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Recently, Lu Jiu and Lu Wen had been following Jiang Ji everywhere. Whether he went to the estate or strolled through the capital, having them with him put Lu Huaizhou more at ease.

That day, after breakfast, the two went to wait for Jiang Ji, only to be told by Xiao Liu that he had already gone out.

“Gone out?” Lu Jiu was startled. “Went to the estate? That can’t be right, he’d take us with him if he did.”

Xiao Liu shook his head. “The Duke didn’t say.”

Lu Wen frowned. “Did he go alone?”

“He took Old Zhou and Old Wang,” Xiao Liu replied. Then he looked at the two of them, puzzled. “Why didn’t you go with the Duke?”

Old Zhou and Old Wang were guards Jiang Ji had brought from his own household.

“We didn’t know. He usually leaves around this time. He even said yesterday he’d go to the estate,” Lu Jiu said, brows tightly knit. “How long have they been gone?”

“About a quarter of an hour.” Hearing their concern, Xiao Liu grew anxious as well. “The Duke isn’t familiar with the capital, and neither are Old Zhou and Old Wang. How can they go out without someone who knows the city? Where could they have gone?”

“Don’t panic,” Lu Wen said quickly. “Maybe he just went out shopping. Xiao Liu, go find Uncle Zhong and have him send people to search. Lu Jiu and I will look first.”

“Alright.” Xiao Liu hurried off.

Lu Jiu and Lu Wen left the residence and asked the gatekeeper, “Did the Duke say where he was going? Which direction did he head?”

“He didn’t say. He went that way.” The gatekeeper pointed down the street ahead.

“Did he take a carriage?”

“No, he went on foot.”

Lu Wen analyzed, “No carriage means he probably didn’t leave the city. So not the estate.”

Recently, Jiang Ji had been busy arranging the planting for the lands of both the Regent’s Residence and the Lu Residence. Lu Huaizhou’s lands were to the east of the city, while the Lu family’s lands were to the west. If Jiang Ji were going there, he would have needed a horse or carriage.

Lu Jiu said, “Maybe he went to buy something. The Duke’s residence has just been renovated, maybe he needs to add furnishings?”

“That makes sense. I’ll check the Duke’s residence. You head east. I’ll search west afterward.”

“Alright.”

At the crossroads, the two split up, one heading west, the other east.

Lu Wen went to the Duke’s residence, which was currently only guarded by a gatekeeper sent from the Regent’s Residence.

“The Duke hasn’t come here,” the gatekeeper said.

Lu Wen continued searching west.

The two searched the streets but found nothing. They regrouped at a crossroads, then split again, one heading north and the other south.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ji, accompanied by Old Zhou and Old Wang, stood at the entrance of the capital’s official matchmaking office.

He had brought silver with him today, planning to hire a matchmaker first and then purchase the betrothal gifts.

He wanted to surprise Lu Huaizhou with the proposal, so arranging the matchmaker had to remain secret. That was why he hadn’t told Lu Jiu or Lu Wen, bringing only Old Zhou and Old Wang.

This official matchmaking office was part of the local government, essentially a state-run marriage bureau. It not only arranged matches for eligible young men and women but also registered children’s birth details. When those children reached marriageable age, the assigned matchmaker would visit and arrange their marriage.

Just then, a matchmaker auntie came out. Seeing the three of them, she greeted them warmly. “Young masters, are you here to hire a matchmaker or to register a child?”

“To hire a matchmaker,” Jiang Ji replied.

“Then come with me, I’ll take you inside,” she said, leading the way. “Different districts have different official matchmakers. Which street do you live on?”

“Zhuque Street, Duke Chang Residence.”

The matchmaker suddenly stopped and turned to look at him, eyes lighting up. “You’re from Duke Chang’s residence? Are you here to hire a matchmaker for Duke Chang?”

News of the Duke and the Regent’s impending marriage had been spreading all over the capital. Of course, official matchmakers had heard of it.

Old Zhou smiled. “Yes. This is Duke Chang himself.”

The matchmaker’s eyes widened in shock. “You… you are Duke Chang?”

Jiang Ji nodded with a smile. “Yes.”

She quickly bowed. “Greetings, Duke Chang. I failed to recognize you. Please forgive my lack of proper welcome.”

Jiang Ji gestured lightly for her to rise. “No need for such formality. I’m here to ask for your help.”

She looked him over. Though his complexion was slightly tanned, he was strikingly handsome, with a warm and approachable smile.

She led them into the main hall, poured tea, and said, “Duke Chang, may I ask if you’re hiring a matchmaker to propose to the Regent?”

Jiang Ji took a sip of tea and nodded. “Exactly.”

The matchmaker’s expression turned slightly odd, then she smiled. “Then you and the Regent truly think alike.”

“Hm?” Jiang Ji set down his cup. “What do you mean?”

“Both Duke Chang’s residence and the Regent’s residence are on Zhuque Street. The matchmaker in charge of that area is Sister Wu. She went to the Lu Residence early this morning. Someone from the Lu family invited her.”

Jiang Ji froze for a moment. “The Lu Residence also hired a matchmaker?”

“Yes, that’s why I said you and the Regent had the same idea,” she said with a smile.

Jiang Ji: “…”

If the Lu Residence hired a matchmaker, it must be for Lu Huaizhou’s marriage proposal. He blinked, realizing the situation had just become complicated.

They were both men. According to Great Sheng’s customs, the question of who proposes to whom was already a problem.

But now that the matchmaker for their district had already left, it wasn’t appropriate for him to chase her down at the Lu Residence.

After thinking for a moment, Jiang Ji asked, “Auntie, are you free now? My mother hasn’t arrived in the capital yet. Could you explain the customs here regarding proposals and betrothal gifts? What should be prepared?”

The matchmaker nodded with a smile. “Of course. The customs here in the capital are like this, let me explain…”

Jiang Ji took out a notebook and pen. Sitting across from her, he wrote as she spoke, asking questions whenever he didn’t understand, filling several pages.

“…Those are the required betrothal gifts. Beyond that, Duke Chang can add more as he sees fit. Gold and silver items, jewelry, fabrics and furs, fine furniture, all are appropriate,” she said.

“Thank you, Auntie.” Jiang Ji noted everything down, then added, “If the matchmaker in charge of our area returns, please send someone to inform me.”

“Of course. I’ll notify you immediately.”

Jiang Ji gave her some payment and was just stepping out when she spotted a woman entering.

“Duke Chang, she’s back, she’s back!”

She quickly called out, “Sister Wu, come here quickly, Duke Chang is looking for you!”

The matchmaker surnamed Wu appeared slightly older. Hearing that Duke Chang was looking for her, she immediately walked over, assuming at first that Jiang Ji was merely a servant sent on his behalf.

“This young master, did Duke Chang send you to find me for a proposal?” the matchmaker asked.

The other matchmaker quickly tugged her sleeve and reminded her, “This is Duke Chang himself.”

Matchmaker Wu looked at Jiang Ji in shock, then hurriedly bowed. “Greetings, Duke Chang.”

Jiang Ji smiled. “No need for formalities. I heard you just went to the Lu Residence. Was it Madam Lu who called for you?”

“Yes, it was indeed regarding your marriage with the Regent,” Matchmaker Wu said with a smile. “Duke Chang, please come inside.”

Jiang Ji still had questions for her, so they returned to sit down. The earlier matchmaker excused herself and went off to attend to her work.

Jiang Ji asked curiously, “Auntie, what did Madam Lu say?”

“Ah, well…” Matchmaker Wu hesitated. Such matters weren’t usually discussed casually with others.

Jiang Ji said, “Please feel free to speak. I’m not familiar with the marriage customs in the capital, so I wanted to see how the Lu family is preparing, so I can use it as a reference.”

Matchmaker Wu looked at him. Considering he had only recently come to the capital, it was reasonable he might not know the local customs. She asked, “May I ask, Duke Chang, why you sought me out?”

“I want to ask you to go to the Lu Residence and propose marriage on my behalf,” Jiang Ji said directly.

Matchmaker Wu paused, surprised. “Duke Chang, you also want me to propose?”

Jiang Ji blinked. So Madam Lu really was preparing for a proposal. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh my, what a coincidence,” she exclaimed, slapping her thigh lightly. “Madam Lu said your mother would be arriving soon. After the housewarming banquet at the Duke’s residence, she plans to formally come to propose. She asked me to reserve a date and we discussed the arrangements.”

That timing was almost exactly the same as Jiang Ji’s own plan.

Jiang Ji felt a bit conflicted. He had originally intended to go directly to the Lu Residence to propose, but now that he knew Madam Lu was preparing as well, it felt… awkward.

Madam Lu must have acted on Lu Huaizhou’s wishes. Only now did Jiang Ji realize that Lu Huaizhou might have had the exact same idea as him.

They both wanted to propose to each other.

If it turned into “you propose to me, I propose to you,” and outsiders found out, it would likely become a joke.

And given their statuses, they couldn’t just act carelessly.

“Auntie, since the Regent and I are both men, in our situation, how would it be most appropriate to handle the proposal?” Jiang Ji thought for a moment, then asked, “Is it possible to propose to each other?”

Matchmaker Wu considered carefully. She understood what he meant. Between two men, traditionally, the one who proposes would be seen as taking the dominant role in the household, equivalent to the “husband.”

But seeing that both Madam Lu and Jiang Ji had come to her, it was clear neither side had reached an agreement on that point.

After a moment, she said, “Duke Chang, have you discussed this with the Regent?”

Jiang Ji sighed. “I originally wanted to give him a surprise.”

Matchmaker Wu: “…”

As expected of someone experienced, she thought it through and said, “You are both of high status, one the Regent, the other a duke. It wouldn’t be appropriate for either side to appear subordinate. Why not skip the formal proposal altogether, or choose the same day for both families to meet? Your elders can exchange betrothal gifts, which would count as a mutual proposal, and then discuss the rest of the marriage arrangements together. How does that sound?”

That was exactly what Jiang Ji had been thinking. “Then the betrothal gifts would also be mutual?”

“Yes, that would work as well.”

Jiang Ji nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Auntie. I’ll go back and discuss this with the Regent.”

“Very well. Once you’ve agreed and set a date, just send someone to inform me. I’ll make the arrangements,” she said.

“Alright, I’ll trouble you then.”

After leaving the matchmaking office, Jiang Ji immediately began shopping.

He needed to prepare betrothal gifts.

The Duke’s residence was still largely empty. Aside from the items bestowed by the Emperor, which couldn’t be casually given away, everything for the betrothal had to be prepared by him.

He first sent Old Zhou back to fetch a carriage, then looked over the list the matchmaker had given him. It required twelve items each of gold, silver, and jade. He went straight to the best jewelry shop in the capital and bought the finest pieces. Anything that wasn’t exquisite enough, he didn’t even consider.

Passing by a tea shop, he selected several packages of the finest tea. At a silk shop, he picked out a few bolts of fabric. The most luxurious brocades had already been reserved by wealthy families, so those weren’t available and would have to be obtained through the system instead.

He continued shopping until, outside another jewelry store, he ran into Lu Jiu, who had been searching for him.

Lu Jiu rushed over when he saw him, then glanced at the carriage behind him. “Duke Chang, we’ve been looking for you for ages. Didn’t you leave without a carriage?”

“Oh, Old Zhou went back to fetch it,” Jiang Ji replied.

“Are you heading out of the city now?” Lu Jiu glanced at the sky. “It’s almost noon.”

“No, I’m buying betrothal gifts.” Jiang Ji looked at him, holding up his little notebook with a grin. “Good timing. I still need a lot. Come help me.”

“Be—betrothal gifts?” Lu Jiu stammered, completely stunned.

“Of course. Your Prince has such a grand household. I have to prepare properly too.”

Lu Jiu: “…”

“Come on, take me to pick out more gold and jade pieces. There’s still a big gap.”

Lu Jiu: “…You’re talking about them like they’re cheap goods.”

Jiang Ji patted his shoulder. “You get the idea. Let’s go.”

Helpless, Lu Jiu led him to the most renowned shops in the capital. Only then did he truly understand what “sweeping the stores” meant.

After returning to the residence for lunch, Jiang Ji went back out in the afternoon with Lu Jiu and the others, continuing to shop for betrothal gifts, practically combing through the entire capital.

By evening, Lu Jiu deliberately waited at the entrance of the Regent’s Residence. When Lu Huaizhou returned, he asked with a complicated expression, “Your Highness… have you prepared your betrothal gifts?”

“Hm? Why do you ask?” Lu Huaizhou replied, puzzled.

Lu Jiu answered, “Duke Chang bought the finest gold, silver, jade, silk, and tea in the city today. He also purchased a premium set of red sandalwood desk and chairs, and even had people exchange for a thousand taels of gold ingots… and ten thousand taels of silver ingots.”

Lu Huaizhou: “…”

Lu Jiu looked at his prince and said anxiously, “Your Highness, you need to start preparing quickly. Otherwise all the good items will be bought up by the Duke.”

Lu Huaizhou nodded. “Understood.”

His betrothal gifts were already being prepared by Uncle Zhong. His treasury was well-stocked, so there was no need to purchase additional items.

Returning to the courtyard, Lu Huaizhou saw Jiang Ji seated at the table, writing and sketching in his little notebook.

Hearing him, Jiang Ji looked up, his eyes lighting up, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re back.”

He raised his voice, “Xiao Liu, bring the meal.”

“Right away,” Xiao Liu replied and went off to arrange it.

Lu Huaizhou washed his hands, then walked over. “What are you writing?”

Jiang Ji snapped the notebook shut and refused to show him. “Secret.”

Lu Huaizhou: “…”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. He sat beside him, took a sip of tea, and asked, “Didn’t go to the estate today?”

