mouthful of food.

Lu Heng seemed momentarily surprised, then gave a small nod.

LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – Esports Don’t Require Vision.

Read more: Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 1

“Shh, don’t make a sound.”

In the dim room, the fluorescent glow of the computer screen lit up the handsome face of a boy. Ji Wei stared intently at the monitor, carefully maneuvering his game character forward.

The livestream, titled <Only His Life>, had already reached 7 million views. As a well-known PUBG streamer on Maoyu TV, Ji Wei not only had to play the game seriously but also constantly split his attention to glance at the barrage of comments in the lower right corner and interact with fans:

“There are less than twenty people left. The circle’s not shrinking in my favor—it’s just a bare lawn with only a few rocks.”

“Why don’t you go into the circle?” someone asked.

“I’ve got plenty of meds, so I won’t walk in just to become a sitting duck,” Ji Wei replied.

PUBG, also known as Chicken Dinner, is a battle royale game where players fight on an ever-shrinking map until only one remains standing.

Most streamers attract fans with their marksmanship, racking up twenty or thirty kills in a single match to the audience’s delight.

Ji Wei, however, wasn’t like that. He relied on stealth.

The boy directed his character toward a dead tree ahead. Switching to a brown camouflage skin, he crouched low and slowly crawled forward.

A player rushed past, completely unaware of Ji Wei’s presence, and crouched nearby to heal, leaving himself defenseless.

The barrage instantly flooded with comments:

[“Esports Don’t Require Vision”]

[“Esports Don’t Require Vision”]

“What a shame, he ran right into the center of the circle,” Ji Wei sighed. He stood up, raised his gun, shot the man dead, and ducked back into cover.

The killed player, realizing he’d been tricked, turned on his mic to curse:

“L@## you bastard! Come out and fight me if you dare! I’m a ￥#@# idiot!”

Ji Wei blinked his innocent-looking eyes and replied, his clear, mellow voice carrying a touch of southern sweetness—though his words were infuriating:

“Brother, wear glasses next time you play. Here’s a lesson for you: when you reach the finals, don’t just charge forward like a bull.”

He then glanced at the camera and addressed his viewers:

“Everyone, don’t just squat and heal as soon as you enter the circle. Remember to look around for hidden players when you run.”

A newcomer on the leaderboard typed:

[“Why is this streamer so cowardly?”]

[“Is this game just about hiding? Can you please stop playing like this?”]

Many profanity-laced comments were swiftly blocked and removed by the moderators. Ji Wei had seen at least a thousand similar ones, yet he continued playing without the slightest concern.

The number of survivors dwindled, until only Ji Wei and two other players remained. He noticed a tuft of grass beside the southwest rock shift ever so slightly.

“Well, looks like I’ve found a kindred spirit~”

Ji Wei scoped in and caught sight of a pair of feet sticking out from behind the rock. Without hesitation, he stood and fired.

[unique] used his UZI submachine gun to knock down [jasdhksh].

The man didn’t die immediately after collapsing to the ground.

The comments quickly reacted:

[“He has teammates!!”]

[“Two vs. One, Lao Liu1 streamer, just wait for death”]

Ji Wei immediately tried to retreat to cover and search for the enemy, but his gunfire had already revealed his position. Another player’s bullets came raining down from the southeast.

“They’ve drawn fire. The gunfire should be…”

Ji Wei dodged the shots, then leapt up without hesitation, aimed, and fired several rounds into a bush.

[Good luck, Chicken Dinner tonight!]

[“Weiwei is awesome!! My 13th Chicken Dinner today!!”]

[“Is sound positioning really that good?”]

“So, wearing a ghillie suit and hiding in a bush without cover makes it hard to spot you…” Ji Wei muttered.

He immediately quit the match and prepared to start another round.

[“What’s with the streamer’s ‘I’ve learned something’ expression?”]

[“What’s so arrogant about him? Hiding and still counting it as a win? But honestly, his positioning and reaction speed are pretty sharp, and his aim seems solid too…”]

[“I overthought it. Who wants to be the boss when you can just gunsling? This game’s all about gunslinging.”]

[“I’ve unfollowed. I hate meeting players like this in-game.”]

“Stop arguing,” Ji Wei said with a smile. “I’ll play a few more rounds, then log off. Next time, let’s drop in somewhere with more people and hide.”

Having streamed for nearly three years, he was already used to chaotic comment barrages. After all, he made money from it—criticism was just part of the job.

Ji Wei wasn’t a veteran of the PUBG scene, but he quickly rose to fame on the platform thanks to his charm and good looks. Later, his unique streaming style secured him a spot among the top streamers. With an astonishing number of loyal fans, it was only natural that many people also disliked him.

Some rival streamers lurked in his games, hoping to catch him hiding and humiliate him with a kill. Yet for some reason, they never succeeded, forced instead to watch Ji Wei steadily climb the platform leaderboards.

“Let’s do a four-man match this time. I’ll carry the team to victory.”

Ji Wei switched off the [Don’t Match Teammates] option and queued up for a new game, full of confidence.

The comments immediately mocked him as a braggart.

[“Really? I don’t buy it.”]
[“Sure, sure. He gets criticized every match, but still insists he can carry. He must’ve been moved to tears by Villager & Bot!”]

“Why don’t you believe me?” Ji Wei grinned. “If I don’t take them to Chicken Dinner this time, I’ll hand out a 10,000-yuan red envelope.”

[“Screenshot taken”]

The ambition was grand—but ten minutes later, despite Ji Wei’s repeated warnings, teammates number one and number two charged straight toward the sound of gunfire, practically begging to die.

The barrage in the lower-right corner of the screen went blank; Ji Wei didn’t even bother reading the taunts his viewers were throwing at him.

This time, he followed his teammates into P City, a high-traffic loot spot. Ji Wei looted casually, then crouched in the corner of a building near his squad, waiting for the circle to close. Unexpectedly, the two idiots were knocked the moment they landed, leaving him no chance to rush over and save them.

Only one teammate remained on the map — the player with the ID [ysjduckduck123] — and he kept moving around.

Ji Wei had no choice but to get up and creep toward the house where the last teammate was. After all, it was ten thousand yuan; he didn’t really want to lose it.

He opened his mic to test the waters: “Number Three, you about done looting? Want to move somewhere else? At least four squads dropped in P City — there were only two of us here…”

All he got in reply was the crisp sound of a window being vaulted through; Number Three didn’t even acknowledge him. After Ji Wei moved into the house, Number Three decisively switched buildings and kept searching.

[“Hahahaha, as everyone knows, Lao Liu = orphan”]

[“If you’ve got time to beg for carries, you might as well just send the red envelope now”]

[“Does anyone else find this ID a tiny bit familiar…”]

Ji Wei reluctantly followed. “Hey man, could you not go that way? One and Two just died over there.”

When he got no response, he didn’t give up and tried again: “How about we hold up in the building for a bit? Wait until they move on, then loot — there are so many houses, for sure some loot will be left!”

Please, a peaceful P City run with no bloodshed — why make it bloody?

[“Hahaha who wants your leftovers”]

[“If you keep embarrassing yourself like this your mom’ll disown you”]

At that moment, a sudden burst of fierce gunfire erupted from Number Three’s position!

Gunshots rang out from all directions; other players who spotted Number Three all rushed over to take down the lone wolf.

Ji Wei’s brow jumped hard.

The lone teammate couldn’t die — if he did, Ji Wei would actually have to hand out the red envelope.

He moved his character and sprinted toward the two-story red house where Number Three was. P City’s rooms were scattered, and it was easy to hide, so Ji Wei planned to climb up through a window onto the roof to find him — that way, even if Number Three went down, there might still be time to save him.

Bang!

Another burst of gunfire rang out — the sharp crackle of AKM rifles echoed ahead. Number Three was already on the roof.

Before Ji Wei could even climb onto the eaves, a string of kill notifications flashed across the screen — one, then two, then three…

[ysjduckduck123] used an AKM assault rifle to knock down [gonzhuxianjianqiang]

[ysjduckduck123] used an AKM assault rifle to knock down [biebuqiuqiu]

[ysjduckduck123] used an AKM assault rifle to knock down [ckfighting]
…

Ji Wei stood frozen at the edge of the roof, watching Number Three mow down every nearby enemy with the AK, then leap gracefully off the rooftop.

…

Question: What would happen if Lao Liu ran into a Gun God and invited him to “just chill in the building for a while”?

Ji Wei didn’t know. He only knew that if social death were a book, he’d definitely be finishing it tonight — using his toes to turn the pages.

Misled by his first two teammates, he had taken Number Three for a reckless rookie who only knew how to charge headfirst. He never expected him to be a true master.

It wasn’t long before Number Three had cleared out all of P City. Ji Wei spotted his route on the map and realized he was heading toward the garage to grab a vehicle.

He switched on his team mic, his voice trembling with embarrassment:

“Number Three, the car’s here. I’ll give you a ride.”

“….”

No reply.

Ji Wei drove up beside him and honked twice.

But Number Three just walked past indifferently, making no move to get in.

Undeterred, Ji Wei slowed his car to a crawl and followed along behind him.

After a while, as if he could no longer endure it, Number Three finally turned on his mic. A cold, deep voice rang out:

“Don’t follow me.”

The boy in front of the screen widened his eyes instantly.

Ji Wei’s scalp and ears tingled at the sound, and he subconsciously let go of the keyboard.

He tried to distract himself by glancing at the comments, but the barrage was pure chaos:

[“Holy crap! Baby, you just bumped into Jue Shen! Oh my god!!”]

[“I checked—this account played duos with AVG’s Treant just last week.”]

[“AVG’s Spring Split performance was so bad, and yet they still had time to play such low-level games. Ridiculous!”]

[“Can you stop cursing in Unique’s stream? This isn’t a forum!”]

[“Help! Solve is famous for hating Old Sixes, and you actually asked him to hide with you!”]

[“This is so embarrassing! Stop following him already! I’m terrified he’ll just throw a grenade at you!”]

Ji Wei froze again at the flood of messages. His hand, halfway to grabbing his water cup, stopped in mid-air for a long moment.

AVG’s Solve? How could it be him? Ji Wei didn’t follow the pro scene, but anyone who played PUBG knew Solve.

The reason was simple: he was insanely popular, constantly trending. From performance to looks to physique, he was flawless.

[Solve], real name Yin Sijue, was the captain and in-game leader of professional team AVG. A recognized all-around player, he had led AVG to three consecutive PCL championships and a PGC World Championship, remaining untouchable in solo queue.

Although the PGC crown had since been taken by the Korean team SOP and AVG had only reached the semifinals last year, Yin Sijue’s popularity hadn’t wavered. Major advertisers still favored him.

Ji Wei was, in fact, using a keyboard he endorsed.

“You’re saying that Number Three is Solve?”

The boy scratched his head, still doubtful. “Don’t get so excited. Maybe we’re just seeing things?”

[“No mistake—Solve used this account in his stream last month.”]

“Ah… okay, everyone, calm down. Don’t get too excited.”

Recovering from the shock, Ji Wei remembered the game wasn’t over. The safe zone had already shifted away from P City, and his character was slowly losing health.

“It’s over. It’s over.”

There was no way Number Three would come back to save him. Ji Wei immediately hopped into a car and sped for the safe zone, making it inside just before collapsing.

“That was close! Good thing I had plenty of meds in my bag.”

The essence of an Old Six: hoarding items to crawl into the circle no matter what.

He lay in the grass, injected medicine, and checked the kill feed on the bulletin board.

