Shen Leyuan sulked quietly for a bit.
But he wasn’t one to hold grudges, so a few minutes later, when Mr. Ghost took his hand and placed it on the phone, he didn’t resist.
Mr. Ghost hadn’t expected it to be that easy to hold on.
Since he hadn’t yet figured out what to say, he froze there, loosely gripping the man’s hand. The spot where their palms and the back of the hand met gradually warmed up, a thin layer of sweat forming.
“What’s wrong?” Shen Leyuan pulled out a tissue to wipe it, but missed.
Suddenly, he felt a twinge of melancholy.
Voice low, butt perked up, Mr. Ghost was probably in a bad mood too and made no further attempt to communicate with him.
The Little Dog woke up.
It whimpered in pain, but went abruptly still when a hand pinched its paw.
Shen Leyuan asked worriedly, “Mr. Chu, what do you think—should I find it a better owner while it’s still young?”
When he’d first taken in the Little Dog, he hadn’t known the original owner hadn’t graduated yet.
Now he had classes, had to take Little Deer to the hospital, had to deal with the criminal case tied to those massive debts—and if Huo Tingfeng never woke up, he’d also have to figure out how to soothe that group of young people, to keep them from holding grudges against him and Little Deer.
He actually suspected Huo Tingfeng had transmigrated, but the bodyguards said the Tibetan Mastiff was perfectly fine. It was this slightly off Little Dog that was…
Shen Leyuan looked down. The Corgi’s paw rested on his finger, and it was whining and whimpering cutely, acting shockingly obedient—not pretending to nip at him like usual.
Impossible, Shen Leyuan thought. Even if—worst case—Huo Tingfeng transmigrated into this little Corgi… forget it, what weird crap am I thinking?
Who the hell is dumb enough to crash into a tree and need eight stitches?
Huo Tingfeng’s head hurt like hell. Calling out louder just made his brain buzz.
So he didn’t dare wail too hard, just whine-whine-woofed his refusal: No way! Nope! You can’t give me away!
Shen Leyuan rubbed the Little Dog’s head tenderly and continued, “It hasn’t spent that much time with me yet. As long as I find a good owner who can keep it company every day, it’ll forget me in no time.”
The Little Dog howled: Impossible! I ain’t that forgetful, asshole!
Shen Leyuan: “Mr. Chu, why aren’t you responding? I know I’m kinda overthinking it, but it’s not just school—it’s mostly Little Dog. I used to think I was fair, treating it and them all like my kids equally, but now…”
The Little Dog lowered its volume and pricked up its ears, listening intently.
Now what?
The young man leaned down and kissed his Little Dog: “Now I like my baby pup the most. I might not be able to stay fair anymore.”
His tone was full of worry: “Little Deer’s got an abnormal personality—super jealous, super sensitive to emotions. I’m really worried about my Little Dog. If I’m not careful, it could get hurt, and that’d be life-threatening.”
He glanced at the gauze on the pup’s head, and Shen Leyuan’s heart tipped toward “breaking up.”
He and his good pup just weren’t fated enough.
The good pup was too perfect, which made it unsuitable for his current life.
That one word—”like”—hit the Little Dog’s ears, and it didn’t hear a thing after.
It had become him again.
Little! Psycho! It’s you again!
I knew you were sent by heaven to counter me!
Huo Tingfeng punched the air a few times in fury, tamped down his rage, then gripped Shen Leyuan’s hand and typed laboriously: 【You’re a great owner. A really great one.】
Shen Leyuan: 【But not suited for it. I don’t have enough energy.】
Huo Tingfeng: 【It doesn’t take much energy to raise it. And I’ll help you.】
Shen Leyuan fell silent, unsure how to explain to Mr. Ghost.
A good while later, he ventured a cautious probe: 【Mr. Chu, how long have you been a ghost? Got any insights on those types that radiate this creepy charm, the kind everyone wants to “get deep with” on sight?】
Is he testing me?
Huo Tingfeng keenly sensed who he meant and typed instantly: 【Never seen one!】
It was a test, but not the kind he thought.
Confirming Mr. Ghost was just your average ghost, Shen Leyuan didn’t mention Little Deer’s magical allure. Instead, he went back to dog talk: 【One of the ex-bodyguards loves dogs a ton. Should I reach out to him?】
How is Shen even still thinking of ditching the dog?!
Huo Tingfeng got annoyed and hammered out four words: 【You’re abandoning it?】
Shen Leyuan: 【I】
Huo Tingfeng: 【You’re abandoning it.】
Shen Leyuan: 【w】
Huo Tingfeng: 【You ARE abandoning it!!!】
【ch】
Wait, shit—I have a mouth.
Shen Leyuan finally caught on and said, unable to bear it any longer, “Mr. Chu, my hand hurts…”
That hand shot back like lightning. A moment later, it gently rubbed his fingers, as if making amends.
Shen Leyuan was torn between laughter and tears: “I have my reasons.”
Mr. Ghost showed a petulant side, grabbing his other hand to type—lightly this time: 【No abandoning!】
Shen Leyuan: “But…”
A new line on the screen stopped him cold.
Mr. Ghost said: 【You’ve already named it. It’s your Little Dog.】
Mr. Ghost: 【No abandoning.】
Even Shen Leyuan had forgotten that. Only now did it jog his memory.