“Mm, I had something to do.” Jiang Ji put his notebook away. “I went to the matchmaking office today. I was planning to hire a matchmaker, but only then did I find out you had Mother arrange one too?”

Lu Huaizhou nodded. “Yes.”

“I knew it was your idea.” Jiang Ji took a sip of tea, then continued, “But I thought about it. With our status, it doesn’t really work for one to propose to the other. So I discussed it with the matchmaker. What do you think about choosing a date and proposing together? The matchmaker said our elders can meet, exchange gifts, and consider that the formal step.”

Lu Huaizhou thought briefly and understood. He nodded. “That works.”

“And for the formal betrothal ceremony, we do the same?” Jiang Ji asked.

“Alright. We’ll follow your lead.”

Jiang Ji looked a bit worried. “I wonder if Father and Mother will agree.”

“After dinner, we can go ask them together,” Lu Huaizhou said.

“Okay.” Jiang Ji looked at him and sighed. “I originally wanted to surprise you. Who knew you’d act even faster than me.”

Lu Huaizhou smiled faintly and leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

Jiang Ji blinked, then wrapped an arm around the back of his head and kissed him back.

After dinner, the two went together to the Lu Residence and explained their plan for the proposal and betrothal.

A marriage between two men was unprecedented in the capital. There were no customs to follow, so everything had to be figured out step by step.

Minister Lu and Madam Lu thought it over. Minister Lu agreed and asked, “After the marriage, will you live at the Regent’s residence or the Duke’s residence?”

Lu Huaizhou replied, “At the Regent’s residence. Aunt and the younger siblings will live there as well. The security there is tighter, so it’s safer for them.”

Minister Lu looked at Jiang Ji.

Jiang Ji nodded. “Yes, we’ll stay at the Regent’s residence. That way we won’t need to hire so many servants for the Duke’s residence, just arrange for regular upkeep. When Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei grow up and marry, they can move back and live there.”

Madam Lu smiled. “That sounds good. The Honored Lady has just arrived in the capital and isn’t familiar with things here. The younger ones are still small, so living together will make it easier to look after them.”

“Exactly, that’s what we were thinking,” Jiang Ji said with a smile.

With that settled, they only needed to wait for Zhao Ru to arrive in the capital to fix a date, and then the two families could proceed.

Jiang Ji hurried to arrange all the lands belonging to both residences. Then he found time to exchange the remaining gold, silver, and jade betrothal items through the system, preparing everything in advance. As for fruits, pastries, and gift boxes, those would have to be prepared the day before.

Looking at the betrothal gifts piled in storage, Jiang Ji nodded in satisfaction. Now he just needed to wait for his mother.

…

A few days later, near noon, at the Ten-Li Pavilion south of the capital, a convoy of carriages slowly approached along the southern road.

Jiang Ji immediately stood and looked into the distance. “I wonder if it’s them this time?”

Lu Jiu had sharp eyes. He spotted He Ling riding at the front right away.

“Your Highness, Duke Chang, it’s He Ling. The Honored Lady and the others have arrived!”

Hearing this, Jiang Ji ran straight onto the road, waving eagerly toward the distance.

Lu Huaizhou also stood and walked to the roadside to wait.

On the other side, He Ling saw them as well. He rode up beside the second carriage and said, “Honored Lady, His Highness and Duke Chang are waiting ahead to receive us.”

Inside the carriage, Zhao Ru and the others had been traveling for over ten days and were all exhausted. Even Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, who had been excited on the first day, had grown listless, now half-asleep.

Hearing He Ling’s voice, Zhao Ru immediately opened her eyes. “Xiao Ji and Jiang Yan are here?”

“Yes, just ahead.”

Zhao Ru quickly woke the children. “Xia’er, Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei, wake up. Your brother and Jiang Yan are here to meet us.”

Xia’er lifted the curtain and peeked out. “Ah! It’s really Brother! Brother—!”

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei rubbed their eyes and leaned out the window. Seeing the figures in the distance, their energy instantly returned.

“Brother! Brother Jiang Yan—!”

“Big Brother—Brother Jiang Yan—!”

They shouted at the top of their lungs, their little faces flushed with excitement.

Jiang Ji ran forward, seeing his mother, Xia’er, and Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei leaning out.

“Mother—!”

He leapt onto the carriage, lifted the curtain, and saw his family after so long.

“Mother, Xia’er, Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei.”

“Xiao Ji.” Zhao Ru saw her son and finally let out a breath of relief.

“Brother!”

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei grinned and threw themselves at him. Jiang Nan exclaimed, “Brother, we finally get to see you! Are we almost at the capital?”

“Yes, just ten more li.” Jiang Ji ruffled their hair and patted their backs, smiling. “The journey must’ve worn you out, huh?”

Jiang Nan nodded, his face scrunched. “Yeah… I didn’t expect the capital to be so far. It’s been over ten days. So boring.”

Zhao Ru laughed. “At least they didn’t cry or fuss, or it would’ve been exhausting.”

Jiang Bei protested, “We’ve grown up already. Why would we cry? Mother, you’re underestimating us.”

“Exactly, only babies cry and fuss,” Jiang Nan added, nodding, then turned to Jiang Ji. “Brother, we behaved really well.”

Jiang Xia smiled and teased, “Oh really? Then who was whining on the road, refusing to eat this and that?”

Jiang Nan: “…”

Jiang Ji raised a brow. “Oh? Jiang Nan has things he doesn’t like to eat?”

Jiang Nan hesitated, then said, “That was because I didn’t feel well! I had no appetite!”

Zhao Ru explained with a smile, “The journey was tiring. He wasn’t quite used to it.”

Jiang Ji rubbed Jiang Nan’s head and asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I don’t know, just uncomfortable. My head feels dizzy,” Jiang Nan said.

Zhao Ru added, “It’s nothing serious. We had a doctor look at him. He said it’s just adjusting to the change in environment. He’s already much better these past couple of days.”

Jiang Ji reassured him, “When we get back, I’ll cook something good for you. Want that?”

At the thought of his brother’s cooking, Jiang Nan immediately perked up. “Yes!”

The carriage came to a stop, and Lu Huaizhou stepped in. “Aunt, Xia’er, Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei.”

“Brother Jiang Yan!” the three children called out together.

“Mm.” Lu Huaizhou looked them over one by one. “After more than ten days of travel, are you all alright?”

Zhao Ru smiled. “We’re fine, don’t worry.”

With the family reunited, the carriage filled with chatter. Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei excitedly talked about their journey and asked Jiang Ji about life in the capital. Laughter filled the space.

There were four carriages in total. Jiang Ji asked, “Why are there four?”

Zhao Ru explained, “One for Eunuch Wu, one from the Bureau of Weaving, and for the last one, I brought Han Qingshan and Yu Yang along. Didn’t you say the Duke’s residence would be having a housewarming? There will definitely be a banquet. I thought bringing them would make things easier.”

Jiang Ji brightened. “That’s perfect. You really thought this through, Mother. I had planned to bring them after the new year when we moved the whole household, but this works even better. Now the officials in the capital can taste our cooking.”

Zhao Ru nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”

She looked at Jiang Ji and Jiang Yan. “How are things between you two?”

Jiang Ji smiled. “Uncle and Aunt have already agreed. We’re just waiting for you to arrive so we can proceed with the proposal.”

Hearing that, Zhao Ru’s last bit of worry eased. “That’s good.”

Jiang Xia blinked and smiled brightly at them. “Congratulations, Brother. Congratulations, Brother Jiang Yan.”

Lu Huaizhou’s lips curved upward as he nodded.

Jiang Bei asked curiously, “Second Sister, what are you congratulating them for? And what was that about proposing just now? Is Brother getting married?”

Jiang Ji grinned. “Yep, I’m getting married.”

Jiang Nan’s eyes widened. “But Brother, didn’t you say you wouldn’t get married for a couple of years?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Jiang Ji replied without hesitation.

Jiang Bei was startled. “Brother, you change your mind a lot.”

Jiang Ji lifted his chin. “Plans can’t keep up with changes. Things like this depend on fate, you know?”

Jiang Bei nodded vaguely. “Oh.” He didn’t fully understand, but if his brother said it, it must be right.

After a while, Lu Jiu called from outside the carriage, “Your Highness, Duke Chang, we’ve reached the city gates.”

Jiang Nan leaned out the window, took a look, and shouted excitedly, “Wow, we’ve arrived at the capital!”

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

A Duke has emerged from Changping County, something never seen before in the entire county or even the whole of Yunzhou. Both the Changping County yamen and the Yunzhou prefectural office issued proclamations of the joyous news, and before long, every commoner across the county and prefecture knew of it.

The next day, Jiang Ji’s household laid out a grand banquet, inviting the entire village as well as the local gentry of the county. Zhao Ru also invited Eunuch Wen and Prefect Xu.

Jiang Ji Dining Hall closed for the day, and everyone from the restaurant returned to the village to help.

Their employer had suddenly become a duke, and everyone at the restaurant was brimming with excitement.

At dawn, Han Qingshan and the others hauled all kinds of ingredients back to the village.

As soon as they arrived, Han Qingshan led Yu Yang and Xiang’er forward, kneeling before Zhao Ru and kowtowing three times.

Before Jiang Ji and the others had departed earlier, Lu Huaizhou had sent Lu Wen with men to Huawen County to gather evidence of the crimes committed by Han Qingshan’s former master and that young master.

A few days ago, Han Qingshan and Yu Yang had been brought to Huawen County as plaintiffs, only returning yesterday. They also brought back the remains of Xiang’er’s elder sister, burying her outside the city.

The trial concluded the day before yesterday. That family had finally paid the price for their actions. The young master who had abused Han Qingshan’s eldest daughter to death had not only harmed her, but had previously tortured another girl to death and abducted innocent women. This chapter is translated by Hololonovels.com. His crimes were numerous, and all were uncovered this time. He was sentenced to execution, pending final review and approval by the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review.

Several other suffering families, like Han Qingshan’s, finally received justice.

“Madam,” Han Qingshan said, kneeling on the ground with his forehead pressed to it, his eyes red, “this old servant thanks Madam and the young master for avenging my daughter. I am willing to serve like an ox or horse, and would not refuse even death.”

“Get up quickly.” Zhao Ru already knew of the matter. She hurriedly helped them up, stroking Xiang’er’s head as she said to Han Qingshan, “The great wrong has been avenged. From now on, just live well.”

“Yes. Ah, and I have yet to congratulate Madam.” Having just risen, Han Qingshan wiped his tears, then smiled and knelt again. “Congratulations, Madam, on being conferred First-Rank Honored Lady. Congratulations, Young Master, on becoming Duke Chang!”

Zhao Ru was both laughing and on the verge of tears from their earnestness. Smiling, she took red envelopes from the side and handed them out. “Thank you. Let us all rejoice together.”

The others from the restaurant stood nearby. They all knew what had happened to Han Qingshan’s family and could not help but feel deeply moved.

Looking at them, Zhao Ru asked, “By the way, where is Lu Wen?”

“Brother Lu Wen returned to the capital after settling matters on our side,” Han Qingshan replied.

“I see.”

After receiving everyone’s congratulations and distributing rewards, Zhao Ru smiled and said, “There will be many guests today. I’ll have to trouble you all.”

Manager Lü laughed. “Madam, rest assured. This is exactly what we are best at. With us here, you may leave the kitchen and the reception of guests to us without worry.”

“Good, good. Thanks to all of you.”

Han Qingshan and the others led people to begin work. With him overseeing the kitchen, the manager and Xiao Shan arranged the tables and chairs in front, setting out fruits and pastries, ready to receive guests one by one.

Zhao Ru watched them, then glanced at Lu Shun, feeling deeply relieved to have them. Otherwise, she would have been completely at a loss.

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei had taken leave for the day, as they were to go to the capital soon, and both were extremely excited.

They did not know how powerful a duke truly was and had even gone to ask Lu Shun to understand.

Today, the two wore long robes they rarely put on, and Jiang Xia also wore a ruqun she seldom wore. Before the guests arrived, they followed Lu Shun in learning etiquette, with Zhao Ru joining them as well.

Before long, guests began to arrive in succession, and they stopped.

Aside from the villagers, Prefect Xu, Lord Chen, the newly appointed county magistrate and assistant magistrate, the four great families of Changping County the Sun, Zhang, Lin, and Tian households as well as many gentry who came upon hearing the news all arrived one after another.

The three-courtyard residence of Jiang Ji’s family was filled with guests.

When the guests arrived, they brought gifts and firecrackers. The crackling sounds at the entrance rang out continuously, while inside, laughter and cheerful voices never ceased.

Master Lin and Master Zhang sat at a table drinking tea. Master Lin had visited Jiang Ji’s home several times before. Smiling as he looked upon the lively scene, he sighed, “Not even a year, and Brother Jiang Ji has become a duke.”

Master Sun also laughed. “Indeed, who would have thought?”

The Lin and Sun families had little conflict with Jiang Ji’s business and had instead benefited.

As for the Tian family, their restaurant business had already been affected by Jiang Ji, and the Zhang family would soon feel the impact as well, with no way to counter it. The two heads of household could barely force smiles.

They could only exchange bitter smiles.

Master Lin looked at them, especially at the strained smile on Master Zhang’s face, and felt particularly pleased.

Among the four families, Master Lin had previously lent estates to Jiang Ji twice and was thus more familiar with his household.

“I just heard something while I went to the latrine,” Master Lin said mysteriously. “Do you know what it was?”

Master Sun asked curiously, “What?”

“I heard the villagers say that Jiang Yan is actually the Regent,” Master Lin said in a low voice.

The others were shocked. Master Tian set down his teacup. “Uncle Lin, is this true?”

“It’s true. I heard it with my own ears.” Master Lin lifted his chin. “If you don’t believe me, go ask.”

Just then, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei ran over. Master Lin called out, “Young Master Jiang Nan.”