By now, [ysjduckduck123] had filled the screen. When Ji Wei clicked on the team stats, he saw Number Three had already killed more than twenty players—an undisputed elimination king this round.

“Guys, there’s only one left. He’s been quiet for ages, so it must be Number Six.” The streamer blinked his wide, innocent eyes. “See? My survival has value. I can back Number Three up with my gun.”

[“Why tear each other down when you’re in the same trade?”]

[“No need to make “lying down for Chicken Dinner” sound so noble!”]

[“Who needs your cover fire? He’s a world champion.”]

Ji Wei ignored the harsh comments. He crawled forward slowly, found a high spot, and scoped in to observe.

Suddenly, he saw the grass behind Number Three’s back shift.

A shiny green helmet rose slowly from the gap between two rocks.

Without hesitation, Ji Wei scoped in and opened fire, bullets piercing straight through the enemy’s head.

[Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner!]

The camera zoomed in, highlighting Ji Wei’s character as the one who scored the final kill.

The barrage instantly lit up:

[“Hahahaha did you just carry Solve to Chicken Dinner??”]

[“If the streamer hadn’t fired, Jue Shen would’ve killed him anyway. Totally unnecessary.”]

[“From that angle, who knows—Solve really might have gotten Six’d.”]

After the match ended, the other player seemed displeased and quickly exited the results screen.

“Well then…” The boy suppressed his jumble of emotions and told the viewers, “Wait a second, I’ll check the stats from the last round.”

He opened the match history, found Number Three from his team, and clicked into the player’s profile.

What greeted him was not only a string of consecutive wins, but also a Psyduck avatar—completely at odds with the cold, lethal “Gun God” he’d just witnessed in-game.

Ji Wei stared blankly into Psyduck’s vacant eyes for several minutes before remembering he was still live.

Just then, a barrage floated across the screen:

[“By the way, why does Solve use such a silly, cutesy avatar? It doesn’t match his image at all!”]

Note :

  1. “老六” (Lǎo Liù) is gaming slang in China, especially in PUBG, meaning:
    A player who hides, sneaks, and waits for others to fight before taking advantage.
    Basically a camper / ambusher / rat.
    It comes from the idea that in a group ranked by seniority, the “sixth brother” is sneaky, not upfront like the others. ↩︎

TUDKJWSL

The Unwanted Disabled Kitty Just Wants Some Love – Chapter 1

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Jian Xun was dead.

He died in the small room the Jian family had just “arranged” for him—a place he was temporarily moved to so the real young master of the Jian family could have the better room.

On the narrow bed lay a thin, frail boy curled up under a thin blanket. His limbs were tightly wrapped, only his head exposed. A sickly flush colored his pale cheeks, and a damp lock of hair clung to his sweaty forehead. His thin T-shirt was soaked and wrinkled. Long, curled eyelashes trembled slightly, as if trying to open but lacking the strength.

The small room was pitch dark, with only a faint glimmer of light coming through the window. Jian Xun felt afraid. His head throbbed with pain, and he struggled to breathe. His throat was so dry and itchy that he couldn’t make a sound. It seemed like his illness was more serious this time.

He groped blindly for his phone. After what felt like forever, he finally managed to make a call.

As soon as the call to his eldest brother connected, even before he could say anything, he heard the voices of his siblings chatting on the other end.

“Jian Yue, you don’t need to worry about Jian Xun. Today’s your birthday. It would be such a buzzkill if he showed up sick. Besides, he’s the one who stole your identity in the first place. He should know his place—he’s just a worker’s kid, not a real young master.”

“He’s always been sickly. What else can he do besides suck up to people? Nobody likes him. Not inviting him today is the right choice. He’s not really part of the Jian family anyway. If it weren’t for him, you would’ve returned to the family a long time ago.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not his fault,” Jian Yue’s voice came through the phone—calm, tinged with helplessness. “My sudden appearance completely changed his life. It’s not something most people could handle easily. And it’s not like it was his choice. It’s understandable that he hates me. I don’t blame him for not coming.”

Jian Yue paused for a moment and then asked, “Wait, you said Jian Xun is sick? No one at home is looking after him? He’s not in any danger, is he?”

“What danger? He’s been weak and sickly since he was a kid—he won’t die. There’s still a housekeeper at home. Don’t worry about him. Even if Death himself came for him today, we’re still celebrating your coming-of-age birthday properly.”

He’s not really part of the Jian family.

He won’t die.

Don’t worry about him.

A single tear fell silently onto the soft pillow.

Jian Xun had always known the Jian family didn’t like him. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to please his parents and brothers, they never liked him.

A sharp pain pierced his chest. His vision spun, going black in waves. Everything began to blur. Just as Jian Yue’s indifferent voice faded from the phone, it slipped from Jian Xun’s hand and fell to the floor.

Was he going to die?

Even if he did, no one would care.

A deep sorrow welled up in Jian Xun’s heart as his consciousness floated aimlessly in a vast, white void. He didn’t know where to go or what to do.

Suddenly, an old man glowing with a halo appeared before him and asked if he wanted to live in a new world—a world where he would meet someone who truly loved him, enjoy endless wealth and luxury, and have one wish granted.

The condition?

He had to save someone first.

A new life?

Seeing the boy’s conflicted and confused expression, the old man patiently listed the benefits once more. Jian Xun, who had never truly lived a full life to begin with, quickly nodded and agreed.

Since the Jian family didn’t want him, then he would go live in a new world.

Without them, he could still live well!

After another moment of chaos and disorientation, Jian Xun reopened his eyes—this time filled with new hope.

And then… he froze.

He was lying inside a small cardboard box, surrounded by a few discarded toys and some empty tin cans, probably placed there to block the rain—but clearly not doing a good job. Last night’s downpour had left everything, including him, soaking wet.

The world around him seemed much bigger now. Jian Xun tried to speak, but what came out instead was a sharp, startled “Meow!”

Wait a minute…

He had turned into a cat!?

Jian Xun looked down at his dirty little paw—it was a dusty, gray feline paw pad. Panicking, he stumbled unsteadily and fell to the ground. At first, he thought it was just because he hadn’t adjusted to the new body yet, but soon he realized—he wasn’t just any kitten.

He was a lame kitten!

Wasn’t he promised a world where someone would love him and he’d enjoy endless wealth and luxury?

Jian Xun was stunned.

Had he been tricked?

His stomach gave a loud growl. The little kitten curled his tail around himself and crouched in place, quietly observing his surroundings. People passing by wore nurse and doctor uniforms—it looked like a hospital. But there weren’t many patients around. The buildings were luxuriously understated in design, suggesting that this was a private wellness center for the wealthy. Jian Xun had spent quite a bit of time in places like this in his past life.

His hunger grew worse. Cautiously, the little kitten peeked out and let out a tentative “meow,” but no one responded.

This kitten had no mother, no caretaker—it had to fend for itself. But with such a small, frail, and injured body, it wasn’t exactly made for hunting. The best it could do was go out and try its luck. Maybe someone would throw it some food?

Jian Xun struggled to climb out of the box and hobbled along on his lame leg. He hadn’t inherited any of the cat’s memories, but his body instinctively told him: where there’s a good smell, there’s food!

And just like that, the kitten spotted others of its kind—cats eating together in a row.

Because of his bad leg, he moved slowly. His little body cautiously crept closer, lowering itself beside the others to watch. Only when they’d almost finished did he dare approach and lick up the scraps.

He even managed to find a bag of unopened biscuits.

Refueled by the food, Jian Xun immediately ran back to his cardboard box.

The life of a stray cat was carefree. When hungry, you dig through the trash. Sometimes, two-legged creatures might feed you. When thirsty, you drink from puddles. On sunny days, you find a nice warm spot to bask in the sun. Life could be lazy and relaxing.

But Jian Xun had a mission—and in his mind, mission failure = death.

He didn’t want to die again.

Jian Xun started to panic.

He didn’t even know where the person he was supposed to save lived!

The old man had only shown him the “main character’s” storyline—and nothing else.

But how could a cat possibly complete a mission?

After a few days of rest and getting used to his body, the little kitten poked his head out again. He couldn’t just sit around waiting for death—he needed to gather information and figure out where he was.

Jian Xun felt like he had walked forever, until he finally saw the name of the facility:

Huapai Tree.

Wasn’t that the place where the protagonist had stayed when he was young and sick?!

Jian Xun was so excited he nearly jumped up—only for the sharp pain in his back left leg to remind him that he was injured and couldn’t go bouncing around.

Now that he had a goal, the little kitten clenched his paw into a fist (at least in spirit), his eyes full of determination.

Today, he would find Room 6.

After packing up his biscuits, the little kitten began checking each room one by one. With his injured leg, the hardest part was navigating the windowsills—but thankfully, they weren’t high, and most had gentle slopes instead of jumps.

When Jian Xun climbed to the fifth room, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang in his head—

[Rescue target detected. Current affection level: 0. Corruption level: 0. Story progress: 0.]

Jian Xun immediately began recalling everything he knew about the protagonist, Shang Xuci.

As the heir to Shang Corporation—one of Huaguo’s financial giants—Shang Xuci should have had a smooth, cheat-code-like life from beginning to end.

But he had been sickly since childhood. His parents had married for business reasons. His father was a playboy who stayed out all the time, and the only one who truly loved him was his mother. Tragically, she passed away when he had just started elementary school.

Not long after, his stepmother arrived, bringing with her an older son—two years his senior—and a younger son, just a few months younger than him. The stepmother, a woman active in the entertainment industry, had a charming public face but was vicious behind closed doors. She often showed him a cold attitude and secretly ordered the maids and housekeepers to mistreat him.

The frail little Shang Xuci couldn’t resist and could only endure in silence, gradually developing a personality that was reserved, cold, and quietly obsessive.

After reaching adulthood, Shang Xuci no longer believed in the complicated notion of pure emotions. In the adult world, only interests mattered. Fortunately, he had been taken in and raised by his maternal grandparents during middle and high school, so he hadn’t completely gone astray.

He also had a childhood fiancée who would visit him in the hospital. She brought him a bit of warmth during his most miserable moments—even if her love was never for him, but for his older brother, Shang Ye. Shang Xuci was willing to step back from all of that.

But when the company he had taken over and built from the ground up was about to be taken away because of a sudden relapse of his illness, that was when his descent began.

Especially after his grandfather’s sudden death, Shang Xuci began to uncover layers of conspiracy. His family members were willing to do anything for the sake of inheritance. His father, who had children all over the place, turned a blind eye and allowed him to be harmed. That was the final straw that pushed Shang Xuci into revenge.

He reclaimed the company.

Snatched back his fiancée.

Framed his older brother.

Destroyed his younger brother.

And drove his stepmother insane.

But in the end, Shang Xuci wasn’t the main character of the novel.

As it turned out, his stepmother was the daughter of a powerful family—born from their matriarch and her first love. In order to help her children gain footing, the influential family conspired with people close to Shang Xuci to take everything back from him—including his pride.

Shang Xuci ended up a blind man in a wheelchair. Once a golden child of the heavens, he was reduced to a broken shell. It was as if he had returned to his childhood. The Shang family once again wore their masks of false kindness, generously showcasing their so-called “mercy” in front of him.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back was the death of his grandmother—the only person left in the world who had truly loved him. Even his twisted stepmother eventually told him the truth about her own mother’s death.

That was when Shang Xuci completely snapped.

At a family dinner held by the Shangs, he poured oil and set everything on fire—burning it all down.

And he perished in the flames.

For reasons unknown, the world began to fall apart after Shang Xuci’s death. The Heavenly Dao had no choice but to rewind time, choosing a fated “seedling” with potential to change Shang Xuci’s destiny.

