Chapter 1: Dark-Skinned Rugged Honest Man 1

The rickety old bus slowly pulled up beside the clean and tidy bus stop platform.

Unlike the fancy buses in the provincial capital, this one had no automated voice announcements or even a loudspeaker.

The driver was a middle-aged man, slightly balding with deep creases etched into his brow. Without so much as turning his head, he rasped out, “Juecheng Station 1. Anyone getting off? No one…”

“Driver, I’m getting off.”

The speaker was a tall young man with wheat-colored skin. Perhaps because of the sweltering heat, he wore a sleeveless white tank top.

Most people dressed like that would look baggy and lifeless, but this young man stood out. Years of hard labor had built muscles that strained against the fabric, while his black trousers were cinched tight at the waist with a worn leather belt. He exuded an excess of raw vitality and sensuality.

Plenty of eyes lingered on him from the shadows. Someone muttered under their breath, “A body like that… what a shame he’s not an Alpha.”

Their companion glanced over and added, “I know him. It’s Jiang Rang from Jiangjia Village. Honest and hardworking guy, but his family’s in rough shape. His dad’s got a serious illness, and his beta fiancé—who hasn’t even moved in yet—is sickly too. They all depend on him. Tough life…”

Jiang Rang, of course, overheard every word. But he kept his head slightly lowered, as if oblivious. His downcast lashes lent him the patient, enduring honesty often seen in rural folk.

The bus hadn’t even come to a full stop before he grunted with effort and slung a massive snakeskin sack over his shoulder. The vehicle was packed with rural migrant workers heading to the city for jobs, their belongings piled everywhere.

Once he finally disembarked with some difficulty, Jiang Rang slumped onto the bench at the bus stop and stared blankly at his battered sneakers. It was a long moment before he let out a heavy sigh.

Who could have guessed that just a year ago, he had been a pale, exhausted corporate drone slaving away at a 996 schedule, drained to the point of kidney deficiency? Now, he could chase a dog through the rice paddies for ten miles without tiring.

Looking back on that bizarre chain of events still brought a bitter tear to Jiang Rang’s eye.

It had all begun when an inexplicable Alluring Halo latched onto him. At first, the effects were tolerable: subway perverts, strangers falling head over heels and stalking him back to his residential complex, lonely husbands he kept “accidentally” running into at coffee shops…

Those incidents he could dodge.

But the disruptions at work and in daily life were impossible to avoid. No matter what he did, admiring gazes followed him covertly. Colleagues in loving relationships suddenly confessed to him. VIP clients slipped him hotel keycards. His aloof, unapproachable superior dangled “promotion opportunities.”

As the madness intensified, Jiang Rang grew genuinely terrified and distraught. He found himself trapped in his apartment complex by those bigshots, surviving for days on nothing but instant noodles!

That all changed when he clicked open a Quick Transmigration novel without even glancing at the synopsis.

The gears of fate began to turn. A voice calling itself the System bound to him and informed Jiang Rang that if he wanted to remove the Alluring Halo and reclaim his normal life, he would have to enter the various Small Worlds within that novel. There, he needed to fill in for missing ordinary NPC roles.

Desperate for a solution, Jiang Rang agreed without hesitation.

And so he transmigrated into this ABO World.

Before sending him off, the System had left him with just two instructions.

1. The System cannot accompany the Host into Small Worlds. The Host must ensure the Host Body continues living a natural life in society until its death.

2. To ensure tasks proceed smoothly and prevent out-of-character behavior, the System will amplify traits in the Host that align with the Small World’s NPC role.

For his first world, the role’s keyword was straightforward: three simple words.

“Honest Person.”

Under the influence of this Small World—and after nearly a year in its rural backwaters—Jiang Rang had never felt quite so guilelessly honest.

It was a deep-seated change. For instance, three days earlier, relatives had lined up a city job for him. Yet out of worry for his ailing father in this world, he had boarded the bus with barely any cash to his name.

Or take right now: Jiang Rang shook his empty mineral water bottle, too frugal to discard it, and tucked it carefully into the snakeskin sack like a treasure.

Flat broke, he resolved to walk to the home of the employer his relatives had arranged.

The journey wasn’t far, and this young body’s sturdy strength made even carrying the heavy sack feel effortless.

Perhaps after so long in the underdeveloped countryside, the sight of skyscrapers scraping the clouds, floating transit lines threading through the air and earth without obstruction, and eerily lifelike robots in luxury storefronts gave Jiang Rang the disorienting sensation of transmigrating all over again.

This was a brand-new world, worlds away from the backward rural villages. Juecheng, in particular, stood as the bustling heart of a developed metropolis, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. The people hurrying to and fro were all impeccably dressed.

Jiang Rang barely needed to take a few steps before encountering alphas and omegas—sights rare back in his hometown. Men and women alike, they were dressed to perfection, inhibitor patches seamlessly blended into the skin at the napes of their necks. Even strolling down the street, faint traces of their pheromones would leak out, quietly announcing their natures.

Jiang Rang stood out as the sole exception.

From his physique so unlike the city dwellers’, to his tanned skin and threadbare clothes, everything about him screamed cheap and unremarkable.

