Author Archives: sandy

For nearly a full minute, neither Shen Qingqing nor the wild boar moved.

Seeing that the boar was no longer attacking anyone, the villagers who had been watching actually stopped running. Keeping their distance, they craned their necks curiously to watch the spectacle.

Some even quietly cracked open their heavy iron gates and stepped out with flashlights to see what was happening.

If Shen Qingqing could have spoken at that moment, she probably would have started scolding them already.

Having never faced a wild boar before, the villagers truly had no idea how serious the situation was. First the boar, second the bear, third the tiger wasn’t a joke people said for nothing.

Instead of fleeing quickly, were they really waiting for her to kill the boar?

Just then Zhao Hailin came running back, panting heavily, phone still in hand. “I called the police! They said they’ve contacted the forestry bureau. They’re on the way!”

But the village was remote. No one knew how long “on the way” would actually mean.

Somehow learning that someone had held the boar back, and reassured by the crowd, he edged closer and asked, “So… what’s going on now?”

His father shot him a glare and said sourly, “Shen Qingqing’s holding the boar off.”

A grown young man, outdone by a girl. Wasn’t that embarrassing?

“I went to call the police, didn’t I?” Zhao Hailin said shamelessly. “Besides, stepping out to play hero at a time like this isn’t smart. The boar isn’t attacking now, but if it goes berserk later, how could she possibly stop it?”

He shook his head as if Shen Qingqing had made a foolish decision just to save face.

Completely forgetting that the last person to try playing hero and fail had been himself.

Zang Lijun’s eyes reddened with anger. “Qingqing is doing this for all of you… Someone go help her!”

Her gaze landed on Zhao Hailin, and he instantly froze.

If he’d known, he wouldn’t have come back to watch.

He shuffled forward a few steps, forcing calm into his voice. “Qingqing, the boar looks like it’s calmed down. Come back!”

The boar had already grown increasingly agitated from the gathering crowd. Translated on Hololo novels. Seeing another person approach, it finally exploded into motion.

Shen Qingqing darted aside nimbly, dodging the charge. Zhao Hailin was not so lucky. With a terrified yelp, he collapsed onto the ground, scrambling to run, but the boar brushed past him at close range. Though he twisted his waist at the last moment and avoided a direct hit, its tusk still tore through his thick padded pants.

With a loud rip, the pants split open, revealing bright red underwear underneath.

It was Zhao Hailin’s zodiac year.

Half his padded trousers snagged on the tusk, dragging him down hard onto the ground. Cold wind hit his bare thigh, and his heart turned icy.

He was certain he was finished.

In panic, he remembered survival advice from online videos about encountering bears in the wild. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut and played dead.

Chaos erupted around him. The boar suddenly cried out in pain, and then, strangely, everything gradually fell quiet.

After an unknown stretch of time, realizing the boar still hadn’t attacked him, Zhao Hailin’s heart pounded wildly as joy surged through him.

Playing dead worked!

He waited a little longer before cautiously cracking one eye open.

Then he froze.

The boar was gone.

Several people were crouched around him, staring at him with complicated expressions, clearly having watched for quite a while.

Aunt Li from next door couldn’t bear the sight. “Hailin, what are you doing?”

“Stop sleeping. Get up. Qingqing already led the boar away!”

Anyone with eyes could tell the tusk had never actually stabbed him. He had simply fallen and ended up lying there with his thigh exposed.

What a rare sight. Who would have thought someone could fake an accident with a wild boar?

Meanwhile, when Shen Qingqing saw her “Hailin ge” knocked down, she had grabbed an axe without hesitation and rushed forward. Despite the boar’s thick hide, her strike actually drew blood.

Then she tossed the axe aside and ran off, luring the enraged boar away with her.

A girl barely grown into adulthood, yet at the critical moment she had shown such courage and responsibility.

Aunt Li glanced down again at Zhao Hailin’s red underwear, her feelings suddenly extremely complicated.

They had truly misjudged things before.

Shen Qingqing clearly had far more promise than the boys in the village.

Over there, Zhao Hailin had already achieved the accomplishment of complete social death across the entire village. Meanwhile, Shen Qingqing was still charging through the village with the wild boar in pursuit.

At first, Zang Lijun and Shen Mingjiang tried to follow behind their daughter and the boar, but after less than a hundred meters, they could no longer keep up.

When their daughter disappeared from sight, Zang Lijun collapsed to the ground with a thud, trembling so badly she could barely stand.

Without even seeing who it was, she grabbed the trouser leg of someone beside her and cried desperately, “Qingqing! Qingqing! …What are we going to do? Someone help her…”

The person she grabbed hurriedly bent down to comfort her while the others sighed in alarm.

Wild boars were fast, powerful, and armed with long tusks. When they charged at full force, even iron gates could be smashed apart, let alone a thin young girl.

Shen Qingqing’s actions truly looked like self-sacrifice for others.

Shen Mingjiang gritted his teeth. “I’ll go look again. I’ll bring my daughter back safe.”

“Better wait for professionals.”

“How are you going to catch up? Qingqing runs like a rabbit. Who knew she had sprinting talent like that…”

Everyone talked at once. Then one person looked toward the direction Shen Qingqing had run and said uncertainly, “Wait… Mingjiang, isn’t that the direction of your house?”

Had she instinctively run home in fear?

Shen Mingjiang’s eyes lit up, and he quickly helped Zang Lijun to her feet.

The couple and the villagers hurried toward the Shen family home.

Shen Qingqing had not been running in a straight line. She kept detouring, vaulting obstacles, deliberately buying time. Chickens scattered and dogs barked along the way. By the time everyone arrived near the Shen house, they happened to see Shen Qingqing and the boar in the distance.

To their surprise, after all this time the boar still had not caught her.

Not only that, the distance between them had never changed. Shen Qingqing looked completely in control, nothing like someone fleeing in panic.

Had she intentionally run back home?

Someone narrowed their eyes, studying her route. “That direction looks like…”

“The septic pit?!”

…

When the noisy commotion reached outside, Grandpa Shen and Grandma Shen were waiting anxiously in the courtyard for the three family members to return.

“It’s been so long. Why aren’t they back yet?”

Grandpa Shen was still embarrassed and irritated from earlier. Hearing the noise, he stood up immediately, finally finding an outlet for his anger. “What’s all this shouting at night? Are people supposed to sleep or not? It’s just a pig!”

“I’m going to drag Shen Qingqing back. Goes off to college and suddenly thinks she’s capable!”

Ignoring Grandma Shen’s attempts to stop him, he stormed outside, grumbling.

He had barely gone a few steps when he saw his suddenly capable granddaughter returning, bringing the pig with her.

Grandpa Shen: “……”

Had his mouth been blessed today or something?

He stared dumbfounded as Shen Qingqing shouted, “Move!” and dashed past him within a few meters.

Wait… behind him was…

Shen Qingqing hadn’t expected her grandfather to appear there and nearly panicked. Fortunately, after being injured, the boar seemed completely fixated on her and showed zero interest in the randomly spawned old man by the roadside. It ran straight past Grandpa Shen without even looking at him.

Behind him was her true destination.

Seizing the moment, Shen Qingqing twisted her body sharply. The boar failed to change direction in time and charged straight forward.

Ahead of it lay the village septic pit.

The wooden boards covering the pit had long since rotted. They could never bear the weight of a wild boar. The instant its hooves landed, the boards shattered apart.

Like a natural trap, the boar could not stop in time and plunged with a loud splash into the two-to-three-meter-deep pit.

Filthy water sprayed everywhere, and the first victim was Grandpa Shen standing nearby.

The villagers who had rushed over halted instantly at the overwhelming stench. Even Shen Mingjiang silently covered his nose.

Grandpa Shen’s face turned green with rage, his beard trembling. After a long moment, he finally remembered the culprit behind all this, his own granddaughter.

Looking up, he discovered that when Shen Qingqing twisted aside, she had leapt toward the tree beside the pit.

In barely two or three seconds, she had already scrambled high up the trunk, completely avoiding the splash. Now she peeked down through thick branches, only her white teeth visible in the dark.

“Grandpa, are you okay?”

Grandpa Shen: “……”

Which only made him angrier.

*

Half an hour later, forestry officials finally arrived and hauled the nearly exhausted boar out of the septic pit.

Seeing its size, even the professionals were startled. “This is an adult male boar. Extremely aggressive. Probably came down searching for food during winter. It’s lucky no one was hurt.”

The villagers exchanged looks, unsure what to say.

Physically, no one had been injured, but two people had suffered severe psychological damage.

Especially Old Shen, who had practically bathed in sewage. The smell probably wouldn’t leave him for weeks.

At that moment, even his own son had no time to worry about him. Zang Lijun and Shen Mingjiang had been circling Shen Qingqing for half an hour, carefully checking her for injuries. Even Grandma Shen, after hearing what happened, stared at her granddaughter with disbelief.

In all her life, Shen Qingqing had rarely received so much attention from her family.

“You… why were you so reckless…” Zang Lijun’s eyes were still red as she brushed dust from her daughter’s clothes. “You’re a girl. Don’t rush forward like that again. What would I do if something happened to you…”

Shen Qingqing lowered her gaze and repeated calmly, “Mom, I told you. Trust me.”

Zang Lijun froze at those words.

“Trust me.” Shen Qingqing had already said those words twice tonight.

But long before this, during the busiest period of her senior year in high school, she had said the same thing, asking her mother to trust her, promising she would get into a good university and bring Zang Lijun to live in a big city.

…Even earlier, when Shen Qingqing was still small, when Zang Lijun hid under the blankets crying after a miscarriage, she had said those words too.

She had told her mother to believe in her. She said she would become even more capable than any boy so her mother would not need to have another child.

Every time Shen Qingqing promised to accomplish something, she eventually did.

Yet every time, her mother had failed to believe her.

Zang Lijun’s hands suddenly stopped moving.

At that moment, personnel from the Forestry Bureau approached. Seeing Shen Qingqing, one of them hurried forward, full of praise.

“So you’re the one who drew the wild boar away? I’ve heard all about it. We don’t usually encourage this kind of behavior, but given the situation there wasn’t much choice… If you hadn’t stepped forward, someone might have been seriously hurt.”

Zang Lijun stood frozen, listening as a stranger praised her daughter without reservation.

Calm under pressure. Brave and resourceful. Exceptionally courageous.

These were words she had never imagined applying to her daughter.

She remembered Zhao Hailin’s parents, how proud and confident they looked when their son claimed he could handle the boar.

Even someone as incapable as Zhao Hailin had people who believed in him completely.

So why had she never thought to believe in her own daughter?

…Was it only because she was a girl? Yet she had accomplished what the boys could not.

Zang Lijun’s thoughts grew tangled. She began to feel she had overlooked something all these years, though she could not quite grasp what it was.

Shen Qingqing noticed the change in her mother’s expression and felt surprised.

For someone as gentle and timid as Zang Lijun, confronting a wild boar was far beyond acceptable behavior. But that was exactly the point.

Shen Qingqing needed something dramatic, something impossible to ignore, to shatter her mother’s old perception of her and quickly establish trust and reliability. Otherwise, when the virus outbreak came, her mother would never easily believe her or agree to go to Fangzhou for refuge.

Every second in the apocalypse would be precious. She could not leave persuading her mother until then.

Still, she had not expected her mother to begin reflecting so quickly.

Was it because Zhao Hailin’s uselessness had unintentionally provided such a stark contrast?

What an unexpected bonus, Shen Qingqing thought happily.

After answering a few more questions from the Forestry Bureau staff, she bid them farewell and turned to Shen Mingjiang.

“Dad, do you still not want to repair the wall?” she asked. “They just confirmed it too. Wild boars have been coming down from the mountains more often these past few years. You saw the impact force just now. Our wall won’t stop something like that.”

Shen Mingjiang was still shaken by the image of his daughter running with the boar and could not immediately respond.

But Aunt Li and several gossip-loving villagers crowded over.

“Qingqing’s right. Today scared me half to death. I’m going home and telling my son to rebuild our wall too.”

“Ours isn’t sturdy anymore either. I kept putting it off, but now we really can’t.”

“Exactly. How did wild boars suddenly start appearing around here?”

As they talked, they did not forget to praise her.

“Qingqing, you were amazing today!”

“College really is useful, huh? They even teach wild boar behavior.”

Surrounded by people, Shen Qingqing smiled and looked again at her father.

At last, Shen Mingjiang nodded. His gaze toward his daughter carried a trace of bewilderment.

“We’ll fix it. Starting tomorrow.”

*

Like Shen Qingqing, all Fangzhou students returned home for winter break carrying assignments of their own.

At the start of the semester, Fu Qing had announced that every student would receive at least one shelter slot. Once campus renovations were complete, additional storage space, such as cold rooms or supply storage areas, might also be allocated depending on availability.

In other words, stockpiling supplies on campus was permitted.

Since two thousand people purchasing survival supplies in the same area might attract attention, releasing the shelter-slot announcement at this time allowed students to buy materials quietly in their hometowns during the holiday and bring them back later.

As a result, winter break became unexpectedly busy. Under the pretense of preparing for the New Year, students shopped for supplies, renovated old homes, and worked nonstop.

The forum, once filled with gossip and academic complaints, gradually transformed. The homepage now featured posts like:

“Comparison of down jacket fill weights from major online brands”
“Sharing discount coupons across platforms”
“Year-end merchant sale roundup”
“Looking for PXX bargain partners”
“Where to find short-term jobs in X City? My allowance isn’t enough for stockpiling!”

Occasionally, someone posted complaints about troublesome relatives or about parents suddenly changing attitudes after only two days at home.

These everyday discussions mixed strangely with conversations about the coming apocalypse, creating a surreal sense of contrast.

With winter break underway, teachers also stepped away from busy teaching duties and gained a rare moment of calm.