The first time Jian Xun heard Shang Xuci’s story, he was deeply drawn in.

Although the book only mentioned Shang Xuci in passing, Jian Xun—who had always been unwanted and unloved—could completely relate. By the end of the story, he was in tears over Shang Xuci’s tragic fate.

They were both abandoned by family, by the heavens themselves.

He swore to himself that he would complete this mission properly!

…

On the hospital bed, the man’s fingertips twitched ever so slightly.

Shang Xuci slowly opened his eyes. The layout of the room and the medical equipment beside him briefly surprised him, a flicker of confusion flashing across his gaze. Then, he shut his eyes again, trying to sort through the complex emotions surging in his mind.

How laughable…

He had actually been reborn.

At that moment, the door to the hospital room swung open, and a middle-aged woman barged in, grumbling as she carried a food container.

The woman had a sharp, unpleasant face and slammed the container down on the table. She snapped irritably, “Madam told me to bring this. She made it herself. Hurry up and eat.”

This woman, Zhao Mei, was a housekeeper who worked closely with Madam Xu Rong. By the time she arrived at the Shang household, Shang Xuci had already been sent away. She only knew that this “exiled” young master wasn’t favored, so she assumed she could treat him however she pleased.

When he lowered his head in silence, cold and unresponsive, the housekeeper grew bolder and complained directly, “Still acting like you’re some kind of young master? Who are you pretending for?”

The little kitten outside the window frowned.

This woman was outrageous!

Judging by her tone, she was just a worker in the Shang family—what gave her the right to speak so nastily?

The tray held only three dishes and one soup. All vegetarian. And not only that, but Shang Xuci was allergic to the poorly presented pumpkin cakes.

The steamed buns and vegetables were cold, and the chicken soup gave off an odd, unpleasant smell.

He raised his narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes. His pale lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, he walked over and, in front of the woman, dumped everything into the trash can.

The housekeeper’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How dare you! That was Madam’s kind gesture… No wonder everyone around you ends up dead. Madam was right—you really are a cursed star…”

Shang Xuci suddenly looked up, cutting her off with a cold, emotionless stare.

“Are you Xu Rong’s new lapdog? You bark a lot.”

Zhao Mei froze at the insult. She opened her mouth to curse back, but the way Shang Xuci looked at her made her scalp prickle. Something about his eyes sent chills down her spine.

“Done barking?” he said coolly. “Then get out.”

His tone was always detached, his emotions unreadable—but his words were merciless.

What was that expression?

The way he looked at her—it was as if she were nothing but filth.

Zhao Mei snatched up the empty food container, teeth clenched. “I brought you food out of kindness, and you dare insult me? What a cursed wretch.”

With one last hateful glare, she stormed out, bitter and resentful.

Shang Xuci, still in his white hospital gown, walked to the window. He looked out at the view with a cold gaze—and if his eyes had shifted even a little downward or to the side, he would have spotted the tiny kitten hiding just behind the window, secretly watching him.

He had really been reborn.

A gentle breeze brushed past the window, carrying with it a single pink petal that floated down gracefully. Shang Xuci reached out, and the petal landed softly in the center of his palm. A dazed look appeared on the man’s face.

He had already taken revenge for everything in his past life. There was nothing in that world he was particularly attached to. Shang Xuci couldn’t understand—why had things turned out this way?
Why had he come back?

As he watched the housekeeper’s figure slowly disappear down the corridor, scenes from the past flashed through his mind. Shang Xuci clenched his fists, his expression growing darker as disgust filled his eyes.

Just then, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in Jian Xun’s mind:

[Warning: Target’s corruption level has reached 100.]

Jian Xun: ??

How did it suddenly jump to 100%?!

He nearly had a heart attack—well, a cat attack!

The little white kitten lost his balance and almost tumbled off the windowsill, his claws scraping against the ledge with a sharp screech.

“Who’s there? Come out.”

Shang Xuci’s voice rang out.

The sneaky little white kitten steadied himself, then carefully took a small step forward.

“Meow~”

Shang Xuci looked toward the lower left corner of the window, where a filthy little kitten let out a soft, milky cry. His gaze paused.

The kitten moved.

It nudged a small biscuit toward him with a dusty gray paw.

TSASOTO

The Socially Anxious Streamer Only Talks Online – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – Brother Is Awesome

Read more: The Socially Anxious Streamer Only Talks Online – Chapter 1

There were still five minutes left until nine in the morning.

In the brightly lit study, a fair hand gently placed a freshly steeped cup of chrysanthemum tea beside the computer.

The owner of the hand then skillfully turned on the computer and launched the streaming software.

Once everything was ready, he picked up the cup, lowered his eyes, and took a slow sip to soothe his throat.

His long eyelashes veiled his eyes, hiding the nervousness within.

The clock ticked to exactly nine.

The man sitting in front of the computer took a deep breath and lifted his beautiful eyes. He pressed his lips together, gave himself a silent pep talk, and then clicked to start the livestream.

A cheerful boyish voice rang out:

“Hi everyone, I’m your streamer, Shi Cha. Today we’re going to…”

Shi Cha had been streaming for three months now, but even today, he still got nervous before every session.

Three months ago, he had graduated from the best voice acting program in the nation’s top performing arts school. But after graduating, he didn’t choose to become an actor or a voice-over artist. Instead, he took refuge in the world of anime and became an anonymous voice streamer who never showed his face.

Hiding behind a screen felt like wearing a thick mask—no one knew who he really was.

He was like a snail curled up in its shell, slowly reaching its feelers out into the world of the internet.

At nine in the morning, there weren’t many people in the stream. After all, Shi Cha didn’t show his face, wasn’t signed to any platform, and had no promotional traffic support.

The few dozen people online were his regulars—viewers who had been drawn in by his voice over the past three months.

Shi Cha’s streams were simple: he entertained by dubbing videos in various voices, or playing games while using different vocal personas, including but not limited to “dreamy heartthrob,” “cool older sister,” “cute loli,” and “mischievous boy.”

In fact, even the bright and energetic teen voice he was using now wasn’t his real voice.

He carefully concealed everything, terrified someone might uncover his real-life identity. Getting “unmasked” was the ultimate punishment for someone with social anxiety.

Half an hour passed quickly, and Shi Cha took another sip of water.

“It’s time to start the giveaway I promised yesterday! The prize is 66 Fish Biscuits and a custom voice request.”

The giveaway ended shortly after.

Shi Cha scrolled with his mouse, his voice light and cheerful.

“Congrats to the viewer named [ILoveGreenTea]—the prize has been sent! What voice would you like to request?”

As he spoke, he had already launched his favorite game, deftly typing in his account credentials and logging in.

Once he was in the game, he finally looked back at the prize winner’s request.

However, when he saw the winner’s request, Shi Cha nearly spat water all over his screen.

[ILoveGreenTea]: [“QAQ, Cuncun, can you play a game using a green tea “clip voice”?”]
(Note: “green tea” refers to a fake sweet girl persona; “clip voice” means a high-pitched, deliberately cutesy voice.)

[ILoveGreenTea]: [“A few days ago, a girl using a green tea clip voice kept calling me ‘Brother Jungle’ and begged me to carry her in ranked. But after I carried her all the way to King tier, she deleted me!”]

[RandomUser]: [“Brother Tool-man, you’re asking Cuncun to use a clip voice—but how do you even know that the girl using the clip voice was really a girl… and not a dude?”]

[ILoveGreenTea]: [“…Brother, you just stabbed me right in the heart!”]

[ILoveGreenTea]: [“QAQ I don’t care! Cuncun, you have to go jungle using a green tea clip voice and keep calling your teammates ‘Brother’—I need catharsis!”]

[Chat]: [“……”]

Shi Cha: ……

You want catharsis? More like you’re taking revenge on me.

Shi Cha was a hundred percent unwilling, but after three months of online training, his social anxiety had improved quite a bit—at least when he was online. In fact, he was starting to get a little too comfortable… though that only applied to the internet.

Shi Cha queued for ranked, and while waiting, he got up to refill his water.

By the time he returned, the match had already started loading.

The position selection went surprisingly smoothly. A pair of players with obvious couple usernames claimed bottom lane and support.

As for top lane, that player’s demand was written loud and clear in their username: [If I don’t get top, I AFK!]

That left just two roles available.

[FGHJKL]: You pick. I’m fine with anything.

Since the guy said that, Shi Cha chose jungle without hesitation and locked in his jungle hero: Beast Spirit Envoy.

The moment he picked that hero, the bottom lane couple instantly showed their discontent.

[QueenOfSwag]: ??? Are you serious?

[SweetBoyfriend]: Beast Spirit Envoy? That’s like the rarest of the rare. Who even plays that? You’re not trolling, are you? Brother, c’mon!

But Shi Cha ignored them completely and locked in his pick. It was final—no switching.

[QueenOfSwag]: ???

[SweetBoyfriend]: ???

[NoTopNoPlay]: ???

Only the guy with the random string of letters said nothing.

The map finished loading, and both teams entered the game.

This was a 5v5 game with top, mid, and bottom lanes. As soon as the match began, the couple duo—support and AD (attack damage)—headed straight for bot lane. Before they left, they didn’t forget to turn on their mic and issue a warning to Shi Cha.

[SweetBoyfriend]: If you don’t know how to jungle, just quietly stay in our jungle. Once my Queen gets her items, she’ll carry the game.

[QueenOfSwag]: Mm.

The other two players headed straight to their lanes without saying much.

Although Shi Cha was socially anxious in real life and almost always complied with others’ requests without question, online was a different story. He had trained in the jungle role for three years—no way was he going to follow some random guy’s commands.

Pressing his lips together, he immediately directed his hero toward the enemy jungle.

Meanwhile, the chat in Shi Cha’s stream was buzzing with commentary.

[Can’tBelieveHeDoubted]: [“Someone actually questioned our Cuncun’s skills? His Beast Spirit Envoy has an 80% win rate!”]

[ColdHeroHotHand]: [“Exactly! Just because the hero’s unpopular doesn’t mean anything. Our Cuncun could go pro if he wanted.”]

Shi Cha wasn’t paying attention to the stream chat.

In the game, a jungler’s first decision is whether to start with the red buff or the blue buff.

Most players go blue first—that way, mana regeneration is boosted early on, so they don’t run out of mana mid-fight. And the hero Shi Cha picked—Beast Spirit Envoy—was especially mana-hungry in the early game. Players who choose him usually always start with their own blue buff.

The enemy jungler, on the other hand, was a physical damage type and didn’t need blue as badly, so he could start with either red or blue.

Just as Shi Cha began attacking the enemy’s blue buff, SweetBoyfriend suddenly spoke up on mic:

[SweetBoyfriend]: Jungler, heads up. Enemy jungler is invading and attacking our red…

And then he saw their own jungler was already in the enemy jungle, taking their blue buff.

????

[LR is the Best]: Support, can you go scout our jungle real quick?

SweetBoyfriend paused, then understood what Shi Cha meant. The enemy jungler had entered alone, so if the support showed up in their own jungle, the enemy might think the team’s jungler and support were working together.

SweetBoyfriend’s reaction: Wait, this isn’t just a jungle swap? This guy took their blue… and he’s planning to take ours too?!

The enemy team had now realized that their blue buff was gone—and that the support was wandering suspiciously through their jungle.

[Enemy Jungler]: Support, come over here—we’ll go for a 2v2.

The enemy jungler was strong before level 4 and had started with red buff. The 2v2 was clearly a plan to take down both Shi Cha and SweetBoyfriend.