Now that Jiang Ji had been made a duke, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei’s status rose with him, and even Master Lin and the others addressed them as young masters.

Jiang Nan looked at Master Lin. “Uncle Lin, what is it?”

Master Lin asked, “I heard people outside saying Jiang Yan is the Regent. Is that true?”

Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei, and Jiang Xia had only learned yesterday that their Brother Jiang Yan had such an astonishing identity.

Jiang Nan nodded. “Yes, they say he’s a prince.”

Jiang Bei corrected him, “He’s the Regent, not just an ordinary prince.”

Jiang Nan nodded again. “Oh, I know. But that’s still a prince, isn’t it? I didn’t say anything wrong.”

Jiang Bei: “….”

Once the news was confirmed, Master Lin and the others were left speechless.

No one had expected that the person Jiang Ji casually saved would turn out to be the Regent. Even in storybooks, no one would dare write something like this.

Master Zhang and Master Tian lost all thoughts of resistance.

A single duke was already enough to crush them completely, let alone adding a Regent on top of that.

Looking at Master Zhang’s bitter expression, Master Lin felt a surge of satisfaction.

He himself had not expected that his years-long feud with the Zhang family would be struck at through Jiang Ji.

Jiang Ji’s household remained lively for the entire day. That very night, Zhao Ru and the others packed their belongings, and the next day they set off for the capital together with He Ling and his group.

…

The capital.

Jiang Ji returned from the estate outside the city. It began to drizzle halfway along the road. After entering the residence, he asked the gatekeeper, “Has the regent returned?”

“Reporting to Duke Chang, His Highness has not yet returned.”

Jiang Ji glanced at the sky. “It’s already dark, and he’s still not done?”

The gatekeeper was used to it. “His Highness is extremely busy. Envoys from the north, from Huíhé, will arrive in a few days. His Highness and the others are likely occupied with that matter.”

It was over half an hour later when Lu Huaizhou returned.

Jiang Ji had been waiting to eat with him. Lu Huaizhou brushed the rain from his clothes. “If I’m late in the future, you should eat first. Don’t let yourself go hungry.”

Jiang Ji told Xiao Liu to bring out the dishes that had been kept warm. “I want to eat with you.”

Lu Huaizhou’s expression softened immediately. After washing his hands, he sat down. “I was afraid you’d be hungry.”

“It’s fine to wait a little.” Jiang Ji placed a bowl of rice in front of him and asked, “How many days until the envoys arrive?”

“Three days.” Lu Huaizhou picked up his chopsticks and placed a piece of chicken into Jiang Ji’s bowl. “There will be a palace banquet then. You’ll attend with me.”

“Alright.” Jiang Ji nodded and ate the chicken. “I heard they’ve come this time for a marriage alliance?”

Lu Huaizhou nodded. “They brought the young princess of their leader.”

Jiang Ji asked curiously, “The Emperor is only ten. They won’t just place her into the imperial harem, will they?”

Lu Huaizhou glanced at him. “In a few years, consummation would still be possible.”

“Oh.” Jiang Ji understood. “That makes sense.”

“How are things at the estate? Have the plantings been finished?” Lu Huaizhou asked.

These past few days, Jiang Ji had been going back and forth to the estate, arranging for winter crops that could survive the cold.

“Yes, the estate on my side has been arranged today.” Jiang Ji spoke while eating. “Tomorrow I’ll go take a look at the lands under your name.”

As Regent, Lu Huaizhou had been granted ten thousand mu of land by the late Emperor.

“Mm. Leave it all to you. Take Uncle Zhong and Lu Jiu with you,” Lu Huaizhou said, nodding, then added more meat to Jiang Ji’s bowl. “You’ve worked hard.”

Jiang Ji smiled. “It’s nothing. Once I finish arranging yours, I still need to go to the Lu Residence. Mother said the Lu family lands will also be entrusted to me for planting.”

Lu Huaizhou looked at him, smiling softly. “Mm. It’s all thanks to Duke Chang. I’ll have to hold tight to the Duke’s thigh.”

“Clinging to a thigh” was a phrase Lu Huaizhou had learned from Jiang Ji.

Jiang Ji lifted his chin. “Easy. I’ll arrange everything perfectly.”

The two exchanged a smile.

The next day, Lu Wen returned.

Jiang Ji asked about Han Qingshan’s case, and Lu Wen reported everything in detail.

Hearing that the scoundrel young master had been sentenced to execution, Jiang Ji felt at ease. This chapter is translated by hololo Novels dot com. Han Qingshan and the others should finally be able to move forward.

A few days later, the Huíhé envoys arrived in the capital. Jiang Ji had gone outside the city that day and did not see them, but he heard it had been very lively.

The following evening, the Emperor held a palace banquet to welcome the envoys.

The banquet began at you hour. From shen hour that afternoon, the invited officials, accompanied by their families, began entering the palace.

Jiang Ji had gone out to the fields that morning and only hurried back in the afternoon. After washing up, he put on his purple ducal court robes for the first time.

As he walked toward the gate, he opened his livestream. He had changed the title yesterday to “Live: Palace Banquet,” and today the audience was large.

“Alright everyone, we’re heading out.”

“Go, go, I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Let’s see what a palace banquet looks like.”

“I’ve been waiting since this afternoon.”

Jiang Ji smiled. “Didn’t I clearly write the time?”

“We don’t want to miss even the smallest detail.”

“We want to watch the whole thing live, not a replay.”

When Jiang Ji reached the gate, Lu Jiu and Lu Wen had already brought the carriage and were waiting.

“Duke Chang, Lord Lu sent word that he, Madam, and the second young master are waiting for you at the palace gate,” Lu Jiu reminded him as he boarded the carriage.

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Minister Lu to wait for him.

As his future father-in-law, Minister Lu had reluctantly accepted his relationship with Lu Huaizhou, but likely still found him somewhat displeasing.

Yet at such a moment, Minister Lu had personally come to wait for him. He must have been worried that Jiang Ji, attending a palace banquet for the first time, would not understand the etiquette, and had come specifically to guide him.

“Alright, then let’s hurry.”

The Regent’s Residence was close to the Imperial Palace, and they arrived quickly. Many carriages were already parked along the western side of the palace gate. Lu Jiu scanned the area, spotted the Lu Residence carriage, and drove over.

“Duke Chang, we’ve arrived.”

Jiang Ji lifted the curtain and stepped down. Nearby, Minister Lu and the others also got down upon seeing him.

Minister Lu wore formal court robes like him. Madam Lu was dressed in the splendid attire of a titled lady, and Lu Huaichuan wore a white long robe, full of youthful spirit.

“Uncle, Aunt, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” Jiang Ji said, stepping forward and bowing.

“Duke Chang.” Outside, Jiang Ji was addressed by his title. Minister Lu and the others returned the courtesy.

Lu Huaichuan grinned and added, “Brother Jiang Ji.”

“Mm.”

Each side addressed the other in their own way.

Madam Lu looked at Jiang Ji. Tall and well-proportioned, with a handsome face, he carried himself with ease. Smiling, she asked, “I heard from the gatekeeper that you went outside the city today. Did you just get back?”

“Yes. I came back, washed up, changed clothes, and then came straight here,” Jiang Ji replied.

“Did Huaizhou tell you the matters you should pay attention to?” she asked again.

Jiang Ji nodded and said earnestly, “He did. I’ve remembered them. It’s my first time attending such an important palace banquet. If I do anything improperly, I ask Uncle and Aunt to guide me.”

Minister Lu glanced at him and gave a slight nod. “Stay with me. Let’s go in.”

The group walked toward the palace. After passing the guards at the entrance, they had just stepped inside when a young eunuch approached from the side.

“Duke Chang, Minister Lu, Madam Lu, Second Young Master Lu.”

Minister Lu recognized him as one who served under Eunuch Wu and asked, “Is there something?”

The young eunuch bowed. “The Regent is still occupied and instructed this servant to escort Duke Chang to the banquet.”

Minister Lu: “…”

Jiang Ji’s eyes curved with a smile. “Go back and tell the Regent that I’ll go together with Minister Lu. Tell him not to worry.”

“Yes. This servant takes his leave.”

Seeing this, Madam Lu could not help but feel moved. Her eldest son truly had Jiang Ji in his heart.

She smiled. “Huaizhou is thoughtful as always, even sending someone specifically to escort you.”

“Mm, he has always been considerate,” Jiang Ji said, clearly pleased.

Along the way, they encountered many officials and titled nobles, all accompanied by their families. Upon seeing Jiang Ji and Minister Lu, they came forward to exchange greetings.

Lu Huaichuan nudged Jiang Ji lightly and whispered, “Brother Jiang Ji, a lot of ladies and young misses are secretly looking at you.”

Jiang Ji had already noticed. “Just curiosity. That’s only natural. Plenty are looking at you too.”

Lu Huaichuan lifted his chin. “Well, I am quite dashing.”

“…Both you and your brother do look the part,” Jiang Ji said, then asked with interest, “Do you have someone you fancy yet?”

Lu Huaichuan shook his head. “No. I spend all my time at the Imperial Academy. Where would I find the time for that? Besides, I’m only seventeen. At the very least, I’ll think about it after my coming-of-age ceremony.”

Jiang Ji glanced at Madam Lu walking ahead. “Has Aunt not arranged a match for you?”

“Not yet,” Lu Huaichuan said quietly. “Before, my older brother was there to take the attention. Mother didn’t notice me.”

Jiang Ji lowered his voice as well. “Then you’d better prepare yourself.”

Lu Huaichuan stared at him. “You’re that eager?”

Jiang Ji nodded. “I’ll reach my coming-of-age next year. I can start a family then.”

Lu Huaichuan: “…Can’t you wait a couple more years?”

“Your brother will be twenty-seven next year!” Jiang Ji glared at him. “You should think for him too.”

Lu Huaichuan sighed. “Alright.”

Jiang Ji patted his shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

Madam Lu turned back to look at them. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing. We were saying how beautiful the palace scenery is. Last time I came, I didn’t get a proper look,” Jiang Ji replied.

Lu Huaichuan: “…” Brother Jiang Ji, your ability to lie with a straight face is even better than mine.

Madam Lu smiled. “Then later, have Huaichuan take you around. He’s been here a few times.”

“Alright.”

Before it was time to be seated, those attending the banquet gathered in the Imperial Garden, admiring flowers and drinking tea.

Madam Lu separated from them and went to join the titled ladies and female relatives. Minister Lu led Jiang Ji and Lu Huaichuan to a side hall, where the officials rested briefly.

Seeing his father about to enter, Lu Huaichuan quickly pulled Jiang Ji back and said to him, “Father, we won’t go in. I’ll take Brother Jiang Ji to stroll through the Imperial Garden. He hasn’t seen it before.”

Minister Lu looked at them, his brows slightly furrowed. “Do not act rashly or cause trouble.”

“Understood.”

Jiang Ji looked at him. “Uncle, we’ll see you at the banquet.”

Minister Lu gave a slight nod. “Mm.”

Jiang Ji bowed, then followed Lu Huaichuan away.

“Good thing you didn’t go into that side hall,” Lu Huaichuan said. “It’s all officials in there. Boring. Like being at court.”

“You’ve never attended court,” Jiang Ji laughed. “You say it as if you have.”

Lu Huaichuan sighed. “Think about it. You see the same people day in and day out. Isn’t that just like court?”

Jiang Ji chuckled.

Lu Huaichuan led him into the Imperial Garden. As they passed a pavilion, five or six young men sat inside, sons of various noble families. When they saw Lu Huaichuan approaching with someone in purple ducal robes, they all paused in surprise.

One young man in fine white robes stepped forward, around twenty-one or twenty-two years old. “Huaichuan, is this… Duke Chang?”

“Yes.”

The young men immediately bowed. “Greetings, Duke Chang.”

Jiang Ji returned the courtesy. “Greetings.”

Lu Huaichuan turned and introduced the man who had spoken. “This is Qin Yuheng, eldest son of the Duke Qin’s residence, my cousin on my aunt’s side.”

“Ah—” Jiang Ji looked at the young man before him, refined and elegant like polished jade. Read the full translation on HololoNovels.com Something clicked, and he leaned in to ask Lu Huaichuan in a low voice, “Second on the Capital’s Eligible Suitors ranking?”

“Yes, yes, that’s him.” Lu Huaichuan couldn’t help laughing, then looked at him in surprise. “Brother Jiang Ji, how do you even know that?”

“Lu Jiu told me.” Jiang Ji shrugged.

Lu Huaichuan grinned. “Then do you know who’s first?”

“Mm. Your brother.”

Lu Huaichuan nodded with a smile.

Seeing the two of them laughing, the other young men exchanged confused glances.

Qin Yuheng asked, “What are you laughing about?”

Lu Huaichuan answered directly, “We were saying that Cousin, you’re ranked second on the Capital’s Eligible Suitors list.”

Qin Yuheng: “…”

Everyone froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“The Duke even knows about that?” one of the young men asked.

Jiang Ji nodded. “Mm, I’ve heard of it. I also know third place is the son of the Vice Minister of Justice.”

“Exactly, exactly. But now, aside from the Regent, everyone’s ranking has to shift down. Brother Yuheng’s second place won’t hold anymore, it’s going to change hands.”

Jiang Ji: “Oh?”

The young man grinned. “The Capital’s Eligible Suitors ranking was just updated recently. Second place is now yours, Duke Chang.”

Jiang Ji: “…Alright, I somehow ended up gossiping about myself.”

He smiled. “That ranking will be updated again very soon.”

Lu Huaichuan immediately understood: “…”

Everyone looked at Jiang Ji curiously. The same young man asked, “Why is that?”

Jiang Ji said mysteriously, “You’ll find out in a while.”

After that exchange, Jiang Ji smoothly blended into their group.