Aside from daily tasks, such as Grandma Liu tending the fields or Hao Zhenye guiding training for the few students who stayed on campus, there was little else to do. Bai Tang shut herself in her dorm as soon as break began, emerging only for meals while gaming day and night.

Among them, only Lu Yan remained constantly busy, spending entire days in the laboratory Fu Qing had prepared, working with Zhao Yunxiao to study the materials left behind by the hooded woman.

After several days, Zhao Yunxiao finally reached his limit and went to complain.

“Principal, could you please talk to Teacher Lu?”

Sitting on the leather sofa in Fu Qing’s office, he poured out his grievances.

“Working sixteen hours a day is one thing. Sleeping only six hours after accounting for washing and bathroom breaks is already insane. But does he have to eat in the lab too?”

He sighed dramatically.

“And even if he eats there, could you ask the cafeteria to stop serving so many intestines and offal lately? I’ve noticed that whenever he gets busy, he especially likes eating those things!”

Fu Qing was about to respond when Zhao Yunxiao sighed again, restraining himself.

“Fine, maybe I shouldn’t judge someone’s hobbies… but at least don’t eat while staring at organs soaked in formalin! I swear it looks like he’s using that stuff as a side dish!”

“You have no idea. That morning we processed the hooded woman’s remaining right hand, dissolved the flesh to expose the bones. I went out for lunch, came back, and found him sitting alone in that creepy autopsy room gnawing on chicken feet. I thought he was eating the actual hand!” Zhao Yunxiao shuddered. “Principal… do you think Teacher Lu might have some strange fetish?”

“….”

Fu Qing thought for a moment and replied carefully, “Is it possible… he just genuinely likes eating chicken feet?”

And it simply happened to coincide with the day they processed the hand.

As for eating organs alongside preserved specimens, that was probably an exaggeration.

Based on what she knew of Lu Yan, the worst he might do was calmly eat hotpot beside a half-decomposed corpse.

Rather than questioning his diet, it might be more reasonable to question whether his sensory responses were slightly abnormal.

Zhao Yunxiao hesitated. “Really? Well… I guess we shouldn’t criticize someone’s eating habits…”

Encouraged by his acceptance, Fu Qing nodded and handed him something from her desk.

Zhao Yunxiao looked down.

It was a peeled dried longan.

The wrinkled surface and the dark pit faintly visible inside instantly reminded him of an eyeball they had just processed.

His stomach churned violently.

Zhao Yunxiao immediately stood up. “Well, that’s everything I wanted to say. Thank you, Principal, for your guidance. I’ve figured things out now. I’ll definitely continue supporting Teacher Lu’s work!”

Fu Qing: “…”

Her hand paused midway through peeling a longan, her face full of confusion.

What guidance had she given?

Thinking back to Zhao Yunxiao’s three consecutive “never mind” moments after entering the office, Fu Qing had the strong impression that he had simply talked himself into feeling better.

She could not help sighing inwardly. People like Zhao Yunxiao, who had never truly entered the workforce, were different. In her previous life, he had been recruited into a research institute to fight zombies before even graduating college. No wonder he possessed such unusual enthusiasm and cooperation toward work. His slightly masochistic dedication paired perfectly with Lu Yan’s ruthless workaholic tendencies.

If it were seasoned workplace veteran Xu Mingyue instead, there was no way she would tolerate sixteen-hour workdays. She would have flipped the table or found ways to slack off long ago.

Still, Zhao Yunxiao’s complaint reminded her that since winter break began, she had not checked on their research progress at all.

Acting every bit the senior leader, Fu Qing wiped her hands with a tissue, in good spirits as she set off for an inspection.

*

Zhao Yunxiao had finally gathered the courage to complain, only to end up bringing the principal herself into the lab. He felt deeply uneasy.

Fortunately, Fu Qing did not seem to be there to reprimand Lu Yan.

After looking around briefly, she went straight to the point.

“Any discoveries?”

Lu Yan’s “laboratory” was no empty title. It was a room Fu Qing had specifically cleared out, equipped with professional instruments she had purchased at great expense from the system marketplace, including advanced research tools designed specifically for studying zombies.

Recruiting Zhao Yunxiao, someone who once possessed a powerful cheat ability and thus extensive knowledge about zombies, had stirred a certain ambition in her.

Perhaps in this life, they could build upon Zhao Yunxiao’s previous research and attempt to develop a serum earlier than before.

Of course, most of Zhao Yunxiao’s knowledge had been directly imprinted into his mind by the system. His undergraduate major was unrelated, leaving him unable to deeply understand or independently conduct research based on that knowledge.

In his previous life, he had been surrounded by an entire national research team. His only job was to fight zombies and provide intelligence.

As for Lu Yan, his expertise lay primarily in clinical medicine, saving lives, which also did not fully align with this kind of research.

The two of them alone could never complete antibody development. For now, their work mainly focused on gathering intelligence in advance.

Before the apocalypse, Fu Qing could not reveal anything about the virus to the outside world. But once it began, she intended to cooperate with official authorities immediately. In her previous life, Zhao Yunxiao’s failure had come from research progressing too slowly to keep up with zombie mutations. With prior knowledge this time, they could not afford to repeat that mistake.

Still…

Thinking about the mutated infected already appearing, Fu Qing could not suppress a heavy feeling.

She was not certain whether what they were doing would truly keep pace with zombie evolution.

They had to race against time.

She drifted off for two seconds before Lu Yan’s voice pulled her back.

“Not many discoveries. Just two,” he said, left hand tucked into his lab coat pocket while he raised two fingers with deliberate composure. “First, about why the hooded woman’s limbs could regenerate endlessly.”

“In our previous life, none of the zombies we encountered possessed flesh regeneration. We already knew zombies did not need to eat. Their aggression toward humans came from a desire to slaughter rather than physiological hunger. Because of that, we constantly debated how they obtained energy.”

“Zombies decay far slower than ordinary corpses. They do not eat, and when attacking humans they bite rather than swallow. Their digestive systems have long ceased functioning. So where does the energy sustaining their movement come from? I once speculated the virus altered their biological mechanisms, perhaps allowing secretion of antibacterial substances to suppress decomposers, or lowering metabolic rates like ancient nematodes that revive after thawing, enabling them to maintain bodily function for extended periods.”

Zhao Yunxiao nodded along.

Then Lu Yan abruptly changed tone.

“But frozen nematodes or antibacterial suppression at least have natural precedents. You can force some plausible explanation out of them. The hooded woman clearly isn’t like that. In the brief time she fought you, the limbs she lost and regrew already exceeded her own body weight. If every zombie in this world were like her, we might as well give up resisting entirely.”

“Fortunately, aside from her, the other believers’ corpses resemble the zombies we killed in our previous life. The differences lie mainly in infection degree. Compared to her, they’re still closer to humans. During the West Mountain incident, she was clearly their leader, and her own words showed she considered herself fundamentally different from ordinary infected. To her, the others were expendable sacrifices.”

“So she’s likely a special case. No need to panic.”

Lu Yan’s explanation left Zhao Yunxiao emotionally unsettled, but Fu Qing’s expression barely changed.

Seeing her remain unmoved, Lu Yan discreetly clicked his tongue and delivered his conclusion directly.

“I believe her ability likely came directly from the Zombie King you mentioned.”

Fu Qing finally spoke. “Current infected individuals are not contagious themselves, so they were probably all directly infected by the Zombie King.”

That conclusion came from experiments conducted on Skull.

Lu Yan shook his head. “No. What I mean is that the Zombie King gave her a part of its own body. Something parasitic attached to her, granting abilities far beyond other zombies. Have you heard of tongue-eating lice? They invade a fish’s mouth, consume its tongue, then replace it as a functional substitute. Something similar to that.”

“Except unlike the parasite, the portion inside the hooded woman likely lacks the Zombie King’s consciousness. At least, I didn’t detect living responses in her severed limbs. Based on that, I propose another hypothesis: the Zombie King infects followers by giving away parts of its own body. Sometimes only a small amount, sometimes something larger. Skull was the former. The hooded woman was the latter.”

“That also means the number of infected at this stage cannot be large, because infection itself costs the Zombie King something.”

“And it explains how the Zombie King immediately discovered Skull’s location and sent the hooded woman to retrieve the body. Because Skull still carried a part of it.”

Lu Yan finished speaking in one breath.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Lin Xiaole didn’t rush to grab supplies after exchanging the coral for points—she wanted to discuss things with her companions first.

Fang Qin and Qi Jiayu didn’t trade anything valuable either.

Cautiously, they peeked out from the supermarket entrance, scanning the area. Seeing no new zombies around, they returned to the raft.

“Let’s talk this through,” Qi Jiayu said.

“We don’t know what island this is, or who that supermarket owner really is,” Fang Qin replied. “We can’t make any quick judgments.”

There were too many islands on this planet. Even if they knew the coordinates, they wouldn’t know the name of the island—let alone who ruled it.

After the collapse of social order, countless factions had taken advantage of the chaos to seize islands and crown themselves kings.

And within each island, power struggles were constant.

Leaders changed as often as a dishcloth.

For the sake of survival, most island rulers now holed up in heavily guarded homes, rarely stepping outside.

From this, Qi Jiayu concluded that the supermarket owner was probably not one of those rulers.

Even if she was, this island must be unclaimed by any major armed group.

That thought gave them some relief.

“We’ll buy a few supplies first, then scout the island,” Qi Jiayu said.

They would never spend the night on a raft—because the sea had its own zombies.

People called them “drowned corpses.”

Drowned corpses were terrifyingly strong in the water. They could swim tirelessly, floating and moving twenty-four hours a day.

For humans, there was no refuge: land was haunted by zombies, the sea by drowned corpses.

Fortunately, they rarely left the water.

Researchers believed that their buoyant mutation allowed them to stay afloat, but made it impossible for them to walk or crawl on land.

“They can’t come ashore,” Lin Xiaole said, “so if this island isn’t too big, we could clear out the zombies and make it our shelter.”

At that, all three women showed a flicker of longing.

After five years of wandering through a ruined world, the idea of a safe haven was almost too beautiful to imagine.

But they knew it was just that—a fantasy.

Uninhabited islands had no zombies because they also had no resources.

Living there would mean constant voyages to other islands for supplies—and to trade, they needed money.

To earn money, they had to go where the people were.

And the islands with people were also full of viruses… and human threats.

It was a vicious cycle.

Still, Lin Xiaole was young—and the supermarket’s appearance stirred a fragile hope in her heart.

Qi Jiayu and Fang Qin, however, remained wary.

The whole situation didn’t add up.

The supermarket’s cleanliness, the relaxed demeanor of the owner and her security guard—none of it fit the bleak reality of this world.

And any store with this much stock would have been seized by an island lord long ago.

So either this was truly an uninhabited island… or the owner herself was the island’s master.

But that only raised another question—where did all these supplies come from?

After five years of apocalypse, how could there still be so many goods in pristine packaging?

The three conferred quietly and decided that Qi Jiayu and Fang Qin would explore the surroundings while Lin Xiaole stayed behind to learn more about the supermarket and its mysterious owner.

*

Zhou Li wasn’t at all surprised to see Lin Xiaole return.

After all, she’d traded coral for supermarket credits—leaving without buying anything would’ve been a waste.

Lin Xiaole re-entered the store, moving carefully.

Pretending to browse for supplies, she wandered the aisles, hoping to pick up clues.

But as she walked, her mind drifted.

At fourteen years old, it had been five years since the world fell apart.

Back then, she was just a bright, carefree nine-year-old girl.

She’d had a happy family.

Every weekend, her parents would take her shopping at the supermarket.

They were well-off, so they always went to big ones—vast, gleaming stores full of light.

Her parents would set her in the shopping cart, and she would point, and they would push her wherever she wanted.

They’d weave through the aisles, surrounded by colors, lights, and endless choices, picking whatever caught their eyes.

Then, one day, the shelves went bare. The store collapsed.

And the next moment—her parents who had just been fighting over groceries became part of the wandering horde inside the supermarket.

Tears welled in Lin Xiaole’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks, silently soaking her face.

Pulled from her memories, Lin Xiaole blinked herself back into the present.

She gathered an armful of instant meals, dropped them off at the checkout counter, then hurried off to grab more.

Zhou Li called out to her, “No need to keep running back and forth. There are vending machines outside—you can pick everything you want there all at once.”

Lin Xiaole was slightly surprised. “I thought those only sold drinks and snacks.”

Because of that assumption, though she had noticed the two machines outside before, she hadn’t really looked at them. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. Now, Zhou Li’s comment sparked her curiosity, and she went out to investigate.

As soon as her membership was detected, the machine spoke: “Hello, I’m Xiao Wan. Please choose the items you need.”

Startled, Lin Xiaole looked around nervously, worried that the voice would attract zombies.

An Fengxuan chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping watch out here.”

Lin Xiaole thanked her and, at the same time, discreetly sized up the skilled security guard.

An Fengxuan said, “No need to sneak glances—you can look openly. I’m not shy.”

Lin Xiaole: …

After a moment, An Fengxuan asked, “So, what did you figure out?”

After some thought, Lin Xiaole replied seriously, “That I can’t beat you.”

An Fengxuan burst out laughing.

Even Zhou Li, inside the supermarket, couldn’t help letting out a quiet “pfft.”

Lin Xiaole looked helplessly at the still-grinning guard. “Aren’t you worried about attracting zombies?”

With skills like hers, and that air of constant vigilance, it was strange to see her so relaxed now. It didn’t fit at all.

An Fengxuan said, “Not worried.”

She not only had combat skills, but also special tools. As long as the air or seawater didn’t carry the zombie virus, she had nothing to fear.

Compared to abhorrents, zombies were easier to handle.

Lin Xiaole said nothing.