But just as the enemy support moved up, Shi Cha bypassed their vision and went straight for their red buff.

He also cleared a few jungle minions along the way, hitting level 3 instantly.

With both supports and junglers tangled in the blue side jungle, the bot lane was left with just the two ADs poking at each other—one shot here, one shot there.

In that moment, Shi Cha landed an E skill, stunning the enemy AD. With perfect synergy, his own AD followed up, and they secured the kill.

First Blood!

[QueenOfSwag]: Nice job!

While Shi Cha secured first blood, the enemy jungler and support not only failed to take their blue, but also ran into SweetBoyfriend and the mid-laner—Mr. Alphabet Guy—who had roamed over to help.

Alphabet Guy clearly had skill. By the time Shi Cha arrived, he had already taken out both the enemy jungler and support.

In a flash, Shi Cha’s team had three kills under their belt.

Alphabet Guy returned to mid lane to keep farming, and SweetBoyfriend headed back down to bot.

After a moment of hesitation, SweetBoyfriend finally admitted: Brother, didn’t expect you to actually be good. My bad for underestimating you.

Shi Cha continued diligently clearing blue buff, not responding right away. Just as the buff was down to its last sliver of health, he finally opened his mic—slow, sweet, and syrupy: “Brother Alphabet~ Your blue buff is all ready~ Come get it~”

[QueenOfSwag]: ……

[SweetBoyfriend]: ……

[NoTopNoPlay]: ……

[FGHJKL]: ???

[SweetBoyfriend]: Brother, stop talking. You’re one of us.

Once Shi Cha started speaking, he realized it wasn’t so hard after all. Pinching his voice, he continued in a deliberately cutesy tone:

“Brother Alphabet~ Don’t send question marks~ Come get your blue buff~ I just took one earlier, this one’s for you~”

Shi Cha chose to “bother” the mid lane for two reasons. First, the bot lane duo was clearly a couple—he didn’t want to mess with their relationship. Second, the mid-laner, Alphabet Guy, had picked the same hero as his idol and secret crush—someone Shi Cha adored.

Alphabet Guy hesitated for a moment, then took the blue buff.

From then on, Shi Cha turned into a social butterfly, fluttering all over the map.

The enemy jungle became his personal XP farm, and any time he ganked top, mid, or bot, the enemy team collapsed.

He especially camped mid lane, his flirty voice floating constantly across the battlefield:

“Brother~ Brother~ I’m here to help you gank again~ Aiya, the enemy mid is totally tilted~ Brother, you’re amazing~”

From the moment Shi Cha turned on his mic, SweetBoyfriend went completely silent.

The three teammates would respond to each of his sugary outbursts with a string of ellipses, signaling that their souls were taking emotional damage.

It wasn’t just the enemy mid who was mentally destroyed—they were, too.

As for Alphabet Guy? He hadn’t said a single word all game. Maybe… he was enjoying it?

The game ended quickly. As their team pushed into the enemy base, Shi Cha chirped one last time:

“Brother~ Brother~ How’s my gameplay? Isn’t it super impressive~?”

The mid-laner—who had been completely silent while being relentlessly flirted with—finally spoke, just as the enemy nexus shattered:

“You’re pretty good.”

Those four words froze Shi Cha in place.

He stared blankly at the giant [Victory] on his screen, his ears ringing with that deep, rich voice.

“You’re pretty good… you’re pretty good… you’re pretty good…”

Panic surged through him. He slammed the power button and dropped his head onto the desk with a loud thud—twice.

Though the reply was short, he recognized that voice instantly.

It was Lin Ran’s.

The same Lin Ran he had a hopeless crush on.

He used the ID [LR is the Best] And he had just spent an entire game shouting things like:

“Brother you’re amazing~”

“How’s my technique~?”

“Isn’t it super impressive~?”

He could feel his scalp go numb.

Help.

“AAAAAAHHHHH—!”

Author’s Note:

The game is loosely inspired by League of Legends and Honor of Kings, but it’s an original PC-based 5v5 game.

LGTC

Let Go of That Captain, Let Me Handle This [Esports] – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – The Fear of Domination

Read more: Let Go of That Captain, Let Me Handle This [Esports] – Chapter 1

A silver coach bus stopped at the entrance of Boshi Sports Arena. A few young players in sportswear stepped out, their team’s star emblem shining on their chests, matching the fan banners in the crowd.

The external host on the stage was introducing the team’s history, but their voice was drowned out by the deafening cheers from outside the venue.

The once-quiet plaza erupted with resounding chants:

“Xinghai! Xinghai!…”

At the front of the team, Jiang Ranan—River—clutched his chest, his emotions surging. The lone pimple on his nose, as if responding to his excitement, blushed a deeper red.

“Honestly, even as a pro player, I still get fired up every time I see a scene like this.”

A scoff came from his right. Zhuang Bai—Keen—a tall, lanky player, leaned over and pointed at the names on the fan banners.

Jiang Ranan put on his signature glasses, his boiling blood instantly cooling by half.

He gritted his teeth, unable to hold back his frustration. “Mars, you old bast*rd! You officially announced that you wouldn’t be coming—so why are his lightboards everywhere?”

“Where? Where?!” The round and chubby Tangyuan—Sweet—used sheer strength to squeeze past his front-row teammates, squinting as he scanned the distance. A moment later, his stomach let out a loud grumble, followed by a furious wail. “Are you telling me that a few living, breathing people like us still can’t compare to that idiot who gets lost in his own base?”

The last to step down from the bus, team manager Qin Chuan, skillfully reassured them, “They’re here, they’re here. Look carefully, you’ll find them.”

Summoning every ounce of his eyesight, the chubby Sweet finally spotted a small, misshapen support sign squished into a corner. Overcome with excitement, he nearly dashed over to kiss the fan who held it.

Seeing through his intentions, Qin Chuan pressed a firm hand on his pudgy shoulder. “Behave. Smile, bow.”

And so, with a group of unwilling beasts in tow, they entered the venue.

The massive digital screen on the stadium’s outer wall displayed PUBG Fan Appreciation Match, alternating between clips of various star players.

The host outside was still expressing regret over the absence of certain celebrity players. But the moment they stepped into the stadium, a tall and familiar figure stood above them, arms crossed, looking down at everything below.

In an instant, the distant cheers grew even wilder.

“Mars! Mars! Mars!…”

Even though he had mentally prepared himself, the moment he entered, Tangyuan couldn’t help but shiver, an involuntary chill running down his spine.

He ducked behind Jiang Ranan, covering his face. “I can’t do this. No matter where I go, I feel an overwhelming fear of being dominated by our captain.”

The stadium was filled with life-sized cutouts of star players, but by far, the most prominent ones featured Team Xinghua’s captain—Mars, Shao Zhan.

“Don’t be scared, don’t be scared.” Jiang Ranan, feeling equally uneasy, tried to comfort his broad-shouldered, bear-like teammate. “Worst case scenario, when we leave, we’ll just ‘borrow’ a couple of these cutouts and use them as dartboards in the dorms. How about that?”

Tangyuan nodded furiously.

Unable to take it anymore, Qin Chuan smacked both of them on the head.

“It’s one thing to be unruly at the base, but when we’re outside, mind your image. He’s not just our captain—he’s also the head of the PUBG division.”

Jiang Ranan and Tangyuan pouted but swallowed their grievances in silence.

Once they reached a quiet spot with no one around, Qin Chuan leaned in close to his players and lowered his voice.

“When you steal a cutout, make sure to grab one for me too.”

Tangyuan’s eyes widened like round glutinous rice balls. “Manager, you—aren’t you…?”

“Aren’t what?” Qin Chuan cut him off. “That old bast*rd has been ignoring rules and doing whatever he wants just because he’s the young master of our parent company. This isn’t new—I’ve been wanting to beat him up for ages.”

“Then do it!” Tangyuan, never one to pass up on drama, egged him on.

“I would,” Qin Chuan took a deep breath, “if I wasn’t afraid I’d lose.”

“Speaking of which, where is the captain?” Zhuang Bai , who had been silent until now, finally asked.

“Who the hell knows?” Tangyuan shot a glare at the Mars cutout, cursing under his breath. “Probably off meeting some random man.”

…

Two streets away, inside a private booth at a café, Shao Zhan sneezed out of nowhere.

Across from him, a pair of long, narrow, pale green eyes observed his every move. Slender, fair fingers tapped rhythmically on a light green check before slowly pushing it across the table.

Shao Zhan glanced at the blank check, raising an eyebrow slightly.

The man across from him withdrew his hand, making a slight invitation gesture before resting his chin on his interlaced fingers.

His pale eyes held a faint, sideways gaze—watching his prey. Any resistance before the fish took the bait was just posturing, waiting for the right price. And he was confident he had made an offer no one could refuse.

Shao Zhan lifted his teacup to his lips, pausing briefly before setting it down. The base of the cup left a faint water stain on the check.

Releasing the cup, he spread his hands and offered a slight, apologetic smile before standing up to leave.

Outside the café, at some point, a light drizzle had begun to fall.

Shao Zhan hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the rain.

The sudden drizzle had thinned out the crowd, turning even taxis into a rare luxury.

With no other choice, he continued walking along the misty, rain-drenched streets.

Pale green eyes remained fixed on his slender figure. A quiet voice spoke into the phone, reporting, “He refused.”

The other end of the call gave no response—only the sound of the line being disconnected.

The green-eyed man pressed his lips together, putting his phone away with a sigh. At the same time, the distant silhouette had completely disappeared from view.

…

Lost in the evening streets, Shao Zhan had missed his one chance at catching a taxi—because he had been too busy arguing with his teammates in the group chat.

By the time he realized, the cab was long gone.

Picking up his pace to catch up, he unexpectedly stepped into a brightly lit plaza.

Instinctively, he turned to leave—only for the lively noise around him to suddenly pause.

And then, like a tidal wave, came the deafening chants: “Mars! Mars!…”

The players of Glimmer, who had just stepped off their team bus, originally ready to bask in the cheers, suddenly froze. Their smiles stiffened as they watched the sea of bright yellow support signs seamlessly switch to red—huge Mars banners floating above every fan’s head.

The Glimmer players darkened as they hurried past the crowd, expressions less than pleasant.

Shao Zhan strolled over and fist-bumped Weiguang’s captain, Mu Chen—Moon—exchanging a friendly greeting.

“Tr*sh.”

“Backstabber.”

Outwardly, they looked like old friends catching up, the picture of harmony and camaraderie.

Meanwhile, the fans continued their tireless chant: “Mars! Mars! Mars!…”

Mu Chen, thoroughly sick of hearing that name, withdrew his hand and covered his gritted teeth with a polite smile. “Bast*rd. Didn’t you say you weren’t coming?”

“The crowd here is too passionate—I just couldn’t refuse such enthusiasm.” Shao Zhan squinted slightly, raising a hand in acknowledgment—triggering yet another wave of deafening cheers. “Apologies for stealing your team’s spotlight.”

Although he said that, there wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face.

“It’s nothing,” Weiguang’s captain waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just an exhibition match—don’t take your idol status too seriously.”

Shao Zhan grinned, almost arrogantly, and turned to the players behind Mu Chen. “Did you hear that? Your captain just admitted I’m an idol.”

“Hmph, what our captain meant is that Weiguang relies on skill,” Weiguang’s rookie, Jiang Te—Tee—retorted, clearly unconvinced.

Mu Chen had brought him along to get used to the atmosphere and show his face in front of fans, but he hadn’t expected a verbal sparring match to break out.

