Keep the skin, but take back your kindness, my wise little secretary.

Under Ye Cheng’s horrified gaze, Tang Yuyao swayed toward him, her steps unsteady. She plopped down onto Ye Cheng’s lap—soft, warm, and reeking of alcohol. Clearly, Tang Yuyao was a sweet, delicate little cake… if that cake had been soaked in liquor.

Once seated, she leaned in close, sniffing him as if savoring something. After a long pause, her face lit up with delight.

“You smell so good, kid… like barbecue…”

No sooner had she spoken than she chomped down on Ye Cheng’s shoulder. Even drunk, she couldn’t forget about the barbecue—apparently, Ye Cheng devouring two portions’ worth of skewers all by himself had left a deep impression on her.

Ye Cheng: “…”

Well, lesson learned: never touch Tang Yuyao’s barbecue. Otherwise, he’d end up being the barbecue, gnawed on by her.

But what was done was done. No takebacks this time—he’d just have to remember for next time. And speaking of lessons, another one burned into his brain: never, ever let Tang Yuyao drink.

She was already mentally “stable” on a good day, but alcohol unlocked her second form, turning her into a full-blown “psycho.” Right now, being tied up and nibbled on might just be the appetizer. The real torment was probably still coming.

With that chilling thought, Ye Cheng redoubled his efforts to escape.

The ropes binding his wrists behind his back were loosening bit by bit. Almost there. At this rate, he’d break free in under five minutes—and then, he’d fight back.

While Ye Cheng worked on his “lockpicking,” Tang Yuyao happily munched away, the two maintaining this bizarre equilibrium for a while.

Finally, Tang Yuyao shattered the balance.

“Pfft, gross… tastes awful… bleh…” She pulled back, scrunching her face in disgust before dry-heaving twice.

Ye Cheng: “…”

Never in his life had he imagined being tortured and insulted—especially over his flavor. Ugh. Back to work, or else he’d end up as the Student Council President’s dog tomorrow.

The thought of being the President’s pet sent a thrill through him—wait, no, rage. He sped up his efforts.

Tang Yuyao propped herself up, staring blearily at Ye Cheng. The alcohol on her breath wafted from her lips, warm against his face. Even stone-cold sober, Ye Cheng was starting to feel lightheaded.

Hurry the hell up!

A bad premonition struck him, and he worked even faster.

“Yes! Got it… mmph?!”

His triumphant cry was cut short as something sealed his lips—boozy, yes, but also inexplicably sweet. No mistake about it. Definitely sweet.

When he’d nibbled on the President before, there’d been no such sweetness. Must be the evil, no-good doctor’s doing. Pineapple beer?

His thoughts didn’t linger long, because… Tang Yuyao threw up.

“Huurrk…”

Ye Cheng: “…”

---

Boys’ Dormitory.

Right at curfew, the dorm auntie whipped out her remote to shut the electronic gate.

Bzzzt. The door began sliding closed.

“WAAAAIT!!!”

A distant shout made her pause—just as a gust of wind blew past her. Ye Cheng launched himself into a leap, spinning 720 degrees midair before slipping through the narrowing gap and landing gracefully inside.

The auntie blinked, stunned.

“Phew, made it.” Ye Cheng exhaled, then noticed her weird stare. Shrugging it off, he headed upstairs to his room.

Only after the shirtless Ye Cheng vanished did the auntie snap out of it, muttering to herself like she’d seen a ghost.

“Since when do people dive over gates? How’d he even…?”

She stared at the four-foot-tall electronic barrier, baffled. If she recalled correctly, he’d flipped over it. While spinning. Twice.

Way more entertaining than Olympic diving. Only downside? Brutal on the HP bar. Unless you were a superhuman like Ye Cheng, attempting this was basically asking for a percentage-based health cut.

Back in his room, Ye Cheng bolted straight for the shower. Between the alcohol stench and the vomit, he reeked.

Damn that Tang Yuyao!