That confidence of hers was almost unnerving.

But soon her focus was drawn back to the vending machine.

While she was happily absorbed in the joy of shopping, Qi Jiayu and Fang Qin returned.

Seeing Lin Xiaole, their usual lookout, happily browsing like a mouse fallen into a grain sack, both were momentarily speechless.

“Ahem!”

Startled, Lin Xiaole turned to see them and immediately snapped out of her daze. “You’re back already?”

Qi Jiayu said, “The island isn’t very big.”

Using her equipment, she’d measured it at just over 9,000 square meters.

The terrain rose in the northwest and sloped down to the southeast, with the highest point only twelve meters above sea level.

In the center stood three buildings.

They had explored them and discovered they were part of an artificial island control center.

Lin Xiaole wasn’t unfamiliar with the term “artificial island.”

As the name suggested, they were manmade islands.

But this world’s artificial islands weren’t the fixed, reclaimed landmasses common in the past.

Because zombies roamed the land and drowned corpses haunted the sea, scientists had built mobile artificial islands—self-contained floating bases designed to mimic natural environments.

These islands prevented drowned corpses from climbing ashore, and since they were built directly on the sea surface, they also stopped land zombies from invading.

They could even move—sailing through the ocean like ships.

As for why people didn’t just use ships instead?

Because drowned corpses attacked ships. Best case, they damaged the hull; worst case, they capsized it.

But an artificial island, built like a massive iceberg, had a deep enough base that drowned corpses couldn’t reach it.

Their mutated bodies couldn’t withstand deep-sea pressure.

Thus, these floating islands offered relative safety while maintaining the look and livability of a natural one.

This particular island even had underground facilities.

Qi Jiayu estimated that there was likely a shelter below.

But since the island seemed abandoned, its inhabitants must have sealed off every passage between the surface and the underground.

The zombies An Fengxuan had shot earlier were probably the last remaining surface workers who’d been infected while sealing the island.

Though Qi Jiayu and Fang Qin had their suspicions, they didn’t dare touch the control systems—for fear of opening the way for any underground zombies to emerge.

“Looks like this island isn’t safe either,” Lin Xiaole said, frowning.

Qi Jiayu quietly asked, “Did you find out anything about the supermarket?”

Lin Xiaole froze. In her shopping spree, she’d completely forgotten her mission.

Fang Qin took one look at her guilty face and sighed. “Let me handle it.”

*

Zhou Li, meanwhile, was questioning her system about the island.

The system hadn’t planned to answer, but after overhearing the trio’s discussion, it relayed their findings to Zhou Li.

Learning that there might be zombies beneath the island, Zhou Li couldn’t help rubbing the soles of her shoes nervously.

“Well, that’s unsettling.”

In movies, this was exactly the moment when the protagonists accidentally pressed a button—and hordes of zombies burst out from underground.

Luckily, remembering that she had the system’s protection gave her some peace of mind.

“Still,” she mused, “a mobile artificial island? If I could restart it, wouldn’t that mean I could go anywhere?”

“Those systems still work?” she asked.

The system replied, “You could ask them.”

Zhou Li: …

If she asked, they’d probably go tinkering around—
and end up opening the sealed tunnels.

Yeah… maybe she wasn’t that curious after all.

☢️☢️☢️

Zhou Li had just finished warning An Fengxuan that the world they were entering would be dangerous and that she shouldn’t leave the supermarket—only to be instantly slapped in the face by the scene outside: blue skies, vast ocean, and a sun-drenched beach.

An Fengxuan gazed at the glittering sand and rolling waves, struggling to resist the urge to rush outside.

The sea!

She hadn’t seen the ocean in three years, much less gone swimming.

Still, she decided to listen to Zhou Li’s instructions and only asked curiously, “Boss, what exactly makes this world dangerous?”

Zhou Li: …

She slowly countered, “Ever heard of zombies?”

An Fengxuan nodded. “Before The Game descended, zombie movies and novels were super popular.”

She looked around. “But it doesn’t look like there are any zombies here.”

Zhou Li said, “Zombies always show up when you least expect them.”

An Fengxuan instinctively glanced up at the ceiling of the supermarket—thankfully, there were no grotesque bio-mutants dangling from above.

Zhou Li, meanwhile, wasn’t relaxing. She muttered to the system, “Is this location for real? Does this world have something special about it again?”

Other people’s supermarkets always appeared in bases or densely populated cities, but hers was on a beach… In peacetime, a store by a resort would be perfect business—but this was the apocalypse!

System: “This is a standard zombie-apocalypse world. If there’s anything unusual, it’s the geography. Oceans cover ninety-five percent of the planet. The landmass is mostly archipelagos—over four hundred and thirty thousand islands, by incomplete statistics.”

Zhou Li recalled that Earth had around fifty thousand islands.

That meant this planet had eight times as many—but the land still made up only five percent of the surface?

She said, “With that geography, it should’ve been easy to isolate the infection. The apocalypse shouldn’t have happened… unless— the zombie virus can spread through seawater.”

Good thing she hadn’t gone splashing around out of curiosity.

But it was only a theory; the system gave no reply.

Suddenly, An Fengxuan tensed. “Boss, something’s approaching.”

“Where?”

After a few seconds, Zhou Li finally saw it—something like a boat speeding toward them.

As it drew closer, she realized it wasn’t a boat but a raft, with a low wooden shack built on it.

The raft stopped roughly a hundred meters from shore. Someone was standing on top of it, peering toward them.

An Fengxuan said, “Boss, I’ll go take a look.”

She pulled a gun from her “elementary school backpack” and slipped outside, careful not to step beyond the supermarket’s protective boundary. Then she took out a high-powered telescope.

Perhaps noticing that she was alive, the people on the raft began paddling closer, until the waves finally pushed the raft up onto the beach.

Three women disembarked.

One looked weathered, probably in her thirties.

Another was muscular and moved with sharp, efficient motions.

The third was a girl of about fifteen, short and still in the midst of growing.

Each carried a weapon—rifles or machetes—and all of them scanned their surroundings warily after leaving the raft.

After a quick huddle, the young girl stepped forward as the negotiator.

She stopped about twenty meters from the supermarket.

“Hello, we’re from Ansu Island,” she called out. “We’d like to settle here. How much does it cost to stay on your island?”

An Fengxuan said, “Hold on, I’ll ask.”

She turned back inside and relayed the message.

Zhou Li said, “Let them come in.”

It would be safer to talk inside the supermarket.

An Fengxuan shouted back, “You can all come over!”

The three hesitated, whispering among themselves for quite a while.

Then—after spotting something behind them—they panicked. Grabbing their belongings from the raft, they bolted toward the supermarket.

Sensing their sudden fear, An Fengxuan glanced toward the forest behind the store—and her face went pale.

“Boss! Zombies—real zombies! They’re coming!”

There were only two or three of them, but even that was enough to send a chill down her spine.

The monsters in the Infinite World were far more grotesque, but they didn’t spread infection through bites. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. Even the few that could “pollute” players only did so under specific conditions.

Zhou Li said calmly, “Don’t panic.”

Then, in a lower voice to the system: “It’s up to you now, pal.”

System: …

The three women moved fast and reached the supermarket within moments.

Fang Qin swept her eyes over the store and signaled subtly to her companions before they stepped inside.

An Fengxuan noticed the exchange but said nothing.

Zhou Li greeted the new arrivals with her usual poise—the first customers in this world. “Welcome to the Good Life Supermarket.”

The newcomers were tense. One secretly surveyed the interior, another watched An Fengxuan by the door, while the youngest handled the talking.

“Excuse me,” the girl asked, “what island is this?”

Zhou Li said, “I don’t know.”

She only knew it was most likely uninhabited—
because the system would never pick land that already had owners.

“Ah?” The three women froze in shock.

Could these people be outsiders, just like them?

But… this was a supermarket!

Inside were rows of neatly arranged goods—everything from food and daily necessities to farming tools.

Since the zombie virus outbreak, they hadn’t seen a single store this clean, orderly, and well-stocked.

This supermarket was definitely not ordinary.

Fang Qin was about to say something when the muscular woman beside her suddenly froze. “Wait—zombies—”

Before she could finish, they saw An Fengxuan raise her gun and, in a few sharp shots, took out the zombies that had emerged from the treeline and exposed themselves in full view.

Her movements were crisp, efficient, and her aim—deadly precise.

As she walked back into the store, Zhou Li clapped lightly. “Nice work.”

Receiving praise from the boss for the first time, An Fengxuan couldn’t help but grin. “Basic ops, nothing fancy.”

The three newcomers exchanged wary glances.

Seeing that they had entered the supermarket and posed no immediate threat, An Fengxuan relaxed a little and introduced herself. “Hello, I’m the security guard here. My name’s Fengxuan.”

Since she had introduced herself, the three women returned the courtesy.

“My name is Fang Qin. I’m from Ansu Island.”

The muscular woman said, “Qi Jiayu, also from Ansu Island.”

The young girl added, “I’m Lin Le, a middle-school student.”

After introducing themselves, all three turned to the only person who hadn’t revealed her identity—Zhou Li.

Zhou Li smiled faintly. “I’m the owner of this supermarket. You can just call me Boss.”

The three women: …

Since they were on someone else’s turf, they didn’t press the issue.

Fang Qin, still cautious, asked, “So… is this an unclaimed island?”

Zhou Li shook her head. “That’s outside the supermarket’s service scope. I’m afraid I can’t answer.”

The three exchanged a look. What a strange supermarket.

Lin Le, relying on her youth to appear harmless, smiled sweetly. “Sister, do you actually get customers here?”

Zhou Li smiled. “Of course I do.”

Her gaze lingered pointedly on them.

The three women: …

Lin Le’s attempt at small talk fell flat, so Qi Jiayu stepped forward.

“Boss,” she said, clearing her throat, “everything in the supermarket is for sale, right? No restrictions on who can buy?”

“Of course,” Zhou Li said, beginning her usual explanation of the store’s rules.

When they heard that they needed to exchange for supermarket membership points before purchasing anything, none of them were surprised.

Since the zombie outbreak, society had collapsed. The powerful seized control of islands and imposed strict lockdowns.

Any outsiders who wanted to land had to undergo health inspections first—and pay to stay overnight.

Some island leaders even created their own currencies to prevent people from leaving. Each island’s currency was unique and couldn’t be used elsewhere; the leaders controlled exchange rates, trapping residents who couldn’t obtain other islands’ money.

Fang Qin and her companions assumed the supermarket’s “membership points” were just another form of local currency—albeit with a strange name.

“In your opinion,” Qi Jiayu asked, “what counts as valuable?”

“That’s hard to say,” Zhou Li replied. “I’d have to see it to judge.”

Lin Le opened her pack. Inside were pots, bowls, and other basic items.

After rummaging for a moment, she pulled out something red.

Zhou Li’s eyes narrowed. Well, I’ll be damned. Red coral—nice.

“Is this worth anything?” Lin Le asked.

She had not only red coral but also blue and black pieces.

To save time, she dumped them all out.

Zhou Li: … That’s a lot.

Still, she quietly listed one on the auction house to check the price.

【Momo Red Coral (55g)】
Year: 211
Origin: —
Owner: Lin Xiaole
Starting Price: 33,000 (suggested)
Buyout Price: 40,000 (suggested)
Note: The auction house strictly regulates the harvesting and sale of red coral.

Like tiger pelts, coral was restricted but not outright banned.

In Zhou Li’s country, red coral couldn’t be exported—but if bought abroad with proper certification and declared in advance, it was legal to import.

So she wasn’t surprised to see a listed price.

Still, the auction house’s “restriction” clearly drove the price down. A specimen of this quality would normally fetch around 2,000 yuan per gram, but the auction only valued it at 600.

Zhou Li said, “This one’s worth 33,000 points.”

She glanced at Lin Le but didn’t expose her fake name.

“Thirty-three thousand…” Qi Jiayu and the others quickly compared that to the supermarket’s prices and grasped how valuable that was.

“I’ll trade,” Lin Le said, pocketing the blue and black corals and offering only the red one.

Zhou Li issued her a membership card.

Since she was the first member in this world, Zhou Li kindly added a reminder. “By the way, violence is prohibited inside the store. Theft isn’t advised either—trigger the alarm, and you might get blacklisted.”

Fang Qin and her group exchanged glances.

No wonder this boss had let three armed strangers inside so casually—she wasn’t relying on the security guard for protection at all.

☢️☢️☢️

Zombie World

The moment Zhou Li received her new premium feature, she couldn’t wait to lock herself away and study it in detail.

But An Fengxuan kept hovering nearby, clearly wanting something.

“What is it?” Zhou Li finally asked.

An Fengxuan rubbed her palms nervously. “Boss, can I see what an Orka looks like?”

This world seemed easier for her to adapt to than the previous one—she’d realized she could understand two languages here.

Yes, both Lian (the local lingua franca) and Federation speech.

To her ears, they sounded just like Chinese and English.

That meant she could talk freely with Lin Jianshan and also understand most of what the residents said.

From their conversations, she’d already picked up bits and pieces about this world.

Still, instead of being fascinated by the high-tech gadgets, she was more intrigued by those glowing coins.

If these “Orka” were simply money, why could they be exchanged for supermarket points?

And why weren’t game coins, which were also a form of currency, accepted the same way?

Zhou Li handed her one Orka coin. An Fengxuan studied it for a while, then returned it.

“See anything special?” Zhou Li asked.

“Not really,” An Fengxuan said. “Just that it’s useless to me.”

Zhou Li explained, “It’s a currency minted from a mineral called orka.”

An Fengxuan nodded—so it was like gold coins.

After a pause, Zhou Li suddenly asked an off-topic question. “I’m curious—don’t you people have cell phones in your world?”

