In every sense of the word, Shi Linchuan was an exceptionally competent host. Yet, he deeply detested the Ex-Husband Roleplay System bound to his soul. Over the past three years, that noisy electronic voice would pop up in his head at the most inconvenient times, preaching its slacking-off theories and…

Constantly trying to pitch Xie Jinghe to him.

This particular habit grated on Shi Linchuan’s nerves.

Do I need you to tell me?

Mute yourself.

Those were the four words he used most frequently with the system—short, sharp, and decisive.

Shi Linchuan held a terrible impression of the system. Just because binding with it had saved him from immediate death didn’t mean he was going to be profoundly grateful, harbor warm feelings toward it, or engage in heart-to-heart chats.

At the end of the day, why should he?

This wasn’t some charitable endeavor or a good deed.

A system binding a host was essentially a workplace transaction: one side had a need, the other side provided the necessary labor to satisfy it, and the former paid the agreed-upon reward.

A clean exchange—goods delivered, money settled.

However, the system calling itself the “Ex-Husband Roleplay System” displayed a massive contradiction. While urging its host to complete tasks, it simultaneously did everything in its power to incite him to slack off. It didn’t even bother putting up a front, laying its cards flat on the table:

‘Isn’t the protagonist super cute~?’

‘I have a way to let you stay in this world permanently, host~’

‘You just need to trade your mission rewards for it.’

For a long time, the relationship between the human and the system seemed like Shi Linchuan held the upper hand—cold-hearted, detached, and firmly refusing to stay behind for anyone. Yet, he always felt a subtle sense of being manipulated, as if the other party possessed an underlying, quiet confidence.

This infuriated Shi Linchuan, a man with an intensely strong need for control.

It felt like being blackmailed.

From his perspective, dispatching a corrupt parasite of a system—one so blatantly eager to line its own pockets—to execute a high-stakes mission like saving a collapsing storybook world…

That so-called Spacetime Book Bureau was bound to go bankrupt sooner or later.

How was this any different from putting a rat in charge of a granary?

If the Spacetime Book Bureau could hear Shi Linchuan’s silent resentment, they would likely cry out in defense: Did they not know the danger and instability of deploying this second-hand system? They had no choice!

Every other system had been blocked by the world barrier and couldn’t breach it at all.

Except for N001.

To ensure the mission’s success, they hadn’t just thoroughly wiped the decommissioned system; they had even broken the “one system per world” rule. They specifically set up an auxiliary sub-system role, assigning a system about to earn official accreditation to monitor it…

What nobody expected was that the two systems would lose contact almost immediately.

Though, that was a story for another time.

Right at this moment.

Shi Linchuan had barely called out to the system when a timely ding echoed in his head. The system’s electronic voice babbled away cheerfully:

“Congratulations, host! You have successfully repaired all the key plots involving the ex-husband in the original story! The mission is a complete success!”

Festive party poppers and fireworks went off in unison.

Shi Linchuan found it nothing short of deafening.

He even let out a cold sneer.

“Heh.”

System: “…”

What a familiar sneer.

Tsk, didn’t the host come around already? Why is he still harboring so much hostility?

It had held up the host’s phone for over an hour earlier, playing the smart nightlight one second and a power bank the next! Look at the protagonist’s phone—it turned off long ago, while the host’s phone is still fully charged!

Ah well, being misunderstood is the fate of a system.

N001 hid its good deeds, set off two more free mini-fireworks, and laughed it off: “Just adding a little atmosphere to celebrate the host completing the mission, and wishing you an early Happy New Year while I’m at it.”

Shi Linchuan had no desire to waste words with it and cut straight to the point: “You mentioned before that once I complete the mission, an automated system will retrieve and manage this body. After that, I can use my mission rewards to resurrect in my original world, right?”

The system chimed in smoothly, “That’s right, dear!”

Shi Linchuan continued, “You also mentioned that if I wanted to stay and live in this world, I could exchange my mission rewards with you for permanent residency…”

He paused, effortlessly recalling a specific figure, before adding, “If I remember correctly, the points required for residency—just like that ‘gentle-attribute’ pair of glasses you gave me—are exactly one hundred points, right?”

The system repeated, “That’s right, dear!”

“A pair of glasses worth a hundred points was something you could throw at me casually, yet the process of earning mission rewards is ridiculously tedious,” Shi Linchuan pointed out the flaw. “No matter how you look at it, the value of the reward couldn’t possibly be just one hundred points.”

“How much of a kickback did you take?”

Inside the system space.

The white light sphere stood its ground with an unabashed lack of shame, puffing out its little white chest and arguing indignantly:

“Host, don’t slander an innocent system like me! This isn’t a kickback. To satisfy your needs, a private exchange like this carries enormous risks for me!”

The blue light sphere: 【…】

The one actually taking the risk is me, whose points card you stole, right?

The white light sphere continued its nonsense: “Besides, exchanges naturally come with price margins! There are channel fees, handling fees, and other overhead costs. Adding it all up, where would a system like me get any kickback? I’m practically operating at a loss!”

The blue light sphere: 【…】

You really dare to say anything, don’t you?

Losing points scammed from the previous host just to earn points from this host—this isn’t taking a kickback, this is a total monopoly on the market!