He swore then and there—next time she invited him over, hell no. Unless it was for food. That was negotiable.

Splash. Water rushed in the bathroom, punctuated by Ye Cheng’s own admiring murmurs:

“Damn, these muscle lines keep getting sharper… feels amazing…”

After a thorough self-appreciation session, he finally let go.

Post-shower, Ye Cheng grabbed his phone—untouched for hours—and logged into his game to claim the daily freebies.

The moment he opened his inbox: 99+.

His stomach dropped. Banned? Penalized for trash talk? But no—every single notification was a skin gift.

Even as a frugal F2P player, Ye Cheng had scraped together some free skins. But the paid ones? Nada. Until now. This avalanche filled every gap in his collection—except for limited editions.

He hit “Claim All.” Five straight minutes of flashy skin-unlock animations later, his brain was numb.

So… this is how the rich live? Absolute bliss. No mercy for wallets.

Every last skin came from Xia Tongxin. And the 99+ wasn’t just his inbox—his friend DMs were worse. A wall of 60-second voice messages.

From the moment he’d blocked her on WeChat (Green Bubble), she’d been spamming these. He tapped the latest one. A pitiful, sniffling voice spilled out, words broken by sobs and snot.

“I’m sorry… sniff… sob… please don’t ignore me…”

“Sniffle… you blocked me… I couldn’t text you… had to message here…”

“Waaah… I bought you all these skins… please don’t be mad… sniff…”

Ye Cheng: “…”

Ye Cheng scrolled through the messages from bottom to top, randomly clicking on voice notes since there were too many to listen to them all. The further up he went, the more cocky the voice of a certain bratty girl became, while the lower messages contained apologies and sobs.

What the hell is this mental tug-of-war?

Even now, Ye Cheng couldn’t figure out why that bratty girl had been relentlessly calling him a "zayu" (trash fish). Judging by her gaming account, she seemed genuinely wealthy, and her username, "Mixed Loli/." didn’t sound like something a normal kid would come up with.

If anything… it felt like something a "legal loli" would use.

For some reason, a strange image popped into Ye Cheng’s mind—a tiny, noisy brat screaming "zayu! zayu!" in his head, with hair that was either golden or black?

This was the danger of stereotypes.

It seemed like everyone assumed that every little loli had to be blonde, tsundere, and a bit of an airhead—preferably with twin tails. Too cliché, but… hey, I’m basic and I love it.

Anyway, stereotypes were truly harmful these days. Even Ye Cheng couldn’t escape their influence. The moment he heard "zayu," his brain automatically conjured up images of cream puffs…

Meanwhile.

Great Sea City.

Xia Tongxin had been moping in bed all day, listless and uninterested in even her favorite anime.

Her eyes were still red and slightly puffy from crying, making her look adorably pitiful.

"Tongtong, eat something, okay? Whatever’s bothering you, tell Mommy. Don’t keep it bottled up."

Outside the door, the concerned voice of a noblewoman echoed.

The hallway was packed with doctors, maids, lock-picking experts, and bodyguards—a dense crowd that nearly filled the entire corridor.

As the family’s little princess, skipping meals for a whole day was a big deal. What if she starved?

Though Xia Tongxin usually skipped proper meals, she never missed her daily strawberry milk and cake—finishing them always put her in a good mood.

"I’m fine… I’m not hungry… sniffle…"

Xia Tongxin tried to sound strong, but after just two sentences, she burst into tears again. The noblewoman outside felt her heart twist, nearly ordering the door to be broken down multiple times. She couldn’t bear the thought of her Tongtong crying herself sick.

Tears welled up in the noblewoman’s eyes. This was her precious daughter, the one she carried for ten months and poured all her love into. Even a minor cold would leave her heartbroken for days.

And now, her baby was crying over something inexplicable?

If she wanted, the noblewoman could easily investigate the reason behind her daughter’s tears. But if Xia Tongxin found out her mother had interfered so forcefully, she might resent her.

That was an outcome the noblewoman couldn’t accept, so the stalemate continued.

