Chapter 26: The Second Inviter

It was about time.

He had submitted the inviter’s feedback form and a five-page task report early on, but the final grade took longer than expected to arrive. During the break, Wen Jiang sat silently at his desk with a cold expression, his eyes seemingly fixed on the worksheet in front of him but actually waiting for the teacher’s reply on the assignment.

There was a lot to do this semester, and the tasks required a hefty total time investment. Without a plan, he’d end up busy and exhausted every day with half the results for double the effort. Well-versed in such success principles, Wen Jiang pulled out his notebook during the wait and reorganized his schedule from scratch.

First, aside from his cultural studies coursework, he had two major Supernatural Ability assignments on his plate.

The group collaboration project remained on indefinite hold for now, but his personal ability level was steadily improving, with hopes of seeing results by semester’s end. The practical assignment had just wrapped up Xie Qi’s “dance” task, leaving two smaller ones before completion.

Next came club activities.

He had skipped the club meeting to prepare for the dance, but now that the ball was over, the Drama Club’s next play was slated for the Yanhai Art Festival, and Wen Jiang would take the stage. He needed to carve out time for rehearsals.

A small snag had arisen here. In his original plan, he could’ve seamlessly transitioned from the hotel back to Drama Club practice, playing a minor supporting role with few lines. But upon returning, he learned their star scriptwriter Lin Wenzhi had new ideas—she wanted to scrap the script entirely and was clashing with the president over casting.

Without a finalized script and roles, even the best actor couldn’t perform without a script.

Finally, the text message mix-up.

With the enemy lurking in the shadows while he was out in the open, Wen Jiang stuck to a policy of not striking first. His main lead was the “red profile picture,” and the suspects’ avatars were indeed quite red. But trusting a drunk person to follow logic was illogical to begin with.

Specifically, what shade of red counted as matching Huo Xia Tong’s profile in a hazy Qian Lang’s eyes? Had he strictly followed the avatar rule? How many messages had he sent to how many people? All unknowns.

Exhaustively considering every possibility, a red avatar wasn’t a perfect filter—everyone on the list remained suspect. He could probe them collectively or question one by one for thoroughness, but it hardly warranted draining his mental energy.

Qingchi’s student forums showed no posts like “Breaking! Lifestyle System Student’s True Colors as a Player—Confessed via Text to Multiple Girls!” No weird rumors either. Logically, the worst had been averted, and he could flip the page as easily as turning a book.

If the recipients wanted to pretend nothing happened, Wen Jiang was happy to go with the flow—no tangling with Absolute Trust, and it even helped cover Qian Lang’s blunder.

That said—some signs suggested the fallout from the misfired texts was far from over.

Lately, Wen Jiang realized it was less like isolated, independent “dots” he could tackle one by one, and more like a tangled mess of interwoven “threads.”

Take Lin Wenzhi: he still didn’t know what her “mutual encouragement” meant or if it tied to her push to rewrite the script. Take Wen Tianlu: the Peach Fragrance incident didn’t seem like a mere whim, and it looped in Lin Xun and Jiang Hehu. Jiang Hehu circled back to square one, linking to Gao Mingcheng’s mess from the start. And Lin Wenzhi’s attitude shift? Right after learning Wen Jiang had beaten Jiang Hehu.

A complete tangled mess. By contrast, Xie Qi with his unchanging black avatar was the purest of them all. Wen Jiang’s favorability toward Xie Qi ticked up slightly in comparison.

All in all, start with the most urgent and concrete items. Wen Jiang decided to pour the next two weeks into the Drama Club—perfect chance to chat with Lin Wenzhi about her ideas. Juggle club work and the text drama; resume practical tasks after the Art Festival. His planning was methodical.

His phone pinged. As he finalized the schedule, the teacher sent two emails—perfect timing, like fate’s good omen for a lucky month ahead. Wen Jiang stayed calm and composed, opening the first: his grade report. Satisfied, he shared it in their three-person group chat.

Wen Jiang: Passed

Wen Jiang: little_dino_cheer.jpg

Qian Lang: Yay!

Xie Qi: Mm.

Xie Qi: Celebrate with dinner?

Qian Lang: What what

Qian Lang: I wanna eat too

Seeming to learn direct invites had low success rates, Xie Qi was getting better at seizing every opportunity to suggest meals. Wen Jiang replied smoothly: Cafeteria.

Friends who tactfully don’t call out your fear of loneliness are rare treasures, he thought.