The two sly foxes went back and forth, both fully aware that neither took this explanation seriously.

Shi Linchuan nodded, stating directly:

“I have one additional condition. When exchanging for permanent residency, you must also correct my vision back to its original state. That shouldn’t be difficult, right?”

“Don’t tell me you can’t.”

“If you can’t, I leave.”

In front of the light screen.

The white light sphere could barely conceal its excitement.

Even though the host’s attitude was thoroughly unpleasant, the system was long accustomed to his style and didn’t mind in the slightest. Excitement surging, it even rubbed its two little tufts together eagerly.

There was a very fitting saying, after all:

Harsh words freeze a heart in mid-summer, but earned points warm a soul through three winters.

However, upon hearing the host’s additional condition, the system’s rubbing motion abruptly froze. Then, after a mysterious thought crossed its mind, it rubbed them even more merrily.

The tone of its electronic voice rose, carrying a subtle, lingering nuance.

“Oho, it’s not hard at all~”

“But are you sure you want to do this, host? Honestly, your mild near-sightedness doesn’t really impact your daily life that much anyway. You only wear glasses occasionally.”

Shi Linchuan replied bluntly.

“None of your damn business.”

Even after being cursed at, the white light sphere wasn’t annoyed. Instead, it broadcasted in an exceptionally pleasant manner:

“Mission completed. Issuing rewards to the host now. With the host’s personal authorization, rewards are undergoing secondary exchange…”

Ding.

Ignoring the aura of despondency radiating from the blue light sphere behind it, the white sphere gave a calm, composed ding, and continued:

“Permanent residency for this storybook world successfully exchanged…”

“Host’s physical parameters successfully modified. New values will take effect in twenty-four hours.”

“Detection complete: World Barrier for Storybook World #049 has been repaired. The Roleplay System will automatically unbind. Progress: 30%…”

“80%.”

“100%.”

In the middle of the night.

Inside the bedroom, only a bedside lamp remained lit, casting a dim, warm glow.

Mindful of their recent injuries, their movements were far from intense; instead, they were gentle as water, resembling a drawn-out, tender playfulness.

The sound of rain outside set the mood perfectly.

Shi Linchuan and Xie Jinghe kept eye contact the entire time, reading every expression and breath. Occasionally, they couldn’t help but indulge in a deep, passionate kiss—like two children trapped in a stormy night, holding hands as they stumbled forward together.

Daybreak was still a ways off, but it was approaching.

After two rounds, they didn’t bother washing up, simply clinging to each other in their sticky warmth. When the system announced the successful unbinding, Shi Linchuan couldn’t help opening his eyes, plunging straight into the rippling gaze of Xie Jinghe’s eyes.

He didn’t care in the least about the white and blue light spheres floating out through the wall…

Or rather, he saw them and chose to pretend he hadn’t.

Shi Linchuan leaned in and firmly kissed the person in his arms.

Xie Jinghe rested his hand—marked with suture lines—against the side of the man’s neck. Flustered by the kiss, his fingers curled up instinctively as he asked in a raspy voice, “Linchuan, you looked so fierce just now. What’s wrong? Are you in a bad mood?”

Shi Linchuan pointedly remarked, “Yeah. I hate shady human traffickers.”

Pure hatred.

Nothing else behind it.

As if recalling something, Xie Jinghe shrank into the man’s embrace instinctively, pressing his ear against Shi Linchuan’s left chest. He whispered softly, “I hate them too.”

He had been abducted by human traffickers before he was even old enough to remember things.

Gazing down at Xie Jinghe’s expression, Shi Linchuan suddenly raised his arm, picking up a small square packet from the nightstand.

“Still have energy?” he asked coolly. “How about another proper ‘divorce round’?”

Xie Jinghe, entirely shameless, eagerly agreed.

“…”

Outside, the wind howled and the rain poured.

The white light sphere dragged the blue light sphere along as it flew bravely into the night.

The blue light sphere had completely given up on struggling, essentially a dead ball walking.

Meanwhile, the white light sphere raised a tuft to pat its own head, murmuring to itself:

“Oh my, oh my~ It seems I forgot to tell the host that the near-sightedness setting was meant to blend him perfectly with the ‘scumbag ex-husband’ persona. If that setting is removed…”

“Then the protagonist—whose intimacy and affection levels toward the host are far too high—might just break free from the world barrier’s character filter, wouldn’t he?”

The blue light sphere: 【…】

This is revenge, isn’t it?

__

Author’s Note:

Originally, the novel had an actual “ex-husband” character, but that character was erased when the awakened character ran off, leaving a blank slate. The system had no choice but to shove the host into the world to act as a stand-in. Once the ex-husband’s plot points were completed, the host could clock out and leave.

To ensure the mission ran smoothly, the system applied a filter (Lin Zhu’s scent gland and Shi Linchuan’s glasses), allowing the characters in the story world to perceive the host seamlessly as the original ex-husband.

But the current situation is:

System: “I got my points, so whether the host lives or dies is no longer my problem! Heh heh heh, pulling off your mask~ Time to bounce!”

Yeah… the system holds a bit of a grudge…

Just remember, it is the wildest unhinged chaos-agent out there—its heart belongs strictly to points.