Evening self-study was movie time—a sanctuary for young couples.
The bolder boys had already pulled their chairs close to their crushes, while the shyer ones exchanged flirtatious glances, sneaking snacks or whispering.
Of course, Shen Nian and Xia Yanchun sitting together was purely a normal classmate arrangement.
What, just because a guy and girl sit together, they must be dating? Stop reducing opposite-sex friendships to that.
The class was lively, but Shen Nian had already seen this movie. Uplifting films like this always followed the same underdog-triumphs script, so rewatching it felt dull.
Unlike him, Xia Yanchun was fully engrossed, eyes fixed on the screen.
"You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?"
"Watching it again."
"Motivational movies are for slackers. Why bother?"
"That’s such a narrow-minded take. The courage and strength they convey aren’t just for one group."
"Fine then. You keep watching the movie, and I’ll keep watching you."
Xia Yanchun shot him a glare, cheeks burning, mentally flipping Shen Nian into a coffin.
If this were at home, she wouldn’t give him the time of day. But they were at school, surrounded by prying ears—and worse, Li Shiyan was right beside them!
How dare he!
Shen Nian hadn’t spoken loudly, but Li Shiyan still caught it. Her gaze, previously fixed on the screen, snapped to him, scrutinizing.
Sooo suspicious. Their relationship’s definitely special.
Always bickering? More like "fighting is flirting, scolding is love"!
Giggle, giggle—this is too good. Too. Good.
"Why are you staring? Hand over your scratch paper," Shen Nian said, affecting a mock-stern Northeastern accent.
"Uh, I threw it away!" Li Shiyan shrank, even her potato chips forgotten. One glance at Shen Nian and he was already like this—what if she looked longer? Would she get punched into orbit?
"Don’t believe you."
"Seriously!"
"Better be telling the truth." Shen Nian pointed like a husky, barely suppressing a villainous chuckle.
Li Shiyan, spared further torment, kept her head down like a timid little fish, occasionally surfacing with a shy bubble. Adorable.
Teasing her right in front of Xia Yanchun? Well, Xia Yanchun was just a helpless bystander in this chaos.
"Alright, you two are ruining the movie for me," Xia Yanchun grumbled, sandwiched between them and tempted to kick both.
A kick at Li Shiyan would only earn pitiful apologies. A kick at Shen Nian? He’d probably demand she do it barefoot.
She’d not only wear shoes—she’d wear cleats. Hmph. Some rivalries shouldn’t involve closeness; a fight to the death is more fitting.
Xia Yanchun smirked to herself, unaware Shen Nian was studying her. Casually, he slid his hand closer, spider-like, and hooked his pinky around hers.
She jolted, yanking her hand to her chest, murder in her eyes.
The classroom wasn’t silent—the back rows, where Shen Nian sat, were especially lively. Few eyes wandered their way, and the chatter drowned out most noise.
Ma Mingfan had been fidgeting. After sneaking a glance at Shen Nian cozying up to the class monitor, his world crumbled.
"Wait, how are Shen Nian and the monitor so close?" He elbowed Chen Dong. Like, sure, they all joked about "wishing bros luxury cars," but did Shen Nian actually get one?
Unbelievable!
"They’ve always been tight. You just never noticed."
"Damn!"
Weren’t they both supposed to be into Xiao Nanliang?
"At least I’ve got you, bro. High school relationships? Pathetic. I’d never stoop so low." Ma Mingfan clapped Chen Dong’s back, comforted by their shared solitude.
"Right. A little flirting’s fine, but dating? Nah." Chen Dong patted his shoulder in return.
Ma Mingfan: "?"
Wait, what does that mean?
Is this even a Chinese high school?
So I’m the only one suffering? Ugh, I’m gonna develop corn-ophobia.
Later, Su Kexi returned to class to discuss the upcoming sports festival.
The day after exams, morning classes would proceed as usual, followed by afternoon rehearsals for the opening and closing ceremonies. Performances were planned for the opening, though seniors were exempt—their packed schedules couldn’t accommodate prep work.
Class uniforms were mandatory, preferably with hats and umbrellas. Shen Nian tuned out most of the details.
He wasn’t competing—just planning to lounge at the class campsite and admire underclassmen.
Their class uniform, bought in sophomore year, had a Japanese-style design: white short-sleeved shirts with brown skirts for girls, and white shirts with black slacks for boys. Shen Nian had no clue where his was.
The class was proactive—no "voluntold" sign-ups here. Even normally quiet underclassmen joined events, eager to etch unforgettable memories into their one-shot youth.
The school usually enforced uniform rules—mix-and-match was allowed, but skipping it entirely wasn’t. Sports day was the exception, letting girls flaunt their skirts. Many loved it.
Shen Nian loved it too. Sports festival: approved.
The next morning, Wednesday, Shen Nian woke early to hunt for his uniform.
Ninety bucks for a set worn twice? Scammed. Yet the school insisted on class-specific attire.
Tossing it in the washer, he headed out. With time to kill before school, a workout seemed ideal—he’d hang the clothes after.
At the park, Shen Nian jogged along the moat. He’d thought Chen Qiuyu’s dad was an early-bird angler, but some were even more hardcore—setting up before dawn, baiting spots in the dark.
Shen Nian paused occasionally to watch, but after 30 minutes, not a single fish bit. Just his shirt, soaked with sweat.
"Dude worked out at dawn AND got you breakfast. You’re welcome, Chunbao."
Delayed on the way back, he bumped into Xia Yanchun at the door. Handing her the food, he said, "You go ahead. I need to shower."
"Workout?" She eyed his sweaty state.
"Yep. Dude’s built different."
"Uh-huh. Impressive. See you at school."
"Sure, sure."
By the time Shen Nian finished showering, it was 6:30. The school’s facial-recognition gates had closed—latecomers had to register with security, risking a scolding if caught by staff.
Bad news: He was late.
Worse news: A staff member was there.
The square-jawed, bespectacled man looked familiar. Where had he seen him?
"Late students, sign here."
The voice clicked—this was the guy who’d bought his fish!
Damn. If he’d known the buyer was school staff, he’d have charged double.
The uncle also recognized Shen Nian, his face instantly turning ashen—how could this legendary figure actually be from No. 2 High School?
How did our No. 2 High School end up with such a notorious student? Might as well convince him to transfer to No. 1 High School and stop tarnishing our school’s reputation out there.
"Haha, Uncle, remember me? I’m the one who sold you fish. You even praised me for being a college student back then."
Why’s he suddenly acting chummy?
The uncle switched to a smiling face. "Of course I remember. It’s just the first time I’ve noticed you inside the school. You seem like a decent kid—must be fate. I’ll deduct your class points at the original rate."
"..."
This feels familiar.
How can a man in his forties or fifties hold a grudge like this?
Damn it, don’t ever come to my stall to buy fish again—I’ll sneakily overcharge you.
Shen Nian had no choice but to quickly jot down his personal details.
The bespectacled uncle took a look and muttered,
"Class 11, Grade 3—Cai Xukun, huh? Still late even in your senior year? Disgraceful."
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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.”
Cheng's father told him he was getting remarried—to a wealthy woman. Cao Cheng realized his time had finally come: he was about to become a second-generation rich kid. Sure, it might be a watered-down version, but hey, at least he'd have status now, right? The wealthy woman also had four daughters!! Which meant, starting today, Cao Cheng gained four stunning older sisters?? But that wasn't even the whole story... "My name is Cao Cheng—'Cheng' as in 'honest, smooth-talking gentleman'!"
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
