Upstairs.
Dazed and confused, the Little Secretary gradually regained consciousness. Her long eyelashes fluttered slightly as her sparkling eyes blinked open, only to find herself lying on the floor. She scratched her head in bewilderment.
"Huh? Why am I sleeping on the floor? Where’s Miss?"
She scrambled to her feet, dusting herself off while wondering where her young mistress had gone. Soon, she heard noises from downstairs—voices. One of them sounded like Miss… and another unfamiliar one. Had a guest arrived?
Her memory of seeing Ye Cheng before passing out had been wiped clean—a protective mechanism of her brain. Unlike the composed and resilient Miss Dongfang Zhixia, who could brush things off with just a blush, the Little Secretary’s mind had short-circuited, forcing a hard reboot to prevent a nosebleed catastrophe.
Quietly, she tiptoed downstairs, stopping at the staircase landing. Crouching in the blind spot, she peeked at the scene below.
And then—her adorable almond-shaped eyes widened in shock, completely mesmerized as she watched that scoundrel "harassing" her beloved Miss.
This time, having built up some resistance, she didn’t faint. Instead, she sprang up with righteous fury, shouting indignantly:
"You villain! Let go of Miss! If you want someone, take me instead!!!"
With the valor of a lone warrior holding off an army, she charged—only to trip and tumble head over heels down the stairs.
Ye Cheng: "…"
Dongfang Zhixia: "…"
Both were rendered speechless by the Little Secretary’s bizarre antics. Eventually, Ye Cheng snapped out of it first, releasing the young mistress’s delicate foot as he tentatively remarked:
"Miss President, it must’ve been a miracle for this kid to grow up, huh?"
Instinctively, Dongfang Zhixia nodded in agreement, as if finally meeting someone who understood: "Truly a miracle…"
Then, realizing something was off, her pupils shrank before she let out a shrill scream:
"Mengmeng!!!"
She kicked Ye Cheng in the process of standing up, then rushed toward the fallen Little Secretary at the foot of the stairs.
Ye Cheng: "…"
---
First floor, sofa.
"Whew, thank goodness this kid’s got plenty of padding—no serious harm done." Ye Cheng expertly examined the Little Secretary, who was sprawled on the couch, using tools from a medical kit.
Dongfang Zhixia watched in bewilderment. Despite his reassurances, she couldn’t shake her concern. How could someone roll down an entire staircase without even a scratch?
The Little Secretary’s "useless fat" had played a crucial cushioning role. Applying Newton’s second law, trigonometric functions, quadratic equations—or whatever irrelevant calculations—it was clear she’d escaped unscathed.
Only then did Dongfang Zhixia relax. She had kept a close eye on Ye Cheng during the examination, ensuring he didn’t take any liberties with the Little Secretary.
To her surprise, he remained entirely professional, his techniques impressively skilled—reminding her of the dossier on Ye Cheng that listed his "multitude of mastered skills."
"Alright, Miss President. If you’re still worried, take her to the hospital tomorrow for a checkup. But really, she’s fine—just extra cushioned." Ye Cheng removed the stethoscope from his head and placed it back in the medical kit.
He wasn’t lying. The Little Secretary had no shortage of soft padding, and the fall hadn’t hurt her at all. If she hadn’t woken up yet, it was likely just from fright.
Dongfang Zhixia nodded, gently rubbing the Little Secretary’s hand.
"Such an idiot…" she murmured, her voice laced with affection.
Then, something else occurred to her. What had the Little Secretary shouted earlier?
"Take me instead"?
Dongfang Zhixia: "…"
She glanced between the unconscious Little Secretary and Ye Cheng, who was dressed like a walking gourd, and felt a sudden unease.
"You’d better not have any ideas about her, or else—"
"Hold on, Miss President. I’ll take criticism, but accusing me of having improper thoughts about a barely-sentient hamster? That’s crossing the line! A man can endure death, but not disgrace!" Ye Cheng declared righteously.
Dongfang Zhixia: "…"
She realized Ye Cheng saw the Little Secretary as nothing more than a dim-witted pet. And honestly… was she wrong? The girl was like a chubby, clueless hamster—always on schedule for meals and steadily gaining weight.
Dongfang Zhixia was left speechless. Crude as it was, the analogy wasn’t entirely off… just excessively blunt.
"Why are you here in the middle of the night?" she snapped, her tone icy with lingering displeasure from the day’s events.
"Miss President, don’t you remember? I’m your—"
SMACK!
---
Once again, the familiar scene unfolded: Ye Cheng knelt obediently like a chastised child, while Dongfang Zhixia loomed over him, legs crossed imperiously.
"What on earth goes through that head of yours?"
Narrowing her eyes at the "flushed" Ye Cheng, she sighed in exasperation. There was no denying he was a genius—just an utterly deranged one.
Somehow, their conversation had derailed into rainbows, rainbows, and more rainbows…
Did she really seem like some kind of pervert with bizarre fetishes? How did they even get here?
"So, you’re suggesting I should %!~ (left unsaid for decency) and then…?" Dongfang Zhixia arched a brow.
"NoNoNo, Miss President! I’m saying you should do whatever makes you happy!" Ye Cheng corrected.
Dongfang Zhixia paused. "What does my happiness have to do with this? Are you implying that if I… that, I’d feel pleased?"
Ye Cheng blinked innocently. "Isn’t that the case?"
Dongfang Zhixia: "???"
"So, you’re saying I have those kinds of… preferences?" As she spoke, her mind involuntarily conjured an image of herself in leather, wielding a whip and—
Dongfang Zhixia: "…"
Her face burned crimson, trembling with rage.
"WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!" she hissed through gritted teeth, looking ready to murder him.
"You bastard, I DO NOT!!"
"Mmhm, I get it, I get it. You don’t!" Ye Cheng nodded vigorously, wearing an expression of utmost understanding.
Dongfang Zhixia: "…"
"Ahhh, shut up, you bastard! I don’t have that!!!"
Slap, slap, slap…
The president, her anger already at its peak, finally transformed into a werewolf-like state… no, wait—more accurately, into the very image she despised most, just like the kind of person Ye Cheng had accused her of being.
She leapt up from the couch and launched a fierce attack on Ye Cheng, who wore an infuriating "I know you" expression.
Strangely, Dongfang Zhixia found her mood lifting slightly, as if some idiot’s words had actually…
So… was she really that kind of person?
Dongfang Zhixia: “???”
Her heart skipped a beat. No way… Could she actually…?
Dongfang Zhixia froze, staring down at the bastard she’d just kicked to the ground. Her pupils trembled slightly before she gritted her teeth, her gaze hardening with resolve.
Absolutely not!!!
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?!
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
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!