“We used to,” An Fengxuan said. “But they all broke down. Later, someone built ‘listening devices’ based on the communication tools used by the monsters in the game. It’s the only device that works inside the public hall.”

Zhou Li thought for a moment. “So even if high-tech products from this world ended up in yours, they probably wouldn’t work, right?”

“Most likely not—but things from the supermarket seem to be an exception.”

Zhou Li pondered that.

The Game, after all, was an unknown force that had invaded the world where An Fengxuan lived. That world had its own plane consciousness—and it was that same will that had granted Zhou Li permission to open her supermarket there.

Therefore, The Game’s rules didn’t apply within the supermarket itself. Even when the shop appeared inside Mingde Academy, where she had to follow some of the local world’s rules, Zhou Li still found ways to bend them and avoid punishment.

But back to the point—

The reason phones and other communication tools couldn’t function in the public hall was most likely because The Game had occupied that space, cutting it off from the world’s original plane consciousness. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. As a result, all products born of that world’s order became inoperative.

Still, one thing puzzled her: why could items created by The Game be used freely in other worlds?

She threw the question at the system.

The system replied, “You can think of The Game as a colonizer—it’s a form of plane consciousness itself.”

In the system’s logic, as long as something originated from a plane consciousness, it wasn’t bound by isolation barriers.

Any limitations were due to differences in technological eras or production levels.

For example, you couldn’t make phone calls in the ancient world.

But if someone moved a full modern cellular tower there and set up two phones, those two devices could communicate just fine.

Zhou Li’s eyes lit up. She uploaded her phone to the auction house.

【Huawei Mate60】
Age: 2 years
Date of Manufacture: August 29, 2023
Owner: Zhou Li
Starting Bid: ¥899 (suggested)
Buyout Price: ¥2899 (suggested)

Zhou Li: …

She quietly took the phone back.

The fact that the listing included suggested prices meant there was a market for it—there were definitely modern humans from near-contemporary worlds among the buyers.

And since the buyout price was roughly the same as current secondhand prices in her own world, it meant the auction house was filtering for buyers from worlds close in time and tech level—possibly even her own.

Setting aside the thought, Zhou Li sent An Fengxuan off to rest, then went upstairs to shower and tinker with the new “bidding” feature.

Opening the [Bidding] tab, she found the interface clean and minimal. Aside from the headers for [Item Name], [Bid Price], and [Buyout Price], there was only a small search icon in the corner.

“Why is it empty?” she muttered.

“Because there are currently no items open for bidding,” the system replied.

Zhou Li remembered how every time she’d listed something for sale, it was instantly snapped up at the buyout price the moment she hit confirm. The competition must be intense.

Her jaw tightened—how could she ever out-click someone like that?

Still, she didn’t regret choosing this upgrade. Who knew—maybe someday she’d snag something incredible.

After her shower, Zhou Li reviewed her outstanding orders.

Then, on a sudden inspiration, she decided to modify one of them—turning it into a purchase request list.

She printed it, filed it neatly in a folder, and uploaded it to the auction house.

The system automatically listed it as [A Procurement List].

It wasn’t worth much, but Zhou Li still entered a buyout price of ten yuan—printing did cost money, after all.

This time, it stayed on the auction block for quite a while with no bids.

Zhou Li didn’t mind. She finished her work and went straight to bed.

The next morning, she checked again. Still no movement. She shrugged and let it be.

…

Perhaps afraid the Good Life Supermarket would pack up and vanish amid the Richter–Wolf conflict, every resident with a membership card rushed over to stock up on supplies.

They were afraid that if they recharged too much, the remaining points on their membership cards would go to waste, so they decided not to top up any further.

Zhou Li was happy to have a bit of peace and quiet.

She planned to stay in this world for only three days before returning to her original world to restock supplies.

During that time, she chose the zombie world as her next target for expanding interplanetary trade operations.

…

Three days later, Zhou Li sent An Fengxuan back to the Infinite World.

When the supermarket returned to her home world, aside from the usual daily notifications from the system, there was also a surprise message from the auction house—
someone had bought her procurement list.

Zhou Li blinked. “I can’t believe someone was actually bored enough to buy something like that.”

The system deadpanned, “Then what does that make you, for putting something that boring up for sale?”

After a pause, a very familiar card suddenly materialized in front of her.

【Good Life Supermarket Membership Card】
Cardholder: Zhou Li
Points: 9.5 yuan

Apparently, that was her profit after the auction house’s transaction fee had been deducted.

Zhou Li frowned.

Why did she even get a card? Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. Couldn’t the money just be transferred directly?

But after thinking it over, she realized why.

For customers from other worlds to make purchases, they first needed currency recognized by Earth’s world system.

And to make those transactions legal and traceable, the money had to pass through an account—so it was deposited into a supermarket membership card.

To streamline the process, the system simply did it automatically.

So even Zhou Li herself, when earning funds from the auction house, would have the money deposited straight into a membership savings card.

She sighed deeply.

Never mind—it wasn’t much anyway. She might as well keep the card as a souvenir.

Instead of closing the auction house, Zhou Li opened the [Bidding] tab to see if anything new had been listed.

What she saw nearly made her doubt her eyes.

“There’s actually something up for bid!?”

【Item Name】Self-heating Instant Meal (Mixed Flavors) ×999
【Bid Price】7,992 yuan
【Buyout Price】8,000 yuan

There were more listings below—all self-heating meals, all in bulk sets of 999.

That meant she couldn’t just buy one or two boxes—it was wholesale or nothing.

“Perfect,” Zhou Li muttered. “Wholesale is exactly what I want.”

Buying them one by one would take forever.

Just as she was about to confirm her purchase of the 999-box set, she realized how much space it would take up.

She decided to wait and observe a little longer.

If the product was really in high demand, she could always bid again next time.

After all, even if she couldn’t win the auction, she could still order directly from the manufacturer—at an even better price.

As for the batch she did buy, the system automatically stored it in her warehouse.

Zhou Li didn’t stay long in her home world this time.

After restocking, she picked up An Fengxuan from the Infinite World, and together they set off for a brand-new plane.

*

【Zombie World】

On the boundless sea, a small wooden raft drifted slowly with the current.

At the back of the raft, two sun-darkened women strained at their oars.

On the roof of the shack in the middle of the raft, a young boy held a telescope, scanning the horizon.

Not far away, several severed heads floated on the surface of the water, drifting closer and closer, as if hoping the raft would slow down.

“Nothing!” the boy shouted weakly from above.

One of the women suddenly stopped rowing.

“Fang Qin, what are you doing? Keep rowing! The drowned ones are catching up!” the other woman yelled in panic.

“There’s no supply drop out here!” Fang Qin screamed, breaking down.

The other woman’s strokes faltered too.

After a brief pause, she said, “Even if there isn’t, we can’t stop.”

“There’s nothing here! Where can we even go?” Fang Qin cried in despair.

“Stop talking nonsense!” the woman snapped, then shouted to the boy, “A-Lu, get down here and take over!”

The boy clambered down, licked his cracked lips, grabbed the oar, and started rowing with all his strength before the floating heads could reach them.

Fang Qin was already suffering from heat exhaustion, but she refused to die at sea. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to keep going.

Fang Qin lay flat on the raft, letting the blazing sun roast her body.

Suddenly, she spotted a few seabirds flying overhead.

Instinctively, she reached for her gun to shoot them for food—
but then she remembered that most animals were infected. They didn’t go rabid like zombies, but eating them could still be fatal.

She froze, then abruptly sat up, eyes following the birds.

“Quick, follow them! Those are red-billed gulls!”

The woman and the boy both turned to look in the direction she pointed and began rowing harder.

Red-billed gulls rarely strayed more than twenty kilometers from shore—so following them meant land had to be close.

“Forget rowing, start the engine,” Fang Qin urged.

“But we’re almost out of fuel,” the boy said. “If we don’t find land even after following them, we’ll die out here.”

“Then we gamble.”

Decision made, the woman poured the last of their diesel into the engine and yanked the cord.

Moments later, the motor roared to life, and the floating heads, drawn by the noise, began moving faster.

The propeller spun up, pushing the raft forward with a rush, riding the waves toward the distant horizon.

Fang Qin steered, while the boy took a gulp of water and climbed back to the roof with his telescope.

Finally, after several refuels that drained the last drops from their barrels, the boy’s voice rang out, bright with joy.

“Land ahead! And there’s a supermarket!”

☢️☢️☢️

The conflict between the Richter family and Wolff Pharmaceuticals had reached a fever pitch, and as always, it was the ordinary citizens who suffered most. The pressure on City Hall was mounting by the day.

Mayor Edna was even facing impeachment from the city council, accused of incompetence and failure to balance the two corporate giants.

Some claimed that if she hadn’t insisted on cooperating with the Richter family, Wolf Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have retaliated so viciously.

Before Edna could even respond, her supporters had already gone to find Zhou Li.

After all, the root of the conflict lay in the small supermarket.

*

Good Life Supermarket.

Zhou Li looked at Paul Bowman with a troubled expression.

“I’m just a shopkeeper,” she said. “There’s really nothing I can do.”

Paul Bowman looked pale and defeated. “The council meeting is next week. If two-thirds of the members vote for impeachment, the mayor will be forced to step down.”

Everyone could see how hard Mayor Edna had worked to maintain order on Mia Star. Unfortunately, not all council members were reasonable people.

Many were parasites long accustomed to taking bribes from powerful families. To protect their own interests, they would muddle the issue and make Edna take the blame.

Trying to pressure Zhou Li, Paul revealed that certain council members had once wanted to use force to take control of the supermarket—those same members now opposing the mayor.

Zhou Li didn’t know much about Mia’s political system, but she understood how Western-style governments worked on Earth: council members held significant power, and most had cozy relationships with the oligarchs.

If Mayor Edna couldn’t bring them profit, she really could be impeached.

“Right now,” Paul said, “it’s the mayor who’s keeping the voices against you under control. Of course, I’m not threatening you—you can walk away anytime and nothing will happen to you. But I believe, if the mayor wins, that would benefit you greatly.”

He then laid out all the supposed advantages of keeping Edna in office.

Zhou Li asked calmly, “And what exactly do you want me to do?”

Paul hoped she would publicly support Mayor Edna and help win over public opinion.

With the Richter family providing energy and the Good Life Supermarket ensuring access to food and essentials, these two forces together could secure the mayor a strong political advantage.

Zhou Li quickly saw through his plan.

“Standing with the mayor” wasn’t as simple as a public endorsement—it would mean increasing material supply to City Hall. And as Edna’s supporter, Zhou Li would likely be expected to donate, sponsor, or at least allow the government to delay payment during its budget crisis.

In other words, she would have to prepare herself to give away an entire batch of supplies for free.

Zhou Li took a sip of water, suppressing a sigh.

At that moment, a tall figure entered the room.

“Well, well,” the newcomer said lazily, “so City Hall has sunk to the point of begging door to door?”

Paul Bowman’s face flushed red. “Sophia Richter—what did you just say?!”

Sophia calmly removed her gloves and tossed them on the coffee table, then unhurriedly sat down on the sofa, unwrapping the scarf around her neck.

Zhou Li instinctively poured her a cup of hot tea—this was, after all, the “antique” lady who had lived since the previous century.

Sophia lifted the disposable cup with elegant poise.

She managed to make a five-yuan bag of Pu’er taste like top-grade tea worth tens of thousands per pound—though the paper cup did lower the overall aesthetic.

After a delicate sip, Sophia said slowly, “Does Edna Ponty know you’re here? Somehow I doubt this was her idea.”

Caught off guard, Paul froze. The anger rose in his chest but found no outlet.

After a long pause, he muttered, “I’m only anxious on her behalf.”

“If she’s not anxious, why are you?” Sophia replied.

Red-faced and humiliated, Paul shuffled out of the store.

Zhou Li took another sip of tea, annoyed.

Sophia asked, “Feeling a bit unhappy about being dragged into something you didn’t ask for?”

Zhou Li nodded. “A little.”

“How do you know the mayor isn’t worried?” Zhou Li asked.

Sophia smiled. “Edna’s closest aide is her secretary general. If the situation were truly desperate, she’d have sent that person to you. Paul Bowman is just one of those foxes’ pawns—sent here to test you and see what they can squeeze out.”

Zhou Li suddenly understood. Of course—Edna hadn’t risen to mayor over hundreds of thousands of people by being helpless. She definitely had her own cards to play.

There was still much Zhou Li had to learn.

Sophia continued, “That said, Edna really is buried in problems right now.”

“With the Richter family and Wolf Pharmaceuticals fighting like this, the unrest on Mia will only get worse, won’t it?” Zhou Li asked.

Sophia wasn’t very interested in politics. “Anyway,” she said, “let me introduce you to a big client.”

*

Sophia’s “big client” arrived at the supermarket shortly afterward.

The woman had silver hair, rode a motorcycle like a teenager, and exuded effortless cool. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. Zhou Li couldn’t help the spark of admiration in her eyes.

“Wow,” An Fengxuan said, almost whistling like a street punk.

“This is Julia Bates,” Sophia said.

“Bates?” Zhou Li repeated. “That sounds familiar.”

“Julia is a major shareholder of Bates Industries,” Sophia explained. “The ‘Moonshadow X’ vehicle you were looking to buy—it’s made by her company.”

Zhou Li’s heart skipped a beat. So this was the big client—was Bates Industries planning to sell cars to her?

She forced herself to sound calm as she greeted her. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bates.”

“Just call me Julia,” the biker grandma replied coolly.

Zhou Li had planned to invite her upstairs, but Julia was too curious about the supermarket on her first visit and wandered around instead.

After touring the aisles, she turned to Sophia and said, “No wonder you’re stationed here as the resident doctor. This place feels like something straight out of Blue Star’s early centuries.”

Zhou Li thought privately, Wait, is this one also another centenarian relic from two centuries ago?

