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..."
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
o a martial world and obtained a system that allowed him to draw one entry per year. Unfortunately, all he drew were useless white-tier entries. The probability for high-quality entries was extremely low, with the highest-tier mythic entry having a mere 0.001% chance! To increase the probability, he had to improve his martial realm, but he lacked the innate talent for cultivation. At the age of eighteen, Chen Yi fell into the hands of a gang and was forced into hard labor. Just as his life seemed destined for a bleak end, on his 18th entry draw, he actually pulled a mythic entry—Simulator! In the simulation, he could also draw one entry every year that passed, and upon ending the simulation, he would inherit all entries and his martial realm! In his first simulation, Chen Yi struggled desperately just to survive, knowing that living one more year meant one more entry draw! Finally, with hair turned white, he drew the entry he had longed for—Low-Grade Innate Talent! "Hahaha! Don't bully the old and poor! Time to cultivate and inherit my cultivation base!" ... From then on, Chen Yi continuously simulated and drew entries, his martial realm soaring higher and higher! Epic, legendary, and even mythic entries were gathered into his collection one after another! "What demon race or devil race? What dark turmoil? I don't know anything about that. They just charged at me screaming 'How can you possibly ascend to immortality?!' and got stuck to my fists, unable to be shaken off. Blind spots, speed bumps... go talk to my simulator. We're all struggling to survive out here. I'm trying so hard, so how are they still alive?"
