Chapter 1: Doctor Bottom x Celebrity Top

The night pulsed with dim, amber lights that shrouded the room in a misty haze. Thumping music vibrated through the center of the dance floor, where silhouettes writhed in the crowd. Ambiguous murmurs slithered from the corners, and a decadent atmosphere slowly unfurled.

Dim lights danced across the man’s profile, their flickering glow lending an elusive allure, yet unable to conceal the sharp, handsome lines of his face.

His frame was lean and elegant, broad-shouldered and long-legged—impossible to ignore.

He leaned against the bar, propping his head with one hand, idly toying with the glass before him. His slender fingertip tapped the rim, the blue liquid inside shimmering with iridescent light.

Against that sapphire hue, his pale, elegant fingers took on a seductive sheen, radiating an effortless temptation.

From the moment he had sat down, countless gazes had converged on him. Finally, a man with strikingly glamorous features could no longer resist and sauntered over.

Why a man? Because this was the city’s infamous gay bar, where every guy who walked in was presumed to swing that way.

Relying on his looks, he had rarely struck out. Brimming with confidence, he approached.

“Hey, handsome, wanna have some fun?” He winked, flashing what he thought was his most irresistible smile, his fingertip hovering just shy of the man’s shoulder.

The man lifted his gaze slightly, fixing him with a quiet stare that carried an inexplicable intimidation. Sheepishly, the intruder pulled back his hand.

Then, he watched as the man curved his thin lips in a faint smile. That subtle expression softened his already striking features, shifting him from an untouchable, ethereal air to something warmer and more approachable.

The glamorous man’s narrow eyes locked onto that face, his posture relaxing as infatuation sparked in his gaze.

Feng Qinghan lifted his eyelids just a fraction, his eyes sweeping over the man’s overly delicate features. A smile played on his lips, and though his gaze seemed gentle, it held a layer of detachment that kept others at arm’s length. In a mild tone, he said, “Sorry, but I’m a clean freak.”

With that, Feng Qinghan glanced at his watch. He rose smoothly, gave the man a polite nod, and headed off in another direction.

The man stared obsessively at Feng’s retreating back, lost in a daze. He muttered to himself, “Even his rejection is so polite. So damn handsome.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a stifled chuckle erupted from nearby.

He frowned sharply and whipped his head around, only then noticing a figure in the shadows not far away, perched at the bar.

The young man was strikingly handsome, his smile radiant and his features refined.

But he hadn’t forgotten that laugh—blatant mockery, plain as day. Glaring at him, he demanded, “What the hell are you laughing at?”

The youth had a pair of beautiful, crystal-clear eyes, with thin eyelids and slightly upturned corners. When he fixed them earnestly on someone, he gave off an air of perfect obedience—but his words were anything but.

He touched the tip of his nose as if flustered, eyed the man’s brewing rage, blinked innocently, and explained slowly, “That guy said he’s got a cleanliness thing, right? Which basically means… he thinks you’re dirty.”

His tone was utterly casual, his fingertip tracing lazy circles on the bar top, a wicked smirk curling his lips.

The man wasn’t an idiot. Dazed by beauty moments ago, it now clicked—that’s exactly what the other guy had meant.

His face turned ashen in an instant. With his target already gone, all he could do was shoot a venomous glare at this punk who had burst his bubble and humiliated him.

He stormed off, fury radiating from his back.

The young man was none other than Jing Chi. He let out a soft sigh, addressing the system with feigned helplessness. “I was just trying to help the guy out, and he glares at me?”

In truth, his eyes brimmed with malicious glee.

System: “……”

[Warm reminder: The task target has entered the main plotline. Please take action, Host.]

Jing Chi took a sip of his drink. It tasted worse than expected. He pulled a face and set it aside.

[Got it, got it.]

Outwardly grinning at the system in his mind, inwardly he was fuming.

Five days ago, Jing Chi had been nothing more than an ordinary human. Five days later, he had inexplicably become a tasker.

That day, he had been walking down the street just like always when a “surprise” plummeted from the sky—a massive pot from god-knows-where, smashing straight onto his head.

The pot killed him outright.

Yet mere seconds later, he revived—as a soul.

Then came another heavenly gift: a huge iron ball. Having learned from the pot, Jing Chi dodged nimbly to the side. But the iron ball seemed to have a mind of its own, halting right in front of him.

It burst into brilliant light, followed by a strangely familiar spiel, complete with background music.

[To prevent the destruction of the world, to protect world peace, to uphold the evil of love and truth!]

[Cute and charming System, 347…]

“Stop.”

Jing Chi felt this opening line was oddly familiar, like something from a cartoon he’d watched as a kid.