Sophia quickly dispelled that assumption.

Julia Bates was in her seventies—born and raised on Mia.

Her friendship with Sophia came from lineage: Julia was a descendant of Sophia’s best friend.

Old photographs passed down through the Bates family even showed Sophia and that friend together.

And the secret that Mayor Edna had only recently discovered—Julia had known for years, thanks to those photos.

…

Before Zhou Li could lose interest in the effortlessly stylish biker matriarch, Julia Bates finally explained the reason for her visit.

Julia wanted to invite Zhou Li to take part in a short-term immigration project that would determine the life or death of hundreds of thousands of people on Mia.

Secretly led by Mayor Edna and backed by Bates Industries, the group’s long-standing goal was to repair the abandoned space station and relocate a large portion of Mia’s population there—allowing them to survive the planet’s impending extinction-level disaster.

But restoring a decommissioned station and making it operational again was no easy task.

First, they had to uncover the reason it had been shut down in the first place.

That root cause was possibly tied to Blue Star’s communication blackout, wormhole collapses, unstable interstellar routes, and the natural cataclysms plaguing Mia.

Despite sending wave after wave of scientists and astronauts, all they’d accomplished so far was loss of life—with no useful findings to show for it.

Then, the Good Life Supermarket appeared, giving them new hope.

—Not because they believed the supermarket was connected to Blue Star, but because they hoped Zhou Li’s store could provide stable material support for the pioneering exploration teams, ensuring they wouldn’t run short on supplies during space missions.

The Richter family’s newly opened open-pit mines would supply the necessary energy for the project.

“Publicly, we’ll announce that the operation is sponsored by your supermarket,” Julia said. “That way, we can divert public attention and soften the resentment people still harbor toward the store.”

Zhou Li suddenly understood. “So Mia never stopped trying to save itself.”

Julia smiled faintly. “The human spirit is indomitable. Even standing at the brink of extinction, we never give up the fight.”

Those short-sighted opportunists who only cared about power struggles, she added, could never represent the will of the majority.

Zhou Li felt a faint stir in her chest. “I can help,” she said, “but the orphanage and city hall have already pre-ordered a large number of supplies. I can only allocate goods to you in batches—I can’t provide everything all at once.”

Julia had clearly anticipated this and agreed readily.

To pay for her supermarket membership points, she offered up her motorcycle as collateral.

…

After closing up shop for the day, Zhou Li looked at the enormous new order and felt a hint of anxiety.

Just then, the system chimed with a bright ding!

“Good news! With the help of Sales Rep 0311, this system has become the top sales champion in the Interplanetary Trade Division!”

Zhou Li said dryly, “That’s a bit poorly timed… but congratulations.”

The system’s tone rose several notches, brimming with pride. “As sales champion, I’ve received an exclusive reward! The representative suggests using it to purchase a permanent interplanetary voice conversion service—or to redeem it for a premium feature. What do you choose?”

Zhou Li had nearly forgotten that being a sales champion came with perks.

She asked, “What kind of premium features?”

“Optional upgrades to improve the experience for both the operator and clients,” the system explained, “including but not limited to: franchise supermarket licensing, auction-house bidding privileges, and the spatial-folding warehouse management technology you’ve been eyeing.”

Zhou Li’s first instinct was to choose the spatial-folding warehouse tech.

Still, she asked about the first two options out of caution.

“The franchise license,” said the system, “would allow you to open another supermarket with identical functionality to the main branch.”

Zhou Li’s eyes lit up. If she could open a full-sized supermarket—several thousand square meters—and make that jump between worlds…

She’d never again have to worry about limited stock or constant round trips for resupply.

“As for the auction-house bidding function,” the system continued, “haven’t you noticed that you can only sell items there, not bid on anything yourself?”

Zhou Li’s mind raced. “Bidding… meaning I’d be able to buy items there, too?”

“Yes.”

“And the spatial-folding warehouse management tech—well, I don’t need to explain that one, do I?”

After processing all the options, Zhou Li took a deep breath. “System, what would you choose?”

“The system has no preference,” it replied. “The decision rests with the sales representative.”

“Can any of these—like the franchise or the bidding system—be unlocked with energy instead?” she asked.

“No. This reward is exclusive to sales champions.”

Zhou Li smiled. “Then I’ll take the auction-house bidding feature.”

She wasn’t ready to open a franchise yet, so she ruled that out.

As for the folding warehouse, she could always save up more energy to purchase it later.

But the auction house—she still didn’t know what realm it connected to, who its buyers were, or what worlds its goods came from.

If she could bid in it herself, maybe she’d gain access to all kinds of items—even ones she could buy without having to travel across dimensions.

☢️☢️☢️

Zhou Li eventually received a massive condom order.

However, she made Qiao Siniang a promise: “If they sit in storage too long and you can’t sell them, you can return them.”

In fact, most manufacturers working with supermarkets already had return policies for near-expiry products.

Even if Qiao Siniang’s sales were poor and she brought them back, Zhou Li wouldn’t have to worry about losses.

After all, she could sell to many different worlds—more customers, more demand.

…

Zhou Li spent seven days in the ancient world, and the supermarket’s shelves were almost empty.

She planned to return to her original world to restock, but first, she had to send An Fengxuan back to the Infinite World.

This time, when the supermarket jumped between dimensions, it landed in the Public Hall again—but not near the Blue Owl Guild.

“I thought we’d end up in another dungeon again,” Zhou Li said to the system.

The system replied, “After spending time in the Public Hall, I’ve basically figured out the coordinate patterns of this world. I can roughly distinguish between dungeon zones and public zones. But pinpointing exact coordinates is still impossible.”

“That’s already good enough,” Zhou Li said with satisfaction.

She gave An Fengxuan some time off.

The moment An Fengxuan saw her communication device reconnect, she immediately contacted An Yixiao.

But since An Yixiao was inside a dungeon, the only one she could reach was Chen Jiaoyan.

Zhou Li didn’t bother warning An Fengxuan not to wander—no matter where she went, the supermarket could lock onto her location as an anchor point.

*

Back in her familiar village, Zhou Li resumed contacting various suppliers.

She wasn’t in a rush to return to the Interstellar World, so she gave herself a day off.

Before taking over the supermarket, her idea of “time off” usually meant spending a day in the library.

This time was no exception.

She visited the library, picked out a few books she needed, and ordered some new ones online.

Then, she sat down in the park outside and took out a tool—[Deliver a Letter].

As the name implied, this tool sent letters. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. What made it special was that it ignored spatial and regional limits, delivering directly into the recipient’s hands without revealing the sender’s identity.

Back in the Interstellar World, she had obtained Orka energy crystals and some experimental medicine. She’d long planned to let researchers study them but hadn’t known how to hand them over safely—so they’d just sat in her house.

Now, with this item, she could finally send them out.

She first sent the Orka energy crystals—collected using her [Treasure-Spitting Toad]—to several energy research institutes. Once she had their attention, she’d send over the medicine samples.

If she sent the medicine first, they might not take it seriously. Then her hard-won acquisition would go to waste.

She still had a [Farm-Type Light Generator], though it was damaged. She planned to repair it before passing it along to a research lab.

As for the medical pod, she decided the timing wasn’t right to reveal that yet.

After handling all that, Zhou Li had lunch outside, then caught a rideshare back home.

When she arrived, a few delivery couriers were standing around her vending machine.

After asking, she learned that a customer had placed an order through her supermarket’s mobile app.

Zhou Li: …

She’d completely forgotten about the app since the system hadn’t reminded her of the progress.

Opening the admin panel, she was surprised to find plenty of orders—most from the district where the logistics park was being planned.

Since the system was managing the backend automatically, Zhou Li didn’t have to worry about it.

Then one of the couriers asked, “Boss, I saw the job post saying you’re hiring warehouse workers—is that true?”

It took Zhou Li a couple of seconds to remember that after renovating the village warehouse, she’d told the system to post online job ads for warehouse staff.

She needed three—responsible for inventory, guarding the warehouse, and handling freight.

Because the supermarket’s supply flow was huge and constantly jumping between worlds, the job required moving stock daily between the warehouse and the store—a physically demanding task. Hence, the pay was high (for local standards).

She hadn’t expected applicants this fast.

Zhou Li realized that staying too long in other worlds had dulled her sense of time.

The ad had gone up just yesterday, but to her, it felt like ten or fifteen days had passed.

If that courier hadn’t mentioned it, she would’ve forgotten entirely.

For the first time, Zhou Li truly understood what the system had warned about—the side effects of long stays in other dimensions.

“Yes,” Zhou Li said. “Five thousand a month. Two shifts. You’ll need a driver’s license and good physical strength.”

The courier eagerly volunteered. “What about me? I’m in good shape, and I’ve got a license.”

Zhou Li smiled. “How about finishing your deliveries first and coming back for an interview later?”

The courier blinked, then awkwardly said, “Alright.”

After they left, Mu Kun, who had clearly been eavesdropping from next door, came over munching melon seeds. “That app of yours turned out great.”

Though some time had passed, Zhou Li still remembered that she’d introduced the app developer—her old classmate—to Mu Kun.

She asked, “Aunt Mu, did you get the breakfast shop app made too?”

Mu Kun waved a hand. “Nah. Too expensive. Waste of money.”

Zhou Li nodded and didn’t pry further.

Then Mu Kun said, “Hey, is your supermarket app open to partners? Maybe I could list my breakfast shop on it?”

Zhou Li: “Huh?”

“I’ll pay a five-hundred-yuan monthly listing fee. How about that?”

Zhou Li wasn’t sure whether five hundred a month for a listing fee was standard, but since shop rent at the village entrance was only about a thousand yuan, and Mu Kun’s breakfast stall—no matter how well it did—had limited customers, earning three to five thousand a month at best (and maybe not even five after paying utilities), the price wasn’t bad.

After thinking for a moment, Zhou Li said, “Alright, I’ll ask my senior how to set that up.”

She contacted her old classmate—the one who had made the app—and also paid off the remaining balance for the project.

Her senior said, “I just took a look. The backend’s done really well! Did you hire a professional company?”

The senior had only developed the front-end. All the other features of the app had been completed by the system itself.

Of course, Zhou Li couldn’t tell the truth. She replied, “Yeah, I happened to have a relative in the village who’s good at this kind of thing, so I had them help.”

Luckily, the senior didn’t press further, just explained how to add partner shops to the app.

After hanging up, Zhou Li was still a bit confused.

The system said, “You could’ve just let me optimize it. Why bother asking others?”

Zhou Li replied, “It’s called social interaction.”

System: ?

“I need to practice normal socializing.”

Because of her unusual circumstances, she could never interact normally in other worlds—
in the ancient world, she was seen as a goddess;
in the interstellar world, people speculated she was from Blue Star;
and in the Infinite World, people placed strange hopes upon her.

So back in her own world, she just wanted to be Zhou Li again—having normal, human conversations.

Once that was handled, Zhou Li threw herself back into work.

In her spare time, she continued studying the three candidate worlds, deciding that after her next trip to the interstellar world, she would open the next one.

…

After two days in her home world—meeting several new suppliers and interviewing a few job applicants—Zhou Li didn’t need to decide immediately. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. She took their résumés and then performed a dimensional jump.

*

Interstellar World — Mia Star.

Ever since the violent riot targeting the Good Life Supermarket, the atmosphere among Mia’s communities had grown tense.

The conflict between the Richter family and Wolf Pharmaceuticals had erupted, and neither side was willing to back down. As a result, patients at Richter Hospital were the first to suffer.

Soon after, pharmacies began running out of medicine. Wolf Pharmaceuticals blamed Richter Mining, claiming energy restrictions had disrupted production and raised costs, forcing a price hike.

Everyone knew Wolf was just deflecting public anger—trying to use outrage to pressure the Richter family into surrendering first.

The city hall tried mediating, but with little effect.

It was under this heavy, uneasy atmosphere that the Good Life Supermarket reappeared.

Because it wasn’t yet open, no one could enter. Only Lin Jianshan, who worked there, was allowed inside thirty minutes before opening.

Upon seeing Zhou Li, Lin Jianshan couldn’t help venting, “Boss, everyone thought you’d lost faith in us—that you weren’t coming back.”

Zhou Li had just finished some therapy sessions with her mom back home, spent time in the Infinite World, and stayed seven days in the ancient world. She’d nearly forgotten what had even happened here.

“Why would I lose faith in them?” Zhou Li said casually. “They’re just customers.”

Lin Jianshan blinked. “Ah… like you once said—‘In our line of work, the worst thing is to get emotionally involved,’ right?”

Zhou Li: ? Did I say that? When?

Maybe she’d said it offhand before and forgotten. She didn’t think much of it.

Lin then briefed her about how the conflict between the Richter family and Wolf Pharmaceuticals had disrupted civilian life.

Finally, Lin muttered, “Actually, the Richter family only started this to stand up for you—but Wolf Pharmaceuticals has no limits.”

The implication was clear: the rioters who’d been manipulated by Wolf and targeted the supermarket were just reaping what they’d sown.

She didn’t want Zhou Li to pity them.

Zhou Li asked, “Is Wolf the only pharmaceutical company on Mia?”

“There are others, but none as large. Wolf dominates the industry because they hold the majority of drug patents and formulas.”

Zhou Li frowned. “Don’t you people have any kind of antitrust laws?”

Lin Jianshan just stared at her, confused.

Then a familiar voice echoed from upstairs—An Fengxuan. “Aghh, Boss! Why is it so cold here?!”

She bolted down the stairs, finally feeling some warmth.

Zhou Li sighed. “Who told you to sleep with the window open?”

“It was too hot in the Public Hall!” An Fengxuan protested.

The Public Hall was always temperate—around twenty degrees Celsius—but she hadn’t turned on the fan or air system, choosing to open the window instead.

