“May I ask why?”
An Luo truly couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t know why Meieruita, who was perfectly fine on his own, wanted to bring along a burden like him.
Logically speaking, Meieruita’s current path should have been completing two mid-level tasks per month, with the rest of his time spent studying knowledge.
A wizard apprentice who only blindly studied existing witchcraft had no future. Meieruita had vaguely realized this point, and later An Luo had spelled it out clearly for him.
So he needed a tremendous amount of time to lay the foundation for his future path as a wizard.
It could be said that every second counted.
How could he waste time bringing An Luo along to… wait!
It was as if An Luo had suddenly thought of something. “You’re not planning to have me go on a mid-level task with you, are you?”
Oh no!
That was deadly!
Meieruita wouldn’t even need to lift a finger against him—just stand by and watch, AFK for five minutes, and An Luo would croak on his own.
Switch from killing to scamming, solving the dilemma beautifully, right?
It wouldn’t violate the contract, and it would send the author to the heavens.
“I’ve changed my mind!”
Meieruita hadn’t even answered yet, but An Luo felt like he’d already deduced the truth.
In the face of survival, what was a little psychological pressure?
No way, no way, no way!
No wonder the protagonist had suddenly been so generous!
An Luo tried to pull his hand back. He tugged twice, but it didn’t budge.
So infuriating… It was all because he’d given Meieruita such overpowered data back then.
“No.” Meieruita frowned. “A low-level task.”
Low-level tasks weren’t okay either!
An Luo had it all figured out by now.
If he wanted to team up for a low-level task, wasn’t it just to find a veteran to carry him?
Meieruita was a veteran, sure, but he absolutely wouldn’t carry An Luo.
For a fragile Earthling like An Luo, low-level tasks were still dangerous.
No wonder he hadn’t let An Luo go with John—because John was a good guy who would genuinely try to help An Luo survive.
As for the value of the Chinese runes An Luo had mastered…
Meieruita might think those runes were valuable, but without An Luo, he might be even better off. Plus, now that he’d confirmed he was the protagonist, An Luo’s presence was even more dispensable to him.
As for the plot…
Meieruita wasn’t the type to want to know the plot progression to take shortcuts.
Over some plot, he trusted himself more.
“You’re so convinced that I’ll try every means to kill you?” Meieruita’s voice betrayed no emotion.
His gray-green eyes flickered dimly in the yellowish candlelight.
An Luo: “…Uh, well, it’s not about believing or not… I’m just being realistic…”
Big bro, I wrote your character bio, and those millions of words were typed by me—how could I not know what kind of person you are?
We’re all thousand-year-old foxes here; let’s not play these ghostly Liaozhai games.
An Luo heard Meieruita take a deep breath, and his heart skipped a beat.
What, had the scam been exposed, and now it was time for force?
This time, he’d hold firm!
But Meieruita said nothing more. He released An Luo’s hand, straightened his back, and stood up.
The protagonist looked down at An Luo for a moment, then abruptly turned and strode out.
“Bang!” The door slammed shut behind him.
An Luo: “…”
Hey! I’m the victim here, okay? I’m not even mad—why are you pissed?
What an upside-down situation!
An Luo was convinced.
After Meieruita left, An Luo locked the door. Then he wondered if he’d really gotten it wrong, and if Meieruita’s proposal had actually come from a place of goodwill.
A shiver ran down his spine, and he suspected he’d eaten something he shouldn’t have.
He was hallucinating now.
Meieruita proposing to help out of kindness—what would he gain from that?
Suddenly short-circuiting and wanting to play the dutiful son, experiencing filial piety?
Ah…
Even from the perspective of someone who’d had too much to drink, that was too absurd.
Better to believe he was Qin Shi Huang.
An Luo shrugged, picked up the candle, and headed to the bathroom to wash up and sleep.
Perhaps because his scheme had been seen through, Meieruita didn’t come looking for An Luo again in the following days.
Makes sense—Meieruita had so much on his plate, and tricking An Luo was probably just a casual attempt. Success meant profit; failure was no big deal.
An Luo currently had a more important task.
Practicing handwriting.
Yes, that’s right—he was practicing handwriting.
It wasn’t that An Luo had suddenly developed a passion for calligraphy or wanted to calm his mind through writing.
It was because he had no choice.
The original host, Lan Lian, had beautiful handwriting—elegant cursive script that was a delight to the eyes.
An Luo’s handwriting, on the other hand… was that straight, blocky exam script, perfect for graders to score quickly.
Writing letters demanding money in that style? No way he’d get a dime!
He had to practice until it matched the original host’s exactly.
An Luo kept samples of the original host’s handwriting nearby for reference, imitating it stroke by stroke.
Though Lan Lian was cannon fodder, his handwriting was undeniably gorgeous—carefree and elegant, like artwork. It was so beautiful it could be framed and hung on the wall as decor.
So why had An Luo given Lan Lian this seemingly superfluous trait?
They said handwriting reflected the person. A detestable cannon fodder should have terrible handwriting, right?
Obviously, it was to set off the protagonist, Meieruita.
Look—Lan Lian’s handwriting was so beautiful, so hard to imitate, yet the protagonist could copy it effortlessly.
Through this side-by-side contrast, it highlighted how amazing the protagonist was!
Instantly elevating his presence!
But now, the one imitating Lan Lian’s handwriting was An Luo.
He didn’t find it easy at all!
Lan Lian contacted the family at the end of every month for money.
So An Luo didn’t have much time left.
These past few days, aside from attempting meditation, he’d been practicing handwriting. His hand was cramping up, and he’d only managed a rough likeness.
The form was similar, but it lacked the spirit.
He couldn’t capture that carefree elegance.
He slapped his hand twice, hard.
“Smack smack.” Left hand hit right, then right hit left.
This was all your fault!
In the corner of the desk sat the plate of smoked fish—er, stinky dried fish—that John had kindly brought…
He’d tasted a bite earlier, and it had shocked An Luo for a full three days.
But throwing it away would waste John’s goodwill.
Caught in a bind.
In the end, he’d picked one, soaked it in water, then seasoned it, pan-fried it, diced it up, and used it in soup.
The process was tedious, but after all that, the taste improved a lot.
There was still some Thorn Beast flesh left from Meieruita. An Luo decided to make hotpot today.
He wasn’t going on any mid-level tasks anyway—what was the point of saving it?
Might as well eat it all.
As he simmered bone broth for the hotpot base, he thought to himself that at this rate, he’d become a master chef.
People really were forged by necessity.
Who knew—if he ever found a way back to Earth, he’d have picked up a practical skill.
While An Luo’s mind wandered, there was a sudden knock at the door.
He peeked through the peephole. It was Meieruita.
Sigh, what did this lord want now?
An Luo opened the door.
Before he could even greet him, a cold, icy lump was shoved into his arms. Then Meieruita walked off without a word, not looking back.
An Luo looked down. The cold lump resembled a large flower bud—he had no idea what it was.
…What was this all about now?
