It was just past midnight, 12:00 AM.

Le Yan had been driving away from the villa area for a while when, halfway there, she heard her phone ping. She pulled over into a temporary parking spot on the side of the road.

It was a message from her manager, Sister Jiang.

Le Yan picked up her phone and scanned it.

The other party had sent over several new scripts to choose from, two magazine covers, and a variety show opportunity as a guest star.

After reading it, Le Yan frowned and replied concisely: [Received.]

Xie Jinghe had entered the industry very early. After his debut project became a hit, he was signed by an agency called “Fu Guang Entertainment” for a twelve-year contract. With one year left, he remained the undisputed “top star” of the company.

However, ever since Xie Jinghe married a non-celebrity three years ago and hinted at a desire to step back from the spotlight, his relationship with the agency had gradually cooled to freezing point.

Early last year.

Fu Guang’s top management approached him about contract renewal. Upon confirming Xie Jinghe had no intention of doing so, the company took advantage of hidden inequitable clauses in the final years of the contract and dumped a pile of commercial obligations onto him.

Fortunately, the agency’s power of attorney was limited.

Xie Jinghe, out of respect for their old ties, had intended to just coast through the final two years, but he hadn’t expected them to become increasingly brazen. After the Lunar New Year, he officially sued the agency.

Le Yan didn’t belong to Fu Guang Entertainment.

She was a private assistant hired by Xie Jinghe himself; naturally, she stood firmly on her “Xie Ge’s” side.

She organized his recent work schedule and sent a new table to Xie Jinghe’s WeChat. She assumed he was busy living his “husband-husband” life with the man “whose goodness is beyond measure”…

He’d probably reply by tomorrow morning, right?

But unexpectedly—

Xie Jinghe replied in seconds.

[Xie Jinghe: I received it too.]

Le Yan couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows and ask: [Whoa, it’s almost midnight. Xie Ge, why are you still playing on your phone?]

She was very close with Xie Jinghe in private and often chatted like this. However, since the topic of “Shi Linchuan” had entered the rotation, Le Yan had increasingly trended toward becoming a “sharp-tongued critic.”

Buzz.

The person on the other end first sent a “crying cat head” sticker, then sent another sentence.

[…I fought with Linchuan.]

Early winter in Tongcheng was cold and arid.

After Xie Jinghe typed that sentence, he hesitated but pressed send. He stared down at his phone screen, only to see a large droplet of water plop onto the screen.

It wasn’t raining outside.

He had started his own little rain shower, unable to help himself.

Xie Jinghe bit his lip, wiped the tear off the screen with his thumb, and then wiped his cheek forcefully with the back of his hand.

It was wet and icy cold.

He was crouched behind a trash can in his residential complex, lacking any shred of dignity. He was wrapped in a knee-length down jacket, wearing dress trousers, and had two feet stuck into indoor cotton slippers—a chaotic mix from head to toe.

Xie Jinghe reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and sure enough, he found the cigarettes and lighter he’d hidden away.

While tears streamed down his face, he nimbly pulled out a cigarette.

“Click.”

“Click, click!”

The night wind seemed to be a guard for that man, snuffing out the tiny flame of the lighter over and over. Xie Jinghe struggled to get it lit, eventually taking a fierce drag.

The white mist he exhaled vanished into the wind in the blink of an eye.

That was when Le Yan’s call came through.

The young woman’s voice was clear and bright, and she spoke without any hesitation, cutting straight to the point: “Hello? Xie Ge, what happened between you two?”

Xie Jinghe’s current state was a mess; he was in a state of profound confusion. He slowly exhaled and sniffled, his voice still heavily nasal.

He opened with three consecutive sentences:

“—Linchuan must be angry with me.”

“Le Yan, what should I do?”

“He wouldn’t divorce me, right? That’s absolutely not allowed!”

Le Yan was completely bewildered.

So, Xie Jinghe began to explain what had happened tonight.

When he reached the part where the man coldly uttered those incredibly insulting words, Le Yan couldn’t hold it back anymore. She slammed the steering wheel and shouted angrily:

“Damn, is he even speaking like a human being?!”

After that, Le Yan suddenly noticed something strange and asked: “Xie Ge, why is the wind on your end so loud? Where are you right now?”

The next instant.

She heard the man murmur: “I was too angry just now, so I ran straight out. I’m crouching next to a trash can fifty meters from home.”

He paused for a second, then added:

“Linchuan takes out the trash every night before bed, but I haven’t seen him leave yet…”

Hearing this, Le Yan’s mouth twitched.

She couldn’t help but rub her forehead, sighing helplessly: “Xie Ge, please don’t tell me you ‘ran away from home’ in the middle of the night just so he’d come out to find you?”

She phrased it nicely.

He was waiting for a hare to hit a tree.

“No,” Xie Jinghe denied quickly.

Hearing this, Le Yan really couldn’t hold back anymore and ranted:

“Xie Ge, even ‘love-blind’ has its limits!!”

“Shi Linchuan being unemployed is one thing, but to be so vicious to his own partner to this degree? That’s just awful. To put it bluntly, if he can use words like that to belittle and insult you today, who knows what he’ll do tomorrow!”