Then, as she slept, it was as if someone had kicked her from a spring garden straight into the Antarctic tundra.

If the temperature drop had been gradual, it might’ve been fine—but this was a cliff-drop freeze!

If she weren’t physically strong, she would’ve frozen to death from hypothermia.

After shutting the window, the cold vanished—but her sleepiness didn’t return.

Checking the time, she washed up and went downstairs to work.

Only then did she notice another girl in the supermarket.

“This is our stock clerk,” Zhou Li said. “And this is our security guard.”

Stock Clerk Lin Jianshan and Security Guard An Fengxuan eyed each other warily.

Lin instinctively felt cautious—something about this new girl seemed dangerous.

An Fengxuan, on the other hand, quietly assessed Lin and assumed she must be a temp worker.

After all, only full employees could travel across worlds with the boss—and she’d never seen this one before.

“I’m Lin Jianshan.”

“I’m An Fengxuan.”

Their first meeting was tense, both women on guard.

Lin had grown up an orphan, surviving harsh streets—suspicion was second nature to her.

An Fengxuan, forged through deadly dungeons and betrayals, was equally defensive toward strangers.

Zhou Li finally said, “Alright, both of you—back to work.”

That single command broke the tension.

An Fengxuan thought, If the boss hired her, she must be trustworthy.

Lin Jianshan, on the other hand, couldn’t help feeling envious—what did it take to become a permanent employee?

Then she remembered that she’d once had the chance but chose to stay with her friends at the orphanage instead.

Oh well—what’s done is done.

Still, anyone who became a full employee must be someone the boss truly trusted.

☢️☢️☢️

Qin Song was also stunned for a moment.

But he reacted quickly, his expression natural as he said: “Alright then, Mu Xing. If you want me to call you that, then I’ll call you that. Even though we’re divorced, we’re still friends.”

At least, in front of the cameras they had to be friends.

Otherwise, how could he maintain his magnanimous public image?

But Mu Xing had no intention of cooperating.

Why should the young master of the Mu family suppress his displeasure? Why should he cooperate with Qin Song to build his persona?

Mu Xing gave him a strange look, then shook his head: “There’s really no need. When we divorced, it was already made clear—our paths would never cross again, nothing to do with each other. I don’t want to be friends with you.”

He looked straight at Qin Song: “If you had any heart at all, you’d take advantage of this live broadcast to draw a clear line with me in front of your fans. That would be the best way to protect me.”

Then he looked seriously into the camera: “Qin Song’s fans, did you hear that? I’m divorced from your brother, and there’s no connection whatsoever. I guarantee I won’t bother him again. So stop cursing at me under my Weibo posts—though I wouldn’t read them anyway.”

“Pfft!” Fu Chen couldn’t hold back his laughter. When the camera swung toward him, he quickly coughed twice, signaling he’d only choked on his own saliva and definitely hadn’t meant to laugh.

Gu Jiani and Zhou Qiongyu were dumbfounded too, though more reserved than Fu Chen—they just lowered their heads, hiding their “my jaw just dropped” expressions.

In the director’s office, the director slapped his thigh and let out a “Holy shit.”

“Awesome,” he couldn’t help sighing. “So this is the confidence of a rich young master? Confronting them head-on during a live stream, snapping at Jiang Shengyu, at a movie king, even at the fans.”

Completely unconcerned about his reputation, refusing to fake harmony just because of a live broadcast.

But… it was so damn satisfying to watch.

When would he have the guts to talk back to his own stupid boss like that?

Still, the director was thrilled. The show had barely started and the guest already dropped a bomb—who could worry about ratings now?

Meanwhile, the live chat scrolled furiously:

【What the hell? Just trying to show off, can we stop giving him screen time?】
【Damn, he’s just stepping on my brother to boost himself. Who was that pathetic fool fawning over him before?】
【Mu Xing get lost, disgusting.】
【Does the production team not want to run this show properly? Bringing in a troublemaker like this.】
【Nothing but a clown, who does he think he is?】
【……】
【??? Wow, are these Qin fans coordinating their comments?】

【But I don’t think Mu Xing said anything wrong? What are you Qin fans so upset about? Isn’t cutting ties exactly what you wanted?】
【Yeah… I’m not even mad, but the kid really is reckless. Offending Qin Song like that—does he even want to survive in showbiz?】

【Am I the only one curious why he’s so different from the rumors?】
【I rewatched some of his old variety clips last night—you could see he really adored Qin Song, couldn’t take his eyes off him. But now, in this live, he’s cold as ice.】

【Confused +1. Feels like there’s a story here.】
【Just a passerby, but I’ve never understood: Mu Xing and Qin Song only just divorced, right? Then why were the Qin Song–Jiang Shengyu rumors already everywhere? Don’t tell me they fell for each other within two weeks, plus all that “substitute” nonsense… I mean, even if Qin Song’s marriage was loveless, the marriage certificate was real, wasn’t it? What were those CP fans even shipping? Adultery fanfic?】

【I don’t get CP fans’ logic +1】

【Hahaha I’m different. I don’t care about anyone’s feelings—I just want drama! I declare Mu Xing the treasure of this season. Xingxing, keep going! More fights! Let the storm rage harder!】

【Fu Chen’s expression killed me, trying so hard not to laugh but nearly cracking up. Too hard 23333】

…

Jiang Shengyu realized the atmosphere had soured, so he quickly said: “We’re recording Dream Pastoral right now, let’s not drag in irrelevant personal stuff. Come on, let’s get breakfast going, I’m starving.”

Fu Chen and the others worried that if Mu Xing spoke any more, the show might collapse entirely, so they rushed to smooth things over:

“Yeah, yeah, food is most important.”

Gu Jiani asked: “So what’s for breakfast? Noodles?”

Zhou Qiongyu: “I can help wash vegetables! Or tend the fire!”

【Nooo, who cares about cooking! Xingxing keep arguing!】

Mu Xing looked at Jiang Shengyu trying to change the subject and almost laughed. Then he glanced at the silent Qin Song, shook his head, and thought of how unfair it was for the original self.

See? This is the person you liked—the one who cost you everything.

If you’d just opened your eyes a little and stood up for yourself, what was there to be afraid of?

In the end, everyone cooked breakfast together.

Mu Xing handled the wok, the two girls washed vegetables, Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu tended the fire, while Fu Chen darted about delivering ingredients and bowls, full of energy.

But while eating, they discussed seriously that they couldn’t let Mu Xing do everything—they’d learn recipes step by step too.

The live comments cracked up:

【As an office worker, why do I suddenly feel emotional: to fight for your rights, you gotta speak up.】
【The guests all seem a lot more polite to Mu Xing now.】
【Lmao, he snapped at both Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu. Of course they’re being polite—who’d want the fire aimed at themselves?】

【Refreshing, really refreshing.】

【Even so, I still think Mu Xing is too young and hot-headed. You’re enjoying yourself now, but what about when the show ends? In front of the cameras, people hold back, but after recording, they’re still your seniors. Do you not want to survive in this industry?】

【Can we have less of that kind of lecturing? Life is already hard enough. Finally, we get to watch something satisfying on a livestream, and you’re here nagging—give me a break.】

【This is exactly what I like to see. Livestreams are great—who wants to watch carefully edited fake harmony?】

At this moment, netizens had already clipped Mu Xing’s classic remarks from today and turned them into memes.

#MuXing, I have nothing to do with Qin Song#

#MuXing, I don’t give face to anyone#

Several related hashtags shot up onto the trending list.

Mu Xing’s poor little Weibo account also suddenly gained tens of thousands of new followers.

Of course, Qin Song’s fans didn’t stop scolding him because of his declaration. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. On the contrary, they thought he was deliberately using Qin Song’s popularity to get attention, and they cursed him even more fiercely.

But Mu Xing didn’t see any of it.

At the office, Mu Lin, who had taken a moment to watch the livestream, received a message from Huo Jing.

【Huo Jing】: Your brother is pretty interesting.

Mu Lin curved his lips.

【Mu Lin】: He’s very good.

After breakfast, the guests set off for a village two kilometers away from the villa to “earn daily necessities.”

The program only provided ingredients for the first breakfast.

Starting from lunch, all necessities had to be obtained from this “Dada Village.”

They had no money and couldn’t buy anything. They had to rely on their own ingenuity to earn (or swindle) the supplies.

When the guests left the villa, they naturally split into three groups.

Zhou Jieyu and Gu Jiani, the two girls, stayed together. Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu paired up. Mu Xing was originally walking alone, but Fu Chen somehow tagged along.

Seeing Mu Xing’s puzzled expression, Fu Chen scratched his head awkwardly:

“I have zero life skills. I’d be hopeless on my own. Can I stick with you? I’ll be your little follower.”

Mu Xing: “…Do as you please.”

【Help, why is Fu Chen so goofy?】

【I feel like Mu Xing is a bit cold. He’s polite, but it seems like he’s keeping a wall between himself and the others.】

【Yeah, I get that too—he comes across as arrogant.】

Soon they arrived at Dada Village.

At the entrance, there were more than ten little stalls, each with someone sitting in front—elderly folks, children, young people. Visit HololoNovels dot com for the complete chapter. Every stall displayed different items: vegetables, noodles, beef, and so on.

The guests had to negotiate with the stall owners; if they could satisfy them, they could take whatever they wanted.

Mu Xing scanned the scene.

Qin Song and his group were bargaining with an old man in charge of meat.

Zhou Jieyu and Gu Jiani were chatting with a woman who handled seafood.

Mu Xing didn’t join either group. Instead, he went to the nearest stall—a middle-aged woman in charge of vegetables.

He greeted her and pulled up a stool to sit down.

“Auntie, it’s so hot today and you’re still out here running a stall?”

The woman laughed. “I’m working for the program team.”

The villagers were all locals. Strictly speaking, the show Dream Pastoral provided them with an extra way to earn money.

As “stall owners,” all they had to do was sit there, and they got 200 yuan a day—better than their usual jobs. And since most of the stall owners were stay-behind women, children, and the elderly, earning easy money like this made everyone happy.

The livestream cut between multiple scenes.

Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu were trying to convince the old man to give them meat but got firmly rejected.

Zhou Jieyu’s group was tasked with cleaning a huge basin of crayfish.

Meanwhile, Mu Xing was chatting with the vegetable-seller.

【Cleaning crayfish? Tragic. I’d be terrified just seeing those pincers.】

【Gu Jiani’s face has gone pale.】

【Jiang Shengyu is killing me—trying to trade his autograph for meat, but the old man doesn’t even know who he is.】

【What’s Mu Xing doing? Does he really think he can score vegetables just by chatting?】

By now, Mu Xing had already warmed up the conversation with the auntie:

“Your granddaughter’s in fourth grade? Schoolwork must be tough these days, right?”

The auntie sighed. “Yes, the teacher makes us parents check homework, but I’m not educated. Her parents aren’t around either. It’s worrisome.”

Mu Xing smiled. “Isn’t she on summer break now? I’ll be here for a week. How about I tutor her for two hours every day in exchange for a week’s worth of vegetables?”

The woman hesitated.

Mu Xing added quickly: “I graduated from a top-10 university in the world. Opportunities like this are rare.”

Without another word, the auntie agreed.

“I’ll call my granddaughter Tiantian over right now.” She happily made the call.

【666, what an unexpected solution】

【Top-10 university in the world—is that for real?】

【He’s not lying. Mu Xing’s academic record is verifiable. He’s the real deal.】

【Amazing—why be a celebrity with that education?】

【Because being a celebrity pays fast if you make it big.】

While waiting for the auntie’s granddaughter, Mu Xing strolled over to the next stall.

This one was run by a boy of about ten.

When he saw him, the little boy looked wary: “I don’t want tutoring!”

Mu Xing: “…”

He raised an eyebrow, plucked a few blades of grass from the roadside, and sat down.

The cameraman didn’t know what he was up to, but zoomed in—only to see Mu Xing’s long, slender fingers moving nimbly, twisting and folding. In less than two minutes, a lifelike little grass spider appeared in his hand.

【Wow! That’s amazing!】

【This little spider is so cute—can he sell it?】

The camera shifted again, revealing that the little boy had already squatted down beside him.

Mu Xing pinched one of the spider’s legs and smiled at him: “Want it?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Mu Xing didn’t really like people seeing his private space, but this room didn’t really count as private. All his things were stored in the closet, and the host wouldn’t be so clueless as to rummage through the guests’ belongings.

When he finished washing up and came out, he looked much more refreshed, the tuft of hair sticking up on his head now pressed down.

The young man looked clean and clear all over. He asked Ji Youyou, “Is there anything else?”

Ji Youyou snapped out of her daze and smiled, asking, “That’s all you’re doing to get ready? If you’re done, let’s go downstairs and prepare breakfast together.”

Mu Xing nodded. “Let’s go.”

When they went downstairs, everyone else was already sitting in the living room.

Mu Xing walked over and sat down.

Fu Chen widened his eyes the moment he saw him. “You came down like that?”

Mu Xing asked, “Like what?”

Fu Chen touched his own face, looking a little pale. “The production said six o’clock wake-up, but my manager called me at five to get me up. He rushed me to change clothes, fix my hair, even put on foundation. He said since it’s a livestream, I absolutely have to mind my image.”

Mu Xing: “…”

[Hahahaha we all understand the logic, but babe, could you not be so blunt about it?]

[A treasure boy, Fu Chen. Love him, love him.]

Mu Xing answered, “I don’t have many fans. No need to worry about image.”

Fu Chen was surprised, not expecting Mu Xing to just say that directly on livestream.

But the next thing he said surprised him even more.

Mu Xing said, “Besides, I’m naturally good-looking. I look fine without makeup.”

Now it was Fu Chen’s turn to be speechless: “…”

He stared at Mu Xing’s face for a while, then finally forced out, “…You’re right.”