He stared at the bizarre object floating in front of him and voiced his doubt. “Are you a talking iron ball?”

“No, how could I be an iron ball when I’m this cute? I am the most powerful System under the great Main God’s command—347.”

The System inexplicably felt a pang of guilt. It had once been impressive, but now it was little more than a useless hunk of junk, utterly pathetic.

In the past, it had gleamed silver-white with a beautiful pearly glow. Now, it was just a dull, ashen gray.

Jing Chi didn’t care what kind of System it was. He snatched up the ball, his fair and slender fingers pinching it tight as he pulled it closer for a better look.

To his surprise, the iron ball started to heat up. Jing Chi instinctively let go.

The ball didn’t drop. Instead, it hovered there in midair.

Overwhelmed by the Host’s devastating good looks, the iron ball blushed furiously, its entire surface flushing a deep black-red.

It stammered out an explanation. “Host, we’ve detected that you’ve died in this otherworld. Before your soul could dissipate, I proactively bound myself to you. All you need to do is complete the world-saving mission, and you’ll be reborn. Plus, the System can grant you one wish.”

“Then why me?” Jing Chi asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

The System’s response lacked conviction, even as it tried to sound authoritative. “Uh… because of fate, of course.”

In truth, the System had no idea. It only knew it needed to bind to someone. Vaguely, it recalled that someone had once told it to wait for that person to appear—it would know the feeling when it came.

After drifting aimlessly for so long, the System had finally sensed that feeling in Jing Chi and bound to him on the spot.

And just like that, in a complete daze, Jing Chi found himself in this new world, tasked with his first mission to save it.

Sure, every kid dreamed of saving the world back in their chuunibyou phase, but that wasn’t the point. What mattered was the System’s promise: in every world, he could eat, drink, and be merry to his heart’s content, lounging around like a total slacker. It was the ultimate dream for any overworked office drone.

But when Jing Chi read the mission details, three black lines crept down his forehead.

No wonder this world needed saving—its sense of right and wrong was completely warped.

This was a derivative world spun off from a novel.

The protagonist bottom had started out as a spoiled young heir from a wealthy family, only for it to fall on hard times. Even so, it never dimmed his relentlessly upbeat personality. He took a job at a bar but somehow kept his wide-eyed innocence intact.

That’s where he met the protagonist top: a domineering president type. The top realized this was the same guy who’d saved him as a kid, but as someone born with a silver spoon, he wasn’t about to go fawning over anyone.

Instead, he orchestrated little “incidents” where his people would hassle the bottom, only for him to swoop in as the hero. Watching the bottom cling to him for rescue filled him with smug satisfaction.

Oblivious to the fact that the top was behind all his woes, the bottom ended up befriending him.

It was only then that the top learned the bottom was nursing a crush—on his university senior and childhood sweetheart.

Feng Qinghan: a man so flawless even the protagonist top couldn’t help seething with envy.

He’d topped A University’s campus heartthrob rankings for four straight years—stunningly handsome, with a gentle air and a low-key demeanor.

After finishing his master’s at A University, he turned down the family business to join its affiliated hospital as a surgeon.

In just three years, he’d published two papers in top-tier journals, sparking a global sensation. From that point on, Feng Qinghan’s name echoed throughout the medical world.

Everyone hailed him as the future of medicine, never dreaming that someone else’s twisted love would bring his career to a screeching halt—and leave him covered in scandal.

Jealous that the protagonist bottom was so smitten with Feng Qinghan, the top cooked up a scheme to paint him as a sleazy playboy.

First, he hijacked the bottom’s phone and, pretending to be blackout drunk, lured Feng Qinghan out.

They’d grown up together, after all, and Feng Qinghan saw the bottom as a little brother figure—he couldn’t just ignore a plea like that.

But he never imagined it would lead to his total downfall.

The bar belonged to the top’s conglomerate, so he’d already paid off the bartender to spike Feng Qinghan’s drink with some special drugs.

All he had to do was text the private room number from the bottom’s phone, and Feng Qinghan would walk right into the trap.

Everything played out exactly as the protagonist top had planned. He snapped some compromising photos of Feng Qinghan and plastered them on the hospital’s bulletin board.

A doctor tainted by scandal? No one would trust him again. Everyone started looking at Feng Qinghan with utter revulsion.

How could a prodigy like that stomach the humiliation? He quit on the spot and fled abroad to continue his studies.

But the protagonist top still wouldn’t let him off the hook. Just because the protagonist bottom shed tears upon seeing Feng Qinghan about to leave, the top flew into a jealous rage and hired thugs to cripple Feng Qinghan’s right hand.

