Chapter 3: Feel My Six-Pack

The Villainous Revelry System was baffled. Tonight had been a roller coaster—one thrill after another.

The most shocking part was that several of the CEOs who would make the protagonist’s life miserable once he entered show business had already disgraced themselves in front of him. Worse, the protagonist now had evidence against them.

The system was filled with regret. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have hacked the security cameras for you.

Without the system hacking the cameras, even with a second chance at life, Quan Heng couldn’t have gotten his hands on all the evidence ahead of time without anyone noticing—not even knowing exactly what the dirt was or where to find it.

Quan Heng’s expression remained flat. “I told you I wanted to use it to threaten them. You agreed.”

On the condition that you only used it to threaten them, make them do what you wanted, and then make life difficult for the protagonist! But now the evidence was in the protagonist’s hands. The system was beside itself.

“Relax. I’ll figure something out.” The system had given him a chance to live again, after all. Quan Heng wasn’t about to disregard their deal entirely. He talked the system down for a while, until its panic finally subsided.

Their conversation took only a moment—so quickly that Wen Congrong, who’d just been told “congratulations,” had no idea what Quan Heng meant. He assumed it was a joke and turned his attention to something else.

“Brother Dong said everyone’s gone downstairs and gathered by the east windows. We’ll leave through the back.”

Wen Congrong started walking. After taking several steps, he realized the other man hadn’t followed.

He looked back. Quan Heng’s dark eyes were quietly fixed on him, but he said nothing and made no move. Wen Congrong remembered that the man had said, “You should run too.” He hadn’t meant himself.

With a helpless sigh, Wen Congrong went back and grabbed Quan Heng’s arm. “Come on. There’s no point staying here to fight them. We’re the ones who’ll lose.”

But Quan Heng was bigger than him, and his feet seemed rooted to the spot. Wen Congrong couldn’t budge him.

Wen Congrong sighed. He was starting to wonder if he’d been bored out of his mind to come back and play the hero, only to fail at it. The man’s stubbornness was giving him a headache.

“Why won’t you leave?” he asked. He looked Quan Heng in the eye, then gave him a hug. “Come on, give me a hug and tell me what’s on your mind.”

Wen Congrong hadn’t expected the hug to make him open up. He’d even been thinking he’d given the man three chances, and if he still wouldn’t leave, he’d go on his own.

But then Quan Heng lowered his head, his short hair brushing Wen Congrong’s neck. With an awkward, unpracticed movement, he wrapped an arm around Wen Congrong’s waist and answered in a low, embarrassed voice.

“Thank you. But I have nowhere to go, and I’m broke.”

Quan Heng wasn’t lying. He was still living in the dormitory his agency provided. After falling out with his manager, there was no way he could go back.

And he remembered what had happened around this time. He’d refused to be pimped out, so the company had made life difficult for him. He’d gone more than half a year without work. His pockets were emptier than his stomach, and he couldn’t afford a hotel.

Warm breath brushed his collarbone. The man’s stiff hair tickled Wen Congrong, making him uncomfortable, but hearing how desperate and helpless Quan Heng sounded, he hesitated before pushing him away.

After a moment, Wen Congrong caught the scent of blood and looked up. Quan Heng’s lashes fluttered, and Wen Congrong’s resolve finally crumbled.

“How about coming back to my place for now?”

He lived alone, so it wouldn’t be a problem for Quan Heng to stay.

“Really? Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?” Quan Heng asked with his cheek resting against Wen Congrong’s shoulder. His voice was full of delighted embarrassment, while he breathed in the scent of the other man.

From farther away, he hadn’t noticed it. Up close, though, the protagonist carried the faintest trace of fabric softener—a light freesia scent.

They were so close that Quan Heng’s voice seemed to vibrate right against him. Wen Congrong wasn’t used to it. He let go and stepped back, then quickly grabbed Quan Heng’s arm and pulled him toward the exit.

“Of course not! Come on, we have to go, or we won’t get away!”

Quan Heng looked down at the hand gripping his wrist and blinked with quiet curiosity. Wen Congrong moved quickly, choosing the right turns as he led him this way and that. Quan Heng pretended not to know where they were going, jogging along behind him. From time to time, he stumbled against Wen Congrong because of the alcohol, but Wen Congrong didn’t seem to mind.

Quan Heng asked again, “Thanks. I’m Quan Heng. What’s your name?”

He already knew the protagonist’s name. Now he repeated each character of it in his head, heart thumping as he waited for the answer.

“Oh, nice to meet you, Quan Heng. I’m Lei Feng.” Wen Congrong was focused on finding the way out. He answered casually, not thinking that two people who’d just met needed to exchange names.

([T/N]: Lei Feng: A famous Chinese cultural hero of selflessness. Saying “I’m Lei Feng” is the Chinese equivalent of saying “Just call me a Good Samaritan” instead of giving your real name.)

*Liar!*

Quan Heng pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at the hand gripping his, suddenly finding it irritating.

The system chimed in at the worst possible moment. Host, you’re a genius! You’ve already got your foot in the door with the protagonist! Just think, once you’re living at his place…

“Shut up.” Quan Heng’s voice was cold. The system went silent at once.

In the System Space, a floating gray ball of fluff hovered in front of the all-angle projection, watching its host’s dark expression. It shuddered, then gave a quiet little whine.

It might be a Villainous Revelry System, but Quan Heng had been too much, even by its standards. It needed to be careful.