The young masters were all quite curious about him. Most were around the same age, some even older, yet he had already been made a duke at nineteen. Naturally, they wanted to see what kind of person he was.

They had originally assumed Jiang Ji came from a rural background. Even if his learning did not match theirs, they thought he might barely recognize a few characters. But after talking with him, they realized their impression was completely wrong.

Jiang Ji could follow any topic, and his words carried substance. Many of his perspectives were fresh and original. Even when it came to poetry and literature, he had his own interpretations.

These young men had all been somewhat proud of themselves before, but now they no longer dared to act superior. Instead, they began to feel a measure of admiration for Jiang Ji.

Lu Huaichuan looked at him and whispered, “Brother Jiang Ji, how do you know so much?”

Jiang Ji lowered his voice. “I’m just making it up as I go.”

Lu Huaichuan: “…”

After a while, a palace attendant came to inform them that the banquet was about to begin and they should take their seats.

Jiang Ji followed them into the banquet hall, where attendants led them to their assigned places.

The sky was beginning to darken, but the hall was already lit with brilliant lamps. The decorations were lavish and resplendent.

At the highest position was the Emperor’s throne. On either side were tables for the Empress Dowager and the Taifei, and beside the Empress Dowager was another table for Princess Qinghe.

Below, on the platform, was the seat of the Regent, Lu Huaizhou. Along both sides of the hall, desks were arranged. Officials sat according to rank, with their family members seated at tables behind them.

Aside from one elderly prince of the imperial clan, there were no other royal relatives present in the capital. As a duke, Jiang Ji’s seat was placed close to Duke Qin’s, near the front. Across from them, several tables were left empty, reserved for the envoys.

After Jiang Ji took his seat and waited a while, the envoys entered under the guidance of the Vice Minister of Rites.

Jiang Ji looked over. Among the envoys, there was indeed a young woman. She appeared quite young, her face veiled, dressed in red ethnic attire. Even in the late autumn chill, a slender section of her waist was exposed. Small bell ornaments adorned her wrists and ankles, chiming softly with each step.

As soon as she entered, she drew many gazes.

Once all the guests were seated, a moment later, an attendant announced, “The Regent arrives—”

Lu Huaizhou entered from the main hall doors, dressed in black robes embroidered with python motifs.

Everyone rose to greet him.

Jiang Ji lifted his gaze and met Lu Huaizhou’s eyes, smiling at him. Lu Huaizhou returned the smile.

“The Emperor arrives, Her Majesty the Empress Dowager arrives—”

The Emperor supported the Empress Dowager as they walked in front, followed by the Taifei and the princess. They took their seats.

The guests bowed once more. The envoys stepped forward to pay their respects. The Emperor spoke a few words of welcome and declared the banquet officially begun.

Music filled the hall as performers from the Imperial Music Bureau danced in rhythm. The guests ate and drank while enjoying the performances.

Aside from the official performances, many young masters and ladies from noble families also presented their talents.

Jiang Ji opened his livestream. While watching, he covered his mouth slightly and whispered to his viewers, “See that? Everyone’s incredibly skilled. Even in ancient times, these young nobles were grinding hard. Without at least one specialty, you couldn’t really show your face out here.”

【That young lady playing the zither is so pretty】

【The young master who was doing the sword dance just now is handsome】

【They all look great】

“That young lady was playing the guzheng,” Jiang Ji explained. “A very distinctive traditional instrument.”

【Sounds so nice】

【The guy next to her, the one playing sideways, what is that?】

“That one is called a flute.”

【Streamer, streamer, can we have a giveaway for these instruments next time?】

【Those instruments must be pretty expensive】

【Streamer’s got money now, just do a normal giveaway, no need for super expensive ones. I really want to learn the guzheng, it sounds amazing】

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up. “Sure. I’ll have someone go buy them tomorrow. Once they’re here, I’ll do a giveaway for instruments. There are lots of types.”

【That’s awesome!】

【Streamer, are you serious? These are instruments, whoever wins is basically hitting the jackpot】

【Ahhh I want to win so badly!】

“Serious.” Jiang Ji thought for a moment. “I can also get you some sheet music.”

【All hail the streamer!】

【I’m so excited! I study music, I want to learn!】

Up above, Lu Huaizhou had been keeping an eye on Jiang Ji the whole time. Seeing him covering his mouth, looking at the performers one moment and staring into empty space the next with a strange expression, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a faint smile.

He must be talking to immortals again.

Midway through the banquet, just as the atmosphere was at its liveliest, the envoys seated across from Jiang Ji, along with the princess, all stood and moved to the center of the hall.

Eunuch Wu quickly signaled for the music to stop.

The envoys bowed toward the upper seats. The leading envoy looked up at the Regent and the Emperor and said, “Your Majesty, Regent, our Huíhé tribe has long admired the splendid culture of the Central Plains. This time, I also carry an important mission entrusted by our Khan—to find a worthy husband for our beloved Princess Aizhu, to forge a marriage alliance and strengthen the friendship between our peoples for generations.”

All the ministers already knew of this and looked toward the front.

Lu Huaizhou asked politely, “May I ask whom the Khan and Princess Aizhu have in mind?”

Princess Aizhu lifted her gaze and looked directly at Lu Huaizhou.

Jiang Ji, watching from the side, felt his eyelid twitch. This translation is from HololoNovels.com. Could it be that Princess Aizhu had taken a liking to Lu Huaizhou?

The next moment, the envoy laughed heartily and said, “We have heard that the Regent is both accomplished in civil and martial matters, and exceptionally heroic. Our people have always admired such men. Princess Aizhu is willing to marry the Regent as his consort.”

Lu Huaizhou: “…”

Jiang Ji: “…”

The hall fell silent, all eyes turning to the Regent.

Even the Emperor widened his eyes slightly and glanced down at him. The Empress Dowager and Empress were equally surprised.

Minister Lu, Madam Lu, and Lu Huaichuan were all stunned.

Jiang Ji lifted his gaze, watching Lu Huaizhou closely, waiting to see how he would respond.

Lu Huaizhou glanced at Jiang Ji, then said calmly, “I already have someone in my heart. Princess Aizhu and the envoy should choose another.”

After those words, everyone was stunned again.

The Regent… had someone he liked?

Who?

All eyes turned toward Minister Lu and Madam Lu.

Minister Lu, Madam Lu: “…”

They couldn’t help but look at Jiang Ji, only to see him smiling slightly, seemingly quite satisfied, leisurely lifting his cup to take a sip.

Minister Lu, Madam Lu: “…”

One of the young men beside Lu Huaichuan tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Who does the Regent like?”

Lu Huaichuan brushed his hand away. “Don’t ask.”

The envoy and Princess Aizhu clearly hadn’t expected this response. The envoy glanced at the princess.

Princess Aizhu stepped forward and said in somewhat unpolished speech, “May I ask which family’s young lady the Regent favors? Could she come out and compete with me? Whoever wins will become the consort.”

Everyone was stunned. This Princess Aizhu was bold… and fierce.

“Pff—” Jiang Ji spat out a mouthful of tea and started coughing.

A nearby attendant quickly patted his back. After he finished coughing and noticed everyone staring at him, he waved his hand. “Carry on.”

Minister Lu, Madam Lu, Lu Huaichuan: “…”

A trace of amusement appeared in Lu Huaizhou’s eyes, but when he looked back at Princess Aizhu, his expression turned cold.

“Do you take me for an object to be contested over?”

His gaze turned dangerous, his voice low and chilling, as if freezing the air itself. An invisible pressure spread through the hall.

Princess Aizhu lowered her head, no longer daring to meet his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The envoy quickly bowed, placing his right hand over his chest. “Regent, the princess merely admires you greatly. There was no intention to offend.”

Lu Huaizhou said coldly, “Then choose someone else.”

The envoy turned and spoke to Princess Aizhu in their own language. She bit her lip, glanced around, and suddenly pointed to the side. “Then I’ll marry him.”

Everyone followed her gaze. Silence fell again.

Minister Lu, Madam Lu, Lu Huaichuan: “…”

Jiang Ji was wiping his clothes when he sensed something off. He looked up, only to see that the slender finger of Princess Aizhu was pointing directly at him.

Jiang Ji: “…”

He blinked, completely baffled. What does this have to do with me?

Before he could speak, Lu Huaizhou’s expression darkened. “Duke Chang is not an option. Choose someone else.”

Princess Aizhu bit her lip, dissatisfied. “Why not him? You already have someone you like. Does he also have someone? Or is he already married?”

Jiang Ji stood up helplessly. “My apologies, Princess Aizhu. I also have someone I like.”

Princess Aizhu: “…”

She glared at him. “You’re lying!”

Jiang Ji kept a straight face. “I truly do have someone I like. We’ll be formally engaged soon.”

“You’re lying. Then tell me, who is it?” she demanded. “I heard you were only recently granted your title. You’re not married.”

Lu Huaizhou said in a deep voice, “The one he likes is me. He will marry me soon. Did you hear that clearly?”

As soon as those words fell, the entire hall was stunned.

What did the Regent just say?

The few young men who had spoken with Jiang Ji earlier suddenly realized—

So that’s what he meant about the ranking being updated.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Previous

Next

Song Rushuang stared at the forum. When she reached the final sentence, her steps suddenly halted.

She stood at the dormitory entrance as people continuously passed by around her, yet everyone was staring at their wrist devices, too absorbed to even watch where they were going.

She had been following the thread closely, so she read the post almost the moment it was published.

Quite a few people nearby seemed to be reading at the same pace. When she stopped walking, several sharp intakes of breath sounded around her at the same time.

“…A parallel world?”

“Saving our world…”

“Humanity in that world has already gone extinct…”

Whispers spread, all carrying the same mixture of shock and heartache.

Song Rushuang suddenly recalled the principal’s words at the opening ceremony:

“2035 will become the final year in humanity’s long history.”

“But you have a chance to change all of this.”

—You.

She had once believed those words were simply meant to encourage students to work hard and change humanity’s fate through their own efforts.

But now she realized there had been another meaning.

To change the ending that belonged to “you.”

As for the principal’s own world, its ending had already fallen.

Human history had concluded in 2035. And according to the forum’s speculation, Teacher Lu arrived at Fangzhou only after his death, which meant the principal herself very likely…

Back at the start of the semester, they had once speculated about the principal’s motives.

Thinking of this, Song Rushuang felt her chest tighten all the way up to her throat. Midway toward the stairwell, she abruptly changed direction and headed back toward the dormitory exit.

Behind her, the elevator chimed open.

“Xiao Shuang!”

She turned. It was Sun Wei.

Standing beside her were Su Huaijin and freckled Tian Tian, one on each side. All three looked hurried, the latter two nearly supporting the mobility-impaired Sun Wei as they moved.

“Where are you going?” Sun Wei asked.

Song Rushuang froze.

Where…

Her instinct just now had been to head toward the administrative building, but being called out made her realize how impulsive she was acting.

Was she really going to find the principal and ask about all of this?

She was not even close to the principal. Wouldn’t that be far too abrupt?

While she hesitated, Sun Wei spoke first.

“We’re going to find the principal. Want to come with us?”

The three looked anxious, staring at her intently after asking, waiting for her answer. Song Rushuang blinked in surprise.

She pressed her lips together, then nodded firmly. “I’m going too.”

*

When Song Rushuang and the others knocked on the principal’s office door, Fu Qing was browsing the student forum.

From the day she drew Lu Yan from the recruitment card pool, she had already anticipated that the students would eventually discover the secret of “rebirth.”

In fact, the revelation had come later than she expected.

Midterms must have taken up too much of the students’ attention. It had taken nearly a full week after classes began for them to notice that Teacher Lu and the “Lu Yan” in the instances were the same person. Their observational skills were honestly worrying.

So when Song Rushuang and the others heard “Come in” and pushed open the door, they were greeted by the sight of the principal lounging casually with crossed legs, leisurely scrolling through the forum.

Song Rushuang’s hand paused on the doorknob.

Fu Qing looked up. “Is something wrong?”

Song Rushuang jerked as if burned and hurriedly released the handle. Before coming, her mind had felt like an overloaded CPU, filled with countless things she wanted to say and emotions she could not contain. Yet the moment their eyes met, none of the words would come out.

“Um…” she stammered.

Sun Wei could not stand her hesitation and leaned forward from behind. “Principal, is what they’re saying on the forum true?”

She faltered slightly. “You… you really came back from the apocalypse?” …

Fu Qing glanced at the breathless girls.

They must have run all the way here. Their breathing had not even settled, yet their eyes never left her, filled with helplessness and regret.

The freckled girl from the publicity team, Tian Tian, nervously looked her up and down, as though searching for signs of injury while simultaneously afraid to find any. She covered part of her face, peeking through her fingers, unable to hide her concern.

They wanted to ask how she had come to this world, whether she had been hurt, whether her wounds had healed, yet feared saying the wrong thing.

They wanted to promise they would work hard, yet felt such promises were too light.

So everything showed plainly on their faces.

All four stared at her expectantly.

Fu Qing was worst at handling looks like that. It made her feel like the head of some stray animal rescue organization. She waved a hand, gesturing for them to sit wherever they liked, and before they had even settled down, she said casually,

“It’s true.”

Su Huaijin stumbled mid-step toward the sofa. Sun Wei nearly fell flat onto the floor with a loud thump.

All four stared at her in stunned disbelief.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Fu Qing rested her elbow on the desk, propping her chin in her hand. “I thought the reasoning was pretty simple.”

“If it weren’t from personal experience, who could state such an exact timeline?”

Su Huaijin’s mind worked quickly, and she blurted out, “But you even know when the last human died. That’s impossible!”

Song Rushuang immediately realized this was indeed a paradox.

If the apocalypse had truly been experienced firsthand by the principal, then she should have had no way of knowing the exact moment humanity went extinct.