[HAHAHAHA I laughed so hard I woke my parents. My mom knocked on the door asking if I’d lost my mind.]

[Interesting, both Fu Chen and Mu Xing are kind of cute.]

[Mu Xing’s EQ seems a bit low. Everyone else are seniors, and they’re all wearing makeup. For him to say that out loud—totally thoughtless.]

[What the hell, Mu Xing is way too narcissistic. Isn’t that basically shading the other guests?]

[Feels like he’s desperate to get famous. Is this some new angle, playing the blunt persona?]

[That said, I think he’s right. Personally, I think even barefaced, among this group, he’s the one who shines the brightest.]

[Am I the only one curious about his relationship with Qin Song? You can practically see the chill between them.]

[Don’t tie them together. They’re just strangers.]

[Some Qin fans need to quit. Always picking fights. No matter how you deny it, Mu Xing and Qin Song did officially marry. Who are you to play the bitter mother-in-law?]

[I didn’t know much about Mu Xing before, just saw gossip that he was a clingy pushover with Qin Song. But now he doesn’t seem so bad. He’s well-educated, good-looking, and carries himself openly. Doesn’t seem that pathetic.]

…

The Qin Song now being discussed by the audience really did feel a little sour.

Since yesterday, he had sharply noticed that Mu Xing had changed.

Before, whenever they were together, no matter the distance, he could always feel that persistent gaze sticking to him. He knew Mu Xing was watching him, trying to be discreet, but in reality, anyone could tell he couldn’t hide his feelings.

But that gaze had vanished since yesterday.

From then on, Mu Xing was cold and distant. Even greetings were nothing more than a passing glance, not willing to linger for even a second.

As if they truly were strangers.

Ji Youyou hadn’t expected Mu Xing to have such strong variety sense. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. Early that morning, the director had secretly reminded her to take extra care of him.

She didn’t know what had happened, but all she had to do was follow instructions.

So she smiled and said, “You really are good-looking. When I knocked earlier and saw you, I was stunned. I thought, how can someone look so striking even without makeup?”

Gu Jiani added enviously, “So nice. My skin’s bad—I wouldn’t dare show a bare face, or I’d definitely lose fans on the spot. Mu Xing, what’s your secret for keeping up your skin?”

In an instant, Mu Xing became the focus of everyone in the room—and the cameras.

Mu Xing spoke the truth: “Born this way.”

Gu Jiani: “…”

[HAHAHAHA some people laugh till they cry.]

[Gu Jiani is definitely rolling her eyes inside. Too much.]

[Before watching this, I never imagined Mu Xing was like this.]

[Kind of interesting. Why doesn’t Qin Song like him?]

*

Early that morning, skipping his morning exercise, Mu Jiangtao sat in front of the livestream and snorted disdainfully. “This is nothing yet. My Mu Xing’s strengths haven’t even been shown. As for that Qin Song—completely blind.”

Aunt Chen chuckled along, nodding. “Young master is the most considerate. He’s always been so well-behaved at home. I used to worry he’d be bullied, but now that I see he’s got a bit of temper, he won’t suffer. That’s good.”

She then offered a small compliment to the old employer: “Shows that young master isn’t completely without temper. At home, he’s gentle and kind because everyone here are the people who love him most. How could outsiders ever compare?”

That flattery hit Mu Jiangtao right in the heart. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide the upward curl of his lips.

*

Jiang Shengyu saw everyone gathered around talking to Mu Xing, lowered his eyes, and rubbed his stomach.

Qin Song naturally noticed right away and asked, “What’s wrong, is your stomach uncomfortable?”

Jiang Shengyu smiled. “A little hungry.”

Ji Youyou quickly clapped her hands. “Perfect timing, the outdoor kitchen’s already set up. Let’s go check out today’s breakfast.”

The camera followed the group out of the villa.

The villa had a large fenced courtyard, full of blooming flowers, with swings, hanging chairs, and a small pavilion—obviously carefully designed.

At the open space nearby, staff had already set up an outdoor kitchen.

A wood-burning stove with an iron pot, a chopping board on the side, seasonings neatly arranged.

On Dream Pastoral, the guests had to cook for themselves this entire week, self-sufficient.

It had been the same in previous seasons—guest cooking mishaps were always one of the highlights.

But those were recorded shows, edited for only the funny parts. If really impossible, staff could secretly help.

With the livestream, the guests had to rely entirely on themselves.

Hearing they had to cook, the group looked at each other.

Fu Chen scratched his head awkwardly. “I don’t know how to cook.”

Aside from Gu Jiani, who said she could make fried rice and noodles, not a single other person claimed they could cook.

Everyone turned to look at Mu Xing.

Last night’s bowl of noodles from him, they had all seen.

Jiang Shengyu smiled, eyes narrowing. “Luckily, this season we’ve got a chef. Otherwise, we’d all go hungry.”

Mu Xing had been curiously studying the retro-style stove. At that, he turned his head toward Jiang Shengyu and asked, “So what you mean is, for the next week, all the cooking automatically falls to me?”

Now he was certain Jiang Shengyu had hostility toward him.

Though Mu Xing found that hostility baffling—because no matter how you looked at it, in the original plot between Qin Song and Jiang Shengyu, the one who lost and got hurt was the original him.

Qin Song had found a substitute who adored him, Jiang Shengyu was the untouched white moonlight who was loved.

Only the original him, blind and loving the wrong person, wasted half a year of youth and endured half a year of online abuse.

He hadn’t hated Jiang Shengyu—so why did Jiang Shengyu hate him?

Jiang Shengyu hadn’t expected Mu Xing to clap back so directly, without caring that this was a livestream.

The fans were all watching.

He hurriedly explained, “I didn’t mean that. I just thought you’re the only one here who can cook, so I said it without thinking. Don’t take it to heart.”

Mu Xing said, “Mm, actually I’m just surprised. This show’s had so many seasons—viewers all know guests have to cook. And yet not one of you thought to learn?”

The others’ faces instantly looked awkward.

[Oh wow, one against five]

[It’s early in the morning and I’m already excited—fight fight fight!]

[Whoa Mu Xing is bold, I saw Jiang Shengyu’s face change.]

[Hahaha this is live, I love it. Gotta send this to my girlfriends right now.]

[Mu Xing isn’t wrong. Guest cooking is part of Dream Pastoral. You get paid to be on the show, at least put in some effort.]

[Seriously, so rude, and the comments are praising him?]

[Yeah, these are all seniors. Doesn’t Mu Xing know the meaning of respect?]

[He can cook, what’s wrong with making food for everyone? Jiang Shengyu didn’t say he wouldn’t help.]

On camera, the atmosphere turned a little tense.

Gu Jiani stepped in to smooth things over. She pulled out her phone, pitifully. “I did try to learn, even downloaded an app, but I really can’t figure it out!”

Qin Song said, “Xiao Xing, Shengyu was just speaking casually. No need to be so serious. Meeting here on the show is fate, why nitpick?”

Mu Xing flinched at the nickname Xiao Xing.

He gave Qin Song a complicated look. “Don’t call me that. Back when we weren’t divorced yet, you always used my full name. Why start calling me something so mushy now?”

Qin Song: “…”

The others: “…”

[What the—!]

[Ballsy!]

[This isn’t what I expected at all! Wasn’t Mu Xing supposed to be the clingy one chasing Qin Song?]

[I’m wide awake now, even jumped out of bed to stare at my phone.]

[I thought since yesterday they were acting like strangers, avoiding the topic. But… he just said it straight out?]

[LOL I saw Gu Jiani and Fu Chen’s eyes light up.]

[The other guests: eating melon live, what a show!]

Not just the casual viewers—even Qin Song’s fans were stunned.

For a moment, none of them knew what to say.

They had been working so hard to detach their idol from Mu Xing, to make sure Qin Song shone alone.

Now Mu Xing himself was cutting ties—yet they suddenly felt uneasy about it.

On-site, the guests’ minds were reeling from Mu Xing’s words.

Breakfast? Who cared anymore.

Fu Chen looked around, saw Mu Xing calm and collected as if he had just casually commented on the weather.

Meanwhile, Qin Song’s expression had flickered with embarrassment—though he quickly covered it.

Inwardly, Fu Chen thought: this is serious. Could there be some hidden story here?

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Fans were still cursing Mu Xing under the previous promo post when, out of nowhere, the second promotional clip dropped.

Since when did the Dream Pastoral production team become this hardworking?

Forget the viewers, even the other guests didn’t expect it.

The second promo lasted a full five minutes.

It began with all six guests receiving their invitations, with details of time and place clearly shown.

When it was Mu Xing’s turn, his slender fingers held the invitation, the time written in black and white: Dear guest, please arrive at our manor before 10 p.m. on the 6th.

The scene cut back to the living room where the other five were waiting for Mu Xing.

This time, however, the dialogue was completely different from before.

Fu Chen: “Why isn’t he here yet?”
Jiang Shengyu: “I’m hungry.”
Qin Song: “Let’s just eat first, it’s nothing fancy tonight anyway.”

When Mu Xing walked in dragging his suitcase, the camera gave a slow zoom from far to near, lingering especially on his face.

The director knew perfectly well what fans loved to see, so in the first promo, to achieve the desired effect, he only released a blurred side profile of Mu Xing.

But this time was different.

Working with the cameraman, he picked out the most striking shot:

A tall, handsome boy in a white shirt walking steadily forward. His blurred features slowly sharpened into clarity, and when he lifted his gaze, the glow of the lights behind him seemed to pour into his eyes.

When faced with Fu Chen’s impatient complaints, Mu Xing simply apologized graciously.

Later, upon learning the others had already eaten, he didn’t say a word of protest, just rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen.

He cooked a bowl of noodles so enticing that even the cameraman couldn’t resist giving it a close-up.

The clip ended with Mu Xing and Fu Chen’s little exchange, closing on Fu Chen storming off with his carton of milk.

The director had watched that scene several times before finally allowing it to be released.

Even the editor quietly asked, “Director, did you suddenly realize Mu Xing is your long-lost son?”

Everyone knew the director’s reputation—he would do anything for hype and ratings. His industry standing wasn’t great.

But bad reputation or not, it never stopped his programs from pulling in high viewership and making money.

So why the sudden change today?

Leaning back in his chair, the director stared at the video as if watching his KPIs sprout wings and fly away, looking utterly heartbroken.

He wiped his face and muttered, “He’s not my son—he’s my long-lost ancestor!”

What kind of rich young master plays this “hiding his identity to chase dreams in showbiz” storyline? Isn’t this just making trouble?

He opened the comments section under the promo, and sure enough, it was filled with question marks and angry posts:

【???】

【What the hell? So Mu Xing was told to arrive before 10 p.m. He actually came three hours early—he wasn’t late or acting high and mighty. Why didn’t you clarify that in the last promo?】

【This editing is trash. Director and editor, see you in hell tonight!】

【Am I the only one noticing how good-looking Mu Xing is? I rewatched that long shot a dozen times. He’s exactly the cold, beautiful boy of my dreams.】

【Nonsense! Clearly he’s my long-lost boyfriend of 18 years.】

【Now I’m hungry. Watching a handsome guy cook looks—no, tastes—so good.】

【Help! Those long legs! That pale skin! That aloof aura! And he can cook! He’s hitting every one of my weak spots!】

【So Mu Xing is actually a poor kid being wronged. Because of the shady time schedule, he came early only to get scolded by the others, then had to settle for leftovers. Luckily, he could cook for himself.】

【Did the network grow a conscience today? Why drop such a wholesome promo all of a sudden?】

【My Chen is too cute. He couldn’t take his eyes off that bowl of noodles.】

【Mu Xing is too stingy. He knew Fu Chen wanted some, but didn’t share even a bite.】

【That’s Mu Xing? Did he always look like this? Six months away and he looks like he had plastic surgery.】

【A rookie, yet the program gave him so many shots—even the award-winning actors didn’t get this much screen time. Isn’t this promotion a little too obvious?】

…

The director glanced at the comments, thinking it should be enough.

But the next second, his boss called, saying it still wasn’t.

The director: “…”

He practically knelt. “President Wang, the guests only just gathered tonight, we really don’t have much footage yet.”

He promised, “Once filming starts, I’ll make sure to give Mu Xing more screen time, okay?”

His boss replied, “Fine. But don’t make it too obvious. He seems to have a lot of haters. If they grab onto this, it won’t look good.”

The director: “…”

He muttered, “If we’re going to push him, there’s no avoiding criticism.”

The boss: “I know. That’s why I’m telling you to find a way. Make it natural, seamless, no traces of favoritism. If he’s happy, our sponsors are happy.”

The call ended.

The director wanted to curse and bark out, “If you’re so good, you do it!”

But he didn’t dare.

Every corporate grunt meets a boss who makes you want to dunk their head in icy water until they calm down.

Best to treat it as tribulation.

The problem was, Mu Xing already had a bad reputation. Qin Song’s fans hated him, Jiang Shengyu’s fans hated him, and the CP shippers of the two despised him even more.

Even if the production team didn’t do malicious editing, the moment he joined the show it was destined he’d get scolded. A small-time variety director like him, what power did he have to solve something like this?

And now, because of the two clips that were so drastically different, a lot of fans were already very dissatisfied with the production team.

The already shaky reputation was showing clear signs of collapse.

The director sat in his chair for half an hour before suddenly making a crazy decision.

He called his boss and talked for over ten minutes.

After that, every guest had their door knocked on and was told the news.

This episode of Dream Pastoral would use a brand-new live broadcast format, letting the audience interact with the guests in real time and experience the most authentic pastoral life.

But doing a live variety show is a real headache.

It couldn’t be broadcast on TV, but they had their own app, and since apps had long overtaken TV stations in traffic, it wasn’t too bad.