“Then do your best,” Shao Zhan said, smirking. “I hope Weiguang’s skills can match up to my looks.”

Though his tone was casual and sounded like he was simply encouraging a junior, there was something about it that made people want to throw punches.

Seeing the fighting spirit he had ignited, Shao Zhan gestured a casual thumbs-up to Mu Chen before turning toward the exit.

“Not going in?” Mu Chen asked, feigning ignorance.

Shao Zhan turned back with a dazzling smile. “If I go in, will there be any camera time left for you guys?”

Mu Chen chuckled and playfully punched his old friend’s shoulder. Shao Zhan hadn’t expected it, but that brief exchange—just a laugh and a single hit—completely ruined his escape plan.

The event’s on-stage host, standing on the high platform just moments ago, had somehow flown down the hastily assembled iron stairs in towering ten-centimeter heels, blocking his path in an instant.

“Captain Shao Zhan! Captain Shao Zhan!” The excited female host practically shoved the microphone toward him. “Earlier, Xinghai officially announced that you would be absent from this event. What made you change your mind?” She paused, then playfully added, “Was this a strategic move from your team?”

Shao Zhan reined in his expression, falling silent for a long moment before coolly replying, “Secret.”

Behind him, Weiguang’s players, relegated to mere background props, simultaneously rolled their eyes. In their minds, they all cursed: “So d*mn pretentious.”

At the same time, the scene outside the venue was being broadcast inside the stadium, sending the crowd into an excited frenzy over the unexpected surprise.

Even the official livestream’s viewer count had suddenly quadrupled.

But the most shocked of all were none other than Xinghai’s own players.

Tangyuan whipped out his phone and messaged Shao Zhan: [What the hell? You actually came??]

At the stadium entrance, Shao Zhan, having just wrapped up his impromptu interview, was now walking into the venue alongside Weiguang’s players.

The hallway lights, along with the roaring cheers inside the stadium, seemed to intensify by a couple of degrees.

“Come on, if you’re going to pull a surprise stunt like this, can you at least stick with your own team?” Even Weiguang’s usually aloof captain couldn’t help but complain.

Hearing a crowd’s cheers several times louder than usual—only for them not to be directed at his own team—would put anyone in a foul mood.

To make matters worse, the signage in the corridor was still glowing Weiguang’s signature yellow, yet the chants inside the stadium were shifting toward perfect unison:

“Mars, Mars, Mars…”

Even before stepping inside, the overwhelming passion was palpable.

“So shallow,” Weiguang’s rookie, Jiang Te muttered under his breath, silently cursing himself for not being born with such a ridiculously good-looking face.

“What, washed up at Xinghai and now looking for warmth with Weiguang?” Assault player Bull, known for his brute force, scoffed. “Did you hear our second team is short on subs and rush over to try out?”

Shao Zhan glanced at the message from Tangyuan on his phone, then tucked it back into his pocket without a second thought. As if he hadn’t even heard the taunts, he hummed a tune and strolled forward.

In the hallway, Mu Chen’s expression darkened. He lowered his voice in reprimand: “Watch yourself.”

Mars Shao Zhan was an undisputed legend in PUBG. His achievements spoke for themselves.

And to openly disrespect someone while their own captain was present? That was nothing but a stain on Weiguang’s reputation. It wasn’t just a loss in popularity—it was a loss in dignity.

Lack of skill could be improved. A gap in technique could be filled. But once lost, sportsmanship and class could never be regained.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Shao Zhan rubbed his hands together nonchalantly, throwing an arm around Weiguang’s rookie. “Don’t listen to that bowlegged brute—he just blurts out whatever comes to mind. No big deal. Worst case, word gets out that your captain lacks control over his team and that Weiguang has a toxic culture…”

Before Jiang Te could protest, Shao Zhan had already dragged him up onto the platform—straight into the roaring cheers of thousands.

DPWF

Don’t Provoke the Wife Fans [E-Sport] – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – Face me!

Read more: Don’t Provoke the Wife Fans [E-Sport] – Chapter 1

At the end of March, the final day of the PUBG Spring Championship’s weekly finals had arrived.

It was past five o’clock when a sleek Mercedes-Benz slowly came to a stop in front of the e-sports arena at the Broadcasting and Production Center.

A group of staff members rushed forward, spreading their arms as if to offer an escort.

Through the tinted windows, everyone was curious about who could be inside. After all, all the competing teams had already entered an hour earlier.

The car door opened, and a young man, carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder, stepped out, unfolding his long legs as he exited the car.

Nearby fans were the first to erupt in screams, their excitement spreading outward, causing the entire crowd to buzz with excitement.

Those standing further back had their view blocked by the raised support signs, unable to see what was happening.

One guy, perplexed by the fuss, asked, “Who is it that’s making such a flashy entrance? Not even Tan Shen1 would get this much hype.”

A girl ahead of him excitedly turned around, “It is Tan Shen! Tan Shen’s here!!!”

The guy, who had been unimpressed just moments ago, immediately changed his tune and roared, “Talk2! Tan Shen! Aaaaah— Tan Shen! I love you! Aaaah—!!!”

The man, surrounded by the crowd, kept his head down as he was escorted by staff through Gate 1 of the venue. As he walked through the corridor, the setting sun cast a streak of orange-pink across his prominent nose, but it did nothing to soften his skin, which was cold to the point of being almost pale.

At the VIP entrance on the other side of the plaza, a young man with creamy white hair paused, looking back at the crowd shouting “Talk!” in unison.

It wasn’t until the ticket inspector gently reminded him that the young man snapped out of it, took the ticket with the stub torn off, and walked towards the green passage leading directly into the venue.

WLG’s team sniper, Xiao Pai, was stuffing himself with a burger, but even from the lounge, he could hear the uproar outside. He looked up and asked, “Did Tan Mo arrive?”

The coach didn’t even have to think about it: “Can you find another man in the entire esports scene who can make an entrance and create a celebrity vibe like that?”

Xiao Pai relaxed and said, “With Dad Talk here, I could play this game blindfolded.”

The next second, the coach pried Xiao Pai’s eyes open forcefully. “Close your eyes, my foot! Keep those eyes wide open and play properly! Look at what a mess your results are when Tan Mo’s not around! Out of the twenty-four participating teams, where are we now? First place! From the bottom!”

“Ah! Ouch, ouch, that hurts!!!”

As the team manager walked in, he heard Xiao Pai’s agonized wail and snapped, “Shush! Stop yelling!”

Right behind him, Tan Mo entered the room.

Everyone looked over. The dashing man placed his backpack on a table by the wall, shrugged off his windbreaker with one hand, and pulled out his team jacket from the bag with the other, putting it on.

Apart from the ever-present pallor of fatigue, he seemed perfectly fine.

“A-Mo… maybe you should let the substitute play this time?”

The coach watched him closely for a while before hesitantly suggesting.

Tan Mo zipped up his jacket, his eyelids drooping slightly, and responded with just two words:

“Trust me.”

Sang Ye entered the venue a bit late and didn’t notice that several young women were peeking at him as he passed by.

He compared the seat number on his ticket and saw that someone was sitting in his seat, which was right in the center of the second row. A guy had his arm draped over the shoulder of a girl next to him, looking around at the passing audience.

As Sang Ye walked toward the middle, he gradually caught part of their conversation.

The girl said, “Come on, go sit in your own seat. Who’s going to give up their middle seat for you?”

The guy replied, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. My seat is just two over, switching won’t affect anyone’s view. Plus, if that person knows we’re a couple and still won’t switch, they’re just trying to split us up. That’d be so rude, right?”

Sang Ye noticed that seat number 16 was directly under the central air vent and stopped walking.

The guy was sitting in seat 15 and glanced to the side.

There, he saw a young man with striking3 white hair, so handsome it was almost refreshing. The young man checked his ticket, then looked up at the vent, frowning slightly.

It seemed like he didn’t like the idea of sitting directly under the air conditioning.

Sure enough, the young man spoke: “Excuse me, would you mind switching seats?”

Without hesitation, the guy waved his hand dismissively: “Not convenient, sorry!”

He had been eyeing that seat for a while.

The young man glanced at his ticket again and looked down at him: “Sorry, but you’re sitting in my seat.”

“…”

The guy was speechless.

After a long pause, he pointed at the girl beside him: “I… she… we’re a couple, and—”

But under the young man’s calm gaze, he couldn’t manage to finish his sentence.

With a heavy sigh of frustration, the guy grudgingly got up and left.

Sang Ye took off his backpack and sat down heavily.

Claiming the moral high ground? Moral blackmail? Get out of here.

He’d fought for this seat at 2 a.m. when the tickets went on sale, so why should he give it up to a couple?

As everyone settled in, the large screen on the stage began playing the promotional video for the Spring Tournament.

The audience gradually quieted down.

The girl sitting in seat 16 next to Sang Ye was fanning herself with one hand while spraying hydrating mist onto her face with the other. “I finally managed to snag a seat, and it’s right under the air conditioner! My makeup’s about to crack!”

She’d put a lot of effort into her makeup before leaving the house, but no matter how waterproof it was, even the best products couldn’t withstand that much mist. Her eye makeup was already starting to smudge like panda eyes.

Understanding that girls like to look their best when they go out, especially to take selfies for social media, Sang Ye put away his iPad and tilted his head toward her: “Let’s switch seats.”

The girl was stunned for a moment, feeling touched. She pointed at the air vent above her: “But what about you?”

Sang Ye was already bent over, getting up: “It’s fine. I’ve got thick skin.”

“…”

The young man’s face was so pale and delicate it seemed like you could pinch water out of it. He couldn’t have been further from the phrase “thick-skinned.”

The girl, overwhelmed with gratitude, thanked him repeatedly.

Sang Ye moved to a new seat, and the guy from the couple he had previously encountered was now seated to his left.

Feeling a bit put out for having been outmaneuvered by the young man, the guy asked, “High school student, huh? Don’t you have school tomorrow morning?”

Sang Ye didn’t even look up as he opened his tablet: “Can’t afford high school.”

The guy was taken aback and then burst out laughing, “Don’t play dumb. You bought a VIP seat for 2,600 Yuan, and you’re telling me you can’t afford high school?”

Sang Ye replied, “Not enough credits, can’t afford it.”

“…”

The conversation was not going anywhere.

The air conditioning in the venue was intense, and after a while, Sang Ye found it uncomfortable and took off his heavy jacket.

At that moment, the lights dimmed, and a beam of light focused on the center of the stage. The passionate voice of the commentator echoed through the large venue:

“Dear audience, welcome to the second match day of the fourth week of the PCL Spring Tournament!”

The competing teams walked onto the stage from the side and headed straight for the competition area, greeted by enthusiastic applause and cheers.

The camera crane moved widely, capturing the scene, which was broadcast live on the massive LED screens throughout the venue. The audience, excited and lively, was adorned with flashing support banners that rose and fell in waves.

The camera panned around, then focused on the lucky audience members.

Seeing their faces on the giant screen in the center of the stage, some people shyly ducked, some waved enthusiastically, and others, bold as ever, blew kisses to the camera.

Taking advantage of this, the commentators engaged the audience with lively banter, while allowing each team sufficient time for pre-match preparations.

WLG’s team manager stood at the side of the stage, watching Tan Mo put on his headset, struggling to resist the urge to pull him off the stage.

“He had another dream last night,” the manager said.

A voice suddenly cut in beside him.

Turning to look, he saw the team doctor.

The manager hesitated, “Still dreaming about… the same forest?”

“It’s been a month straight,” the team doctor warned, “In his current state, he shouldn’t even be here.”