A surgeon could no longer wield a scalpel with his dominant hand. Feng Qinghan’s career was utterly destroyed.

He abandoned the medicine he loved so dearly and took over his family’s company. Piecing together clues from the shadows, he investigated what had happened to him.

He discovered that the “accidents” he’d always believed in were anything but—they were deliberate.

All because that person liked him.

How ironic. And it was precisely this that turned Feng Qinghan dark.

He launched attacks on the gong protagonist’s company. He was on the verge of success when a subordinate he trusted betrayed him, saddling him with billions in debt instead.

With no way out, he resorted to desperate measures and kidnapped the shou protagonist.

The very person who had once professed to like him stared at him now with abject terror and insisted they were innocent.

Feng Qinghan laughed, but his eyes were ice-cold.

Innocent? Wasn’t he the most innocent of all?

The shou protagonist gazed at the man who had once been as clear and aloof as a bright moon in the night sky. Now his eyes were bloodshot, like those of a bloodthirsty demon.

He regretted it deeply. He never should have used Feng Qinghan to provoke the gong protagonist.

That’s right—he had exploited Feng Qinghan.

But it was too late. Blood stained the floor crimson.

Feng Qinghan showed the gong protagonist no mercy either. Using the shou protagonist’s corpse, he employed every dirty trick in the book to drive the top completely insane.

With one protagonist driven mad and the other dead—the very pillars upholding the world—the fabric of reality collapsed. This summoned the 347 System, sending it back to a pivotal turning point in the plot to avert this ending.

“This is the villain? If it were me, death would be letting them off too easy. I’d make them beg for it.”

The System stared at its host’s strikingly handsome face, wreathed in a warm smile. Yet the words coming from his mouth were chilling enough to make it shudder.

It shook itself off and cleared its throat. “Host, you just need to keep this world from collapsing.”

In other words, as long as the top and bottom protagonists didn’t die, all was well.

That was how the thought automatically reshaped itself in Jing Chi’s mind.

And now, they had arrived at that crucial turning point in the plot.

To Jing Chi, this was nothing but a tale of a scheming white lotus bottom and a deranged top. The real tragedy was Feng Qinghan, the closest thing to a normal person in the bunch.

Jing Chi rose to his feet with a lazy stretch and sauntered toward the direction Feng Qinghan had gone. It had been about fifteen minutes since the man left.

Following the System’s directions, he reached the door of the private room.

A thud echoed from inside, like someone stumbling. Jing Chi figured the drug had kicked in for Feng Qinghan.

Out of politeness, he knocked first.

No answer. The corners of Jing Chi’s mouth quirked up. He knocked again, hollering at the top of his lungs:

“Bro, don’t do anything stupid! Yeah, you’ve got that condition, but we can try conservative treatment. Just don’t go hurting anyone else!”

The System’s mouth twitched, three massive question marks exploding in its mind.

It was glad the villain couldn’t hear that, or the host would be toast.

Maybe it was Jing Chi’s words that did the trick, or perhaps his voice was just too damn loud. The door swung open, and a hulking brute glowered at him.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Me?” A charming smile spread across Jing Chi’s handsome face, momentarily stunning the brute. But Jing Chi’s next words turned the man’s face ashen.

“Your granddad,” Jing Chi spat with utter disdain.

Before the brute could react, Jing Chi swung his hand and knocked him out cold.

The System was dumbfounded.

Jing Chi shook out his hand and sighed. “New body’s still a little rusty. Damn, that smarts. Guess I’ll have to hit the gym when I get back.”

He gave the big lug a kick and stepped into the private room. There, bound to the sofa, was a man leaning back against the dark leather. The black upholstery made his skin gleam like polished porcelain.

An unnatural flush colored his jade-pale profile, erasing every trace of the aloof, moonlit chill he’d exuded outside.

His long lashes quivered faintly. His eyes were half-lidded, hazy with confusion and desire.

A veil of mist clouded his light brown irises, and the teardrop mole at the corner of his eye burned a vivid red.

Jing Chi had only caught a glimpse of his profile before. Now, face-to-face, his gaze lingered on that mole for a couple of seconds.

He also noted how Feng Qinghan’s crisp white shirt—previously without a single wrinkle—now had its top two buttons undone, baring delicate collarbones that glowed pale pink.

The man tilted his head back slightly, his breaths coming in soft, ragged gasps. An intimate tension began to thicken the air in the room.

Jing Chi touched the bridge of his nose, forced to admit that this villain had killer looks. Hell, they were enough to spark an instant crush.

Fine, truth be told, it was pure lust at first sight.