As Spencer was dragged away by the security guards, cursing under her breath, Yan Huan didn’t even spare her a glance. He rely felt that the collective IQ of the surrounding air had risen noticeably in her absence.
Walking back to the gymnasium alongside Ying Gong Tong to retrieve their belongings, Yan Huan pondered the Modifier incident.
Like the hypnotic mory corrections from before, the mory of being trapped in the equipnt room had been altered in a way that seed perfectly plausible to anyone without resistance. Ying Gong Tong, it appeared, was no exception.
The setting sun seed to favor the girl, subtly adjusting its angle so that Ying Gong Tong remained in the shadow of the tall teaching building while Yan Huan stood bathed in the golden light, his face tinged with its warm hues.
Walking beside him, Ying Gong Tong casually tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and asked,
“Did that girl say anything to you earlier?”
Snapped out of his thoughts, Yan Huan turned to her.
“Why do you ask?”
“She randomly took our photo and seed like a nasty character. I just find it hard to believe she would delete the picture so easily...”
“She didn’t say much. I gave her a scare, and she obediently deleted it,” Yan Huan replied with a small smile. “But I don’t think I’ve seen her around school before—I have no impression of her at all.”
Not wanting to drag Ying Gong Tong into the Modifier ss, Yan Huan lied with practiced ease.
Hmm? Yan Huan thought to himself, suddenly struck by a sense of déjà vu.
Being blackmailed with a photo by a blonde troublemaker and now pretending nothing happened in front of Ying Gong... Why does this feel so familiar?!
“Maybe she’s a transfer student,” Ying Gong Tong replied perfunctorily, though inwardly, her doubts only deepened.
If that girl wasn’t unusual, how had she managed to destroy her barrier?
Could the barrier itself have malfunctioned?
Not only had the incident extinguished what Ying Gong Tong thought might have been a budding spark between her and the President, but it also left her questioning the reliability of her abilities. She resolved to study her power more carefully and ensure such mishaps didn’t happen again.
At least the mory correction function seed flawless. Despite being trapped for half an hour, the President hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary...
Once again, their thoughts coincided: neither wanted the other to beco entangled in the Modifier’s strange powers.
At the gym’s storage lockers, Yan Huan retrieved his backpack and clothes, while Ying Gong Tong carried a cloth bag containing her sportswear.
“The locker rooms are closed now. Are you heading back to the office to change, President?” she asked.
Glancing at his phone, Yan Huan thought for a mont before replying,
“No need. I’ll head ho early. If I leave now, I can still catch the school bus.”
“Alright, President.”
Ying Gong Tong tilted her head slightly, puzzled. On a typical Monday, the President would usually head to the Mahjong Club to play before taking a later bus ho. Why the sudden change?
She knew his habits well but couldn’t voice her suspicions. Still, it was better this way. At least he wouldn’t be spending ti with that group of bad influences.
Those Mahjong Club girls... Despite having automatic mahjong machines, they insisted on shuffling tiles manually, claiming that as a non-official mber, the President wasn’t allowed to use the machines.
Not allowed? Ying Gong Tong thought bitterly. It’s like watching soone wash dishes forever—you’d think they were scrubbing their souls clean.
Having witnessed their antics once, the Vice President firmly believed the Mahjong Club should be disbanded for corrupting students.
“Well, I’ll head back to the office now. See you tomorrow, President.”
“See you tomorrow, Ying Gong.”
After bidding farewell to Ying Gong Tong, Yan Huan bolted toward the school gates, phone in hand.
He needed to visit Sister Tong’s pub.
Although it wasn’t his scheduled shift, he’d missed both weekend days. Losing 400 yuan over it still stung. Determined to make up for it, he planned to work both Monday and Tuesday nights to recover the lost hours.
Seven consecutive days of work—such was the resolve of Yan Huan, savior of the world.
Catching the South District school bus, Yan Huan settled in a seat as the air conditioning humd. The bus was less crowded than in the morning, with classmates laughing and chatting.
By afternoon, most students were either leaving for extracurricular activities or being picked up by parents for tutoring or hobby classes. Few remained to use the bus.
Yan Huan noticed that Yaqiao Mu wasn’t on board—he was probably busy with one of the intensive prep classes popular among South District families.
The Linn education system followed the Newman model, where university admissions depended heavily on applications. Unlike the standardized exams of Yan Huan’s past life, success here required a blend of outstanding extracurricular achievents, relevant academic experiences, and glowing letters of recomndation from respected figures.
While it spared students the grind of endless exam prep, it created a relentless rat race for excellence, involving not just students but their families. The result? A chaotic battleground of competing ambitions.