The earlier theory that the principal was a government agent, and that the apocalypse prediction was merely intelligence analysis, had gained support precisely because of this contradiction.

In the students’ understanding, when Fu Qing said “the last human died five years after the virus outbreak,” it was only a general statement, not literal proof that she had personally witnessed the final death.

But the certainty in the principal’s tone now left them confused.

After Su Huaijin spoke, Fuqing’s expression turned slightly strange.

A sudden, absurd thought rose in Su Huaijin’s mind. “You… don’t tell me… were you the last person alive?”

The other three felt as though lightning had struck them.

The freckled girl’s mouth fell open as she let out a weak, “Ah?”

Fu Qing’s expression looked very much like confirmation.

Su Huaijin stammered, “But that still doesn’t make sense… Even if you lived to the end, you wouldn’t know whether other humans were still alive somewhere else on Earth.”

Fu Qing tapped her cheek lightly with her index finger. “You could consider that… additional information that came with rebirth.”

Rebirth.

The word landed heavily, and the four girls’ moods instantly grew heavy.

On the way here, each of them had secretly hoped the principal would deny the forum’s speculation. They wanted her to say she had never actually experienced the apocalypse, that the “Lu Yan” in the simulation chamber was merely a virtual character modeled after a real person.

That as long as everyone worked together, they could change the predicted future and prevent all the imagined tragedies.

Not… this.

Not learning that the principal and teachers carried the weight of an already determined ending while helping them change their fate.

Even if they succeeded, the world the principal and teachers came from would never return to what it once was…

Bitterness welled up in Song Rushuang’s chest.

The air grew still. The four sat side by side on the sofa, hands unconsciously resting neatly on their knees, each expression more sorrowful than the last.

After a long silence, Fuqing spoke faintly, breaking it.

“With those expressions, you’re making me feel like I died again.”

The four: “……”

Fu Qing watched them for a moment, satisfied. “Not bad. I’ve never seen what people look like mourning me before.”

The four: “…………”

Forget the fact that no one could ever witness their own mourning scene. Even if that were possible, when the principal died, the only things left to mourn her would have been zombies!

They nearly blurted this out, hastily covering their mouths at the last second.

That was close.

The heavy atmosphere shattered into disarray. The girls exchanged glances, each seeing determination reflected in the others’ eyes.

They would not let this world be destroyed.

If they succeeded, then when everything ended, the principal and teachers could begin new lives in a new world.

The thought eased their hearts somewhat. Only then did Song Rushuang remember the detail she had temporarily overlooked.

—the principal had survived until the very end.

Human extinction was tragic, but… the principal was incredible.

Realizing that someone this formidable was personally teaching them made Song Rushuang want to jump in place and scream with excitement. But with the principal right in front of her, she could only clench her fist quietly, restraining herself with great effort.

Still shaken, Su Huaijin instinctively began analyzing again to calm herself.

“Wait. If the instances in the simulation combat chamber are all real events, or at least partially real, then it’s too coincidental that we would just happen to encounter teachers from our own school inside them. Unless the real instances weren’t randomly generated, but uploaded by someone.”

She muttered to herself as she reasoned.

“The Xiao Juan instance existed before Teacher Lu arrived at the school, which means it wasn’t uploaded by him personally, but by someone else at the school…”

Fu Qing sucked in a sharp breath and interrupted her before she could continue. “Hold on.”

This girl was far too smart. If she kept going, the entire truth would be uncovered.

Fu Qing strongly suspected that the forum account posting long analytical essays every time was actually Su Huaijin’s alternate account.

Su Huaijin looked at the principal innocently.

They held each other’s gaze for two seconds before Fu Qing’s eyes shifted toward one side of the desk.

Throughout the conversation, a system panel had been floating there, invisible to the students. The pale green student forum interface continued refreshing nonstop.

It was not only Su Huaijin sitting before her. Others on the forum had already guessed that the blurred-out protagonist in the Xiao Juan instance might actually be the principal herself.

The reasons were obvious: “young,” “reliable,” “acquainted with Lu Yan.” These descriptions made it difficult not to think of Fu Qing.

The simulation chamber instances they had treated as games were very likely real experiences lived by the principal and teachers.

And everything the principal had told them, from the opening ceremony until now, had been true.

She had never lied. There had never been any conspiracy. From beginning to end, she had been completely open with them. It was the students who had hesitated to fully trust her, repeatedly doubting her instead.

Their emotions surged violently.

Shock, guilt, sorrow…

All the feelings accumulated over time erupted at once, turning into deep self-reproach.

A notification popped up in the corner of the system panel:

[Student Favorability rapidly increasing detected!]

[Student Favorability has exceeded 40%]

[Reward obtained: 1000 Teaching Points]

[42%… 46%… 50%…]

Fu Qing’s favorability rating had been hovering around 39% recently. Today, it finally broke past that threshold.

What she had not expected was that even after passing 40% and receiving the reward, the number continued rising rapidly.

Only after surpassing 50% did the growth finally begin to slow.

Watching the digits still ticking upward past the decimal point, Fu Qing finally made a decision.

The students had just given her a thousand points. Perhaps she should give them something in return.

[Facility Upgrade]

[Add “Replay Function” to all Simulation Combat Chambers?]

[Cost: 200 Teaching Points]

Fu Qing moved her finger and pressed confirm.

Hadn’t the students been complaining that the instances were too difficult, that they didn’t know how to clear them?

Perfect timing.

Now that the secret of rebirth had been exposed and she had gained additional teaching points, she could take this opportunity to provide them with a model answer.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Next

Including Song Rushuang, the students had always treated each instance inside the simulation combat chamber as if it were a game dungeon.

They assumed it was fictional and unreal. So although rationally, for the sake of training effectiveness, they immersed themselves as though it were the real world, completing each scenario seriously and saving every resident within it, emotionally they still regarded it somewhere deep down as a fabricated story, merely special training environments deliberately created by the school to help them adapt to an apocalyptic future in advance.

Within these instances, they always held a subtly superior perspective, observing and judging the suffering and struggles of the NPCs.

Game after game, they watched characters repeat the same stories again and again, only to reach different endings each time based on the players’ choices.

It inevitably created the feeling of a god controlling fate.

They discussed on the forums which adventures were more exciting, which NPCs were unforgettable, and complained about troublesome NPCs who delayed their progress.

Kind and lovable NPCs received gentler treatment, while annoying or inconvenient ones were avoided with faint traces of guilt.

There was nothing inherently wrong with that.

Because inside the simulation combat chamber, they were players, the “Fourth Calamity.”

It was a game. Their training ground.

But what if that was not the truth?

……

Even as she entered the instance, Song Rushuang remained dazed.

The people in the hall had all been shaken by the revelation and forgotten to form teams. She ended up selecting a familiar instance alone and entering it by herself.

This was already her fourth time playing this instance. Because its setting closely resembled the neighborhood near where she lived, she believed it might someday become relevant and had intentionally practiced it repeatedly.

The scenario resembled Instance 004 somewhat, though set at a different point in time. Here, the zombie tide had already erupted, causing a massive chain-reaction car crash on the highway. The “protagonist’s” vehicle was trapped in the middle, and she needed to break free from the chaotic crowd, escape the congested roadway, and safely return to a residential complex one street away.

Having played the same instance many times, Song Rushuang had long developed muscle memory.

In a haze, she passed two hidden “plot triggers” purely by instinct, escaped from the crushed and deformed vehicle, and ran forward for quite some distance.

Not far away, zombies climbed onto car roofs, scrambling across collided vehicles on all fours. They pressed their faces against sunroofs, peering down at trapped passengers, creating scenes both grotesque and surreal.

Screams echoed everywhere. Flames shot skyward. Thick black smoke billowed upward. People behind her ran forward like mad, and from time to time someone was knocked down and devoured. Amid the chaos, only Song Rushuang, as a player, seemed out of place, staring at the hellish world with a detached, unreal gaze.

Had all of this once truly happened?

Was this a real world no different from the one she lived in?

Her limbs stiffened as her mind and senses overloaded, dissolving into indistinct noise.

Until a cry jolted her awake.

“Mom! Mom!”

Song Rushuang snapped out of her trance and looked toward the sound.

In the middle of the highway sat a sedan, tightly wedged between vehicles on all sides. Inside was a little girl, about four or five years old, her face streaked with tears as she desperately slapped the window with her small hands.

“Mommy!”

Her mother sat motionless in the driver’s seat, held in place by the seatbelt, head tilted sideways, blood flowing from her mouth and nose. She had clearly died in the crash. The little girl, secured in a child safety seat, had miraculously survived unharmed.

But if left alone, within minutes she would be swallowed by the zombie horde. Her ultimate fate would be infection or starvation.

This was a “fixed event.” To return home, the protagonist inevitably had to pass the car where the little girl was trapped.

The first time she played this instance, Song Rushuang had tried to save the child. But the car doors were completely warped and jammed. The only way to rescue her was to break the window, and when the protagonist awakened she had no suitable tools. After several attempts, Song Rushuang abandoned the effort as zombies approached too quickly.

Every time afterward, she rushed past this point as fast as possible, as if covering her ears could make the girl’s desperate cries disappear.

But this time, by sheer coincidence, Song Rushuang stopped.

The little girl’s cries carried on the wind, clearer than ever before.

Her heart pounded violently as she turned her head.

About forty meters behind her stood a stalled bus. There had to be window-breaking tools inside.

But the bus windows were covered in bloody handprints, and shadows moved within. They might already be zombies. Even if the bus were safe, going back forty meters meant deliberately moving closer to the zombie tide. Combined with the time needed to find tools, break the window, and rescue the child, her chances of survival would drop drastically.

“But…”

“To hell with it,” Song Rushuang cursed.

Without hesitation, she turned and ran toward the bus.

Two minutes later, Song Rushuang came running back, gripping a red emergency hammer in her hand, her face smeared with blood.

She smashed the window, reached inside to unlock the door, unfastened the little girl’s seatbelt, then hoisted the still crying and struggling child onto her shoulder. Facing the zombie horde closing in, she clenched her teeth and sprinted toward the residential complex at her fastest speed.

By the time she finally cleared the instance, her clothes were soaked with sweat, and she looked utterly disheveled.

Panting heavily, Song Rushuang stared at the results panel that appeared before her.

Because of the added burden of the little girl, her completion time had been delayed by a full eleven minutes. She had also failed the optional objective of gathering supplies along the way. Her rating dropped, leaving her with only a B-, worse than even her first attempt.

Every statistic looked terrible. Only one detail changed.

When she expanded the detailed list, the number under “People Rescued” silently shifted from zero to one.

It was not part of the instance’s grading criteria. It did not affect the rating or grant bonus points. In the past, Song Rushuang would have considered it as insignificant as all the other omitted data.

But now, she no longer thought that way.

That extra person mattered.

The dull ache in her shoulder from carrying the girl faded rapidly as the instance ended. Song Rushuang stretched instinctively, then suddenly paused. Lowering her head, she murmured unconsciously,

“I wonder… in the real world, did the person who passed by, someone like ‘me,’ stop to save her…”

Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost inaudible.

Because she realized that regardless of whether the girl had been saved back then, within five years she would end up like everyone screaming, crying, and desperately struggling to survive on that highway. Either a walking corpse, or a handful of dust scattered across barren earth.

*

When Song Rushuang left the combat chamber, she still had not sorted out her emotions.

Only on the walk back to the dormitory did she remember to open her student watch and check the forum.

The forum had already exploded.

The homepage refreshed constantly as new posts appeared one after another, all centered around the simulation combat chamber instances and Teacher Lu’s identity.

[I’m confused. How could the instances be real events?]

[No. If both Teacher Lu and the instances are real, then this isn’t something that already happened.
It’s something that is going to happen.

What the instances show are futures that haven’t occurred yet.]

[So… the principal and teachers all traveled back from the future?]

The students, suddenly confronted with such shocking information, found it hard to accept.

In truth, the idea of “time travelers” had been raised before.

As early as the opening ceremony, people had questioned how Fu Qing could predict future events so precisely.

The fully immersive simulations, the holographic watches, technologies clearly beyond their era, combined with the mysterious restriction that prevented them from revealing apocalypse-related information, and the inexplicable decision they had all made to choose Fangzhou University during college applications… all these unbelievable events seemed explainable only if the principal were a time traveler or a novel-like protagonist possessing a system.

But the principal had never given an answer, so these theories remained speculation, growing increasingly fantastical through repeated private discussions.

Of course, others argued that time travel and prophecy sounded too much like fiction. They tried to find scientific explanations instead. Perhaps the principal was actually a secret agent sent by the state, secretly preparing civilian forces to resist an impending disaster, which explained access to advanced technology not yet released publicly.

As for why a group of students had been chosen, perhaps similar missions existed elsewhere, and schools like Fangzhou had already been established across the country.

Students, with their relatively simple social networks, would also be less likely to leak sensitive information abroad.

—The apocalypse might even be the result of actions by foreign nations. The predicted timeline might not be prophecy at all, but intelligence gathered by agents and analyzed by experts.

As for the inability to reveal information, perhaps it was some form of subconscious psychological influence. That part was left to personal interpretation.

Human instinct rejects the absurd and the irrational. Because this explanation felt more realistic, it gained many supporters. Until now.

The appearance of a younger Teacher Lu inside the Xiao Juan instance shattered that theory completely.

Guessing about time travelers and confirming that one truly existed nearby were entirely different things.

Knowing the apocalypse would happen and realizing someone around you had already lived through it were also entirely different.

The students were losing their minds.

Amid the chaos, many began trying to analyze and organize the overwhelming information.

[Everyone calm down. Based on dialogue between the protagonist’s teammates in the Xiao Juan instance, the story takes place about half a year after the virus outbreak, near the end of winter. And the Teacher Lu in the instance looks much younger than he does now. No one disagrees with that, right?]