Le Yan was so angry she hit the steering wheel again, shouting: “You can’t let him bully you like this! When he said those disgusting words, you should have slapped him across the face!”

There was silence on the other end, save for the whistling wind.

After a long while.

The man suddenly choked out: “…I did.”

Le Yan: “Huh?”

Xie Jinghe crouched in the shadow of the large trash bin, looking like a dark, gloomy mushroom. He stared at the flame between his fingers that was about to go out, his tone faint and bewildered:

“…I don’t know why, but my hand just moved on its own.”

Inside the bathroom.

The lights were bright, the sound of water rushing.

Shi Linchuan had already stripped off his shirt, wearing only a pair of dark gray loungewear trousers. He scooped up a handful of cold water and splashed it on his face, his expression dark to the extreme.

The man in the mirror had the same black hair and black eyes. His forehead and temples were mostly wet, and he impatiently brushed them back with his hand. Without those bulky black-rimmed glasses covering his face…

The man revealed his full features.

He had single eyelids, his eyes narrow and long. His pursed lips didn’t have a shred of the “gentle” persona; instead, they exuded a cold, icy chill, like a frozen river.

The real Shi Linchuan was exactly this kind of man—

Gloomy, cold, black-hearted, ruthless, and covered in spikes.

However, at this very moment.

A bright red handprint was clearly imprinted on the left side of the man’s face, effectively crushing the icy aura he usually projected, making him look inexplicably comical.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Shi Linchuan was so angry he almost laughed.

He had imagined countless times how Xie Jinghe would react to his provocation—

Would he cry?

Xie Jinghe loved to cry. He often curled up in his arms and made those delicate noises, then smeared his tear-streaked face all over his shoulder, leaving his skin wet and sticky.

It was annoying.

Shi Linchuan had long grown tired of that kind of crying.

Because Xie Jinghe wasn’t in enough pain, he wasn’t enjoying it enough either.

To that end, he had carefully crafted that line and eagerly waited to see what reaction Xie Jinghe would have.

In a sense.

Xie Jinghe’s reaction was indeed within his predictions.

After he finished speaking, the man had frozen instantly, and a nearly imperceptible gasp of air escaped him.

…As if he were doubting his own ears.

He doubted himself, but he didn’t doubt Shi Linchuan.

So Shi Linchuan had kindly repeated it, leaning into the man’s ear, whispering softly:

“After all, that’s how we got together in the first place, isn’t it?”

After saying that, Shi Linchuan had leaned back against the sofa, intending to admire Xie Jinghe’s expression and his subsequent reaction.

But what he never expected was that the person straddling his lap had frozen for less than two seconds before suddenly raising his arm and slapping Shi Linchuan across the face, causing his head to snap to the side!

…Damn!

Although Shi Linchuan had lived in a rather cruel environment since he was a child, he had never been physically punished, and no one had ever dared to treat him like this.

This was the first time he had ever been slapped.

And it was by a man!

So, how could Shi Linchuan be concerned about taking out the trash now?

He was busy having a heated “discussion” with the system, his mouth dripping with poison: “System, are you sure you didn’t teleport me to the wrong world?”

The man smiled without warmth, speaking with sarcastic bitterness: “The original novel didn’t mention the protagonist was the leader of the Beggar Sect, did it?”

System: “…”

Because you were slapped by the protagonist, you’re mocking him for being a sect leader who knows the ‘Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms’, huh?

…Then why don’t you go have that ‘discussion’ directly with the protagonist!

The system wanted to hug its own fragile self.

This host was truly super difficult to deal with.

It was hard to be a human, but it was even harder to be a system.

To prevent the host’s “red-temperature” value from going too high, the system coughed twice, pretending not to understand his subtext, and replied superficially: “How could that be possible? I am a professional system from the Space-Time Book Bureau; I would absolutely never make such a low-level mistake!”

In reality, the system was trying hard to keep its electronic voice steady, terrified that any unnatural tremble in a syllable would leak its uncontrollable desire to burst out laughing.

After managing to suppress its laughter, it decided to explain the protagonist’s actions.

“Host, the protagonist’s hand speed was just too fast. You might not have seen it, or you might have been stunned by the slap…” the system said at a rapid speed, “But I, your system, saw it clearly!”

Hearing this, Shi Linchuan’s face grew even gloomier.

“The protagonist was originally clenching his fist. Just before he hit you, he hurriedly opened his palm, turning it into a slap with no real force. He probably didn’t want to hurt you.”

It set off two little fireworks and continued:

“Host, you’ve read the original novel. You know the protagonist starred in a movie when he was young where he played an underground black-market boxer and trained with professionals, so…”

“That slap was his love for you! Love is restraint!”

Seeing Shi Linchuan’s face turning darker and darker, the system abruptly changed the subject, reminding him as if casually:

“Oh, by the way, Host…”

“Didn’t you say the ‘[mission was easy as turning over a hand]’? Shouldn’t you be pushing the mission forward? Now that the protagonist isn’t here, the mission can’t proceed. Should you go out and find him?”

“The protagonist looks so angry, what if he rejects you? It would be bad if the mission failed~”

Shi Linchuan’s face was black as he said coldly:

“He has never rejected me.”