The manager frowned in frustration, “I’ve tried to persuade him. He won’t listen.”

After watching the stage for a moment, the team doctor pulled something from his pocket and discreetly handed it to the manager, keeping his gaze steady: “Watch his condition. If it gets really bad… this might help.”

Confused, the manager opened his hand to look.

He was handed a bottle of medicine with the label torn off. The white plastic gleamed under the lights, revealing a shadowy color.

…

The director of broadcasting scanned several rows of the audience and seemed to suddenly notice something. The camera crane swung back around and zoomed in on the second row, closer to the stage.

The atmosphere in the venue shifted.

The selected young man had striking creamy white-colored hair, his head lowered, wearing only a clean short-sleeve T-shirt that revealed his delicate, white collarbone.

Just his silhouette alone was enough to set the mood.

The guy next to him, excited, nudged his neighbor: “Hey! Hey! You’re on the screen!”

Sang Ye instinctively looked up—

A world-weary, unconventional beauty’s face dominated the giant screen.

The audience erupted into high-pitched screams.

Female commentator: “This young man is so handsome, even this old aunt feels like her heart has been pierced.”

Male commentator: “He really is good-looking… I just remembered, he seems to be a signed streamer on the Maoya platform.”

Female commentator: “Hmm? Is there something we don’t know?”

The guy next to Sang Ye was stunned, his worldview collapsing as he looked at Sang Ye.

This kid, who looked under eighteen, was actually a streamer?!

Male commentator: “His ID is [Song], and he’s from Shanghai. Last month, Maoya’s gaming section held a beauty contest with separate voting for male and female streamers. Somehow, a mischievous fan submitted Song’s livestream screenshot into the female streamer candidate pool. As a result, his votes skyrocketed, and he won first place, while the winner of the male streamer category was naturally [Talk]. The even funnier part is that their photos were displayed side by side on the homepage banner. By the time the staff realized the gender mix-up and urgently took down the promotion, a full day had passed.”

The audience burst into laughter.

Sang Ye, however, was unfazed. He held a stylus in one hand, scribbling on his tablet, his expression aloof and indifferent.

In reality, the commentators didn’t mention everything. Besides the initial reviewers having poor eyesight, Sang Ye’s success among female streamers was also closely tied to every rebellious netizen.

Sang Ye’s livestream photo was indeed poorly taken but still looked good. However, viewers weren’t blind; they recognized he was a male. Yet, knowing he was a male seemed to excite them even more. They voted enthusiastically, propelling Sang Ye from mid-tier rankings to the title of “Most Beautiful Goddess.”

So this voting was purely a prank, with no intention of disparaging female streamers, and everyone had a good laugh at the result.

“I wonder if Talk still remembers this young man who was featured alongside him on the homepage banner? Is Talk watching right now?”

The female commentator suddenly wanted to involve Talk, and Sang Ye’s breath caught. He quickly looked up at the front.

Everyone noticed oddly that the cool guy who had seemed so aloof just moments ago now had his clear eyes trembling, and his pale skin flushed with color.

Xiao Pai glanced at the LED screen and whistled: “Indeed, as expected of a face-value tyrant4, Tan Shen, don’t you even take a look?”

Just then, the director switched the camera to the player area.

Talk appeared on the screen, and upon being called out, he lifted his eyes to look forward.

The director then cleverly switched back to the audience.

The intention was to show Talk the young man.

However, the young man had already raised his tablet to cover his face the instant Talk looked up.

So when Talk glanced at the screen, all he saw was a tablet.

Talk’s expression changed subtly before he quickly looked away and continued adjusting game parameters.

Sang Ye, noticing the sudden wave of screams, realized something was off and looked closely.

Oh no!

He had held the tablet the wrong way!

The support message he had been scribbling on the tablet, which he hadn’t had time to finish, was now exposed to everyone:

[WLG Never Gives Up, Talk Face-to-Face with Thousands5]

The male commentator pondered and boldly guessed, “So that character is—me?”

“!!!” Sang Ye froze in his seat.

He meant to write “Talk Face-to-Face with the Enemy.”

The Enemy!

Enemy!!!

Me…

“Can say such bold and wild words…” the female commentator subtly added, “Could he be – Talk’s wife fan6?”

Sang Ye: “…………”

Author’s Note:

Tan Mo: Be confident, just drop the ‘fan‘ part.

Note :

  1. “Tan Shen” (谈神) is a nickname that combines the surname “Tan” (谈) with the Chinese word “Shen” (神), which means “God.” In this context, “Tan Shen” likely refers to a character who is highly skilled or revered, particularly in esports or gaming, where “Shen” is used to express admiration or respect, as in “God-level” talent. ↩︎
  2. “Talk” is Tan Shen’s in-game name ↩︎
  3. “Striking” means impressive, noticeable, or attracting attention. ↩︎
  4. face-value tyrant (a slang term for someone who is extremely good-looking) ↩︎
  5. Talk Face-to-Face with Thousands: Talk should confront or face challenges directly, implying courage and confidence in dealing with a large number of opponents or challenges. ↩︎
  6. “Wife fan” is a slang term used to describe a fan who is extremely devoted to a male celebrity, often to the point of obsession. It’s a more playful and exaggerated way to say “super fan” or “die-hard fan.” ↩︎

WFYTCO

Waiting For You To Come Online -Chapter 1

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Chapter 1: Freshman Registration

Read more: Waiting For You To Come Online -Chapter 1

August 31st—today is the registration day for new students at S University.

A light rain had just fallen in the early morning, making the roads slippery and muddy. The air was filled with a damp smell.

Xie Yang, dragging his heavy suitcase, transferred through several trains and finally arrived at S University.

The sun was scorching, as S City was in the peak of summer.

In thirty-plus degree weather, even with thick-soled sneakers, he could feel the searing heat of the ground.

Even the wind carried heat.

Xie Yang wore a plain white T-shirt, his back already soaked with sweat.

The sticky fabric clung to his skin, making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

The line for new student registration was very long, and the registration area was packed with parents.

Most of the people in line were parents, while the students stayed under the shade of trees, watching the luggage.

Xie Yang, dragging his suitcase, stood out somewhat.

Perhaps noticing Xie Yang struggling with both his luggage and the registration process, looking a bit flustered, an upperclassman couldn’t help but speak up: “Are you here alone? Do you need help?”

Xie Yang finally signed his name and politely declined the upperclassman’s offer, dragging his suitcase toward the dormitory by himself.

However, he didn’t anticipate that S University’s dormitory area would be so vast.

He wandered around like a blind fly for quite some time before finding his dormitory building.

He could have avoided this trouble—the upperclassman at the registration desk had enthusiastically offered to take him to the dorm, but he had declined.

At that moment, a parent had also wanted to ask about dormitory issues, so Xie Yang felt it was impolite to let the upperclassman lead him.

He always disliked bothering others and felt a mix of gratitude, fear, and unease towards their kindness.

He had a reserved and socially anxious personality, rarely interacting with others.

The elevator area of the dormitory was crowded with people carrying luggage, and one elevator trip couldn’t take many people.

Xie Yang had no choice but to carry his suitcase up the stairs.

Fortunately, he didn’t have much luggage, and his dormitory floor wasn’t very high.

Room number 501.

After confirming his dormitory on his phone, Xie Yang politely knocked on the door before slowly pushing it open.

As soon as he opened the door, a blast of cool air from the air conditioner hit him, alleviating some of his discomfort from the heat.

Hearing the knock, the three people busy unpacking inside the dormitory simultaneously looked towards the door.

Feeling their gazes on him, Xie Yang’s nerves, which had just relaxed, began to tense up again.

The fear of the new environment and unfamiliar roommates overwhelmed him.

He nervously greeted his roommates, “H-hello.”

“Xie Yang?”

The voice carried a hint of surprise. Xie Yang looked in the direction of the voice.

It was Su Huai, his high school classmate.

Seeing someone he knew, Xie Yang immediately felt relieved and shyly smiled, “Su Huai.”

Su Huai laughed, “I was surprised when I saw the dormitory list. I didn’t expect us to end up in the same room.”

“You guys know each other?” one of the other roommates asked.

Su Huai replied, “Yes, we were in the same class in high school, just like you two.”

“Wow, that’s really lucky.”

“At least you know someone.”

Su Huai agreed, “That’s true.”

Seeing Xie Yang still standing at the door, Su Huai waved him in, “Come in quickly before all the cool air escapes. Isn’t it hot outside?”

Xie Yang hurriedly pushed his suitcase into the dormitory, his face showing a bit of embarrassment, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Su Huai pointed to a nearby bed, “That’s your bed.”

The other three roommates arrived early and had already chosen their beds, leaving only the one next to Su Huai unclaimed.

Xie Yang softly said, “Thank you.”

He had very little luggage, bringing only a few sets of clothes, some daily necessities, and an old laptop. He also had a box of homemade cupcakes.

There were a lot of people on the way, and the cupcakes were easily squished, so Xie Yang had carefully protected them to ensure they arrived intact at the dormitory.

Since it was the first day of school, he wanted to get closer to his roommates.

His awkward personality often strained his relationships with classmates. He would be living with these people for the next four years and didn’t want his dorm life to be too difficult.

Even if his roommates didn’t like him, he hoped they could maintain a good relationship.

But this was not his familiar territory. He never knew how to win over new friends or how to get along with classmates, let alone roommates he would be living with day and night.

Xie Yang held the box in his hands, hesitating for a long time, unsure how to start a conversation.

Finally, it was Su Huai who broke the silence in the dormitory, catching a whiff of the sweet aroma of the cupcakes. “What’s that smell? It smells sweet, like cream?”

Nervously, Xie Yang stood up and handed the box to Su Huai. “It’s, it’s cupcakes I made. Would you like to try one?”

“You made these?”

“You know how to bake?” Su Huai was a bit surprised but didn’t refuse. “After a busy afternoon, I’m starving.”

He took the box from Xie Yang and opened it, revealing the delicate pastries inside. Su Huai had always liked sweet foods.

Noticing Xie Yang’s nervous gaze, Su Huai smiled and said, “They taste great.”

Xie Yang’s tense expression relaxed, and his eyes turned to the other two roommates. He wanted to say something but hesitated for a long time.

Seeing this, Su Huai chuckled, “Let me help you.”

Before Xie Yang arrived, Su Huai had already become acquainted with the other two roommates. He was naturally sociable and somewhat knew the other two from before.

They were all from S City, a place both big and small, so they had heard of each other.

As the cupcakes were handed out, Xie Yang breathed a sigh of relief and a shy smile appeared on his face. He sincerely said to Su Huai, “Thank you, Su Huai.”

Seeing the blush on Xie Yang’s face, Su Huai paused for a moment. He had never really looked at Xie Yang closely before and now realized that Xie Yang was actually quite attractive. His slightly long bangs and thick glasses had always obscured his appearance, making him seem unremarkable.

Su Huai and Xie Yang had been in the same class since their first year of high school. Aside from knowing that Xie Yang had excellent grades, he knew little else about him.

Xie Yang was always the model student in the teachers’ eyes, quiet and studious. Whenever he was seen, he was diligently studying. Even after school, he would stay at his desk doing homework.

For three years, he consistently ranked first in the class and second in the grade. Despite this, he was very low-key, never boasting about his achievements.

Because he spent most of his time studying and rarely interacted with others, his presence was weak, making him a peripheral figure1 in the class.

Because the teachers often praised Xie Yang and compared other students to him, his popularity in the class was not good.

Nobody likes being compared, especially as a negative example.

As a result, most of the classmates didn’t interact much with Xie Yang. Even for the annual class reunion, no one would invite him.