In terms of appearance alone, aside from hairstyle, Lu Yan had not changed dramatically.

The greater difference lay in his temperament.

[So let’s assume there is at least about a three-year time gap between Teacher Lu and the Lu Yan in the instance. But in our reality, the instance’s events occur more than a year in the future, around February 2031.]

[Can we hypothesize that after the instance storyline ended, “Lu Yan” survived in the apocalypse for roughly three more years, then died and returned to our timeline, becoming Fangzhou University’s “Teacher Lu”?]

As soon as this analysis was posted, many agreed.

[That actually lines everything up… including the principal’s statement that humanity goes extinct five years after the apocalypse. Teacher Lu didn’t survive past five years…]

[Holy crap, I’ve got goosebumps.]

[Can the teachers see the forum?? Is it okay for us to speculate like this?]

[Reply: The principal has never stopped us from speculating, and they definitely know about the simulation instances, so I think we’re fine for now.]

Soon, dissenting opinions appeared.

[I don’t think this is time travel, for two reasons.

First, Teacher Lu’s appearance has changed. If this were time travel, it would mean physical time travel, not just consciousness transfer. That would mean the older Teacher Lu returned to the current timeline after surviving several years in the apocalypse. But then where is the younger version of Teacher Lu who should exist in this timeline?

Second, the instance worlds are not completely identical to ours. Has anyone played Instance 036? Its location, though censored, almost perfectly overlaps with the map of City B that I visited this summer. Even the street names match. I assume they’re the same city.

However, a famous century-old shop mentioned by NPCs in the instance does not exist in the real City B.]

Two minutes later, the same poster replied again:

[To make sure my memory wasn’t wrong, I checked the map again. I’m certain. I hid in that shop with NPCs during the instance. Someone even said it was a famous tourist spot, but the owner couple had turned into zombies and their craft would be lost.

But when I searched for that shop just now in the real City B, there was absolutely no information about it.

If anyone has a simulation reservation soon, try Instance 036 to verify.

In short, time travel implies movement within the same timeline. But I think the world the teachers once lived in might be a parallel world extremely similar to ours.

A parallel world connected to ours in time.

In that world, the apocalypse has already arrived and humanity went extinct. Our world has not yet reached that point. Everything the principal and teachers are doing… is to save our world.]

₊˚.🎧📓✩

After the first aid course officially began, although it was met with plenty of complaints, some people gradually began to realize how practical the class actually was.

From handling everyday wounds, to medications and treatments for common illnesses, to methods of dealing with emergency situations… what the first aid course taught were the most essential things, yet also the ones most easily overlooked.

Once classes truly got underway, many people discovered just how little they actually knew. They did not understand the Heimlich maneuver, could not perform standard CPR, and even had only a vague grasp of how to use basic medications.

Some even realized that certain medicines they had been taking for years under their parents’ guidance had been used incorrectly all along.

Knowledge that should have been common sense had, over decades of education, been intentionally or unintentionally omitted.

“Why don’t elementary or middle schools teach this?”

“Can safety lectures held only once every year or two really make us remember any of this?”

“If I hadn’t come to Fangzhou, but gone to a normal university instead and continued living a ‘normal’ life, maybe I would never have learned these things. People only think to learn after suffering losses, but by then… it might already be too late.”

“What knowledge is truly necessary, and what knowledge is just a waste of time? Were our past standards of judgment wrong…?”

Similar voices echoed repeatedly across the forum. Some questioned, others reflected.

Some even looked back and realized that the method of “creating wounds on simulated zombies for practice,” though somewhat cruel, was remarkably clever.

Reading a book ten thousand times could never compare to personally experiencing a wound once.

When time was limited, this was undoubtedly the most efficient way to learn.

After going through several twists and setbacks, the first aid course quickly gained recognition from the vast majority of students.

At the same time, the infrastructure course also officially began.

Since the infrastructure course was not mandatory, the number of students was smaller, and with only one class per week, its first session started several days later than the first aid course.

By then, students’ impressions of the first aid class had already improved, and they welcomed the first infrastructure lesson with anticipation.

In their imagination, a course that had begun more than two months later than the others should have rushed through material at high speed from the very first lesson, just like the first aid class.

But unexpectedly, the first request made by the new teacher, who carried an unmistakable air of exhausted office-worker fatigue across her face, was for them to use class time to walk one full circuit around the campus.

“Every corner must be visited.” Xu Mingyue handed out printed copies of a large campus map. “If you can’t remember where you’ve been, mark it on the map.”

Holding the maps, the students stared at the familiar campus layout, confused.

Xu Mingyue showed no intention of explaining. After an awkward silence, someone finally could not help asking, “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Xu Mingyue nodded matter-of-factly, then glanced at the time. “Out of your two-hour class period, you’ve already wasted three minutes.”

“One class a week, two hours each, and we’re using it to go for a walk?” Hearing her mention “wasting time,” a student raised his voice. “Teacher, aren’t you going to teach?”

Moreover, although Teacher Xu was new, the students themselves had already lived on campus for more than two months. With frequent chase-style activities during physical education classes, they were already thoroughly familiar with every corner of the school. Since Fangzhou’s campus was not particularly large to begin with, many even felt they knew it better than the high school campuses where they had once spent three years.

Under those circumstances, spending two hours walking around seemed like the real waste of time.

Compared to the first aid class, which dove straight into fast-paced instruction with hands-on wound creation from the very beginning, the infrastructure course, slowly guiding everyone through campus exploration, appeared almost excessively unhurried.

The two new teachers represented complete opposites. If students had to choose, they would much rather pick Teacher Lu’s teaching method.

After all, they had less than ten months left. At such a slow pace, would there really be enough time?

Xu Mingyue herself was unhurried, yet the students began worrying on her behalf.

“You believe you understand this school very well—” Xu Mingyue repeated their words. She lowered her gaze to the map spread across the lectern, nodded slightly, and said, “Alright then. Can anyone tell me, if a zombie horde attacks and surrounds the entire campus, where is the most likely place for them to break through first?”

The student who had been leading the questioning froze.

Xu Mingyue did not pause.

“Tell me, if I wanted to dig an escape tunnel, which area of the campus has soil best suited for excavation? Where should the tunnel be placed to ensure the fastest assembly and evacuation of all teachers, students, and future shelter residents?”

“……”

“If zombies breach the walls and the campus falls, which building should be chosen for defense to hold out the longest before reinforcements arrive?”

“……”

“With less than ten months before the outbreak, where should we begin reinforcing the campus for maximum efficiency? Where should traps be set to stop the greatest number of zombies? Where would watchtowers have the best visibility? How much manpower and time would all of this require? …Who among you can answer these questions?”

The rapid-fire questions struck one after another, leaving the classroom completely silent.

Xu Mingyue scanned the room, spread her hands slightly, and said with some disappointment, “You know nothing, yet you tell me you understand this school very well—”

“Southwest corner.”

Her words were interrupted. Xu Mingyue paused and looked toward the corner of the classroom.

A thin boy sat there, wearing delicate, scholarly-looking rimmed glasses. Xu Mingyue remembered him somewhat, because when the maps were handed out, he had been the only one examining it carefully. Not only had he studied it seriously, he had even lowered his head and traced the map inch by inch with his fingertips, as though mimicking feet measuring the land itself.

Now the boy lifted his head. His voice was quiet but steady, as if the answer had come only after careful thought.

“If a zombie horde attacks, the most likely breakthrough point would be the southwest corner of the school—the section of wall south of the experimental fields. The brick wall there already has cracks. After wind and rain exposure, it won’t stay sturdy for long.”

“The second most likely point is the eastern side of campus. The terrain there is higher, and while there’s a river to the west, the city lies to the east. Zombies are more likely to approach from the east. Once their numbers increase, the brick wall won’t hold. Besides, the residential area with the dormitories is closer to the east side. Zombies have an instinct to move toward humans, and a large concentration of living people would attract them.”

His analysis was orderly and precise, combining detailed observation with an understanding of zombie behavior.

Xu Mingyue’s brows relaxed. She asked gently, “What’s your name?”

“Liang Yi,” the boy replied.

Xu Mingyue nodded, offering praise without hesitation. “Good answer.”

She then turned to the rest of the class. “Any other questions?”

This time, the voices of opposition disappeared. A few students scatteredly answered, “No,” while more lowered their heads, staring at the map in astonishment.

They understood what Teacher Xu meant.

It seemed they had never before looked at their current school, their future shelter, through this kind of lens.

And because of that, they had overlooked something very important…

Stimulated by Liang Yi’s example, the infrastructure class students quickly followed Xu Mingyue’s instructions. Holding their maps, they left the classroom and began “walking practice” around campus, eyes wide as they searched for answers to those questions.

But after circling twice, they soon found themselves completely lost again.

The familiar buildings before them, the familiar walls, the familiar flowers and greenery. How was it that, when described by Teacher Xu and Liang Yi, everything suddenly seemed filled with hidden meaning?

Why could they not see anything at all?

Meanwhile, Liang Yi had already set off with a clear objective the moment he left the classroom. Without slowing his pace, he moved swiftly from place to place. In a short time, the map in his hands was already covered with dense notes.

Behind his glasses, his eyes shone even brighter than usual, as if Xu Mingyue’s words had sparked a major realization. He muttered to himself, “How did I not think of this earlier…”

The people trailing behind him, ears perked up: “……”

They felt restless with curiosity. Think of what? Could he finish the sentence?

Before long, a long line of followers had formed behind the top student Liang, tagging along step by step while copying his notes.

Someone asked humbly, “Liang Yi, how did you figure out that escape tunnel question?”

Liang Yi stopped and gave him a puzzled look. “Didn’t you all see it just now? You dig it right there!”

Everyone: “???”

When did that happen? See what? Dig where?

A group who had all been considered top students back in high school now felt the helplessness of struggling learners who could see the answer but still could not understand the solution process.

Liang Yi sighed and began explaining.

“To decide where an escape tunnel should be dug, you have to consider multiple factors.”

“First, when an emergency occurs, people must be able to reach the tunnel entrance quickly from the residential area, so it cannot be too far from the dormitories. Ideally, we should estimate how long the shelter can withstand a zombie horde. If we assume the school will be breached in three minutes, then the time required for everyone, from the first person to the last, to enter the tunnel cannot exceed three minutes. That means we also have to consider evacuation speed and total population—”

“Second, manual excavation of an underground tunnel requires evaluating soil composition. If the soil is too loose and lacks cohesion, the tunnel may collapse. If it is too hard, excavation becomes too difficult, and ten months may not be enough. Wet clay is easy to shape but cracks after drying. Loess soil is porous and requires waterproofing… all of these factors must be considered. Also, since our school is near a river, groundwater must be taken into account, meaning the tunnel should be as far as possible from the western side where the river is.”

“Third, construction time. Assuming the first one or two months after the zombie outbreak remain relatively safe for digging, we would still have only about a year to complete the tunnel. While ensuring everyone can evacuate safely within xx minutes, we must calculate how long, wide, and tall the tunnel should be, how many cubic meters must be excavated, and assuming each person can spare one hour per week alongside their studies—”

Liang Yi spoke fluently and at length, leaving listeners’ mouths hanging wider and wider open.

While they had still been wandering around like headless flies, someone had already written an entire essay in his mind.

“This class… is it really this deep?” one person murmured weakly, clutching the map.

Liang Yi nodded seriously. “Yeah. The subject is incredibly profound.”

He had a feeling that if he mastered infrastructure studies, then not only Fangzhou, but any location could be transformed into a shelter in the future.

During wilderness exploration, or when trapped somewhere and unable to return on time, they would no longer panic over the lack of a suitable hiding place.

From the perspective of survival rates, this class was no less important than medical first aid.

Hearing Liang Yi say this, several students fell into thoughtful silence. Then, sighing helplessly, they bit the ends of their pens and hurried off with troubled expressions to study the different soil types he had mentioned.

……

The goal of the infrastructure course was not only to teach students how to build and maintain shelters, but more importantly, to help Fu Qing transform the campus itself.

In the system marketplace, a single escape tunnel cost 1000 teaching points, yet it was an essential facility.

Otherwise, if a zombie horde surrounded the area and the shelter fell, those hiding on campus would become trapped beasts in a cage.

Fu Qing suspected the system had deliberately set such a high price precisely because it knew how necessary the tunnel was.

But if more than two thousand students across the school worked together to dig it, then according to Xu Mingyue’s calculations, each person would only need to spare half an hour per week to complete an escape tunnel roughly one thousand meters long within eight months.

The manpower of over two thousand people was not something to underestimate.

The same applied to reinforcing the perimeter walls and constructing traps.

If properly utilized, a single infrastructure course could save Fu Qing several thousand teaching points, which could instead be used to purchase other essential facilities or upgrade buildings.

All of this had already been carefully discussed between Fu Qing and Xu Mingyue before the course curriculum was designed.

As the first aid and infrastructure courses gradually fell into rhythm, another voice began to emerge across campus.

After several days of classes, more and more people realized that Teacher Lu looked strangely familiar.

……

Within a vast space, the light suddenly warped, like the flickering signal of an old television losing connection. Translated on Hololo novels. A figure soon emerged from within it.

Song Rushuang’s feet touched solid ground as she opened her tightly shut eyes.

Bluish glowing particles floated through the air like jellyfish, expanding and contracting, creating a dreamlike underwater world tinged with an advanced futuristic atmosphere.

Two or three other students stood nearby, looking around in confusion just like her.

This was the open hall of the simulated combat chamber.

The four roommates from Dorm 1111’s women’s hall failed to secure reservations for the same time slot this week, so Song Rushuang had to come to the combat chamber alone. Students who did not have a “player” team and entered the simulation combat chamber by themselves but still wanted to play multiplayer instances would gather in the open hall to find others to connect with.