The biggest uncertainty with livestreaming is that if anything unplanned happens, there’s no way to redo, no way to edit.

The guests’ privacy and real personalities would be directly exposed in front of the fans.

Mu Xing’s door was the one the director knocked on personally.

When he heard the show was switching to livestreaming, he was surprised: in the original script, this didn’t seem to exist.

But he was very familiar with live broadcasts, so he had no objections.

Seeing he didn’t resist, the director let out a sigh of relief.

The other guests were surprised too, but none of them objected.

It wasn’t that no shows had tried livestreaming before, but the response had never been good.

Of course, those were also all little-known new shows.

Mainly, the risks of livestreaming were too high. Many popular celebrities worried about accidents breaking their flawless image in fans’ eyes, so they didn’t dare attempt it lightly.

Qin Song didn’t want to participate at first, but Jiang Shengyu seemed very interested.

Since Jiang Shengyu agreed, Qin Song followed.

Fu Chen thought it seemed fun, at least more interesting than that disgusting post-production editing, so he also agreed.

With four people in, Zhou Qiongyu and Gu Jiani no longer objected.

Once all the guests had agreed and the contracts were amended, the Dream Pastoral team released a new announcement around 11 p.m.

Most netizens weren’t asleep at that hour, but when they saw the notice, they were stunned:

【I checked the time on my phone. Announcing this now? Well, typical of you, hell-production team.】

【Holy crap, livestream? For real? You’re going this far?】

【Looking forward to it! Tomorrow’s a holiday, I can watch all day!】

【Really promising full livestream? No post-production? If that’s confirmed, I’ll download Fruit Video App right now.】

【Interesting… I didn’t even want to watch after that hell-editing earlier, but I’ll check it out tomorrow.】

…

The response was surprisingly positive.

The director finally let out a breath of relief.

Now the higher-ups couldn’t complain, right? Full livestream, no meddling from them.

Whatever the outcome, it was up to the little prince himself.

If he couldn’t win fans, it couldn’t be blamed on the director.

He gave himself a mental thumbs-up for his cleverness.

Unfortunately, a worker can’t just sleep, because changing the format last-minute meant the whole team was called into the office for a meeting. They worked overtime until 4 a.m., finally made a brand-new plan, and went off yawning to grab a little rest.

At 6 a.m., Mu Xing’s door was knocked on.

He got dressed and went downstairs to open it.

Ji Youyou, who was knocking, was startled by his bare face still heavy with sleep and a tuft of messy hair sticking up.

Startled, but also pleasantly surprised.

Nobody expected that at this moment, more than two hundred thousand people were already online in Dream Pastoral’s livestream room on Fruit App.

And this was at six in the morning!

That showed how interested fans were in the livestream.

Seeing Mu Xing, the barrage lit up with laughter:

【Good lord, five guests in a row, and only this one looks like he actually just woke up.】

【Isn’t this exactly what I look like when someone drags me out of bed?】

【You in the front, look in a mirror. Do you really look like this?】

【Wow, this bare face looks amazing. He doesn’t even look different from yesterday.】

【Why do I think Mu Xing is kind of cute?】

【All the other guests were already dressed and ready early. Only he’s dawdling, wasting everyone’s time.】

Ji Youyou was also startled by how straightforward he was.

Everyone knew wake-up was at six, and because of the livestream, there was even a special wake-up segment.

But the other guests all knew it was livestreaming, so they had obviously gotten up ahead of time. By the time Ji Youyou knocked, they were neat and polished, dazzling the viewers in the barrage.

Mu Xing was the first one so blunt about it.

But…

Ji Youyou looked again at his messy tuft of hair, and his face whose looks weren’t diminished in the least by the bedhead or sleepy expression. She couldn’t help thinking: if I had this kind of bare face, I wouldn’t care either.

Mu Xing greeted her. Ji Youyou asked if she could come in.

Mu Xing’s expression seemed reluctant, but he still nodded. “Come in.”

He turned and went into the bathroom to wash up.

【Hahaha his mouth says he’s fine with it, but his face doesn’t.】

【He’s not even pretending, huh?】

【I tuned in for Chenchen, but so far the biggest highlight is Mu Xing.】【Maybe because he’s still a nobody, he doesn’t quite act like a star yet.】

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

At this point in the show, aside from Mu Xing, the other five guests were all quietly scrolling on their phones in their rooms.

Although the guests’ rooms had cameras, those were considered private areas. The guests could choose to switch them on or off themselves.

Tonight the program hadn’t officially started recording yet, so everyone preferred to relax and rest properly before facing the cameras tomorrow.

They had naturally seen the teaser clip released by the production team.

That’s how variety shows worked: the very same event could be edited to show whatever effect the director wanted. The artists were just tools.

Of course, once someone reached a certain level, like Qin Song, the production crew wouldn’t dare to easily offend them.

Among this round of guests, Mu Xing was the one with the smallest reputation, the fewest fans, yet carrying both hype and controversy. Naturally, he became the perfect target in the producers’ eyes.

You could call it bad luck, or just blame it on him being too obscure.

Fu Chen cursed in his heart and texted his agent: Don’t ever book me on this station’s shows again, disgusting.

Agent: ??? What now with this ancestor?

Jiang Shengyu took one look at Weibo, felt rather cheerful, and headed into the bathroom.

Mu Xing, however, was completely unaware of what was happening online.

He was in the middle of handling his dinner.

The guests had to cook for themselves, and of course the cameraman followed.

Watching Mu Xing skillfully slice beef into thin pieces, the cameraman asked curiously, “Teacher Mu, do you often cook at home?”

Mu Xing set the ingredients aside, heated oil in the pan, and casually answered, “Not very often, just occasionally when I feel like it, I’ll make something myself.”

Fu Chen was lured over by the spicy yet irresistibly delicious aroma.

He had originally intended to ask the staff for some milk, but as soon as he reached the living room he was hit by the strong fragrance. His mouth instantly watered.

He asked in surprise, “Someone’s cooking?”

A crew guide staying on the first floor told him that Mu Xing was making dinner.

Just as the words left his mouth, Mu Xing came out of the kitchen holding a bowl.

The fragrance drifted right up to Fu Chen’s nose, and he couldn’t stop himself from sneezing.

He hadn’t eaten much dinner.

Even though he was considered willful compared to other celebrities, when it came to food he still exercised strict self-control. After all, actors lived and died by how they looked on camera. A little extra weight would be magnified a thousandfold under the lens.

It was a bowl of noodles that looked, smelled, and tasted wonderful—so good-looking that even the cameraman couldn’t resist zooming in for several close-ups.

Since his appetite hadn’t been great, Mu Xing had added pickled chili when stir-frying the beef topping, making it sour and spicy, stimulating the taste buds.

The tender beef was laid over bright green vegetables, topped with a perfectly fried egg, and finished with a sprinkle of chopped scallion…

Fu Chen swallowed involuntarily. “It’s so late, and you’re eating something this heavy?”

Mu Xing sat down and nodded. “You’re right, it’s not really ideal to eat something so strong-flavored at this hour. But indulging once in a while isn’t a big deal.”

Fu Chen sneaked another glance, then huffed, “Eat like this and you’ll get fat.”

Mu Xing: ?

He gave Fu Chen a strange look, then glanced at himself, and said, “I think I’m fine.”

He had lived through so many lifetimes in so many bodies, but he had never gotten fat.

Fu Chen immediately added, “Eat this spicy and you’ll get pimples!”

Mu Xing: …

He set his chopsticks down and looked at Fu Chen.

Every sentence out of this guy’s mouth was unpleasant, yet Mu Xing didn’t feel any real malice behind it.

Seeing Fu Chen’s eyes constantly darting toward his noodles, Mu Xing suddenly realized, “Do you want some too?”

Fu Chen, trying to maintain composure, thought to himself: If he offers me a portion, how should I refuse? A proper idol shouldn’t be seduced by food this late at night… but if he insists on sharing a small bowl, I guess I could give him some face…

“Unfortunately, I only made one serving.” Mu Xing’s regretful tone pulled him back from his thoughts.

He looked down just in time to see Mu Xing happily slurp up a mouthful of noodles.

Mu Xing tasted a bite, eyes narrowing in satisfaction. “It’s really quite good.”

Fu Chen: …

Fuming, he went to get a bottle of milk from the staff and then stormed upstairs.

—

The Mu household.

Mu Lin returned home after working late, just in time to hear her father’s furious roar.

She immediately knew why.

Because her younger brother was on a variety show, the usually entertainment-averse Miss Mu had, for the first time, followed the program “Dream Pastoral.”

On her way home, she had seen the first teaser.

Even if she wasn’t in the industry, after years of navigating the business world, what methods hadn’t she seen?

Her brother was being treated like an easy target.

Originally she hadn’t planned to come back to the old family estate, but she turned her car around, and sure enough, found Mu Jiangtao in a rage.

When he saw his daughter, Mu Jiangtao said in a deep voice, “Did you see that promo online? Anyone with eyes can tell it’s fishy, but those fans are all cursing my son instead. I’m calling Mu Xing right now—we’re pulling him out.”

Mu Lin poured him a cup of tea. “It hasn’t come to that, Dad. If Mu Xing didn’t want to do it, he would’ve refused from the start. The fact that he agreed shows he’s interested. Don’t go issuing random orders again.”

That was just his temper. Original translation at HololoNovels dot com. If not for that bad temper, their mother wouldn’t have left all those years ago, taking her one-year-old brother with her.

Mu Jiangtao’s face was full of displeasure.

Mu Lin sighed. “Dad, he’s already twenty-one. Do you really think if Mu Xing didn’t want to record, anyone could actually force him?”

“Of course,” Mu Lin continued, “we can’t just stand by and watch our own family being bullied like this either.”

She searched up the variety show, saw the list of sponsors—before she could say anything, her phone rang.

It was her boyfriend, Huo Jing. “Mu Lin, your brother went to join a variety show? What’s going on?”

Mu Lin said, “I was just about to contact you. That production team went too far, my father’s furious.”

Huo Jing raised his brows. “Uncle Mu isn’t angry with him anymore?”

Mu Lin said lightly, “Even if he is, he’s still family. Besides, Xingxing is doing just fine right now.”

Huo Jing immediately understood what she meant.

He laughed. “Turns out one of my family’s brands sponsors this show. I’ll help you settle it.”

Mu Lin inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Huo Jing chuckled. “With our relationship, no need to be so polite.”

Mu Lin still gave thanks before the two politely ended the call.

Mu Jiangtao asked, “Was that Huo Jing calling?”

Mu Lin nodded. “This show happens to have one of his family’s brands as a sponsor.”

Mu Jiangtao looked at his outstanding eldest daughter, hesitated, then finally spoke. “You and Huo Jing…”

Mu Lin had always been sensible and excellent, never a cause for worry.

If Mu Xing had driven him half mad over relationship issues, then Mu Lin was the complete opposite.

The Huo and Mu families were well-matched. Among the younger generation, Huo Jing stood out, and anyone who looked at the two of them would say they were a perfect match.

The problem was, it almost felt too perfect.

To Mu Jiangtao, whenever he saw them together, they didn’t look like young lovers so much as business partners.

Mu Lin smiled. “We’re doing well, you don’t need to worry.”

Mu Jiangtao said, “If you don’t like him, our family doesn’t need some business marriage.”

Mu Lin gave him a strange look, then shook her head. “Huo Jing has a good family, good looks, ability, responsibility, good character. When we marry, our families can support each other in business, and our children will certainly be outstanding. I can’t find any faults.”

Mu Jiangtao said, “But do you like him?”

Mu Lin replied calmly, “What I care most about is my career. I like standing high where all eyes are on me, enjoying the thrill of successful investments. Love is only a decoration in life—finding one excellent and suitable person for life is enough.”

Mu Jiangtao was left speechless.

*

Not even half an hour later, the director received a call from his boss.

The boss said not to maliciously exploit Mu Xing anymore and to immediately fix the problem.

The director froze, confused. “But in this episode, Mu Xing’s conflicts and topics have the most heat. And he’s not even popular right now, so there’s no need to worry about fans fighting back.”

The boss sneered. “Yes, no fans will defend him. But the show’s biggest sponsor is about to pull out!”

The director was stunned.

Sponsors were like gods—what did fan circles matter compared to them?

He asked cautiously, “What’s going on? Does Mu Xing have someone powerful backing him?”

He didn’t want to let it go. This episode hadn’t even started and he already knew it would be the show’s hottest, most classic one.

A worker only cared about KPIs, not conscience.

The boss had only just learned of Mu Xing’s identity himself.

He lowered his voice. “Our biggest investor—the young heir of the parent company—is his brother-in-law. Think about his surname.”

The director was shocked.

He muttered in disbelief, “Then why is he here at all? Didn’t he and Qin Song get married? I’ve never heard a word of this.”

The boss sighed. “Who knows. Maybe the little prince just wanted to come down and experience normal life.”

“In any case, I’ve said what needs saying. You must find a way to fix this immediately. If the sponsor pulls out, then you should be prepared to step down too.” The boss’s tone was merciless.

The director hung up with a bitter face.

He stared at his phone in a daze for several minutes, then searched up the Huo family and then the Mu family.

When he closed the page, a push notification from an app popped up:

#‘Dream Pastoral’ mysterious diva guest revealed to be him?!#

The director jolted, immediately called the cameraman and editor.

The team, who had all been ready to rest, were dragged back into the studio to re-edit.

“Do we have any new footage?”

The team was baffled. “Director, weren’t we saving the second teaser for tomorrow night? We don’t have anything bright for tonight.”

The cameraman said, “After dinner everyone went back to rest, only Mu Xing cooked a bowl of noodles.”

The director’s eyes lit up. “Show me!”

Twenty minutes later, a brand-new teaser from ‘Dream Pastoral’ was officially released.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