People would often talk behind his back, saying that someone as smart as him looked down on students with poor grades.

Every little thing about Xie Yang seemed to garner negative comments.

But now it seemed that Xie Yang’s personality wasn’t arrogant as they said. He was simply shy, introverted, and socially anxious, which made him unpopular.

Su Huai found it amusing. Even though he hadn’t paid much attention to Xie Yang before, they had been in the same class for three years. He had never realized that Xie Yang was this kind of person.

Seeing Xie Yang’s shy expression, he deliberately teased, “You’re really impressive, making desserts and all.”

Su Huai’s compliment made Xie Yang even more embarrassed. Twisting the hem of his shirt, he blushed and softly said, “I worked part-time at a bakery before, so I learned a little.”

“That’s still really impressive!”

“…”

The two chatted while tidying up the dorm room. After arranging all their belongings, Su Huai suggested, “It’s six o’clock. How about we go grab some dinner together?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go, I’m starving.”

“Where should we eat? The school cafeteria?”

“How about we explore outside and buy some daily necessities too?”

“Sounds good, it’s a plan.”

“Xie Yang, come with us.”

Hearing Su Huai call his name, Xie Yang felt a bit surprised. His classmates rarely included him in their plans before.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Near the school, there were several food streets filled with small restaurants, most of which were packed.

They finally found a place with available seating and ordered a few stir-fry dishes.

As roommates, they wanted to build a good relationship, especially since they would be living together for the next four years if everything went smoothly.

Talking about various topics, they quickly became familiar with each other.

Although Xie Yang spoke little, he answered when asked and listened attentively to their conversations.

The three roommates gradually got to understand Xie Yang’s slow-to-warm-up and gentle nature.

Back at the dorm, they decided to play some games together.

“Three players are too few, but five players are too many.”

“Should we recruit someone?”

“No, it’s the start of the season. Who knows if we’ll get a good player or not. Let’s just pull someone from our friends list.”

“They’re all in games already.”

Hearing this, Xie Yang quickly said, “Um, my rank is low, so I probably can’t queue with you guys. You should go ahead and play.”

“What’s your rank?”

“If you’re Platinum, we can queue together.”

Xie Yang, feeling embarrassed, said, “I’m only Silver.”

The rankings were reset for the new season, and the three roommates who were positioned in Emerald One: “…”

“Okay then, we’ll start playing as a trio first. You focus on practicing, and once your rank goes up, we’ll play together.”

Xie Yang quickly nodded, “Okay.”

In fact, he rarely played games. His spare time was usually spent either working part-time or studying.

He only started playing this mobile game because he heard the person he liked was playing it too, which prompted him to download it.

It’s a pity that he doesn’t seem to have much talent for games, and he is still in the silver rank until now.

So, Xie Yang didn’t dare to join his roommates in ranked matches, fearing he might drag them down. He could only casually agree to their suggestion.

While they played their trio games, Xie Yang had some free time and decided to take a shower. Summers in S City were hot, making a cold shower perfect for the weather.

Leaning back with water from the shower head hitting his face, Xie Yang wiped his face. The cold water helped ease his inner restlessness bit by bit.

Hearing the laughter from his roommates playing together, Xie Yang smiled. Fortunately, his roommates were much easier to get along with than he had imagined. Today was smoother than he expected.

After finishing his shower, Xie Yang came out, and Su Huai, who was gaming, casually mentioned to him, “Your phone rang while you were in the shower. Probably someone calling you.”

Xie Yang paused in drying his hair, his eyes lowered. “Alright, I got it.”

He only had five contacts saved on his phone, and there was only one person who would call him at this time.

His mother.

Looking at the missed call display, Xie Yang hesitated for a while, then quietly closed the balcony door and tapped the screen to call back.

Ring…

The phone rang for a long time before it was finally picked up just as Xie Yang was about to hang up.

“Hello, Yang Yang?”

Xie Yang: “Mom.”

“Are you asleep?”

Xie Yang: “Not yet, I just finished taking a shower and missed your call.”

“School starts tomorrow. Mom wanted to accompany you, but your uncle can’t make time to accompany your younger brother to school tomorrow, so Mom…”

“It’s okay.” Xie Yang interrupted her before she could finish.

Then he took a deep breath, looking at the pitch-black night outside, and calmly said, “It’s just for registration at school. There’s no need to make it such a hassle, especially since I’m not a child anymore. I can handle it on my own. You don’t need to come.”

In fact, Xie Yang understood very well what his mother intended to say with this call at this time. Based on countless previous experiences, he already knew the outcome.

However, when he heard the beginning, Xie Yang wanted to interrupt her several times. For whatever reason, he didn’t care and didn’t want to hear it.

Both of them fell silent for a moment. As Xie Yang prepared to hang up the phone, the voice on the other end spoke again.

“Yang Yang, are you still blaming Mom?”

Xie Yang felt a bit powerless. He didn’t want to explain or answer, so he could only squeeze out, “No, I don’t think that way. You’re overthinking.”

“Okay then, rest well. Do you have enough money with you? Mom will transfer some more to you. University expenses are high, I heard you need money for water, electricity, and meals.”

“Don’t save money. Let Mom know when you need it.”

Xie Yang: “It’s okay, you’ve already given me enough.”

“Alright then, if there’s anything, just call Mom.”

Xie Yang: “Got it.”

After hanging up the phone, Xie Yang felt somewhat despondent2.

In fact, he had informed his mother long ago that S University required students to arrive a day early for registration, not on the first day of September when classes officially started.

At that time, he had hoped his mother would accompany him for enrollment and feel proud of him for getting into S University.

But unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

The day he received his college entrance exam results coincided with the day his half-brother, from another mother, received his final exam scores. That day, his mother was overjoyed by his brother’s 80-point math score, casually glancing at Xie Yang’s exam results and leaving them lying on the dining table.

It was clear who mattered more.

He should have understood long ago, from the moment his parents chose to divorce.

No one wanted to take him along; instead, they dumped him on his grandmother in the countryside.

His existence became a burden between his parents.

Yet, he still clung to that foolish hope.

He hoped to gain his parents’ attention, to make them remember he existed.

Actually, this morning, he had waited for a long time.

He had arranged a time with his mother early in the morning, but she never showed up.

He knew she might have been busy and didn’t have time to come.

But those were just excuses he made for her.

Deep down, he knew well enough that this small matter of enrollment wasn’t on her mind, and naturally, she had forgotten that he had to register today.

So when he heard her mention “tomorrow,” he knew, as he had expected and as he had said.

It was just a matter of handling the enrollment procedures, something he could do on his own.

It wasn’t disappointment; he had probably grown accustomed to it long ago.

Looking at the just-transferred 3,000 yuan in his bank account, Xie Yang captured the transfer record screenshot and saved it.

After washing and hanging up his clothes, he climbed back into bed and started taking notes.

He had a notebook dedicated to tracking expenses, recording every expenditure each day.

He had three bank cards: one for his part-time job salary and the other two set up by his parents, who would deposit child support into them regularly.

But he had never touched the money his parents gave him.

He always felt it was something to be repaid.

One day in the future, there might be a reckoning.

So all this time, Xie Yang relied on part-time work to support his daily expenses.

He studied hard not just to seek his parents’ attention but also to earn scholarships that could support his university education.

He was very frugal and never spent money unnecessarily.

Even in the toughest times, he never thought of using the money his parents sent him, meticulously keeping track of every penny they transferred.

Xie Yang planned that after graduating from university, he would return these two cards exactly as they were given to him.

Then, draw a clear boundary.

The sounds of game kills continued in the dormitory. Xie Yang put on his headphones, slowly closed his eyes.

“Wow, I got a pentakill!”

“Quick, record it. I’m going to post it on Moments later.”

“Tsk tsk, it’s all because I gave you those kills.”

“Alright, thanks bro.”

Su Huai glanced in Xie Yang’s direction, furrowing his brow slightly. “Keep it down, Xie Yang’s asleep.”

“Okay, it’s getting late anyway.”

“Let’s call it a night here, we’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Let’s hit the sack.”

The dormitory gradually quieted down.

Xie Yang wasn’t actually asleep; his mind was in turmoil. Out of habit, he opened his phone, navigated to WeChat’s add friends feature, and typed in a string of numbers.

Due to not having any friends, he could only see the other person’s profile picture and their status message. Unfortunately, the person hadn’t written anything in their status message.

Xie Yang had been observing for a whole year: their black-and-white profile picture, simple letter nickname, and blank status had never changed.

Xie Yang stared at the screen for a long time before reluctantly tapping the exit button.

Today was the day for enrollment.

Would he come too?

Would he live in the dormitory?

Would it be in this same dormitory building?

Xie Yang couldn’t help but start looking forward to the arrival of dawn.

Would he have a chance to meet him tomorrow?

Note :

  1. “Peripheral” refers to Xie Yang being on the outskirts of the social dynamics within his class. He wasn’t a central figure in social activities or interactions. Instead, he was more isolated and not closely integrated with the main group of classmates. This is likely due to his shy, introverted nature and the way he was perceived because of the constant comparisons made by teachers, which alienated him from his peers. ↩︎
  2. “Despondent” means feeling sad, hopeless, or discouraged. ↩︎

TMP

Tyrant Meets Paranoid [Quick Transmigration] – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 – Tyrant VS National Teacher (1)

Read more: Tyrant Meets Paranoid [Quick Transmigration] – Chapter 1

The sky was overcast, and the capital of Xi Ling was shrouded in a depressing atmosphere.

The emperor’s beloved second son had passed away, at the age of fourteen.

With this, only the third son, Mo Yi, and the fifth son, Mo Dun, were left of the emperor’s five sons.

Within less than a year, three princes had died in succession.

The entire Xi Ling was in a state of panic, with rumors circulating that this was a punishment from heaven for the imperial family’s declining fortunes.

In the capital, the entertainment venues were closed. The sounds of music and singing had not been heard for a long time, and the taverns were no longer filled with noisy chatter.

On the streets, the common people gathered in groups to whisper and speculate about who the next prince to be taken by heaven would be.

However, the thoughts of the officials in the court were that the next heir to the throne would, if not unexpectedly, come from one of these two princes.

Everyone knew that Third Prince Mo Yi was born to a foreign slave, and thus had inferior blood.

The fifth prince, Mo Dun, on the other hand, was born to the empress, and his mother’s family, the noble Anping Marquis, was highly respected. It was likely that the eventual winner would be none other than Mo Dun.

A tinkling bell caught people’s attention.

A simple cart, with only a frame and a canvas covering, was slowly making its way towards the gates of the imperial palace.

The cart was not pulled by ordinary horses, but by an elderly ox.

The ox wore a large copper bell around its neck, which did not ring clearly, but rather had a certain weight to it.

The people did not recognize the cart, but they recognized the pattern embroidered on the streamers behind it.

They knew that the person inside the cart was undoubtedly the Xi Ling National Teacher, Chong Ming.

They just did not know why the adult would choose to ride such a strange cart to the palace to meet the emperor today.

They hoped that the national teacher would be able to think of a way to get heaven to withdraw its punishment and not punish Xi Ling.

Seeing that the oxcart entered the palace gates without being stopped, and then closed the gates completely, the people on the streets withdrew their gazes.

The simple cart entered the palace, creaking as it moved forward.

The curtain was lifted, revealing a small figure.

The slender youth sat down on the edge of the cart in a sprightly manner, causing the old man behind him to be alarmed.

He hurriedly also leaned out half of his body to protect him, and whispered to the youth, “Immortal, be careful! This cart is too simple. I’ll have the boy get you a different cart tomorrow.”

