Chapter 15: The Past

The Adjudicator neither agreed nor disagreed. He didn’t respond to the person behind him. Standing up, he walked out of the dining hall.

There were three purposes for today’s certification. First, to serve as a warning to those Executors who held positions without doing any work. Second, to bring the cross-district incident to a close. Third, to preserve a sample of Shi Huai’s mental state.

As for matters related to Ming Ruan, he didn’t want to act so rashly.

At the very least, he wanted to wait until Shi Huai had spent some time with Ming Ruan and undergone another mental state examination before discussing it further.

When Ming Ruan came out, he was informed that the little fox had already been sent back ahead of time. So, he boarded the Flying Sedan alone.

As soon as his butt hit the seat, his Light Brain began buzzing and chiming in a chaotic flurry.

An overwhelming tidal wave of messages, all contributed by a single person: Zhuo Yunqi.

District 11: “?!?!”

District 11: “Are you out yet, are you out yet, are you out yet!!!”

District 11: “… Just casually asking. No need to respond if it’s inconvenient, okay? If it was rude, just pretend you didn’t see this message!”

District 11: “I was just wondering why the Adjudicator suddenly… treated you to a meal?”

Ming Ruan: ?

Disapprovingly, Ming Ruan typed back a storm of words.

District 12: “Finished eating. We were just discussing regularization matters, that’s all. How could you say he treated me to a meal?” What a strange way to put it!

Of course, there was also the matter of the boss having a favor to ask, but Ming Ruan didn’t mention that.

District 11: “.”

Ming Ruan had no idea what a multitude of unspoken words that single period contained.

But were it any other interstellar person, they would understand Zhuo Yunqi’s feelings perfectly.

Just what kind of person was the Adjudicator?

No one dared to comment.

Not even in their minds.

But strictly speaking in terms of facts: First, the Adjudicator would absolutely never do something as inefficient as eat a meal to discuss business. Discussing official business meant discussing official business. If there was a matter, he would finish saying it standing on the spot; he wouldn’t even invite you to sit down for a glass of water.

Second, public was public, and private was private. If the Adjudicator had been giving Ming Ruan orders in his capacity as a superior, he definitely would not have directly addressed him as “Ming Ruan.” He would have called him “Executor of District 12.”

Finally, if it were anyone else casually breaking these habits of his, it would be one thing—but this was the Adjudicator!

What today’s invitation to a meal meant… Zhuo Yunqi found it hard to judge.

And yet Ming Ruan, this outworlder, was completely oblivious to all these implications. He cheerfully asked Zhuo Yunqi:

District 12: “Does your District 11 have large predatory beasts? Do you know how to raise a tiger?”

Zhuo Yunqi smacked a hand over his eyes. He felt Ming Ruan was like a little fool. How could he still be asking these things at a time like this? Still, he replied:

District 11: “There aren’t many predatory beast types in District 11. At most, I can meet their requirements. ‘Raising’ them doesn’t apply at all.” They weren’t his wife, kids, or parents. What raising? They were all strangers.

District 12: “Okay, thanks. I’ll research it myself then. You get some rest.”

After sending the message, Ming Ruan swiped away from the chat window without a shred of lingering attachment. He entered the Intranet Engine, searching within the StarNet range permitted by the Sanatorium.

But perhaps Executors had too many restrictions. Ming Ruan meticulously searched again and again, and even when the Flying Sedan delivered him back to his base, he still hadn’t found any relevant experience guides on raising a tiger.

Of course, Ming Ruan also didn’t see the Frantic scratching of his head and ears on the other side of the chat box, how Zhuo Yunqi deleted his typed-out messages only to type again, and then delete again, ultimately sending nothing back. After a bout of hesitation, Zhuo Yunqi did open another dialogue box he hadn’t used in a long time and sent out a message: “Hey, long time no see, brother. Did you know about that matter concerning your little brother? I mean Ming Ruan.”

Ming Ruan, who had appeared in someone else’s conversation, had already gotten off the Flying Sedan and run straight into the house.

In the living room, Shi Huai, deeply sunken into his den and pretending to sleep, closed his eyes and patted the edge of the den with the tip of his tail, waiting for Ming Ruan to come and bother him.