From last night until now, neither side had budged. The noblewoman had already decided—if the door remained closed by evening, she’d force it open. Even if it meant being hated, her daughter’s health came first.

Time ticked by.

The soft sobbing inside the room gradually stopped. The noblewoman frowned, tilting her ear against the door to listen.

She wasn’t crying anymore… now she was… laughing?

The noblewoman’s expression turned horrified. Had she lost her mind from the stress?

Wait… no, her Tongtong was already as silly as they came.

Holding back her impatience, the noblewoman kept eavesdropping. Inside, Xia Tongxin, who had been sulking moments ago, was now kicking her legs (iiOiiO) excitedly, bouncing on her soft pink bed.

Ye Cheng had replied to her message!

At first, Xia Tongxin thought she was seeing things. She rubbed her big eyes several times, pinched her cheeks, and confirmed—yes, it was really Ye Cheng! Overjoyed, she started hopping around.

Sniffling, she quickly sent a 60-second voice message in her "ultimate child voice"—because 60 seconds was the app’s limit, not hers.

"Grandpa Niu, please don’t be mad anymore, okay? sniffle I’m sorry… Let’s keep playing together, okay? We can duel again later… sniffle…"

"Grandpa Niu" was Ye Cheng’s online alias (Flower-Flipping Garden’s #1 Assault Master). Since Xia Tongxin didn’t know his real name, she called him that, using her most exaggerated baby voice to beg him to game with her again.

She’d scoured the internet for advice—"100 Ways to Make Up After a Fight," "Three Sentences to Get Forgiveness," "What to Do When Your Zayu Is Mad"—and tried everything, from throwing money at him to groveling.

All she wanted was for Ye Cheng to forgive her and keep playing with her. It had finally dawned on her that the round he’d "lost" to her might’ve been intentional.

Not that Xia Tongxin was smart enough to figure it out herself. She’d tried dueling others and got utterly crushed, even taunted and spawn-camped with endless recall-spamming.

That’s when she realized how good she’d had it with Ye Cheng. Sure, he beat her up in-game, but at least he didn’t mock her—and sometimes even let her win.

Without Ye Cheng, Xia Tongxin realized no one else treated her like a friend. They all just bullied her. Sniffle…

Repentant, she was determined to win Ye Cheng back so they could game together, and…

Well, that was pretty much it.

Xia Tongxin hadn’t thought of anything else to do with Ye Cheng. She just knew that him ignoring her hurt, and now that he’d finally replied—

Ye Cheng’s voice message arrived. Xia Tongxin rubbed her hands together excitedly, tapping it with solemn anticipation.

"I’ll take the skins. Keep your apologies. You damn zayu brat—better hope I never run into you in real life, or I’ll teach you a lesson!"

"Act cocky and I’ll send you flying!" Ye Cheng capped it off with a smug eagle meme before blocking her.

This… wasn’t the happy ending Xia Tongxin had imagined.

She held back tears, trying to message him again—only to find she was blocked in-game too. Instantly, she broke down, wailing.

"Waaahhh! Liar! sob None of it worked! hiccup…"

Outside, the noblewoman barked an order, and a swarm of people rushed in.

"Tongtong, my baby…!"

...

Great Sea City.

The rooftop of the Dongfang Family's villa.

Late at night, the little secretary crept upstairs, sneaking over to the telescope she’d used the day before. She leaned in, adjusting it left and right, as if searching for something.

"Ugh, why isn’t he here today? This is so unfair!"

Her tone carried a hint of frustration.

"Ah, there he is!"

Through the telescope, Ye Cheng emerged again, wearing his limited-edition matte-polished "lucky year" boxers, lighting a cigarette. The little secretary’s eyes widened, and she gulped audibly, her gaze locked onto the scene in the lens.

Unbeknownst to her… slow, silent footsteps approached from behind, stopping just inches away.

"Hehe…" The little secretary let out a foolish giggle.

Dongfang Zhixia: "…"