Shi Linchuan had been looking forward to this day for a long time.

To prepare, he had played the role of the gentle husband for three full years—both in and out of the bedroom, he had catered to Xie Jinghe’s every need with meticulous care, providing constant emotional support, never missing a holiday surprise, and never failing to whisper sickeningly sweet words of love.

He had effectively raised his level of disguise as the “scumbag ex-husband” from the original novel to an unprecedented, masterful height.

According to the character profile, the scumbag ex-husband was just an ordinary employee at a small company, with mediocre education, mediocre work ability, and only above-average looks. Fortunately, his temperament was humble and gentle, giving him a scholarly air.

But that was merely a facade.

In reality, he was greedy, pathologically jealous, petty, and a consummate actor. Back in college, he had cajoled a wealthy girlfriend into buying him everything he wanted. Later, when she was forced by family pressure to get engaged to someone her parents had introduced, he “peacefully” broke up with her.

Upon breaking up, she even gifted him an apartment as compensation.

The scumbag ex-husband loved only himself. His lingering sorrow and regret were merely because he had lost a mobile wallet that was easy to manipulate; beneath the surface, he was secretly delighted that he had gained an apartment for free.

After the initial joy faded, he felt a wave of resentment.

—He hated that he hadn’t been born into a better family.

The scumbag ex-husband attributed all his life’s failures to his lack of a privileged background, spending his days bitter and resentful, yet holding a special, venomous malice toward Xie Jinghe, who shared his humble roots as an orphanage orphan.

Whenever he saw one of Xie Jinghe’s billboards, he couldn’t help but stop, comparing his own mediocrity to the man who had shot to stardom in the entertainment industry, raking in money by the day…

“Envy, jealousy, and hatred” couldn’t even begin to encompass the darkness in his heart.

Until that day.

The scumbag ex-husband finished overtime only to encounter a disguised Xie Jinghe on the street. He immediately followed him into a bar, spied on him for a long time, and finally manufactured a romantic, ambiguous encounter.

Shi Linchuan had entered this book world at the exact moment of that initial meeting.

One second, he had been at the company handling affairs. Outside his office, there was chaos; a group of people were shouting his name, cursing him for being a ruthless animal who didn’t care about anyone, willing to even strike down his own father for profit.

Shi Linchuan heard it all clearly from inside the room. His expression remained composed, and he even had the good humor to twirl his pen.

Unfortunately, his grip slipped, and the pen flew out of his hand.

Clack.

The second the pen hit the ground, Shi Linchuan’s heart contracted violently, the pain radiating through his entire body. He felt dizzy, unable to stop himself from closing his eyes and shaking his head.

When he opened his eyes again, he was wearing cheap clothes, holding a briefcase, and standing strangely on a bustling street, an unscientific electronic voice ringing in his mind.

“Hello, Host! I am the [Ex-Husband Role-Playing System]!”

“After detection, your data matches the indicators for this system’s role-play, so this system has bound you as the host, projecting your soul into an endangered book world…”

As the system prattled on, it plastered the original novel’s interface in front of Shi Linchuan’s face. It wouldn’t disappear until he finished reading it, much like a stubborn pop-up ad.

It was incredibly annoying.

The novel unfolded from the perspective of the protagonist, Xie Jinghe, telling a tortuous, tragic love story.

The first half of the story described in great detail how the protagonist met the wrong person, married and divorced a two-faced, cannon-fodder scumbag, and then met his “true love”—the main lead—while healing from his heartbreak through acting.

And what made Shi Linchuan physically uncomfortable was that the cannon-fodder scumbag in the story, AKA the ex-husband, was also named Shi Linchuan.

The system explained that this was because the original data for the scumbag ex-husband in this world had vanished completely, and the system had to use the host’s identity information to fill the void, hence the shared name. As a trade-off, the host’s identity would be authenticated by the world.

Thus, in everyone’s eyes, Shi Linchuan was that ex-husband, and the memories of anyone who had contact with him in the past would be automatically rationalized by the world.

An explanation was just an explanation—it didn’t mean Shi Linchuan accepted it well.

For one simple reason: Shi Linchuan was a thorough, unmarried individualist.

He not only loathed marriage to the extreme, but he also detested developing intimate relationships with others, considering what people called “love” to be nothing more than a fig leaf for biological impulses.

It was utterly disgusting.

Such beliefs were inseparable from his family background and his upbringing.

Unlike the orphan “Shi Linchuan” in the story, he had many blood relatives—one father, one mother, several stepmothers with no blood relation, and several half-siblings.

Shi Linchuan had lived in a wolf-eat-wolf family atmosphere since he was in the womb, learning to compete before he could even walk or talk. Everything had to be fought for.

If you weren’t number one, it meant nothing.

And Shi Linchuan had always been number one.

So, when he saw the protagonist Xie Jinghe—who, despite humble beginnings, had reached the pinnacle of the entertainment industry through his own acting talent and hard work—ruin his own life for some low-life, obsessed with “returning to the family”…

Shi Linchuan couldn’t help but sneer.

“Idiot.”

The protagonist Xie Jinghe and he were two entirely different species. Their life trajectories and inner pursuits were like two extremes.

Xie Jinghe was like a wild grass growing in the wind; his personality was optimistic and open-minded, and he held a sincere love for his acting career.

Shi Linchuan, conversely, lived among thorns. He was vengeful, fought for everything, and didn’t care about his work as long as it served his purpose.

Xie Jinghe yearned for warmth and attachment, whereas Shi Linchuan frowned at the mere thought of being with someone.

They were “extremes” of existence.

But eventually, due to the “resurrection” pie the system had drawn for him, he endured his impatience and kept reading.

He truly hadn’t lived enough yet.