For Yan Huan, who relied on part-ti work to cover living expenses, the rat race seed almost enviable. He even thought back to a
he’d seen in his previous life:
"After a day of fighting Batman, the Joker still has to shop for groceries and cook dinner. Not everyone has Bruce Wayne’s wealth."
Shaking his head at the thought, Yan Huan adjusted his Bluetooth earphones, ready to listen to music.
Beside him, ow-chan had appeared, sitting primly on the empty seat.
“ow~”
“Alright, fine,” Yan Huan said, scooping up the chubby black cat and hugging it tightly.
“ow?”
In the South District, a few streets from Yan Huan’s rented apartnt, a European-style pub nad “Nursery Rhy” was just opening for the evening.
A striking red-haired woman stood at the entrance, moving tables and chairs outside. Her black denim jacket and slim-fit jeans exuded effortless charm.
After moving a few pieces, she leaned against a table to catch her breath, a lighter spinning deftly between her fingers. She tilted her head back, her red bangs partially obscuring one eye, which carried a world-weary expression that said, “Living’s fine, dying’s fine too.”
She reached for a cigarette with her right hand, only to pause, recalling her lone reliable helper didn’t work Mondays.
“...Not bad he’s not here,” she muttered, lips curling around the cigarette.
Click—
The lighter sparked, fla dancing as she prepared to light the cigarette.
Before she could, a hand snatched the cigarette from her lips.
Surprised, the woman raised an eyebrow and turned to see a handso young man in athletic wear. Twirling the cigarette between his fingers, he smiled and said,
“Sister Tong, didn’t you promise
you’d quit? Sneaking one when I’m not around?”
This was Yan Huan’s boss, Tong Yingying. He always called her Sister Tong—a jaded “grown-up” who had lost interest in life’s excitent.
“...Silly boy, do you believe everything adults say?” she retorted without missing a beat, her tone dripping with disdain.
Snapping the lighter shut, she eyed him curiously.
“Why are you here on a Monday? And what’s with the outfit—cosplaying as an athlete?”
“I just finished school. Didn’t have ti to change.”
“So why rush over?”
“Wanted to see you, Sister Tong.”
“...Heh, more like you’re worried about your weekend pay dock.”
Yan Huan grinned cheekily.
“Nope, I missed you. Honest. You’re the most precious thing to , Sister Tong.”
Unconvinced, she turned and walked into the dim pub, gesturing vaguely.
“Change in the back and help
set up the tables.”
Yan Huan sighed, tossing her cigarette into the trash as he followed her inside.
“C’mon, it’s not even 5 PM yet...”
Behind the bar, Tong Yingying prepared a drink, ice cubes clinking in a glass. Her hand hovered over a shelf of bottles before settling on an open whiskey.
“Bad mood today,” she explained, pouring herself a shot.
“Perfect for waking up.”
Yan Huan smirked. “What’s bothering you? Tell —I’ll make your day.”
“Why bother?”
“Because your misery is my happiness.”
“...Pay docked 200 yuan.”
Yan Huan nearly lost his composure.
“I’m sorry, Sister Tong. I was wrong.”
“You idiot. Did you forget you haven’t even been paid this month? Acting like a big shot in front of —get lost!”
Tong Yingying’s words were harsh, but her tone was teasing.
Yan Huan, having worked for her for nearly a year, was used to their back-and-forth banter. Despite her occasional bad habits, Tong Yingying was approachable, generous with pay, and rarely put on airs.
“Still, Sister Tong,” Yan Huan said, leaning on the counter. “From my experience, it’s better to talk about things that make you upset.”
Tong Yingying gave a wry smile. “And from my experience, sharing your sadness with soone is just handing them a knife to stab you with later.”
She swirled the whiskey in her glass, watching the crystal-clear ice cube spin like a tiny crystal ball in the amber liquid.
“Go, go, go! Big kids’ business is none of your concern, you... you brat.”
She took a sip, exhaled heavily, and waved him off dismissively.
“Hurry and get changed for your shift. You skipped three days last weekend and left
to run this place alone. This week? Hah, I’m going to squeeze every last bit of work out of you!”
“Sister Tong,” Yan Huan feigned misery, raising an imaginary white flag. “Even a fool’s life matters!”
Internally, however, he was flipping her off, along with the nickna he’d secretly given her when they first t: “South District Yu Qian.”
The aning? Smoking, drinking, and perming hair—a true master of all three.
Though her habits had improved—she no longer smoked regularly or ssed with her hair—the drinking was non-negotiable. Yan Huan sotis wondered if she opened the pub just to steal drinks for herself.
Seeing her imrsed in her whiskey, Yan Huan shook his head and went to the back to change into his uniform.
White shirt, black pants, brown vest...
As Yan Huan adjusted his uniform, voices ca from the front of the pub: one male, one female.
“Sister Tong, good afternoon!”