What if, after the mission, the host came back to the System Space and beat it up? QAQ

Unaware that he’d frightened the system, Quan Heng wondered how he could get the protagonist to tell him the truth. Soon enough, he found himself outside the restaurant.

“This way.” They went out the back and cut through a few alleys before Wen Congrong led him to an electric scooter parked by the wall.

“Come on.” Wen Congrong pulled a jacket and a helmet—the same kind as his own—from under the seat and urged Quan Heng to put them on.

When Quan Heng took forever to get his jacket on and then fussed over which way the helmet should face, Wen Congrong finally took over. He lowered the helmet onto Quan Heng’s head, adjusted the ear pads, and tightened the strap under his chin.

When he saw that Quan Heng hadn’t buttoned his jacket all the way, he fastened it for him too.

“Hey, stop looking at me!” Wen Congrong had been delayed for ages. The way Quan Heng stared at him, eyes hazy with drunkenness, was making him lose patience. He shoved the man onto the seat and climbed on after him, starting the scooter.

The modified battery sent the scooter gliding forward. Sitting sideways, Quan Heng was squeezed between Wen Congrong and the insulated delivery box.

It was cramped, but more comfortable than the narrow, dark attic and the locked room. He smiled and slipped an arm around Wen Congrong’s waist. His hand found the faint lines of Wen Congrong’s abs.

He was just starting to enjoy the view when the world in front of him began to wobble.

Wen Congrong reacted quickly and steadied the scooter. Having nearly lost control when Quan Heng touched a sensitive spot, he finally snapped.

“Quan Heng! Behave yourself! I don’t want to die young!”

Quan Heng was completely bewildered by the shout. The system, which had been nodding off, jumped too. Don’t be scared! The protagonist didn’t mean it!

Then the system realized what it had said. It shouldn’t be comforting him. It should be fanning the flames—that was what its job was.

But before it could speak again, Quan Heng said calmly, “You don’t have to tell me. Of course I know he didn’t mean it.”

He was the protagonist he’d seen, smelled, touched, and held. The protagonist he was supposed to torment. Of course Quan Heng knew him better than the system, which could only observe through its own awareness.

*What is wrong with him?!* The system lost it. It grabbed its little pillow and beat it several times before flopping down to sleep. It decided that no matter what the protagonist did, it wasn’t going to get involved anymore.

After enjoying the ride for a while, Wen Congrong glanced at the rearview mirror. The tall, long-limbed man was curled up awkwardly in the cramped space, looking a little lost. Wen Congrong began to wonder if he’d been too harsh.

Quan Heng had just escaped from a den of wolves. Wen Congrong didn’t know how he’d managed to get his hands on the scumbags’ evidence, but he’d clearly been through a lot. Wen Congrong shouldn’t have snapped at him like that.

The guilt followed him all the way to the entrance of his old apartment complex. Wen Congrong plugged in the scooter, kept his helmet on, and led Quan Heng up the stairs after peeking around to make sure no one was watching.

Once they reached the eighth floor, he showed Quan Heng the door. “806. Easy to remember. Don’t go to the wrong one.”

Quan Heng nodded quietly. His subdued manner was a far cry from his earlier liveliness, and Wen Congrong felt even worse. He’d made the man so nervous.

“Ahem. Don’t take it personally. I was in a hurry back there. I wasn’t really mad at you.” After opening the door and leaving his keys in the entryway, Wen Congrong led him inside and took off his helmet.

The apartment was a rental, and it was tiny. A small coffee table and a single-seat sofa took up most of the living room.

The bedroom door stood open, making it easy to see the whole room: a bed and a wardrobe. The kitchen was even smaller. If you stretched out your arm, you could almost touch the security grille on the opposite wall.

The place was just about big enough for one person. With two of them inside, it felt crowded.

Quan Heng’s tall frame made it feel even tighter, but he showed no sign that he realized he was taking up someone else’s space and leaving his host nowhere to stand. Instead, he looked around with interest, then turned to study Wen Congrong once the helmet was off.

Wen Congrong looked exactly as Quan Heng had imagined. His brows were straight and dark, his nose high, his eyes bright and clear. His amber gaze brimmed with youthful energy.

Youthful energy. Quan Heng froze, remembering the description in the plot. Wen Congrong had only just turned eighteen.

“What are you standing there for? Go wash up.” Wen Congrong set the helmets on the coffee table and gave him a puzzled look.

He went into the bedroom and dug out a large set of pajamas he’d bought for himself, along with a pair of unworn shorts and a clean towel. He handed them to Quan Heng and pushed him into the bathroom.

He closed the door behind him. His voice came through, slightly muffled. “Hurry. There isn’t much hot water. I’ll have to wait a while after you’re done.”

“Got it.” Quan Heng obediently started undressing.

The bathroom was just as cramped, with no separate shower area. Two bags hung behind the door, labeled “Clean” and “Dirty” in marker. They were easy enough to tell apart. Quan Heng tossed his clothes into the dirty one.

After figuring out which way to turn the water heater, he stepped under the shower. The showerhead sent a blast of icy water over him. He looked up in confusion, only to get a face full of hot water.

…

When he finally came out, dressed and carrying a towel around his neck, Quan Heng peered toward the kitchen.

A delicious aroma wafted through the apartment. The protagonist was standing at the stove, moving with easy familiarity.

“Done washing up?” Wen Congrong glanced over as he cooked noodles. He was momentarily distracted by the way Quan Heng looked, fresh and clean as a flower after the rain, then he gave an order. “Go get some bowls and chopsticks. It’s time to eat.”