Under the custody of a certain old man, Ye Cheng still couldn’t escape the same fate as Madam Du—knocked unconscious by the young mistress with a carrot.
Though… Ye Cheng had no idea what he’d done to offend her. He even seriously suspected that the young mistress, much like the President, simply beat him up whenever she was in a bad mood.
The difference between the two was that the President was system-certified—hitting him brought her mental relief, easing her anxiety and unease. The young mistress was similar, though the cause-and-effect was reversed.
It wasn’t that she might hit Ye Cheng when anxious or upset—no, she definitely would. One was a 50% chance, the other 100%.
Conclusion: He was a punching bag. Anyone who saw him wanted to smack him a couple of times, then "reward" him with a good stomp… ahem, cruelly trample his dignity. How evil!!!
When Ye Cheng woke up again, his eyes snapped open to a familiar scene.
Glancing around, he sighed. Had he fallen under some illusion? Wait, why was he back in that old man’s room again? Damn it, I want the young mistress’s room!!!
Hold on… something felt off.
Ye Cheng suddenly noticed the room’s decor was unusually "girly," unlike the old man’s usual minimalist setup with just a few books.
After triple-checking, he finally spotted a cute, heart-adorned doll by the bed and relaxed.
Phew, this time it had to be right. This had to be the young mistress’s room. If he’d ended up in the wrong place again, he might as well just jump out the window, bros!
He took a deep, dramatic whiff of the blanket in front of him. Finally, the right scent—though… it didn’t quite smell like the young mistress?
Click.
Without warning, the door opened. The young mistress and the Short-haired Woman walked in, only to witness Ye Cheng mid-"epic lungful" with the blanket.
The air grew eerily silent. Ye Cheng calmly set the blanket down.
"So… the blanket attacked me first. Believe me?" he said, deadpan.
Shen Qinghan: "…"
Short-haired Woman: "???"
Smack!
Minutes later, Ye Cheng followed behind the young mistress, his cheeks now adorably "rosy." This time, he’d finally made it to her room.
By now, Ye Cheng had developed full-blown paranoia. Even with the room’s quirky dolls, philosophy books, and the unmistakable scent of the young mistress, he was convinced it was all a trap.
I won’t fall for it again!
He suspected some capitalist scheme was at play—every time he woke up, he was either in that old man’s bed or someone else’s, but never the young mistress’s. Ugh…
This time, it’d been the Short-haired Woman’s bed—the same top lackey who’d kicked him earlier.
But given his current… relationship with the young mistress, Ye Cheng felt compelled to compete for the title of her #1 subordinate. Much like the President’s "dog," this was a legendary title he had to claim.
Interesting. Woman, you’ve successfully caught my attention. (Cue the charming smile, the signature smirk of a domineering dragon-king.)
Shen Qinghan’s room was immaculate. Even the bed, previously wrecked by some "born-evil hag," was now neatly made—pristine and orderly.
Just one glance, and Ye Cheng’s "superbrain" could vividly reconstruct the young mistress’s sleeping position from the night before, along with her sweet fragrance.
Twisted, writhing, spinning 360 degrees, cackling, eyes brimming with madness and greed… chanting "young mistress" 100 times (sniff, sniff, sniff)…
Yep.
Earlier, aside from dealing with that hag, the young mistress had also tidied her room. As for why… oh, so hard to guess~
"Sit," Shen Qinghan said offhandedly, pulling a book from her shelf and settling in, ignoring Ye Cheng as she read with apparent fascination.
But… was she actually reading?
Why were her palms so sweaty? Ohhh, so hard to guess~ Must be the heat.
Ye Cheng widened his eyes, feigning pure, innocent longing. "Really? I can sit?"
Shen Qinghan frowned. Her first instinct was to nod—it’s just sitting, what’s the harm?—but she quickly dismissed the thought.
This guy’s behavior had long since crossed into "non-human" territory. If he was asking like this, it definitely wasn’t normal sitting.
The young mistress narrowed her eyes. "Only on the chair."
Her words shut down all his maneuvering room. Ye Cheng slumped, defeated. Damn it, the black-hearted young mistress saw right through me!
Why must Cheng and Han share the same era?!
