On campus, Lin Yao walked along while scrolling his phone.
Too many frustrating things had piled up these past few days—he was about to lose his mind.
First, his attempt to buy his way into the school had failed, so he still had to go through the transfer student process. The new school overseas had just been selected, and to become classmates with Teacher Shen legally, he’d have to wait at least a week.
Second, that dead fatty he wanted to beat up had landed in the police station. The bastard had nearly hurt Teacher Shen before getting locked up, robbing Lin Yao of the chance to do it himself. All he could do now was bribe some thugs to pay a visit in the detention center.
As for the third…
On his phone, the school’s Confession Wall—Lin Yao was locked in a fierce online brawl with a bunch of idiots.
It had started with a comment under some post. The post itself wasn’t much of an issue; the poster claimed to be an old classmate of Shen Leyuan’s.
The guy had laid out in detail the rich kids’ emotional entanglements over the past decade or so. He said he hadn’t planned to speak up, fearing backlash, but with Fatty’s arrest and the company collapse, he suspected the rich kids had paid Fatty off to do something shady.
Tormented by his conscience, he’d come forward with the dirt.
His wording was cautious—”speculation,” “possible,” “perhaps”—but that unshakable certainty lingered. He was probably in the know, maybe even an ex-employee at Shen Leyuan’s company.
Lin Yao had been thrilled for Teacher Shen at first. He tipped the post, then went on to tip every comment praising the teacher.
But then someone accused him of being one of the rich kids, maliciously speculating about Shen Leyuan’s relationships with them. They claimed the rich kids’ love had turned to hate—but love outweighed hate, and even this whitewashing post had been planted by one of them whose conscience hadn’t fully died.
What bullshit! Watch me tear you apart!
His mouth could bring the dead back to life. A few idiots were no match; even when they called in reinforcements, they retreated step by step.
Victorious, Lin Yao smugly patrolled the comments.
But as he scrolled, he deflated like a fighting cock that had lost its fire. Face falling, he deleted the ugly words one by one, as if wiping away filth—or rather, they were filth.
Someone @’d him: [Why delete? I’m taking notes to learn.]
Lin Yao didn’t have to reply, but inexplicably, he did: [Teacher won’t let me swear.]
One of the guys he’d silenced roared back to life: [Oh, a good little student, huh? Why not go home and suck on Mommy’s tit?]
Lin Yao: [First off, both my parents are deceased. Second—]
[Spreading sexual rumors about how people fuck? You’re pretty damn confident. Got experience with a rotten ass, or did your dad bang a bunch of hunks and birth you himself, you little bitch? See a guy and think money-for-sex? Did cash poke your eyes out? Would that give you genital warts or something?]
He’d tried to hold back, but still wasn’t satisfied. He quickly deleted it.
Before the “bitch” could gloat, he fired off a few more—no real swears this time.
[Oh right, sorry, I forgot you’re doomed to be broke your whole life. Money can’t come within three feet of you, you gelded poor bastard. No sons in your fate but with both sons and daughters, long life but childhood polio, paralysis in youth, dementia in old age.]
[Mad yet? You should be, or I’d think you’re a ghost escaped from hell, spouting all that bullshit. Sleeping with four guys a night? What, did you peek at the Book of Life and Death and see your next life as happy livestock?]
[Cat got your tongue? Did Black and White Impermanence drag off your soul with their hook?]
[Whoa, still barking? Treating your brain-dead fantasies like reality, pinching that retard face begging for a slap. Didn’t your psych ward doc tell you to stay off the net?]
From then on, the post turned into a sea of worship for “Money God Bro.”
In the end, it was just a mid-sized drama. Some people took a casual bite, some shared it with friends for a taste, but others had to slather on their imagined seasonings, declare the melon rotten, and strut around like they’d uncovered its true flavor.
Lin Yao stared at his phone, no new crap in sight.
A passerby nearby suddenly sneered to his friend, “Hey, that guy in the space—isn’t he the new sugar daddy he hooked?”
They were spectating the drama.
Lin Yao’s head snapped up sharply. “Who?”
By coincidence, it was a student he’d met once before. The guy lit up with surprise and nerves, explaining, “Shen Leyuan, duh. He’s been on Campus Star a few times, even got used as a teacher role model—that guy’s actually just a…”
The ugly word never made it out. Pain exploded in his leg.
Lin Yao kicked him to the ground and loomed over him darkly. “You’re the one spreading sexual rumors about him?”
The guy was shocked and furious. “And you’re his new sugar daddy?”
Lin Yao stepped closer, pinning the hem of his clothes as the guy scrambled back in terror. “One chance to rephrase.”
He thought of Teacher Shen and spared the guy’s hand.
But it seemed to embolden the prick. The guy yelled, “If you’re not his sugar daddy, why splash cash defending him and cursing people?!”
That was the terror of sexual rumors—forcing the victim to disprove the impossible.
Can’t disprove it? Then it’s true.
The commotion drew eyes. Phones snuck photos; inevitably, some linked the dialogue to the drama.
For the moment, Lin Yao had no good comeback.
Cursing back would just make him look guiltier.
As he endured, whispers leaked a “Shen,” prickling his nerves. He scanned the crowd and suddenly blurted, “Because I’m pursuing him—what about it?!”
Whoa, this melon’s worth a closer look.
The sneaky shots went full-on filming.
Lin Yao kept yelling, “I’m Lin Yao. Don’t know me? Baidu me yourself. I’ve got the looks, money, healthy body, family fortune—even this he disdains, so do those losers you mentioned deserve his fawning?!”