Yet he heard those footsteps go from near to far as soon as they entered, and finally— click —the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Shi Huai: …

Shi Huai sat up, his face dark. His tail thumped with even greater force.

Ming Ruan ran back into his room and opened the Executor Log, quickly making a list of things he needed to prepare for the tiger.

Though he didn’t know how to raise a tiger, he couldn’t prepare absolutely nothing.

This was a tiger! Ming Ruan had dreamed of having one all his life.

He decided to start by preparing things as if raising a big cat, then adjust based on the tiger’s feedback. Two plans for food, same for lodging… grooming, toys, all arranged.

Ming Ruan scribbled and drew for quite a while, not saving his notes until the sun was slanting westward with satisfaction.

As he exited the Light Brain’s holographic screen, he unexpectedly glanced at that [Executor Regularization Assessment Point System].

Ming Ruan instantly sat up straight. He’d almost forgotten! This was directly tied to whether he could continue happily petting the fluffs!

Opening the system.

Inside were three major assessment indicators listed: Daily Duty Performance, Special Contribution, and Supervision Vote.

So far, Ming Ruan had gotten full points for the Daily Duty Performance category.

In the [Approved] section of Special Contribution, it showed his rescuing of Gray Wolf and locating the little fox. Points in this section were extra rewards.

What surprised Ming Ruan was that in the [Pending Review] section, there was an entry whose name read ‘Ment$%#%[al%].” Ming Ruan thought about it for a moment but couldn’t figure it out. Adhering to the fine virtues of a salted fish, he put it aside and continued to the next item.

Supervision Vote.

The Supervision Vote would open on the last day of his probationary period. If his participation supervision time reached 95% of the total supervision duration, he’d qualify to take part in the vote. If the approval votes reached 2/3, he could get full points for this item.

Supervision Vote?

Ming Ruan was struck by sudden realization. He turned his head to look at the tiny camera flying beside him.

So this thing was also for assessment and monitoring!

Perhaps, like back on Earth, there were four or five evaluators sitting behind the camera screen.

Ming Ruan didn’t pay it much more mind.

He did the math. Adding the extra points rewarded for Special Contribution, he only needed to get about half the votes for the Supervision Vote to successfully become a full member!

Meanwhile, the live broadcast room—which had been cut off for half the day because Ming Ruan went out for the certification—was now buzzing.

[I actually forgot Ming Ruan is still in his probationary period. Watching him take care of beastmen, he really does have a way with it.]

[Did Ming Ruan flop? Why’s no one arguing? Let me start. Ming Ruan is despicable, does all kinds of evil, get out of the Sanatorium!]

[Only people with no class would be fans of Ming Ruan. None of those charges on his list of crimes were slander against him. And the ones earlier? Pretty laughable. Do you actually think you’re being funny?]

[Starting now to farm the watch time for the Supervision Vote. Huai Fans absolutely will not accept Ming Ruan’s regularization. [127,890 likes]]

[To be fair, this Executor really has put in his best effort…]

[Character issues brook no compromise! [Red X] He dusts himself off and turns over a new leaf, but how do the people he hurt before get recompense??]

[No way. I’m invested in the Wenming Ship. My CP can’t have a Bad Ending. He has to keep being the Executor, wuwu.]

[I’m voting against. Not for any other reason. I suggest Ming Ruan open a shop. Start a restaurant or a bathhouse. I can help him make big bucks.]

[Fight! Fight! Fight!]

Back in reality, Ming Ruan was still mulling over the point issue.

But suddenly, he heard a series of crashing, clattering sounds from outside the door, followed by the pitter-patter of paws hitting the floor.

Without a second’s hesitation, Ming Ruan bolted straight out of the bedroom. His reaction was swift, his movements agile—clean, decisive, and smooth as flowing water. As if he’d done this countless times before, it stunned everyone in the live broadcast room.

[I’m a Mecha major, and that sequence of moves was almost as smooth as one of my institute’s top aces piloting a mecha.]

Ming Ruan had done it countless times. That noise was one hundred percent the sound of a small animal wrecking the house.

In an instant, the living room, kitchen, bathroom—every piece of furniture flashed through Ming Ruan’s mind. Dangerous sharp objects were out of reach for the little fox. Nothing particularly fragile or easily broken. Probably no major problems.

He rushed to the living room.