For the sake of the mission reward, a little pretense was acceptable.

But soon, Shi Linchuan’s perspective changed.

He saw the ending of the story—the protagonist Xie Jinghe on a talk show with his true love, talking openly about his past failed marriage with a look of relief.

[…The man had a pair of soulful eyes. Facing the host’s question about marriage and love, he looked at the camera, tilted his head, and said slowly:

“Well… I don’t think a failed marriage is anything to fear. If you hide in a dark corner because you’re afraid of getting hurt, afraid to accept someone else’s closeness, or afraid to approach someone else, isn’t that very pitiful?”

“My choice is simple…”

He paused, then continued:

“And that is: don’t be a coward.”

Given the popularity of that divorce variety show back then, the host pondered for a long time before asking a question off the script.

“Then how do you view your ex-partner?” she asked.

The smile on Xie Jinghe’s face faded; he fell into a sudden silence. The man beside him suddenly reached out and patted the back of his hand, as if in encouragement.

After a long while, Xie Jinghe said word by word:

“I think Linchuan… is a bit pitiful.”]

The night was like a tide.

Cars moved back and forth on the street, exhaust mixing with the cold air into a foul, rusty smell.

At the bus stop, the man carrying the brown briefcase pushed up his glasses. The lenses caught the white light of the streetlamp overhead, and the smile at his lips deepened, looking incredibly gentle.

The system, constantly monitoring the host’s emotional fluctuations: “…”

It coughed twice, trying to win back some favor for the world’s protagonist, and explained proactively:

“Host, the protagonist wasn’t talking about you! Don’t be mad, don’t be mad!”

Shi Linchuan kept smiling.

“System, you’re overthinking it. It’s just a love-sick protagonist in a novel. Why would I be angry at his naive and stupid remarks? Who does he think he is?”

System: “…”

Is this not…! The definition of super angry!

Just then.

The protagonist, wearing a mask and a hat, strolled past the small path behind the bus stop.

The first mission was officially launched.

Through the surveillance screen in the consciousness space, the system watched the “red-temperature” host follow the back of the figure. It couldn’t help but stretch out its two little nubs to hug its own round body, letting out a kitten-like, pathetic wail.

The blue orb, like a hostage who had given up on being rescued, boldly let out an “Oh ho,” and added: [Senior, your ninety million has passed you by.]

The white orb snapped its head back like a ghost.

Of course, the host knew nothing of the banter between systems.

Shi Linchuan remembered that night three years ago vividly.

Xie Jinghe had been so moved by the macaron he bought that, afraid he would leave, he pulled on his sleeve and asked to keep drinking.

Then, he drank himself into a stupor.

Drunk people couldn’t hide things. Shi Linchuan let him lean in with shy, honest eyes and kiss the corner of his mouth.

What followed happened as a matter of course.

The hotel above the bar was naturally well-equipped. Shi Linchuan glanced into the bedside drawer and found two unopened boxes of protection.

The mere thought of what path the man would take made him feel a bit repulsed.

Fortunately, the protagonist looked good and had a good body; he could barely bring himself to do it.

Shi Linchuan had read the original novel and knew the protagonist had suffered a hard life as a child. He didn’t dabble in “hidden rules” in the industry; he fought his way to stardom purely through talent and effort.

Naturally, he had no time to develop other romances.

Someone like him, the moment he fell in love, was probably aiming for marriage. He might even have some outdated views on chastity, like only engaging in sexual activity after marriage.

Shi Linchuan scoffed at this.

He dragged the drunk man into the bathroom, cleaned him up, put on the protection, and intentionally made his movements rough and clumsy, feigning embarrassment as he whispered:

“Sorry, Xiao Jing, this is my first time…”

Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

Shi Linchuan really hadn’t done this with anyone else, but that didn’t stop him from possessing an abundance of relevant knowledge.

Yet, he deliberately performed poorly. Listening to the muffled cries and pain of the drunk man buried in the pillow, Shi Linchuan hypocritically offered soft comforts while increasing his intensity.

Of the things prepared by the hotel, he only used one.

After breaking the distance between man and man, Shi Linchuan found it quite interesting. At the very least, Xie Jinghe’s cries sounded nice, and the sight of those eyes filled with tears was enough to be stimulating.

That night.

Xie Jinghe was sobered up by the intensity and then fainted from it.

The sky outside was about to break dawn, and Shi Linchuan wasn’t tired at all. He gazed at Xie Jinghe’s flushed, sleeping face and said gently: “My dear Xiao Jing…”

“Let me help you see the true nature of marriage.”

Shi Linchuan let out a low laugh.

He couldn’t wait to see it—when Xie Jinghe discovered that the considerate husband who had shared his bed for three years wasn’t the person he imagined, what kind of expression would he have?

Just thinking about it made him feel it was all very interesting.

Shi Linchuan knew he was a cold-hearted piece of trash. He leisurely savored the lingering taste of tobacco in his mouth, slowly stood up, and paced over to the cramped man…

The room was quiet; the breathing was shallow.

He leaned down slightly, bringing his nose to the side of the man’s face and neck, sniffing deeply. Just as the other party’s tension reached its peak, he abruptly questioned:

“You said you were coming home today, so I waited for you all night.”

Shi Linchuan paused, lowering his voice, letting it brim with suppressed endurance:

“…But Xiao Jing, why do you smell like women’s perfume?”

Behind the cover of his glasses, he casually swept over Xie Jinghe’s shocked and bewildered expression. He knew exactly what had happened tonight, yet with practiced skill, he turned the tables:

“Did you really go to that social engagement with the cast and crew?”

As he finished, Shi Linchuan lowered his head, no longer suppressing the smile at his lips, though his voice sounded pained: “Xiao Jing, have you…”

“Been lying to me all along?”