Shen Qinghan knew from his expression that he’d been scheming again. She tried to think like him, but her brain short-circuited—his logic was simply not of this world.
What followed was the usual routine: reading together, studying, discussing academia… But hey, audience, does this seem right to you?
You’re telling me, after all this effort, I’m stuck reading with a sweet, fragrant young mistress?
Hell no!
Ye Cheng’s eyes burned with determination. He gently slammed his book down, flashing a sycophantic grin and batting his Kardashian-level lashes.
"Young mistress, shouldn’t we… get to business? We’ve got to return to the dorm today. If I’m late, the President will skin me alive."
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to awaken her conscience. Shen Qinghan’s face flushed faintly, her usual composure cracking.
"Annoying," she muttered, turning away.
This is my chance!
Ye Cheng’s excitement surged as he launched into his sinister plan. Heh heh heh, young mistress, you shall aid my cultivation!
Shen Qinghan took a deep breath, steadied her gaze, and stood. She walked to her neatly made bed, lay down, folded her hands over her chest, and closed her eyes—serene as a corpse.
"Miss Shen, is it possible that what you're doing is called sleeping—the kind where you close your eyes and never wake up—and not actually being sick?" Ye Cheng ventured cautiously.
Shen Qinghan furrowed her brows. "Is it really that complicated?"
Ye Cheng nodded vigorously, blinking his eyes and staring at her with a pitiful look that screamed, "If you don’t help me, who will?"
Shen Qinghan: "..."
Fine.
The young mistress began adjusting her posture again, her expression still tense, her delicate face as flawless as a porcelain doll—so much so that it made one want to kiss her. No wonder a certain Madam Du seemed like such a creep.
"Miss Shen, you’re still missing the mark. Your face isn’t red enough. It needs to be redder, like you’re actually sick. Right now, you just look..."
Ye Cheng’s voice piped up again from the side. Annoyed, Shen Qinghan opened her eyes, intending to glare at him, only to find Ye Cheng right in her face, studying her intently—though his posture was a bit... questionable.
Ye Cheng had climbed onto the bed, his position somewhat precarious, yet his gaze remained utterly pure, devoid of any impure thoughts. All that shone in his eyes was a pursuit of artistic perfection and the burning desire to skip class tomorrow so he could triumphantly confront a certain middle-aged man.
Shen Qinghan gritted her teeth... Idiot. Too close.
Though she and Ye Cheng interacted often, this level of proximity was a first. While Ye Cheng seemed unfazed, Shen Qinghan was struggling—especially when she remembered she’d already agreed to help him take photos.
With a resigned sigh, Shen Qinghan squeezed her eyes shut. "I don’t care anymore, just do it yourself!"
As if giving up entirely. Hearing this, Ye Cheng was overjoyed. Do it himself? Perfect—he loved that idea!!!
Dark, crawl, big, fierce, 100 times—got it?
"Yes, just like that! Miss Shen, you’re getting into the groove now. That’s it, make your cheeks even redder..."
Somehow, the previously wooden young mistress suddenly "got it," her acting skills surpassing even award-winning actors. Her face flushed pink, her expressions shifting subtly with each passing moment.
A miracle worker, Dr. Ye!
Though, in a place Ye Cheng couldn’t see, Shen Qinghan’s tightly clenched hands were already slick with sweat...
Meanwhile.
Outside the door, a certain unreliable Madam Du successfully booted up her phone and crept stealthily toward her dear Xiao Hanhan’s room, her face alight with mischief.
Gossip—she wanted gossip!!!
Pausing outside, she could hear faint, questionable noises and snippets of an even more questionable conversation from inside.
"Miss Shen, this isn’t working for me. Put more effort into it!"
"Shut up... I know, stop nagging..."
Ye Cheng’s "demanding" voice and Shen Qinghan’s flustered protests drifted out, painting a rather scandalous picture in Madam Du’s mind.
Du Wanyi: "???"
666—this was her favorite kind of scene! Damn it, now she had to keep listening!
Gradually, Madam Du’s expression shifted from calm to shock, then to utter disbelief.
Clutching her mouth to stifle any sound, her eyes wide with astonishment, she whispered, "T-this is too wild. This is just..."
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
