After greeting Shen Yue on his phone, Shen Nian headed to the bus station with Xia Yanchun.
Outside the station, vendors were selling sweet soups—locust flower, mung bean paste, sago pudding... Shen Nian loved mung bean paste. Back home, his mom often made it for him, but it was always served hot. Letting it cool and then chilling it in the fridge took forever.
Logically, it was the same thing, but he still preferred the ones sold outside. At home, he’d crave it before it was cooked, but once it was ready, he’d lose interest. His dad, on the other hand, slurped it down happily.
“Boss, two cups of mung bean paste.”
“Eight bucks each, sixteen total.”
“Got it...”
Shen Nian paid, took the cups, and handed one to Xia Yanchun.
“Damn, this stuff costs three bucks back home. Prices double when you’re in the city.”
“If you know it’s expensive, why buy it?” Xia Yanchun’s lips twitched as she held the plastic cup with a napkin, taking a delighted sip. The sweetness made her eyes crinkle.
If this was Shen Nian’s way of being the “best in the world,” then she’d gladly accept it.
“No big deal. Your boy’s got money to spare.” Shen Nian shrugged.
The cash from completing tasks was practically pocket change—like two sesame seeds next to a watermelon. Titles, passives, and skills were the real prizes. Compared to passives, this money wasn’t even worth a sesame seed.
What, you think a million bucks can buy you a passive that constantly restores your body’s functions?
At eighteen, his body was in its prime, the period when the effects of his passive, "Unstoppable Momentum," were weakest. Even so, it was still overpowered. The value of "Unstoppable Momentum" was directly proportional to age.
Billionaires in their seventies would still be hunched over, but your boy here? He’ll be running marathons at that age.
“Hmph, can you really make that much selling fish? I never see you go fishing.”
“That’s a you problem. Just like you don’t see me working out at the park every morning.”
Shen Nian wagged a finger. Of course you don’t see it, Yanchun, because your boy ain’t actually selling fish.
He’d only done it once. Heh, if she asked, he’d just say he went fishing whenever they weren’t together.
Thinking about fishing reminded him of yesterday’s dilemma. He’d felt like he forgot something important—turned out he just didn’t sell the fish.
Sorry, boss. Go find Cai Xukun from Class 11, Grade 12 instead.
After buying their tickets, Shen Nian and Xia Yanchun boarded the bus and snagged a pair of seats. Shen Nian walked ahead and gestured for her to take the window seat.
No point pretending. Yanchun, you sit inside.
Xia Yanchun didn’t mind, smoothing her skirt as she sat. She disliked short skirts, so hers always covered just above her knees.
Her knees were fair and delicate, her calves as finely shaped as peachwood, tapering down to her shoes where the frilled edges of her ankle socks peeked out.
Who turned on my enemy detection?
Shen Nian kept a straight face, then shamelessly stole one last glance.
Xia Yanchun: “...”
Sometimes, the word “idiot” wasn’t just an insult—it was the perfect descriptor for Shen Nian.
And it was a label that had stood the test of time. After all, she’d been calling him an idiot for years.
Lately, she’d been losing too many battles against him, and Xia Yanchun’s inner “villainess” persona had awakened.
She glanced around. They’d boarded early, and only a few elderly passengers sat nearby. Lowering her voice, she teased, “Want a look?”
“The hell?” Shen Nian’s eyes widened. He leaned in, breath warm against her ear. “Too many people here. Wait till we’re back home. Leave your window open—I’ll sneak in.”
“...”
She’d planned to lift her skirt and reveal her long safety shorts the moment he said “show me,” but this guy never followed the script. Game over.
You couldn’t predict a legend using normal logic.
“Hah! Thought you could trick me? Try again in a hundred years.” Shen Nian struck a pose. A sudden move from the villainess? Definitely a trap.
He had plenty of experience—though where it came from was none of your business.
“Hmph. Had your chance, but you blew it.” Xia Yanchun pouted and turned to her phone.
The bus filled up, mostly with older passengers. Fewer people took buses these days, and no one bothered to quiet the chatter.
Uncles and aunties spoke in dialects Shen Nian barely understood, the noise grating. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out Bluetooth earbuds.
“Want one?” He offered a bud to Xia Yanchun.
She nodded, reaching for it—only for Shen Nian to yank it back. He put the Bluetooth set away and pulled out wired earbuds instead.
?
Seriously, what’s wrong with you?
Shen Nian measured the cord, then handed her the side closest to him, grinning. “Here.”
“Weirdo. Why not just use separate ones?”
“My Bluetooth earbuds had a dream last night. They swore to only pair with my phone forever, to only nestle in my ears. They’re pure love—and so am I. I can’t betray them.”
Xia Yanchun’s eye twitched. The whole world could see through Shen Nian’s scheme—he just wanted an excuse to get close.
As if she couldn’t connect to his Bluetooth herself.
Did he think this was romantic? Some kind of teen-movie moment?
You think I’m some naive girl?
“Dummy.” She huffed, plucking the earbud with slender fingers and tucking it in. “Play something good.”
“Like what?”
“Something good.”
“Define ‘good.’”
“Good music is good.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” Shen Nian wiped his brow. This silly Haki Chun needed a reality check.
He queued up an instrumental playlist. The relaxed atmosphere suited the soft melodies perfectly.
The bus started, slowly turning as the morning sun lit half the cabin. A line of light swept over Xia Yanchun’s body, her face, forcing her to squint.
Her pupils gleamed like polished gems. Even without makeup, her lashes shimmered, her hair turned golden in the light—a perfect shot.
Shen Nian’s hand moved on instinct, yanking the curtain shut. “Even at eighteen, you’re still staring straight into the sun? Haki Chun, you’re terrifyingly strong.”
Xia Yanchun ignored him. The ride to town wasn’t short—killing time was the real challenge.
Last summer, she’d made the trip alone. By the end, she was too tired to even use her phone. Sitting next to a stranger, she hadn’t dared sleep. But with Shen Nian here, she could relax.
“I’m gonna sleep.” She plopped her bag onto his lap. “Hold this for me.”
“Need a shoulder?”
“Don’t need to offer. I’ll just take it.”
Xia Yanchun straightened, her youthful curves firm with confidence.
Yanxi Reminder: Due to Tomato’s request for 3M+ daily updates straining the servers, we now recommend switching to other sources.
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.
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?"
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
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.”