If this was heard by others, it would surely be a shock.

No one would have thought that the always high-and-mighty National Teacher would actually call himself a boy in front of a child.

But who knew that the youth would just wave his hand nonchalantly.

He laughed lightly and said, “No need, if you change to a different, heavier cart, my old Yellow won’t be able to pull it!”

“Besides, didn’t we say to just call me Mu Jin? You have to remember that I’m your disciple now.”

The youth’s cat-like eyes curved slightly, and as he spoke, he simply jumped onto the ox’s back.

He patted the ox’s head, then simply lay flat and leisurely on the ox’s back.

He crossed his legs and paid no attention to the fact that this was the heavily guarded imperial palace.

And the palace guards, seeing that this was the national teacher’s cart, naturally did not dare to say anything.

After all, in the entire Xi Ling, the national teacher had always held a very high position, and was respected and revered by everyone.

“This, this is really humbling for the boy!” Chong Ming muttered to himself, but he did not dare to refute.

Looking at the youth lying on the ox’s back with his eyes blank, he could only wipe the sweat from his forehead and speak in a low voice, “Yes, yes.”

Seven days ago, Master Chong Ming had divined the stars and predicted the arrival of a true immortal from the north. He hurriedly rushed in the direction indicated by the stars.

It was only three days later that he arrived at a remote countryside area and found a young lad in tattered clothes leisurely roasting fish by the river.

The village head accompanying the Master, busy flattering him, mentioned that this young lad was an ominous presence in their village.

However, having cultivated from a young age, Master Chong Ming could sense the abundant spiritual power emanating from the boy.

Through the methods of his ancestors, he observed the lad’s soul and found it shining brilliantly in a golden hue.

Hence, how could such a person be described as ominous? He was clearly a Immortal being descended upon the mortal world.

Master Chong Ming dared not show any disrespect and promptly dismissed the village head.

Fearful of causing any disturbance to the Immortal being, he dispersed the surrounding people before bowing before the youth nine times in reverence.

After declaring his own identity, he requested guidance from the Immortal being.

Unexpectedly, the Immortal being directly asked to return to the imperial city together with Master Chong Ming.

This was a surprising joy for Master Chong Ming. However, he couldn’t understand why the Immortal being pretended to be his disciple and followed him to the palace.

After all, Master Chong Ming believed that the Immortal being initially appeared in the countryside to experience the hardships of the mortal world intentionally.

Could it be that after experiencing suffering, the Immortal being planned to bestow blessings upon the people?

Thinking this way, Master Chong Ming shook his head, feeling that the Immortal realm’s thoughts were beyond his comprehension as an outsider.

He resolved to serve diligently, satisfying the Immortal being, believing that the latter would guide him appropriately.

At this moment, Mu Jin was unaware of Master Chong Ming’s thoughts. He was busy having his mental system replay the image of the third prince, Mo Yi.

Observing the young child frowning as he struggled to study, Mu Jin’s lips curved into a wider smile.

In a very natural manner, he boasted to the system within his mind, “003! Look at how cute my little kid is!”

“Even though he currently thin and small, resembling only thirty percent of Senior Qiong Qi’s appearance, when he grow up, he will surely be as mighty and extraordinary as Senior!”

The system, resembling a black cat, nodded expressionlessly at the words.

It had long been accustomed to its host’s behavior of praising the target at least a dozen times a day.

Remembering the advice from its creator, the main God, Chen Tian, the system knew its host wasn’t as amiable as he appeared. It was best to remain silent when unsure how to respond.

Mu Jin had grown accustomed to 003’s reticence, concentrating all attention on his beloved in his heart.

Even if it was just an encounter in a small world, the thought of his beloved’s soul residing within the other’s body made Mu Jin’s heart uncontrollably warm.

Unconsciously, his beloved’s figure flashed through his mind, darkening Mu Jin’s gaze.

If it hadn’t been for the hint of divine power his beloved had mercifully bestowed upon him, how could he have advanced so quickly in his cultivation and transformation?

In the end, he became successful, ascending to the heavens as the new generation’s Flower God.

Even though everyone spoke of Qiong Qi’s cruel nature and listed his misdeeds, labeling him as the leader of ferocious beasts, Mu Jin remained unconvinced.

Back then, when Qiong Qi and Teng Gen captured the epidemic-causing ghost bug in the human world, they accidentally harmed a clump of black ferns that had gained intelligence. Qiong Qi saw its awakened sentience.

Unable to witness it die in that manner, he granted a bit of divine power to aid the fern’s cultivation.

This event had occurred thousands of years ago. Later, Mu Jin worked hard, transforming into human form and coincidentally became the apprentice of the previous Flower God, Mu Qing.

He even absorbed the essence of the millennia-old lotus, resulting in his dual plant-based form, impervious to all poisons.

Even though he had attained enlightenment and ascended to become the new Flower God, Mu Jin always remembered that he was once just an inconspicuous clump of fern by the roadside.

Even though he luckily gained sentience, he never had flowers that could be deemed beautiful.

Yet, even in his simple, wild state, he still received the other’s mercy.

Such a Qiong Qi couldn’t possibly be the leader of ferocious beasts.

However, perhaps due to the complexities of their relationship, when Mu Jin finally stood in a position where he could stand side by side with the other, he hesitated to acknowledge their connection.

He feared the other might forget the unremarkable Mujin from the past. Initially, Mu Jin could only gaze from afar at Qiong Qi.

Years of observation transformed his initial gratitude into stronger affection.

He had thought he would suppress these feelings forever.

However, upon leaving the heavenly realm to deal with an unexpected situation in the Flower Clan, he returned to learn the news of Qiong Qi’s defeat by Shun and subsequent entrapment in numerous small worlds.

He would suffer in these worlds, never finding peace in any life.

Endlessly reincarnating until his soul was completely erased.

Thinking of this, Mu Jin bit his lip, swallowing the bitterness in his heart.

He had never had a proper conversation with the other or conveyed his feelings.

How could he stand by and watch his beloved dissipate in this world?

Fortunately, he had finally found a way to follow Qiong Qi from Shun. However, he hadn’t anticipated that his mentor, Mu Qing, would foresee his actions just before his departure.

After a long confrontation, Mu Qing sighed and withdrew the barrier that blocked Mu Jin.

He even sought help from Mu Jin’s friend, Bai Rui, to let him choose a system, 003, with extensive experience to accompany him.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to easily understand his beloved’s current situation.

Thinking of his mentor, warmth flowed through Mu Jin’s heart, and his gaze became resolute.

He would surely take good care of himself in the small worlds and try to prevent Qiong Qi’s misfortunes, finding a way to bring him back to the present world.

The ox cart slowly halted, and Master Chong Ming cleared his throat, bringing Mu Jin’s thoughts back.

Gracefully dismounting from the back of the yellow ox, Mu Jin didn’t follow the master into the main hall as expected.

Instead, he cheerfully handed the reins of the old ox to a palace attendant and nodded slightly to the nearby Master.

Understanding the gesture, Master Chong Ming reluctantly entrusted the palace attendant to take care of his Daoist disciple, believing that the Immortal being must have his own considerations.

The attendant was naturally surprised and hastily nodded in agreement.

Throughout the journey, the other person enthusiastically introduced the scenery along the way to Mu Jin.

However, when the person finished the detailed introduction of the gardens and turned back, they discovered that Mujin had already disappeared without a trace.

In a secluded courtyard deep within the palace, Mo Yi sat on the stone steps at the entrance, holding a slightly worn book in his hands, his brow furrowing deeper as he struggled to comprehend its contents.

He couldn’t fully understand the book, knowing that no one would earnestly teach him, but he refused to accept that fact.

Recalling the resentful words from his mother yesterday, Mo Yi unconsciously clenched his hands.

But as he realized the book had been crumpled, he quickly released his grip.

Though this was the age when he should be innocent and carefree, his eyes betrayed a hidden gloominess.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone~ (^▽^)~ I’m back with a sweet quick transmigration story!

First World: Raising a Youngster, the Ruthless Tyrant Attack VS the Dark and Scheming National Teacher.

IHEFE

Is Happiness Equal For Everyone? – Chapter 24

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Chapter 24 – Jealousy – Aoi’s Perspective

When she told me she wanted to see me, I reluctantly agreed to stay over and went to pick her up.

The destructive power of her “I want to see you” was overwhelming.

My own longing overflowed within me.

“I’ll come pick you up.”

The words slipped out of my mouth, my emotions running ahead of me as I grabbed the car keys. Even during the drive to pick her up, I was filled with excitement and joy, eager to see her as soon as possible. It was the first time I had ever harbored such emotions for a woman.

When I arrived at her apartment, feeling so incredibly happy, my emotions shifted suddenly, I suddenly felt like my heart had been clenched, making it hard to breathe.

With my smartphone in hand, I sighed, only to realize that the person in front of me was not the woman I had come to see but her ex!

“What are you doing here?” I managed to say, suppressing the urge to shout.

He responded with an annoying smile, “Good evening… What brings you here?”

“Do you have something to do with Mikoto?”

“I was thinking of inviting her for dinner.”

He is not Iwabuchi’s boyfriend anymore!  Iwabuchi is mine!

Without thinking, we locked eyes, and that’s when Iwabuchi came out of the apartment building. When she saw her ex-boyfriend, her face contorted in disgust.

To my surprise, her ex-boyfriend had the audacity to propose to Iwabuchi. And when I heard that she hadn’t been with any other men since breaking up with him, I couldn’t help but wonder if she still had lingering feelings for him.

But she quickly dispelled that thought with a single statement.

“I want to marry… Aoi-san.”

My heart was seized with emotion. I would make her happy. I would propose to her in a way that would make her happy when she remembered it.

I pushed her into the car and hurried to my own house. While in the car, I declared that I would properly propose to her, but she turned away and gazed out of the window.

However, her reflection on the car’s glass had a happily contented smile.

I wanted to take a photo. But if I used the flash, it probably wouldn’t work. I’d have to take a sneaky shot; otherwise, she wouldn’t make that face. Besides, I couldn’t stare at her because I was driving.

“What would you like to eat, Iwabuchi?”

She slowly turned to look at me.

“Have you already eaten?”

“I haven’t… Is it going to be a hassle to cook now?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How about eating out? I’ll treat you.”

“No, no, I’ll treat you… Iwabuchi.”

“What?”

“You can rely on me, you know.”

She looking at me silently

“I want to pamper you. You’re always working so hard, so you should relax when you’re with me.”

She turned away again.

The reflection of her in the glass looked like she was about to cry.

“Iwabuchi?”

“Don’t you want to lean on me, Aoi?”

Huh? What should I say to get this right?

“…I want to rely on you. So, can i hold you tonight?”

“N-No.”

“But I don’t rely on anyone else like this.”

Iwabuchi, blushing all the way to her ears, poked my arm and said, “Just once.”

“Huh?”

“Ah, because I might not be able to move tomorrow…”

Oh no, I might start bleeding from my nose. She’s too cute.

“You’re teasing me too much.”

“I-I’m not teasing you!”

“Anyway, let’s go eat something with stamina!”

“W-Why?”

“Just because.”

” Straightforward! Do you know the word ‘obfuscation’?”

“How about going for barbecue?”

“I’d love barbecue, but…”

“I know a great place, so leave it to me!”

I drove to the barbecue restaurant with excitement.

Iwabuchi seemed restless all the way and incredibly adorable.

Ah, I want to marry her.

I found myself thinking that for the first time in my life as I sneakily stole glances at her face.