Just as expected, all sorts of miscellaneous small objects were scattered across the floor. Several pieces of clothing, meant to be in the bathroom, were strewn across the ground in a crumpled heap. On top of one piece of clothing lay a small fox.

Meeting Ming Ruan’s gaze, the little fox wagged his tail.

…

How things had gotten to this point… one had to go back to when Ming Ruan shut Shi Huai out of the bedroom door.

Shi Huai was left alone in the silent living room. As the lively atmosphere dispersed, he felt as though he were back to those days leaping alone through the woods.

Time was meaningless. Everything was meaningless. He could quietly think about some things.

Why had he trekked all that vast distance from District 7 to come back here? What had he intended to do?

He was here to expose Ming Ruan’s true colors.

Ming Ruan’s methods were underhanded, but Shi Huai had never stooped to slander. Merely exposing everything before the public’s eye—Ming Ruan would naturally taste his own bitter fruit.

But what he hadn’t anticipated was… Ming Ruan had changed.

Shi Huai thought back to their “reunion after long separation” in the Outdoor Zone, when Ming Ruan had lifted him into the air.

The morning light had spilled onto his face. Those eyes looking up at him had seemed to gather a tiny handful of nascent dawn rays—warm and bright.

And later, although Ming Ruan’s actions were overboard and intimate, it was a side of him Shi Huai had never seen before.

Whenever Ming Ruan looked at him, whenever Ming Ruan touched him… it was all so—so infuriatingly—!

Shi Huai gritted his teeth.

He didn’t know what complex mixture of emotions churned in his heart.

He only knew he absolutely could not believe that a person so thoroughly filthy from inside out could transform into what he was now.

He had to proactively create something—some test for Ming Ruan.

If all this was just an act Ming Ruan was putting on, then he absolutely forbade such a person from being reborn through the soot and ashes via the Executor position!

Shi Huai circled the room once, his gaze locking onto the few folded clothes in the bathroom.

In the dark room, a line of light filtered through the gap of the door, illuminating a sliver of the clothes in the corner.

Shi Huai felt as if he were transported back to the past.

That was his first grudge with Ming Ruan.

Back then, at the audition show, when he and Ming Ruan first met, they had given each other a polite nod. As they brushed past each other, Ming Ruan had smiled at him and said, “I’m so envious of you! Your dancing is really amazing! What great natural talent!”

He had felt his face flush from the praise at the time, thinking that if there was a chance, he could practice dancing together with Ming Ruan.

In the blink of an eye, it was the second round of the trainees’ solo stages. Before going onstage, he stood at the entrance of the makeup room, holding up his stage outfit, which had been cut to shreds, and looked back at the trainees crowding together and whispering to each other.

Ming Ruan stood among the crowd, smiling at him.

A smile that was brilliant, malicious, and utterly unapologetic.

Shi Huai looked at him and also smiled. Smiled at himself. Also mocked Ming Ruan.

At that stage performance, Shi Huai took first place.

While Ming Ruan was trailing far, far behind, teetering on the edge of elimination.

Shi Huai’s situation hadn’t been good back then. His family urgently needed money. He had come from a remote planet to the bustling Main Star, facing difficulties at every step. What kind of crazy, dog-blood drama hadn’t he encountered?

It was just a case of overlapping personas and getting in the way of a wealthy young master’s ambitions, that was all.

But Shi Huai hadn’t been afraid then. And to this day, he had never been afraid.

Shi Huai thought about those past events—things he had believed he no longer cared about, things he’d long left behind. His body had already started acting on its own: He dragged those clothes down, threw them to the floor, and viciously clawed, bit, and tore at them—violently shaking his head and flinging the clothing everywhere.

But these exquisite, expensive clothes of the Main Star weren’t so easily damaged.

His eyes blazing red, the fox dragged the clothes into the bathroom, soaking them completely, then dragged them off to the kitchen, trying to get them as stained as possible.

He went mad tugging those pieces of fabric, racing and leaping all over the house.

Until a series of crashing, clattering sounds rang out.

Startled back to his senses, Shi Huai panted heavily, releasing the fabric he’d been biting as if shocked. Only then did he see that the once clean and cozy little house was now a complete wreck, everywhere bearing traces of frenzied destruction.

Before he could even react, he saw Ming Ruan running out of the bedroom.

One person, one fox. Their gazes met.