Switching tabs, he opened the teacher’s second email with renewed vigor. Wow—it directly assigned his next practical task target, instructing him to meet them soon.

Wen Jiang’s calm poker face turned into a numb one.

＊＊＊

Destroying a plan took but an instant; saving one might just need a face-to-face talk.

The second email named no name, no task details, no contact info—everything to be discussed in person, with the teacher as go-between beforehand.

The meeting was set outside Qingchi after school, so likely not a student. Though assigned, it wasn’t binding; the teacher stressed he could refuse post-meeting.

It felt odd, like the meeting itself mattered more than the assignment.

But with things set, he’d adapt on the fly. The next afternoon near dismissal, Wen Jiang rallied and headed early to the familiar Aili Bakery to meet the new inviter.

His goal: friendly negotiation, showcase professionalism. If the task was decent, politely request delaying the start until after the Yanhai Art Festival for mutual benefit and a win-win.

—Half an hour later, Aili Bakery’s vibe was like stagnant water. Wen Jiang sat silently by the floor-to-ceiling window, head down texting Xie Qi: No need to wait.

Xie Qi fired back a question mark instantly.

Xie Qi: What happened?

Wen Jiang: Got a meetup.

Lin Xun sat across from him, brooding alongside for ages. The untouched lemon water on the table had finally given him an opening. He quipped, “Hey, it’s just us—yet you’re chatting with someone else right in front of me?”

Lin Xun’s tone was casual, his pitch lightly teasing, but with his handsome features and naturally affectionate peach-blossom eyes, the words gained an unintended intimacy.

Their first meeting, Lin Xun hadn’t taken Wen Jiang seriously, showing open disdain—only to embarrass himself with a fall. But when he wanted, he could master conversational distance surprisingly well. Earlier, entering the shop, Wen Jiang had seen him chatting up the staff at the counter, effortlessly charming them into grins.

Spotting Wen Jiang, he’d seemed uneasy at first. Now, settled in, he was bold enough to start the convo. Wen Jiang glanced up; Lin Xun met those pitch-black eyes and felt his heart skip instinctively.

Still off his game. Wen Jiang pocketed his phone, gaze drifting past Lin Xun to the street outside.

It felt like blatant disregard. Lin Xun felt awkward but hadn’t expected goodwill anyway—to avoid an instant rejection upon reveal, he’d kept his identity secret until now.

“Fine,” At least no more texting. Lin Xun stressed his “task inviter” role: “I’ve got serious business. Save the sulking for later?”

Is this a legit inviter gig? Wen Jiang thought silently.

True, he knew the top-tier circles bent his assignment rules at will—S-Grade perks were just the surface. Wen Jiang wasn’t sulking while staring outside, but he wouldn’t tell Lin Xun what held his attention.

His gaze seemed to settle on the bustling street, unfocused. In the upper right of his vision, a familiar figure appeared.

Across from Aili Bakery, at the differently styled dessert shop Summer Tea Dream, a customer browsed the display case.

She had beautifully styled big wavy curls, a handmade red rope bracelet on her right wrist, and held a white dog’s leash. The dog lay obediently at her feet—pure white, but Wen Jiang knew it was named Chocolate.

He also knew she had a black cat at home called Milk.

They hadn’t met often in person, but she frequently popped up in Qian Lang’s phone. As the customer turned slightly to chat with the staff, she revealed a smooth, full forehead and bright eyes.

Huo Xia Tong.

Wen Jiang noticed her first; she’d been hesitating at the window for a while. He watched her pick the “Twin Fish Playing with Lotus” dessert—a Valentine’s limited from Summer Tea Dream last year, popular enough to become a staple.

Targeted at couples, the standard size generously served two with shared utensils for cheesy “you feed me, I feed you” fun. Solo eaters could get the small; Huo Xia Tong took the half-sized one.

She left with the dessert and Chocolate in tow. Wen Jiang withdrew his gaze and cut straight to Lin Xun: “What’s the deal with the hotel?”

…Straight to the most awkward topic? Lin Xun deflected: “Thought you’d ask about your assignment first.”

“Fine.” All had to be settled anyway. Wen Jiang was accommodating, no preference on order: “Schedule the start after the Yanhai Art Festival, and I’ll consider it.”

Who’s really assigning here?? Since when does the assignee get this cheeky? Lin Xun choked.

Wen Jiang said flatly: “No?”

“…” Lin Xun replied: “Yes.”