Chapter 4: Call Me Wen Congrong.

Wen Congrong’s cooking was much better than Quan Heng had expected. The dishes looked and smelled delicious: tomato and scrambled eggs, steamed egg custard with minced meat, and vegetable soup. The home-cooked meal was so good that Quan Heng ate three bowls of rice.

“Had you not eaten enough earlier?” Wen Congrong stared at the rice pot, scraped nearly clean except for one last spoonful.

He’d assumed Quan Heng had eaten at the restaurant and wouldn’t be very hungry. He hadn’t expected him to polish off two-thirds of the food meant for both of them.

Quan Heng was drinking soup. At the question, he looked up.

His freshly washed hair was still damp, lying smoothly against his temples. It softened the sharp, upturned lines of his brows and eyes, making him look almost obedient.

The words that came next ruined the impression. “Mm. I’m still hungry. Make me some more.”

Quan Heng was entirely too comfortable for an unexpected guest. He acted as if it were only natural to ask his host to cook for him again.

That’s it! Host, this is exactly how a villain should act!

The system, woken by the smell of food, hovered by Quan Heng. It sniffed the air, swallowed, and cheered him on. You’re doing great! He’s bound to get angry now. I’m ready to record it and post it online!

Quan Heng ignored the chatter in his ear. He watched Wen Congrong with interest, waiting to see what the protagonist would do.

Wen Congrong was at a loss. He held the empty rice pot and stared at the nearly bare dishes, feeling the hunger in his own half-full stomach.

He studied the tall man gazing at him with bright, expectant eyes. After a moment, he poured the last spoonful of rice into Quan Heng’s bowl, then headed into the kitchen.

“I’ll make some noodles. You have to finish the food on the table, though. We can’t waste it.”

Huh? The system watched Wen Congrong’s back, its head tilted.

Quan Heng hadn’t expected Wen Congrong to actually go back into the kitchen. As he heard the clatter of a pan being set on the stove, he turned back to the leftovers. His overfull stomach and the food on the table stared each other down.

Villain, he thought, remembering something. He looked at the system floating beside him and called out to it in his mind.

I’m here. The Villainous Revelry System was still puzzling over the situation, flipping through its handbook.

Rule one in the Villain’s Guide: Act high and mighty. Order the protagonist around.

Didn’t that fit perfectly? Why wasn’t the protagonist reacting?

Are you hungry? Quan Heng watched the system make a book appear from nowhere and flip through its pages with a flutter. He casually snatched the book and began turning the pages himself.

He hadn’t missed the system’s voice, which had accompanied their meal. Can systems eat?

I’m starving, Host. The Villainous Revelry System understood what he was getting at and brightened at once. We can eat, Host!

Then eat up. I saved this for you. Quan Heng skimmed the rules in the book, his gaze thoughtful. Clean your plate. Can you do that?

…

The system didn’t answer. Quan Heng tilted his head, puzzled, and saw the little gray ball plunge into the bowl and gobble everything down.

…

When Wen Congrong came out carrying two large metal bowls, he found the table spotless. The bowls that had held the food had been licked so clean they shone.

Any doubts he’d had about whether Quan Heng could eat another bite vanished. So did his doubts about whether bringing him home had been the right thing to do.

He set a large bowl of noodles in front of Quan Heng and chose his words carefully, trying not to let his sympathy show too much.

“Go ahead and eat. If that’s not enough, I can cook some more.”

He wondered what sort of treatment Quan Heng had endured to be this hungry.

His eyes swept over Quan Heng’s defined collarbones and long neck. For his height, the man was definitely on the slender side.

Quan Heng seemed a little embarrassed. He took the bowl and kept quiet. Wen Congrong hesitated, then picked the egg from his own bowl and added it to Quan Heng’s before sitting down to eat.

Quan Heng kept his eyes on Wen Congrong’s lowered head. He’d managed to turn his own plan against himself. He watched the crown of Wen Congrong’s head, making sure the protagonist wouldn’t look up, then rapidly twirled noodles around his chopsticks. It looked as if he were feeding himself, but he was actually slipping all the noodles to the system, which was waiting hungrily.

Egg, egg! Host, feed me the egg! The system floated by Quan Heng’s face, eagerly urging him on.

The system’s eyes lit up at the egg. It opened its mouth wide—an enormous O—as Quan Heng scooped it up with a spoon.

But he didn’t put the egg in the system’s mouth. He ate it himself.

Quan Heng chewed slowly. While the system stared in confusion, he picked up his chopsticks and wound more noodles onto them.

System, you’re just a little thing. Eggs aren’t good for you. Open wide.

Oh. The system, none the wiser, swallowed another mouthful of noodles.