“Sister Tong, drinking this early again?”
“Yeah, bad mood. Don’t worry... a drink will fix it,” Tong Yingying replied casually.
When Yan Huan stepped out, he saw a couple sitting at the bar chatting with Tong Yingying.
They were both students at the local community college in the South District—Tian Li and Guan Rong. The two were a couple and also part-ti employees at the pub.
Guan Rong, the girl, was the pub’s resident singer, known for her beautiful voice. Tian Li, the boy, was a skilled bartender whose drinks were popular with custors—though Tong Yingying rarely drank them, preferring her own creations.
“Yan Huan! Working on a Monday?” Guan Rong greeted him, surprised.
“Yep, making up for the weekend,” Yan Huan replied.
“Wow, you’re looking even more handso after just a few days! What’s your secret?”
“Really? You’re not just saying that?”
Must be the charm shard at work, Yan Huan thought, though he remained outwardly modest.
By now, Tong Yingying had polished off her whiskey and poured herself another. Tian Li, watching her go through the pub’s supply of base spirits, was clearly annoyed but said nothing—after all, she was the boss.
With small talk out of the way, everyone got to work. Yan Huan quickly set up the chairs and tables, while Tian Li cleaned the bar, and Guan Rong tidied up. Tong Yingying, anwhile, retreated to a corner with her drink, her phone in one hand, lazily typing ssages.
Initially, Yan Huan kept half an eye on her, noticing how unusually early she’d started drinking. But as night fell and custors arrived, he got busier and had less ti to pay attention.
The evening crowd was decent, and Yan Huan soon found himself in the kitchen, whipping up caral puddings with practiced ease. The technique he’d honed making desserts for Ying Gong Tong and Ye Shiyu proved invaluable.
The South District was as lively as ever at night, a chaotic blend of neon lights, honking cars, and smoky restaurant air. Anyone wandering alone through the narrow alleyways was almost guaranteed to stumble into so kind of hidden drama.
Fortunately, Linn’s laws prohibited firearms, so no one had to worry about being held at gunpoint and asked, “Do you like my big toy?”
Back at the pub, Guan Rong strumd her guitar and sang softly, weaving a peaceful atmosphere.
Yet, Tong Yingying was nowhere to be seen.
She had disappeared into the corridor leading to the restroom, her face pale and her steps unsteady as she clutched the wall for support. She had drunk too much.
Entering the single-occupancy restroom, she locked the door behind her. Her face was flushed—whether from alcohol or the glow of her phone screen was unclear.
As her stomach churned, she bent over the toilet, clutching the rim as if to vomit. In the process, her phone slipped from her hand, landing on the floor and displaying an open chat log:
Li Xiui (Mom):
“... I don’t care. I’ve already arranged it. You need to co back and et him. He’s a great catch.”
“I’m not coming back. If you want to et him, you go.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! You’re almost thirty, and you’re still so aimless. Do you want
to die of sha? Get back here now!”
“Why would I want to et soone that much older? If you like him so much, why don’t you marry him?”
“Age is just a number! Older n are more stable and considerate.”
“Stable? Considerate? I have money! I’d rather date soone ten years younger who’ll call
‘big sis’ and is fit and... useful. I don’t need soone stable!”
“How dare you speak to your mother like that?”
“Shut up.”
“...”
The screen dimd as the phone auto-locked, leaving the rest of the ssages hidden in darkness.
Tong Yingying clutched her mouth, dry-heaving. There were hundreds of similar ssages, not just from her mother but from countless others offering unsolicited advice.
She wished she could block them all, delete them from her life forever.
As she retched, sothing ghostly erged from her sleeve: a snake-like tattoo writhing and slithering down her arm. The pale, cobra-like figure coiled on the floor, its tongue flicking as it studied her.
It seed satisfied.
【Of all the candidates, you are the most suitable to bear my power.】
【Woman, do you want to be the protagonist of this world? To fulfill your deepest desires? To have everything you’ve ever wanted?】
A voice echoed in her mind, making her freeze.
【Beco my host, and I will share with you my power of sensory manipulation.】
【Pleasure, pain—any sensation, any desire—I can grant them all.】
【Don’t fear. I’ll help you...】
Tong Yingying lifted her head to see the spectral figure of the snake, its electric-white form rippling with energy.
“You’ve got to be kidding ,” she muttered, her lips twitching into a bitter smile. “I’m drunk enough to hallucinate about snakes?”
She clenched her fist, her face darkening.
Sensing danger, the snake tried to flee, hissing sharply.
But Tong Yingying rose with unsteady fury and stomped down on it, shouting,
“Get lost, all of you!!”
BANG!
The snake vanished, as if it had been nothing more than a drunken fignt of her imagination.
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