He did his best to ignore the sidelong glances from passersby, his grip tightening on the snake-skin bag. His eyes fixed on his battered sneakers.

The shoes were already scuffed and torn. He’d wiped them meticulously before leaving home, but stubborn flecks of mud remained—and against the pristine backdrop of this city, they looked filthier than ever.

A tide of anxiety and dread washed over him, tempting him to turn tail and flee.

But thoughts of the dire situation back home made it impossible to look away. Jiang Rang steeled himself and pushed the impulse aside.

The main residence lay within an elite villa district. Its classical Western architecture was strikingly distinctive: dark brown eaves etched with twisting, dynamic motifs; off-white walls that harmonized with intricate ice-crack patterned lattice windows. It was exorbitantly lavish, like a palace forever encased in a crystal orb.

Lacking entry credentials, Jiang Rang was stopped at the gate by security. With no other choice, he pulled out his ancient flip phone and dialed the relative who had sent him.

Moments later, a young man approached—crisp white shirt fronted by a jet-black velvet apron.

After exchanging a few words with the guard, he smoothly escorted Jiang Rang inside.

The young man was a beta, the chatty sort. Far from scorning Jiang Rang’s country bumpkin look, he shared plenty about the household. It was only as they neared the villa’s entrance that he hesitated, lowering his voice. “Jiang Rang, did the relative who referred you mention anything about the job?”

Jiang Rang blinked in surprise, shaking his head. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, leaving him looking lost and awkward.

The young servant leaned in closer, murmuring, “The Li Family carries real weight in Juecheng. Nearly every member holds a high post in the Federation. The current patriarch’s only son, Li Xian, was born frail and sickly. This year, he married Qi Yu, the omega son from Juecheng’s old-money Qi Family. But not long into the marriage, Li Xian succumbed to illness. The old patriarch took it hard and fell ill himself.”

His voice dropped even further. “Which means the Li and Qi Families are now largely in Mr. Qi’s hands. And Mr. Qi… he’s no picnic to serve. It’s not just the fresh widowhood—Mr. Qi suffers from migraines too. Before you arrived, he’d already run off several personal attendants.”

“One crossed him so badly he left without a dime. Kicked out onto the streets of Juecheng, the poor guy couldn’t even buy a bite to eat.”

Jiang Rang’s dark eyes contracted. Having endured the grind of rural poverty, the very idea of starvation struck a primal terror into him. He swallowed hard, the muscles in his wheat-toned arms flexing into sleek lines of raw power.

His voice came out hoarse and deliberate. “Can’t even get a meal?”

The young servant nodded, shadows of fear lingering in his gaze. “Worse than that—no one would sell him a thing. He couldn’t survive in Juecheng.”

Jiang Rang bowed his head, the panic he’d nearly shaken off now flooding back.

He was just an ordinary guy. Before crossing over or after, in a world of rough equality, he’d scraped by. But here in the Federation’s rigid class structure—where power crushed the common folk like a vise—he wasn’t sure he could last.

The young man, seeing his silence and downcast eyes, realized he’d overshared and pivoted quickly. “Anyway, we’re here. The Butler will kit you out with clothes and run down the household rules. Head on in.”

Jiang Rang paused mid-step, let out a soft sigh, and trailed after him into the villa.

Inside, lights blazed from crystal wall sconces stretching in unbroken lines. Off-white walls adorned with carved flourishes lined corridors hung with stark paintings—mostly blacks, whites, and grays, punctuated here and there by jarring splashes of deep crimson.

The grand hall featured a sinuous marble staircase in European style, its black filigree handrail radiating opulence.

Perhaps because he had grown accustomed to the vibrant life and colors of the countryside, Jiang Rang found the villa’s atmosphere suffocatingly oppressive. It even gave him the illusion that he couldn’t catch his breath.

The servants sweeping nearby were highly disciplined. Even upon noticing the newcomer, they merely glanced once before lowering their heads in silence, offering no unnecessary words.

The butler was a middle-aged beta man with streaks of white at his temples, lending him a refined air.

He asked Jiang Rang a few perfunctory questions upon meeting him, then said no more—save for stressing one crucial point: absolute obedience to the commands of the master of the house, that is, Mr. Qi.

Moreover, Jiang Rang couldn’t stay on just yet. Everything would depend on Mr. Qi’s decision when he returned that evening.

Feeling uneasy, Jiang Rang followed the butler’s instructions and changed into the servant’s uniform. The unfamiliar surroundings slowed his every movement. Though he cut a tall, muscular figure, there was always something humble and unremarkable about the young man’s bearing.

This was especially true when he realized his overdeveloped muscles and flawless physique made the white shirt’s buttons strain and pop open, even exposing a glimpse of skin. A deep flush spread across his wheat-toned cheeks and up to his earlobes, impossible to miss.

Jiang Rang drew in a steadying breath. The black apron cinched the white shirt snugly against his skin at the waist. From a distance, his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, forming a perfect physique. The raw power and vitality radiating from him lent him a touch of wild allure.

No wonder others so often mistook him for an alpha.