Since reservations for the simulation combat chamber were made through wristbands in scheduled time slots, students who booked the same period would usually log in at roughly the same time. During those few minutes, it was easy to run into others, and the chances of successfully forming a team were quite high.

If you arrived a little early, you might even encounter students from the previous time slot who had just finished their battles and were preparing to log out.

Song Rushuang had arrived three minutes earlier than usual today. Standing in the center of the hall, she waited patiently for more people to log in, hoping to spot someone she knew. Clearing a dungeon together with familiar classmates would naturally lead to better coordination.

Before the next group arrived, however, she encountered the last batch of players exiting.

Within the distorted lines of light, three figures appeared one after another. Their session had ended, and by all logic they should already have heard the warning prompting players to log off. Yet the three stood motionless, as if they had not heard anything at all, staring blankly ahead like people who had lost their souls.

What had they experienced inside the instance?

Curious, Song Rushuang recognized one of them as a classmate from her practical combat class and hurried over. “You Jia, what’s wrong?”

It took two calls before You Jia snapped back to awareness. Even upon seeing Song Rushuang, she still looked unreal, her pupils unfocused as she murmured, “Rushuang…”

Now genuinely worried, Song Rushuang grabbed one of her hands and squeezed her palm. “What happened? Which instance did you play? Why are you reacting like this?”

“Xiao Juan,” You Jia muttered.

“What?”

Song Rushuang frowned.

She had also played the Xiao Juan instance once after hearing others praise it. She had taken the role of the trusted female protagonist, but like most players who went in without reading a guide, she had failed to save Xiao Juan and had personally witnessed her death. The experience had left a strong emotional impact on her.

But that had been before midterms. After the intense pressure of exam preparation and exam week, many memories had blurred.

Hearing those two words again now stirred something within her, as though a forgotten memory had lightly brushed against her mind.

Seeing the commotion, others nearby gathered around.

Red and blue vertical lines began flickering across You Jia’s body, indicating she was about to be forcibly logged out. Yet she only stared at Song Rushuang, her voice heavy with dazed disbelief.

“Teacher Lu… he appeared in the Xiao Juan instance.”

Her voice trembled, speeding up as she spoke.

“…He was the one who treated the ‘protagonists’ and provided them with gasoline.”

“Lu Yan. That person was also named Lu Yan. He looks exactly the same as Teacher Lu!”

Memory flashed back instantly, freezing into a vivid image.

The man wore a barber’s white cutting cape, jumping up from his chair. As he turned and jokingly scolded the protagonists, his sharply defined profile appeared. It was Lu Yan, younger than he was now.

Song Rushuang had only played the Xiao Juan instance once, together with her three roommates. With more teammates, her attention had naturally focused on coordinating with them and protecting Xiao Juan, the mission objective. Besides, the Lu Yan back then differed from the present Teacher Lu in hairstyle and demeanor. Because of that, she had overlooked something: long before Teacher Lu ever arrived at the school, they had already had a “brief encounter.”

Like lightning striking overhead, Song Rushuang froze where she stood.

After a brief silence, shock rippled through the surrounding crowd.

“What did you say?!”

“What does that mean? Teacher Lu is someone from the instance?” someone blurted out. “But he clearly exists right in front of us… no, that’s not right.”

His expression suddenly twisted, turning as grim as the three others’, as though he had finally realized what this implied.

“It’s not that Teacher Lu is fake, but… the instance is real?”

“So those weren’t virtual plots and stories created by the simulation combat chamber,” he murmured dreamily. “They were things that actually happened?”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Previous

Cen Han’s gaze collided with theirs.

At the first-floor classroom windows, several students leaned out, grinning as they looked his way. One said gleefully, “Wanna bet on how he’s going to get up there?”

“How else? His legs don’t work. He’ll have to crawl up the steps with his hands! I bet ten Star Coins!”

“Pfft, that’s weak. I’ll bet twenty.”

“I’m in for twenty too—bet he’ll turn tail and slink back down.”

Their unrestrained jeers carried crystal clear into the boy’s ears. His fingers on the wheels froze. His jaw clenched hard.

Humiliation surged around him like a flood. His spine stiffened, nails digging deep into his palms.

In front of so many eyes, those few short steps of the ramp were no less than a sheer cliff face.

Someone passed by. Cen Han’s black eyes trembled, and for once, unable to restrain himself, he raised them. His usual indifference gave way to something close to pleading.

Tang Zhenzhen, backpack on her shoulders, was looking at him.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but she said nothing. Though she hadn’t wanted this, yesterday’s shame and resentment seemed somehow eased.

She turned her face away and jogged up the stairs.

The laughter at the windows grew louder. More faces turned to watch. His fingers slipped from the wheels, his face pale.

Cen Han rolled forward, trying to steady his weight. He bent, straining to push the crates aside.

Under his tense, veined hands, the heavy boxes shifted slowly. His posture was awkward, unsteady. Fear of toppling clung to him. The onlookers jeered, booing when he faltered. Cen Han squeezed his eyes shut.

He knew school would change nothing. He knew no higher academy would ever accept him. But because of one coward’s dying words, he had lived on as nothing more than a laughingstock.

Someone laughed at his contorted posture. Another said he looked like a twisted worm. They mocked his limp, senseless legs dangling uselessly.

Why had he fallen to this? Why punish him for crimes he never committed?

They—why didn’t they just—

His eyes filled with shadow. The taste of blood rose in his throat.

He dug his nails into his palms, almost to the flesh.

…

The next day, Qian Yuan woke, washed, ate quickly, and logged in early.

Her cub hadn’t come home for lunch yet. With her stamina full, she made two trips to the junkyard, spending ten points, and earned 15 Star Coins.

Added to yesterday’s 25, she now had 40.

—A quilt was within reach!

As the one-hour sign-in approached, she decided to stay in-game. She cleaned the floor and searched through his cabinet, hoping for clues about his background.

The cabinet held many things: textbooks, mechanical parts, the folded clothes she’d stashed before… but most striking was a badge.

A small round badge, finely crafted, bearing an inverted triangle. Inside it, a sharp sword, its hilt adorned with three diamond-like gems.

The delicate badge looked wildly out of place in this shabby room. Curious, she turned it over. Scratches lined the back, engraved in interstellar script. Thankfully, the system translated.

【Cen Zhengzhong】

The same surname as her cub.

Her dumpling avatar stroked its chin in thought.

She had thought his status was lowly. But this—this looked like a military insignia.

Uneasy, she set it back, glanced at the time, and went to sign in.

【Congratulations! You signed in and received: 1 Gacha Coin, 10 Star Coins!】

Fifty Star Coins now!

She opened the gacha machine, mind racing.

One stamina point every ten minutes. Two hours online meant another junkyard run. At this rate, six or seven more times, and she could buy the quilt.

The machine shook. A ball dropped—but this one glowed rainbow-bright, dazzling compared to the rest.

【Congratulations! You obtained Rare Item: Complete Kitchen Set!】

【Ding~! A mission is complete! Go claim your reward!】

—Eh??

The barrage of prompts stunned her. Eyes wide, she stared blankly at the kitchen set on the desk.

…The gacha prize had auto-cleared her mission?

The prompts faded. Heart pounding, she tapped the task menu.

The main quest reward lit with a 【Claim】 button. She tapped, receiving 50 EXP and 10 Star Coins. The interaction system unlocked.

【Congratulations! Profile updated!】
【You reached Level 2! Diary now tracks Mood Value!】
【Interaction unlocked! Go enjoy sweet moments with your cub! (Note: This feature is exclusive to your cub~)】

At the same time, a new quest appeared.

【Main Quest: Keep your cub in a good mood~!

Current Mood: 0/100

Goal: Maintain mood at 70/100 or higher for 3 consecutive days (0/3).

Reward: Unlock Communication System, EXP ×50, Star Coins ×10.】

Qian Yuan: “.”

Her dumpling avatar sprouted black lines overhead.

So she could interact—but not talk? She had to unlock another function just to converse?

If the forum post still existed, she’d downvote it into the ground.

But her thoughts shifted.

—Her cub’s mood was at rock bottom.

With a heavy expression, she opened the diary. Sure enough: 【Cen Han was bullied at school】 had been added.

Her profile now showed 120 EXP needed to level up, and stamina maxed at 15. She tapped the screen, wishing she could reach Level 3 immediately and go fight the villains at his school.

But she couldn’t cheat.

She sighed, checked the clock. He’d be home soon.

She thought: even if she couldn’t chase off bullies, she could still do something else.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐

The garbage truck slowly pulled away, and the vagrants scattered.

Zhang San wiped the sweat from his forehead, plopped down on the ground, and pulled a bottle of nutrient fluid from his oversized pants pocket. He drained it in one gulp.

One of his men sneaked a glance at the bottle in Zhang San’s hand. Something flickered in his eyes—a smirk he couldn’t hide—before he casually looked away and said, “Boss, today was lucky. We found some good stuff, should fetch a decent price.”

“I heard a few military academies in the Imperial Capital had a competition today. There are more off-world visitors around. Business will drop off in a few days.”

The underling rambled on, but Zhang San wasn’t interested. After a short rest, he hefted the bag and prepared to head to the black market.

Then he froze.

—The bag felt lighter.

Zhang San’s brows snapped together. He hurried under a streetlamp, yanked the bag open, and rifled through it. When he saw what was inside, it was as if lightning had struck him clear out of the sky. He stiffened, eyes wide in disbelief.

His men noticed the sudden change in his face and exchanged uneasy looks. One stepped forward, asking, “Boss, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?”

Zhang San let out a furious laugh, then flung the bag of worthless junk down in front of them.

…

Qian Yuan returned, clutching her little backpack.

Quest complete. She opened the pack and saw a 【Sell】 button at the bottom. Without hesitation, she tapped it.

【Items in backpack:

• Fabric from an old dress — 1 Star Coin
• Wind-up spring from a toy — 1 Star Coin
• Medicine bottle cap — 2 Star Coins
• Torn scrap of cloth — 1 Star Coin
  …

Total: 15 Star Coins

[Tap to confirm sale]】

Qian Yuan: “…”

She stood frozen, thunderstruck.

Her dumpling head was filled with question marks.

The backpack only held ten slots. She’d collected ten items. How was that worth only 15 coins?!

Those villains had been noisy while scavenging, shouting “This looks great!” and “Big money tonight!” like their bag was brimming with treasure.

She didn’t want to believe they’d actually filled it with one-coin scraps.

After a long silence, she sighed and hit confirm.

—Fine. Fifteen wasn’t bad. After all, daily sign-in only gave her ten.

The confirmation screen faded. A little robot appeared.

Its shell was battered, joints rusted, limping as it waddled forward.

Qian Yuan stared curiously as it picked up her backpack. The thin arms looked frail, but they lifted the load steadily. The robot gave her a bow, then vanished into the void.

【Congratulations, you have gained: 15 Star Coins!】

Selling the scraps and completing the side quest netted her 25 Star Coins. With her daily sign-in bonus, her total funds now stood at 35 Star Coins and 1 Gacha Coin.

She used the coin right away.

The capsule machine appeared, just like before. Insert coin, twist the knob, and a colorful ball rolled out.

【Congratulations! You obtained: Braised Beef Instant Noodles · Four-Pack!】

Braised beef noodles—delicious!

The thought barely formed before she pressed it down. Too pitiful. Even her little boy had to suffer her own fate: living off instant noodles.

Her dumpling avatar quietly placed the pack on the desk.

She still had 35 coins, but not enough stamina to visit the store. To pass the time, she opened the in-game community and browsed posts.

By the time her stamina recovered to 10, she bought one bottle of low-grade nutrient fluid and spent 5 coins on a pair of wall hooks.

She had wanted to buy a wardrobe, but it was too expensive and there was no space in the tiny room. The hooks would do. She hung them low on the wall.

Comfort +3%. Progress: 63/70.

She saved the remaining 25 coins, eyeing a thick quilt for 90 coins. One day she’d buy it, but not yet.

…Why was she poor in-game too?

Qian Yuan muttered to herself, then logged off, satisfied after draining her stamina.

…

At dawn, before the alarm rang, Cen Han opened his eyes.

He had lived in this small room for three years. Even without his optic membrane, he could move through daily routines with practiced ease.

As if avoiding something, he left the bathroom carrying the case that held his membranes, and headed straight for the junkyard.

Most garbage trucks arrived at night. In the mornings, the junkyard was quiet, just a few recycling robots drifting between the annihilation containers.

The Imperial Capital’s junkyard had two levels: one above ground, one below. Broken mecha scraps, aircraft parts—things like that could all be found here.

For most, useless junk. The vagrants wandering here couldn’t make use of it.

But Cen Han was different.

Returning home, he moved himself to the shower stool and bathed. In the dark, he didn’t have to see his powerless legs. He no longer raged at the sight as he once had.

When it was almost time for school, he hesitated.

His wet black hair fell across his brow, softening the gloom in his features. He pressed his dry lips together, then placed his hand over his eyes.

The rough calluses on his fingers rasped against the skin around his sockets. He slid in the cool membranes, and light surged back into his vision.

Cen Han froze.

…Something new was on the desk.

Yesterday, nothing had been there.

He licked his lips, glanced past the nutrient fluid, and focused on a brightly colored bag.

Square and neat, covered in strange letters he couldn’t read.

He stared at it for a long while before exhaling softly.

This time, instead of wary suspicion, he drank the nutrient fluid of his own accord.

When he left, his gloom was strangely absent. His thoughts were fixed only on the inexplicable events of the past few days.

—That peace lasted until he saw the boxes piled on the school’s ramp.

His classroom was on the second floor. He always took the ramp. But now, crates blocked the path.