The fastest way to crush a rumor wasn’t denial—it was a juicier one to crowd it out.
At least mine’s not dirty! Lin Yao thought, equal parts guilty and mortified.
The guy panicked, yelling about calling the cops.
Lin Yao smirked and waved his phone. “Already did. Let’s chat about jail time for sexual rumors!”
The video of the young stud’s passionate confession hit the big screens fast.
Handsome, youthful wolf pup—fierce when kicking, shy when confessing. The contrast screamed sincerity. Someone even Photoshopped Shen Leyuan’s surprised glance in the second half.
If Lin Yuan hadn’t quickly had it squashed, it’d have trended.
Once exposed online, everything amplified. Youths got pointed at, shrouded in malicious stares, endless troubles.
What could Lin Yao do then?
Probably just cry apologies, then hop on Weibo to curse more, stirring up even bigger messes.
Lin Yuan wearily closed his eyes, wanting to see nothing.
Exhausted.
Headache.
One person could soothe him, but that man wasn’t by his side—not even in his surveillance net. Even the copied videos were in the past.
Dangerous.
Shen Leyuan had nearly been hurt by his roommate, yet Lin Yuan only learned hours later. His old friend, influenced by anomalies, stonewalled Shen Leyuan’s news and made him ask himself.
What was the point? If the guy’s fine, that’s enough.
Besides, Shen Leyuan had deleted his WeChat and hadn’t re-added him.
That meant no desire to see or talk to him. Why chase humiliation?
Fingering his phone, Lin Yuan switched surveillance to Little Deer.
Little Deer wasn’t chatting with Shen Leyuan.
He flipped to Sheng Shisi—sparring with someone, no chat with Shen Leyuan.
A quick scan: the whole villa peaceful and serene.
He should relax, but Lin Yuan felt wearier.
Back to Little Deer—the kid was fiddling with the cards, water cup, and storybook from Teacher Shen, backpack pillow, cat paw cushion, and other assorted small things. Once done, he popped on an idol drama.
Staring at those items, Lin Yuan called Hao Mingrui.
“That bodyguard pair broke up.”
Director Hao was mid-lunch. Seeing Lin Yuan’s number, he shot Shen Leyuan an ambiguous glance. But hearing this unrelated bomb, he blinked. “Huh?”
Lin Yuan prompted, “The free-love ones.”
Director Hao hadn’t forgotten—he just hadn’t connected it. Now tense: “How’s Little Deer lately?”
They’d banned office romance, really just blocking bodyguards’ crushes on Little Deer. Couldn’t say it outright—might spark curiosity—so the compromise rule.
No one around Little Deer had ever dated. Not one couple.
Until Shen Leyuan showed up like a vaccine, neutralizing the “Little Deer” virus, letting that sneaky pair hook up—even sleep together.
Truth be told, Director Hao had half a mind to drag a registry office to them and lock it down.
And now, not even a month later, split?
Lin Yuan: “Little Deer’s watching idol dramas.”
Director Hao stroked his chin. “That’s fine. Before, he’d sneak gay porn, envy the hell out of it, even take notes in a little book.”
He coaxed the overstrung man: “Young couples break up, make up—normal. Might be back in bed by tonight.”
Lin Yuan: “If they don’t reconcile, I request…”
Director Hao’s voice turned urgent: “Got something—hanging up!”
Phone clicked off; he ate leisurely.
Heh, men.
Likes him that much and still “requests” all prim? Request what—request a relic to enshrine at home?
Old Lin would regret this paranoia someday!
Shen Leyuan sensed something off. “What was that about just now…?”
Hao Mingrui geared up: If he wants to talk Lin Yuan, do I sing Old Lin’s praises or join the bash?
Shen Leyuan: “Little Deer?”
Hao Mingrui: ……
Old Lin, he’s not even got you on his radar.
Why you sulking solo?
Shen Leyuan: “Not?”
Hao Mingrui, pained: “Yeah. Can’t say much now—once your onboarding’s done, we’ll talk details.”
Shen Leyuan hopefully: “Can my villa time count?”
Hao Mingrui: “Can try as informant pay, but slim cash.”
“Any’s good!” Shen Leyuan perked up. “Mosquito meat’s still meat. Case closed won’t wipe all debt—I gotta save.”
Debt…
Director Hao chewed slowly, more troubled.
Some things you couldn’t just do—you had to say. How else would he know you’re good to him?
But Old Lin’s twisted nature: leaking intel to Shen Leyuan would scream “abnormal behavior.”
A bite of food, a glance at Shen Leyuan, a sigh.
Shen Leyuan puzzled under the stare, then opened Little Deer’s WeChat for a video call.
Instant pickup: “Teacher! Teacher! Teacher! So early today~”
Shen Leyuan: “Spot check. Has the little one been studying hard?”
“Yes!” Little Deer’s voice sugary-sweet, bubbly. “Little Deer’s learning to be normal today too~”
“Good,” Shen Leyuan heart-handed him. “Keep it up!”
With a sidelong glance at Director Hao, he probed Little Deer: “By the way, your dad…”
Little Deer’s face darkened; Director Hao’s brightened: Yes, yes—ask that!
Shen Leyuan: “Has he been bullying you?”
Director Hao: ……
For a moment, he dreaded imagining Lin Yuan’s face at the monitors.
But weirdly… satisfying.
—Heh, serves you right!
![How Should an Ordinary Person Role-Play? [Quick Transmigration]](https://i3.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/qck.jpg?resize=151,215 "How Should an Ordinary Person Role-Play? [Quick Transmigration]")
