“Dad, why are you here all alone?”
Tang Shouye walked over, fumbling in the dark to turn on the light. When he saw what his father was doing, there was a chessboard in front of him—a chessboard… an unfinished game?
“Dad, did we have guests over today?” Tang Shouye asked with a strange expression.
The guests he referred to were, of course, Old Master Tang’s old friends, scattered across the country and rarely able to get together. They all loved playing chess.
Whenever they came over, they’d spend the whole day playing like this, just as they were doing now. Tang Shouye had seen it since he was a child, so he didn’t find it unusual.
Old Master Tang used to be like this too, staring at the chessboard alone for half the day. If no one called him, he might let the whole day slip by.
Judging by the look of things now, who knew how long he’d been sitting here like this?
Old Master Tang snapped out of it. “It’s dark already? Guests? Oh, right, Xiao Cheng came over to give the kids some tutoring. I wonder if he’s eaten yet.”
Tutoring?
Tang Shouye glanced at his phone. Sure enough, there were messages from his son and daughter.
But… something felt a little off?
“Dad, it looks like the older kids have already left. How long have you been sitting here?” Tang Shouye’s eyes widened as he checked the time the messages were sent.
About ten minutes before he arrived, the kids had already finished their tutoring and left. Had he eaten yet? The dishes were probably already washed clean by now.
“Gone? Really? Why didn’t they say anything?”
Old Master Tang muttered casually, slowly getting up. “Don’t touch this chessboard. I’ll look at it again tomorrow.”
Tang Shouye: “…”
No need to tell me that—I know the rules.
He’d once tried to be helpful and clean up a half-finished game, only to get a ten-hit beating that left his face swollen. Ever since then, Tang Shouye had cured himself of his habit of being too helpful.
This world was too dark, sigh…
“Gui Lan, what’s for dinner tonight?”
Old Master Tang walked inside, shouting at the top of his lungs that he was hungry.
Tang Shouye followed behind. He was hungry too. He’d come over in a hurry, dealing with things until now without a bite to eat. Perfect timing.
A few minutes later.
Old Master Tang and Tang Shouye sat in silence, staring at a black, shapeless blob in front of them.
“Son, what is this? Can it even be eaten?” Tang Shouye raised an eyebrow, uncertain, and poked at the lump of black stuff with his chopsticks.
It felt like a slime—sticky, soft on the outside, hard on the inside. It seemed to have… carbonized?
Carbonized???
Tang Shouye sucked in a sharp breath.
The little nephew was licking a lollipop nearby. “This is all that’s left. Grandma said if you two don’t eat it, you can get out.”
Old Master Tang: “…”
Tang Shouye: “…”
Well, no arguments there. They’d missed dinner, so there was nothing to complain about. If they complained, another scolding would come. Father and son each served themselves a bowl of freshly cooked rice and sat down at the table.
They looked at each other. It took a while before Old Master Tang gathered the courage to pick up his chopsticks, take a bite, and try it.
“Dad? How is it? Is it good?” Tang Shouye perked up, still hesitating with his own chopsticks, and quickly asked.
True to his generation, Old Master Tang, after both his eldest and youngest sons took one bite and collapsed foaming at the mouth, managed to chew twice and swallow.
"Not bad, just a little overcooked. Not much appetite today, I'll leave it at that."
Without a word, Old Master Tang set down his chopsticks and got up to leave. As he passed by, he grabbed two candies from his youngest grandson.
Tang Shouye: "..."
"Tch... doesn't exactly look like 'not bad,' does it?"
Tang Shouye had already learned the survival rules of the household: when his dad says it tastes good, don't believe it; when he says it's awful, don't argue.
Still, it was a dish after all. Tang Shouye wasn't one to waste food—back in the day, the family was pretty poor, and any leftover scraps went straight into his mouth.
Taking a deep breath, Tang Shouye looked as if he'd made some grave decision, his eyes turning noticeably resolute.
This one bite... a taste of hardship remembered in times of plenty!