He hadn’t actually settled on a name for the Little Dog yet—like most new pet parents, he always thought the next one would be better. “Toast” was cute but common, “Baby” was just a nickname, “Crashy” had sentimental value, “Walnut,” “Peachy,” “Pudding” sounded tasty—or “Sis,” for that contrast moe?
But the first name he’d written down was Huihui.
Hui as in homecoming.
Maybe it wanted to go “home,” or maybe he wanted to bring the Little Dog home. Anyway, when the pet hospital required a name for registration, those two characters popped into his head.
And now, just days after naming it, was he really going to send his Huihui away?
Shen Leyuan took a deep breath, his gaze firming up: “Thanks. I’ve made up my mind.”
Huo Tingfeng: 【?】
What’d he decide? Not sending me off, right?
Believe it or not, I’ll off myself right here?
Shen Leyuan: “Girls toughen up for their kids as moms—so I’ll man up as its dad! Huihui’s my pup. I can’t just give it away because I need to care for someone else’s kid!”
Huo Tingfeng: ……
You have to be my dad, huh?
He rubbed his face. Fine, whatever. First off, he doesn’t know. Second, you just typed “owner” yourself—what’s the point fussing over titles now?
“Dad” any better than “owner”?
Same difference in bed.
Fuck…
He lightly slapped himself. What yellow crap are you thinking, you big idiot? You’ve got issues. Once I’m back, full body check—especially the brain.
But I’m a soul now, so not exactly normal either.
Huo Tingfeng sank into deep self-doubt and recrimination.
Two days later, the Little Dog’s condition stabilized. Shen Leyuan skipped going back to school and took it to the police station first.
Fatty had shifted from “deny till death” to “confess for leniency.”
According to him, he and the original owner had grown up together as childhood buddies.
The original owner had no parents, raised by grandma. After she died, he lived off neighbors’ charity. Cute looks, shy personality, and—most importantly—top grades and ambition. Even as a kid, he hustled to support himself, earning endless praise from the neighborhood.
Fatty’s mom praised him too—then slammed Fatty’s head: “Look at him! Look at you! All you do is eat!”
In the interrogation room, Fatty wailed pitifully: “I wanted to lose weight, but Shen Leyuan kept buying me food! He did it on purpose—he wanted my mom to praise him, to steal her from me!”
Anyone else crying like that might tug heartstrings, but his greasy hair hung limp, his clothes filthy. Worst was his expression—brimming with disgust and envy, like he was baring a rotten, blackened heart.
Fatty fumed over old memories: “He did my homework for half price—that’s why my grades tanked. I got double hundreds in first grade!”
A young officer couldn’t help himself: “From what we found, he tutored you all through high school, right?”
Without Shen Leyuan, Fatty never would’ve gotten into college.
“He just wanted to mooch off me in university too?”
Fatty raged harder: “Mom always sent him stuff with mine. Even back at school, she’d make me bring him things—heavy as hell! If I didn’t, she’d yell at me!”
“Mom said I’m ungrateful, but what’d he do? She treated him like her own son, but he never treated me like a brother. Lending money? He nagged me to save—looked down on me, thought I didn’t deserve nice things!”
The veteran officer, worldly-wise, skipped the back-and-forth and cut to the chase.
“Murder motive: money?”
Fatty’s face twisted. He roared: “Can’t you hear? It’s all his fault! If he’d just spend on me, let me into his company—”
Officer: “Oh, so motive: money and jealousy.”
Fatty: “You!!!”
The officer pressed: “His rich kid friends looked down on you at first, right? How’d you connect?”
Fatty’s expression warped further as he thought of the 200k he hadn’t spent yet.
The rich kids had approached him.
They had money, but craved more—respect from parents, leverage for inheritance, to shatter Shen Leyuan’s innocence. They wanted a lot, never satisfied.
They wouldn’t admit it, but Fatty knew: that’s just how rich people were.
Shen Leyuan’s type was the rare one—the abnormal, fake, most infuriating kind.
It started with 100k for the company seal. He bargained up to 200k—still peanuts, but he feared pushing more would make them ditch him for those two gay roommates in the dorm.
Soon after, Shen Leyuan grew anxious.
To save the neighbors from getting scammed, Fatty warned them to withdraw their money, saying Shen was gonna run off with it. But hardly anyone believed him—only a few demanded refunds.
Why not? Fatty sneered through tears: “Then the company tanked—feel dumb now?”
The officer stayed cool and professional, voice steady: “Got evidence the seal theft was instigated by others?”
Fatty went quiet.
He feared death, feared a long sentence—hoping for one or two years. But he also eyed those three million.
Officer: “They deny it entirely. They say they have a great relationship with Shen Leyuan and plan to rehire him. Keep slandering, and they’ll sue for defamation.”
Fatty blinked, stunned.
Officer checked his phone: “Victim’s here. Wants to talk.”
The door opened. Fatty whipped his head around.
The young man shone brighter than before, shed of that shyness and inferiority. His posture was relaxed, casual—like he was just spectating. He even cradled a dog in his arms.
Fatty’s eyes locked on the dog—and those bared little fangs!
“It’s it!” he bellowed. “It bit me! I got three antidote shots—three!!!”
“Uh…”
Shen Leyuan hesitated: “Then get three more rabies shots?”
![How Should an Ordinary Person Role-Play? [Quick Transmigration]](https://i3.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/qck.jpg?resize=151,215 "How Should an Ordinary Person Role-Play? [Quick Transmigration]")