There was plenty of empty space nearby. Yet the boxes had been placed here—deliberately.

From a nearby window came mocking laughter. Cen Han turned his head slightly. Several unfamiliar faces crowded at the sill, watching him with glee.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐

Early that morning, Cen Han didn’t go to the junkyard.

Nobody wanted him around, and being disabled, he couldn’t find work. Survival was hard enough as it was. For years, almost every morning, he had gone to the junkyard to dig for mechanical scraps, salvaging usable parts to assemble into various devices. Every so often, he would ask Uncle Tang to take them to the black market to sell.

The last batch had earned him nearly a hundred Star Coins, which he had almost entirely exchanged for nutrient fluid.

Now he was penniless. He had no food secured for the coming days, yet, unusually, he didn’t think much of it.

The boy sat at his desk, wearing his cheap optic membrane, quietly staring at the lamplight.

He tried to make sense of it all, to separate illusion from reality.

Last night, when he could not see, what had pressed the nutrient fluid to his lips? What had brought him that small glimmer of light?

Cen Han lowered his eyes, watching the clock tick away—morning, noon, dusk.

He left and returned, his eyes aching and swollen from the cheap membrane, but he didn’t remove it.

By nightfall, two empty bottles sat beside the lamp, the silence outside blending into the lifeless stillness inside.

Cen Han almost laughed. He didn’t even know what he was fooling himself with anymore.

He covered his eyes with his hand, expressionless, and lay down.

…

Qian Yuan spent the whole morning editing photos, then ran dungeons with her guild in the afternoon. She was lucky that day, looting a rare item she sold for good money at the Treasure Pavilion, enough to treat herself to a decent dinner.

That evening, scrolling her phone idly, she suddenly remembered her neglected little dumpling. Panicked, she logged back in.

Her child was still curled up in bed. This time, he was truly asleep, a little “Zzz…” bubble floating above his head. Qian Yuan melted at the sight, sat at the foot of his bed, and checked the diary.

【November 4th, 6:30 AM】
【Cen Han woke up.】
【Cen Han waited at the desk.】

【November 4th, 8:00 AM】
【Cen Han went to school.】
【Cen Han was bullied.】
【Cen Han didn’t pay attention in class.】

【November 4th, 12:00 PM】
【Cen Han came home for lunch.】
【Cen Han waited at the desk.】

…

【November 4th, 5:00 PM】
【Cen Han returned home from school.】
【Cen Han waited at the desk.】

…

【November 4th, 9:30 PM】
【Cen Han went to sleep.】

“…”

A drunk staggered past the window outside, crooning a slurred, off-key tune. Silvery light spilled through the half-shut curtain, dust floating in the glow.

The diary’s faint glow reflected on her dumpling face. Qian Yuan stared at the words.

…Who was he waiting for?

She didn’t need an answer. She knew.

This was a raising sim. He was her cub. He could only be waiting for her.

Yesterday, he had been tense and wary because of her. Today, he had waited all day.

From morning to sundown.

Moonlight draped the room in hazy gauze. An indescribable feeling wrapped softly around her heart, like soaking in a hot spring—warm all over, a little heady.

Her little dumpling avatar unknowingly pinched the corner of the blanket. For the first time, Qian Yuan felt a raising sim move her so deeply.

—Tomorrow, she must log in earlier to see him!

The thought took root. She nodded solemnly to herself, then reread the diary. This time, she noticed the other lines.

He had been bullied again.

The words “school” and “bullying” together sparked fierce disgust in her. She pressed her lips and, to distract herself, decided to go out exploring.

Her 10 stamina points had recovered. Remembering she hadn’t visited the junkyard last time, she chose that location.

Once again the barren planet flashed past, and she landed on solid ground.

The junkyard wasn’t as filthy or stinking as the word suggested. Sleek silver robots roamed about, dumping trash from their compartments into massive containers. At each console stood a uniformed robot.

Whenever it pressed a button, a container sealed, glowing blue circuitry patterns lighting up across its surface like flowing current.

When it reopened, it was empty.

Qian Yuan’s eyes widened.

…Efficient!

Homeless figures from the slums wandered the yard. She saw some pry open robots’ compartments, picking through scraps, and others climb ladders by the containers, fishing with long hooks as though casting lines.

Most simply sat at the entrance, gazing down the road like hungry beasts waiting for prey. Curious, Qian Yuan crouched nearby.

Suddenly, the rumble of wheels echoed. The vagrants stirred, instantly tense, pulling apart, their round dumpling faces hard and wary, scattering to either side of the gate.

【Ding~! Congratulations, player, you’ve unlocked a side quest! Go check the quest list!】

Eh?

Startled, Qian Yuan opened the quest menu.

【Side Quest: The junkyard hides salvageable treasures. The garbage trucks bring fresh loads untouched by others. Money-making opportunities lie ahead—be prepared!

Progress: 0/10

Objective: Recover at least ten items from the garbage trucks that can be sold.

Reward: EXP ×50, Star Coins ×10.

Note: Buy a one-time pass to hire a robot and instantly complete this quest!】

【You have entered: Junkyard. You now have temporary use of a small backpack, duration 30 minutes. Store all recovered items inside~!】

Qian Yuan: “…”

Qian Yuan: “.”

A small backpack appeared on her back. She tugged the straps, at a loss for words.

Still, a quest was a quest. She couldn’t waste it. And the EXP would help her level up, boosting her stamina limit by 5 each time. With two levels, she could finally accompany Cen Han to school.

Her dumpling clenched tiny fists, eyes locked on the approaching garbage truck.

One, two, three—charge!

Like how Cen Han’s wheelchair had once passed through her, the vagrants didn’t hinder her at all.

Glowing, she dashed to the front. But when she saw the mountain of refuse, she froze.

The slum dwellers’ eyes gleamed, pushing and jostling for the best scraps. Swept up in the frenzy, Qian Yuan grabbed a dark slab and glanced at her task screen.

【Progress: 0/10】

A silver panel.

【Progress: 0/10】

A bottle.

【Progress: 0/10】

Qian Yuan: “…” You’ve got to be kidding me.

As the vagrants pounced like starving wolves, she could only poke at items cluelessly, checking the screen after each.

Finally, she found one valid piece. Nearly crying with relief, she yanked the backpack forward and stuffed it in.

A voice rang out nearby: “Who the hell took that shard?!”

Nobody answered. In the dark, a fragment vanishing wouldn’t be noticed.

But Qian Yuan froze, turning sharply.

In the crowd, with his nest-like mop of hair and hulking build, stood the same dumpling brute who had stolen Cen Han’s nutrient fluid.

She hadn’t misheard—the voice was his.

He clutched a bag, flanked by cronies. Others kept their distance, not daring to compete. If they happened to want the same item, they swallowed their pride and backed off.

The villain and his lackeys tossed scraps into the bag one after another. Qian Yuan watched from the side.

A thought stirred.

…

Her dumpling eyes rolled slyly. Slowly, she started walking toward them.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐

Cen Han sat in the dimly lit room.

As evening approached, the light from outside grew weaker. Sitting in his wheelchair, half his face was hidden in shadow, with only faint specks of light falling across his lips and chin.

He inhaled lightly, exhaled lightly, as if trying to breathe out all the black fog wrapped around his heart.

In the years just after the disaster, when he first began enduring such treatment, he had once hated, once raged—shattering all the furniture and decorations in his home, wishing he could beat his tormentors into the dust.

With time, that wild anger sharpened into poisonous needles, pricking him constantly, sprouting arms that dragged him deeper into the mire. Pity and contempt alike became catalysts.

Look at the state you’re in.

Emotions and reason detached, leaving behind only extreme calm, watching his own searing pain with cold detachment.

Cen Han rolled his wheelchair to the desk.

The inferior external optic membrane could be used no more than eight hours a day, and today he had already exceeded that limit. His eye sockets throbbed and itched. He raised a hand to cover his left eye, about to remove the thin membrane, when his movements suddenly froze.

“…”

Silence. He turned his head, staring quietly at the two bottles of nutrient fluid and the strange object that had suddenly appeared beside them.

His eyelashes trembled.

Another hallucination? Cen Han thought coolly.

Two bottles that shouldn’t exist in his room. If he picked them up, perhaps what entered his throat would only be shredded paper or empty air. His mind lured him into traps like this before—illusions so real he once believed them.

Bloodshot lines spread in his eyes, but he didn’t notice, staring at them for a long time.

His stomach cramped in protest. Cen Han lowered his gaze, removed the optic membrane, showing no curiosity toward the bizarre double-layered object.

Vision plunged back into darkness. He reached for mechanical scraps scavenged from the junkyard that morning and quietly, skillfully began assembling.

…

Qian Yuan had logged off. She received a message from her father with the contact information of a magazine editor.

She still had to scrape together money this month for a tripod. Reluctantly, she spent an afternoon psyching herself up, then called the editor and submitted her photography portfolio by email.

Fortunately, the editor liked her work. Soon she’d have extra income.

That night, fresh from her shower and lying in bed, Qian Yuan finally relaxed.

As her tension faded, she suddenly remembered the game she’d neglected. Picking up her phone, she logged onto the forum to find the old post and suggest lowering the recharge prices.

But when she tapped the title, a prompt popped up:

【This post has been deleted.】

Qian Yuan: “…Huh?”

On this forum, posts could only be deleted by the author or by an admin for rule violations.

The developer looking for beta testers wouldn’t delete their own post. Could it be against forum rules?

Blinking at the home page, she set the phone aside and reached for the VR headset.

…

Her dumpling avatar reappeared in the cramped room. This time, she wasn’t alone—there was a little mound under the blanket on the single bed.

The dimly glowing in-game clock read 【9:30】. She hadn’t expected Cen Han to sleep this early.

The curtains were half drawn. Through the faint night light outside, she saw the two bottles of nutrient fluid still untouched on the desk.

Qian Yuan: “…” Wasn’t he hungry?

She scratched her head, puzzled, but didn’t dwell on it.

The room was quiet. She walked closer, saw him hiding under the blanket, and naturally tugged it down a bit, wanting to glimpse his dumpling face.

But as soon as she pulled, he suddenly sat upright, clutching the blanket, eyes unfocused and wary, staring into the void.

Qian Yuan: “…”

Her dumpling face puffed up.

When would this game finally act normal—like a proper raising sim, letting the child be cute and clingy to her?

That thought flashed by, and in the next second she heard a muffled sound.

“Grr—”

The boy’s grip on the blanket tightened. He licked his lips, pressing a hand hard against his stomach.

Qian Yuan’s eyes widened.

Wait.

He was so hungry his stomach was growling—so why not drink the nutrient fluid on the desk?

She glanced from the untouched bottles to the boy pressing his stomach coldly at the bed’s corner, her brows furrowing deep.

Finally, she grabbed a bottle, opened it, and carried it to him, patting his head.

“No being picky,” she scolded, though knowing he couldn’t hear or feel her. “We’re too poor. This is all we can afford.”

When the cold bottle neared his lips, he flinched violently, scrambling back into the bed’s corner.

Qian Yuan suddenly felt like a wicked villain. She grinned, braced a hand against the wall, and did a dramatic kabedon.

The poor boy had nowhere left to run. The bottle tip pressed against his lips until, cornered, he had to open his mouth and gulp it down.

Liquid trickled from the corner of his lips. Flustered, he pushed at the bottle, his tongue darting out to lick like a kitten.

“So good!”

Qian Yuan beamed. The little dumpling’s round eyes curved into crescent moons.

At moments like this, the healing power of his cuteness doubled. She pinched his cheek, satisfied, then set the empty bottle on the desk, still smiling.

“I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

…

Silence.

Cen Han sat frozen in the corner. For once, his usually cold face showed a rare bewildered expression.

The foul taste of the low-grade nutrient lingered in his nose, but the stabbing pain in his stomach eased. Warmth spread through his body, the satisfaction of being fed pulsing through his veins.

It felt too real—neither illusion nor dream.

In the darkness, his throat bobbed faintly.

Maybe he was dreaming.

Cen Han slowly lay back down.

It must be a dream, he thought. By morning, hunger would gnaw him again, his arms weak as ever.

…

Dawn poured across his face. The alarm clock blared.

Cen Han sat up, reaching for the desk to silence it—only to feel something unusual under his fingers.

Frowning, he retrieved his optic membrane and slipped it in.

Vision returned.

The first thing he saw was an empty bottle.

A few drops of green liquid clung to the bottom, proof of what it once held.

Memory from last night returned slowly. His eyes widened.

Not a dream.

Could imagination truly last so vividly, so tangibly?

If it was real, then someone had secretly entered his room, cleaned it, left him two bottles of nutrient fluid—and even forced him to drink one at night.

And he hadn’t died of poison. He was alive, sitting here.

Why?

A fleeting light crossed his eyes—but then another detail struck him, darkening his gaze.

—No.

He had heard nothing. No one had reached out a hand to him.

If it was only fantasy, no wonder it seemed so real. Just like before…

A cold wind swept in. The empty bottle wobbled on the desk, fell, and clattered sharply. His jawline tightened. After a long silence, he moved to the bathroom to wash.

When he came back, he ignored the remaining bottle.

But before leaving, he couldn’t resist one more glance at the strange, out-of-place object.

On its first tier was a small spoon-shaped protrusion. He lowered his gaze, rough fingertips brushing it. The spoon moved slightly.

He pressed it down.

“Click—”

A faint snap. Warm orange light poured into his dark eyes, illuminating half the shadowed room.

His pupils contracted.

…Light?

The Imperial Capital’s energy grid didn’t cover the slums. Houses here had no lamps, and he couldn’t afford energy stones. For years, when night fell, he had grown used to pitch black.

He had thought he no longer longed for light. But now, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering—

This glow within reach, was it only a false mirage, a cruel trick, a mirage foreshadowing misfortune?

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