Thud!
Tang Shouye collapsed face-first onto the table, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling white. The little nephew beside him shook his head: "Ah, another one down..."
"Oh, by the way, Dad, after you wash your face, remember to wash the dishes too." The little nephew licked his lollipop and left, showing no intention of saving his poor old man.
No help for it—everyone went through it. He'd survived it himself, so there was no reason his dad couldn't.
Judging by his dad's build, his poison resistance should be at least ten times greater. If his estimate was off, well, he'd said his piece...
The little nephew grabbed his unfinished homework and went to find Ye Cheng for tutoring again. The arithmetic problems for the top kindergarten class were still too authoritative.
Over in the other living room, the three of them weren't sleeping but busy with other things—like embroidering ducks.
Tang's Mother was earnestly teaching the finer points of embroidery, and Ye Cheng listened intently. Tang Yuyao, meanwhile, was still fiddling with her "ducks by a stream" picture. Mother and daughter were cut from the same cloth.
"These mandarin ducks..." Ye Cheng paused, gave a measured nod, and said, "Not half bad—vivid and lifelike."
Tang's Mother's eyes lit up: "Xiao Cheng, what did you just call them?!"
Her voice was excited—finally, after all this time, someone who truly appreciated her work! Beside her, Tang Yuyao widened her eyes, her expression strange... Wait, what connection did those two dead-eyed ducks have to mandarin ducks?
How did you even see that? Was he serious, or just faking it?
Tang Yuyao seriously suspected Ye Cheng had some kind of cheat code, because how else did he always manage to find angles no one had ever imagined before?
Those two ducks were so ugly they should've been called anything but "mandarin ducks"!
"Mandarin ducks, isn't it obvious? Look at the feathers on the head, the long necks, the little tails..." Ye Cheng pointed at the embroidery on the fabric, making his argument point by point.
Tang Yuyao: "???"
Were you freeze-framing just to catch those tiny details? Why couldn't they just be wild ducks?
Tang's Mother, looking like she'd found a kindred spirit, said: "Xiao Cheng, you truly have an eye for it. Not like some clumsy girl who insists my fine mandarin ducks are just ducks—tch, casting pearls before swine!"
Tang Yuyao: "???"
Mom, are you serious? And you have to drag me into it as a punchline?
Keep this up, and I'm going to lose it. I really am going to lose it!
“Xiao Cheng, have you figured it out yet? Want to give it a try?” Tang’s Mother handed Ye Cheng a set of embroidery tools from the basket beside her, along with a thimble to prevent getting pricked.
For a beginner learning this craft, it was almost inevitable to end up with a few bloody holes in their fingers, so it was better to use one.
Ye Cheng nodded. “It doesn’t look too difficult. I’ll give it a shot.”
Finally, she was in her element—no one else in the family could embroider except her, hahaha. Tang’s Mother felt incredibly smug, but she still put on a humble air, ready to guide Ye Cheng on the side.
But soon enough, Tang’s Mother couldn’t keep smiling.
The first couple of stitches were at a normal speed, but then things accelerated—faster and faster, like a sewing machine, her hands moving so quickly they blurred.
The thimble on Ye Cheng’s finger kept clacking with a crisp, rhythmic sound, very distinct.
Tang’s Mother: “???”
Tang Yuyao: “???”
Who taught you to use a thimble like that?
What is this, a brake pad?
The mother and daughter grew more and more silent as they watched. The faint smile on Tang’s Mother’s lips vanished. Hehe... no hehe.
Indeed, the gap between one person and another was even wider than that between a person and a dog. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Tang’s Mother wouldn’t have believed that such an embroidery technique existed in the world.
If Ye Cheng had been around in their hometown back in the day, she’d have been the Queen of Needlework!
Not a single tailor in the whole circle could have survived; they’d all have been outdone by Ye Cheng.
In less than three minutes, a miniature, lifelike embroidery of Mandarin ducks playing in the water appeared before the mother and daughter—just a smaller version, of course.
