“Okay, I’ll head back as soon as I can… Mm, I’m waiting for a car… No need to pick me up, I’m already on the way. It’s a bit far, but I’ll be quick…”

Lin Chen walked along the street.

Just past the corner, the building on the right was where the original novel’s protagonist, He Wenyan, was temporarily living.

The system listened to the entire call inside Lin Chen’s head and watched him hang up steadily.

“Host, will anything happen with Qi Xiuyi?” it asked, a little worried.

“Hard to say,” Lin Chen said after a moment’s thought. “Let’s get back before it’s completely dark. There are plenty of cameras at the Qi house—nothing’s likely to happen in broad daylight.”

The system was moved. “Host, you’re the model of modern hosts!”

“Oh?” Lin Chen said, puzzled.

“In the logs my seniors have shared,” the system intoned, “hosts these days are notoriously unmanageable—ignoring the main plot, refusing step-by-step tasks. A host like you—fully trusting and actively cooperating—is extremely rare!”

Lin Chen, both startled and bemused: “Me—fully trusting and actively cooperating?”

“That’s right, Host! You don’t know—records say the fashion now is sleeping with the protagonist, getting slept by the protagonist, wrecking the canon couple, not being bound to a ‘King of the Sea’ module yet personally acting like one to scam both sides’ feelings…”

Aggrieved, it added, “Host, think about how much energy it costs to open a story route. And those hosts just… sigh!”

“…,” Lin Chen said.

He instantly accepted the system’s flattering judgment and replied gravely, “Exactly right.”

With that, both fell silent in perfect sync.

Because Lin Chen had reached the base of He Wenyan’s apartment building.

…

Tap, tap, tap.

His footsteps echoed evenly in the stairwell as he climbed from the first floor to the fifth.

No one was in the corridor.

The building was as old as the novel described.

According to the text, He Wenyan cared a lot about face.

He never told anyone where he lived now; the first thing he did after earning his first pot of money would be moving. This place was a black mark to him.

His unit was 506, right at the turn of the hall.

Lin Chen reached the door, looked around to confirm no one was near, and tried peeking through the gap in the curtains.

Messy. Very messy.

The furniture inside was overturned. Every visible cabinet hung open, nearly stripped bare, with only worthless odds and ends scattered across the floor.

Whoever came to “steal” had no intention of hiding their goal—brazen to the extreme.

Suddenly, strong hands seized Lin Chen’s wrists.

Before he could react, his arms were twisted behind him and a heavy pressure slammed his shoulder into the wall.

A low, cold voice breathed at his ear, edged with young anger: “Here to loot while the house is on fire—or to enjoy the scene?”

While the system was still shrieking “Host, watch out—,” Lin Chen let a bit of tension go.

Oh. The original protagonist, freshly robbed, had arrived.

He noted the ache in his shoulders and arms and recalled a passage from the novel:

In Fake Young Master’s Noble Revenge Diary, He Wenyan had trained as a boxer since childhood, and just a year before being kicked out, he’d won a world lightweight championship.

That mattered throughout his rise.

Especially in the latter half, when desperate enemies began trampling the line of the law and ganged up on him—drunks with bricks, lovelorn men with knives…

He Wenyan beat them one by one, and even in groups—classic no-CP male-lead style: “Take one step in my way and I’ll paint nine feet with your blood.” The plot armor maxed out, keeping foes just on the legal side of the red line.

Only someone like the original Lin Chen—a plain “unemployed man”—could crash into the protagonist under such protection.

But as a product of GreenRiver fiction, He Wenyan differed from standard hot-blooded leads in one crucial way: by design, he could not truly harm a completely innocent bystander.

In short: a moral burden.

Lin Chen calmly turned his head and gave the newcomer a friendly smile. “Why only those two options? In your judgment, ‘timely help in a snowstorm’ isn’t possible?”

A cold snort.

The man positioned himself so Lin Chen couldn’t see his face.

His tone was sharp with suspicion. “Timely help? A ‘young master’ I’ve never seen once in all my years here just happens to show up now—with help?”

“Look at my skinny arms and legs,” Lin Chen said evenly. “How would I be here to rob you? If I wanted to, I wouldn’t come in person. Hire a couple street punks and it’s done—why show up openly?”

He Wenyan hadn’t slept for nearly 30 hours; the blood in his eyes glowed like a demon’s.

He looked Lin Chen over, forcing his rusty, sleep-starved brain to grind forward. “Timely help? Then tell me this—how did you get my address when I only moved here two days ago?”

“You investigated me? Through what channel? And what ‘help’—are you going to bring everything they just took right back in through this door?”

Lin Chen glanced at the room and, through the window’s reflection at the corner of his eye, could see He Wenyan’s expression.

He smiled and coaxed, “No need for such a temper, Little Boss He.”

“See how helpless I am? I can’t threaten you. Better let me go, and we find somewhere to sit and talk.”

“After all—look at this place. What here is worth my scheming?”

“If anything, I’d be the target, standing here.”

Maybe that worked.

The grip on his shoulders and wrists eased a little.

Studying him for a moment, He Wenyan finally asked, “Name. Whose family?”

“Qi Wendong,” Lin Chen said with a smile. “Just arrived in the capital a few days ago—just returned to the Qi family. New here. I came to build myself a backup plan.”

He Wenyan’s eyes narrowed.

He suddenly remembered the rumor he’d overheard at the He family’s gate—something about Qi Xiuyi being down in the mud like himself.

He hadn’t been interested then. But now… the Qi family’s true son?

The system cut in, tense: “Host, his affection dropped a little—now it’s -1!”

Lin Chen ignored it.

He waited quietly and patiently for He Wenyan’s reaction.

After about thirty seconds, the pressure on his shoulders and wrists loosened entirely.

Without changing expression, Qi Wendong took two steps back from the wall.

He brushed off his clothes, rolled his shoulder, rotated his wrist, and sighed in mock complaint. “Little Boss He, that grip is no joke. If we end up doing business, you’ll have to compensate me for dirtying my clothes.”

He Wenyan snapped, barely holding it in, “Are you much older than me? Could you stop putting ‘little’ in front of my name?”

“I am older,” Lin Chen said, arching a brow. “Otherwise what—call you Mr. He? That’d give people the wrong idea.”

Tight-lipped, wary, He Wenyan took two steps back and looked him up and down.

The other had a very fine face—obedient-looking, with soft, slightly wavy black hair falling just to cover half an ear, revealing a quality opal stud.

Judging by looks alone, He Wenyan would have pegged him as a strictly raised student, barely of age.

He glanced at the wrists he’d grabbed; they were red now. Coupled with the mildly aggrieved complaint, it was obvious this person had lived a pampered life before coming to the capital.

…Tch. A little lord from out of town.

And he dared tack “little” onto my name?

He Wenyan was displeased.

He’d grown up in the capital and seen more rich sons than he could count. He knew their tastes.

But he was in a foul mood and had no interest in playing young-master games.

He looked away in irritation, moved to pass Lin Chen, pulled out his key, and opened the door. Without turning back, he said coolly, “Compensation? Fine. There’s half a month left on the rent. Take it for free as payment—want it? If not, stop blocking my door—”

“Hey, where do you think you’re putting that foot? This is my home. Did I invite you in? Ever heard of trespassing?”

Arms folded, the curly-haired young master leaned against the doorframe, a foot tipped inside at just the right angle to keep the door from closing.

Head tilted, he smiled. “Really won’t hear me out?”