It maximized material savings and minimized time investment. Though small, it had everything it needed—like a sparrow, tiny but with all the vital organs.
It wasn’t until Ye Cheng placed the finished piece in front of them that Tang’s Mother snapped out of her daze.
“Is there anything else that needs improvement?” Ye Cheng blinked at Tang’s Mother.
Tang’s Mother stared at the Mandarin duck embroidery—something she might never be able to create in her whole lifetime—and, for some reason, suddenly felt a sense of release. The wrinkles in her brain seemed to smooth out in that instant.
What was she even holding on to for?
If she’d known it would turn out like this, she should’ve just bought it ready-made. Or, failing that, she should’ve used a sewing machine...
When the spinning jenny was invented, it sparked one of the most iconic scenes in world history: textile workers smashing the spinning jennies in rage.
As productivity was unleashed, it meant a wave of workers would lose their jobs, and countless families would be shattered... But if the textile workers back then had Ye Cheng’s hand speed, would they still have been laid off?
Tang’s Mother had always thought of herself as a conservative—but now it seemed she was actually a radical.
A sewing machine—she absolutely had to get a sewing machine!
Tang’s Mother was nearly spiraling into a self-imposed depression. A lifetime of effort, and in less than half an hour, Ye Cheng had surpassed her from beginner to master.
Was there any justice? Any law? Any fairness at all?
Tang’s Mother’s inferiority complex grew with every passing moment, multiplied over and over again.
“Hmm, it’s good—really good. Oh, Xiao Cheng, your aunt here has something to take care of. You and Yaoyao keep chatting. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Tang’s Mother quietly set down her needle and thread and walked out toward the yard. She found a secluded spot, crouched down, and started drawing circles on the ground, radiating a terrifying aura of negative energy.
“Gui Lan, what are you doing here?”
Old Master Tang didn’t know when he had appeared at the edge, his eyes filled with confusion.
Tang’s Mother looked up at her husband, then lowered her head again to continue drawing circles, radiating terrifying negative energy all around her.
Old Master Tang: “???”
What’s going on here?
Over on the other side.
The little nephew ran over with his homework notebook.
“Uncle-in-law, this problem is so hard, I can’t solve it!”
Finally catching a chance, the little nephew was brimming with excitement!
Tang Yuyao’s willow-like brows raised, and she snatched the homework from Ye Cheng before he could, glanced at it twice, grabbed the pen from the little nephew’s hand, and wrote down the answer.
“Alright, alright, there you go. Now go play somewhere else.”
The look of impatience and annoyance on her face couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard she tried.
The little nephew: “…”
Little Aunt, you…
The world has isolated me, leaving me to wander alone…
The number of people crouching in the corner drawing circles increased by one…
Half an hour later, Tang’s Mother, having finished what she was doing, bounced back to life and returned along the path. She spotted the little nephew, who was also crouching in a corner drawing circles, his whole body oozing negative energy.
“Xiaobao, what’s wrong with you?”
Wait, why did this scene look so familiar?
A huge question mark appeared over Tang’s Mother’s head—wasn’t this just like before…
The little nephew looked up miserably at his grandmother, sniffling, “Boo-hoo, Grandma, Little Aunt was so mean, boo-hoo-hoo…”
After he explained the whole story, Tang’s Mother sighed. “Eh, Xiaobao, try to understand your Little Aunt. It’s not often she gets a chance to sneak a little something, so she your coming over considered herself lucky she didn’t hit you.”
The little nephew: “???”
Wait, she would have hit me?
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
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
to panic—he has a system. As long as an investment target dies, he can claim a reward. And since he is immortal, the one thing he has plenty of is time. ... Countless years later. “Immortal Emperor of Longevity? I invested in him.” “Supreme Celestial Venerable? I invested in him.” “Undying Empress? I invested in her.” “...” “Heh. Once they’ve all died, even the Heavenly Dao will have to kneel and call me Dad.”
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."