Quan Heng glanced at the gray fluff happily spinning in circles, a flicker of light in his eyes.

When he and the system had made their deal, it had laid everything out. The fluffy ball was a newly created Villainous Revelry System. It had chosen him to bring him back to life, find the protagonist, torment him, and become an obstacle on his path to success.

You died too early! The protagonist’s growth went off track because he never met you. That was how the system had put it.

The idea that such a rotten, filthy world still had so-called heroes of truth and goodness struck Quan Heng as laughable. He’d spent a long time as a dead spirit in that dark, empty space. In the end, he’d accepted the system’s offer: he would be a great villain who could throw every obstacle and commit every evil imaginable, yet still fail to stop the sincere, beautiful protagonist from persevering toward happiness.

The beginner system had kept its word. It gave him a Villain Starter Pack that included the System Mall, the Villain’s Guide, and the cheat ability it had promised.

Quan Heng’s gaze passed over the grayed-out, unclickable option, Once-Weekly Cheat Ability, and settled on the Villain’s Guide.

The guide was simple. According to the system, it distilled the wisdom of previous hosts’ missions.

He recalled one of the rules he’d just read.

Rule two in the Villain’s Guide: Make it harder for the protagonist to do what he wants.

Quan Heng’s brows arched. Resting his chin on one hand, he watched the young man across the table.

Wen Congrong ate slowly, taking big bites but apparently afraid of burning himself. He touched the food to his red lips several times to make sure it had cooled before swallowing.

He was intensely focused, even a little protective of his food. One hand rested in front of the bowl, his knuckles taut with a wariness he probably hadn’t even noticed.

As he watched Wen Congrong, Quan Heng quickly fed the last of his noodles to the system. He ignored the little ball’s mouthful of burning-hot food and put down his chopsticks with a cheerful smile.

“Lei Feng, take smaller bites and you won’t burn yourself.”

“Ph—cough, cough!” Wen Congrong was startled mid-bite. He clamped his mouth shut and coughed several times, barely managing to keep the food from flying out.

He coughed painfully. His eyes reddened at the corners, and once he’d finally swallowed, something cool touched his lips.

He looked down. A long-fingered hand held out a porcelain spoonful of soup. When he looked up, Quan Heng’s handsome face was close to his, his gaze tender and his voice gentle.

“How could you be so careless? Here, have some soup, Lei—”

Wen Congrong pushed the spoon away, grabbed his bowl, and gulped down a mouthful of soup. He cut Quan Heng off in a rush.

“Call me Wen Congrong.”

I shouldn’t have run my mouth.

Wen Congrong looked up, suspicion sweeping across Quan Heng’s face. He wondered if the man was teasing him on purpose. But Quan Heng looked gentle and concerned, not as if he were joking. Wen Congrong began to wonder if he was being too suspicious.

“Didn’t you say your name was Lei—” Quan Heng tried again.

Wen Congrong interrupted him. “I said that because Lei Feng is my role model. I’m trying to follow his example.”

“Oh.” Quan Heng drew back his hand and lifted his chin. Wen Congrong let out a breath and returned to his noodles, while Quan Heng’s eyes glimmered with amusement.

Well done, Host! The system had swallowed its mouthful of noodles and was cheering. We shouldn’t let even the smallest evil go undone. If you can make life harder for the protagonist over dinner, just imagine what you can do when it really matters!

Thanks for the praise. Quan Heng smiled.

After dinner, Wen Congrong got up to wash the dishes. Quan Heng had already rushed to the sofa, turned on the TV, and started channel-surfing.

He had no sense of personal boundaries. His tall frame was sprawled across Wen Congrong’s single-seat sofa, a throw pillow tucked against his chest. His beautiful eyes reflected the shifting colors on the screen.

Wen Congrong frowned slightly, but said nothing. He went straight into the kitchen.

The clatter of dishes came from that direction. Quan Heng’s expression was flat as he channel-surfed.

The system, hovering in the air, looked disappointed. It put away the camera it had set up and landed on the coffee table. A thin arm reached into the fruit bowl and grabbed an orange.

“Why isn’t he getting mad?” it asked as it peeled the orange and munched away.

It couldn’t figure it out. It ate several oranges, still baffled, then checked Quan Heng’s Villain Points.

You got one, then two, then a thousand… Host, you’ve earned 1,866 Villain Points today!

The system was thrilled. It hadn’t expected the host to earn so many points on his first day.

When did I earn the most? Quan Heng asked, unsurprised.

It must have been when you were bullying the protagonist… The system checked the time and realized something didn’t add up. Huh? Two hours ago.

Two hours ago had been at the restaurant.

The system thought it over. Did you bully the protagonist at the restaurant?

It was probably someone else’s points. Quan Heng considered how the Villain Points were tallied and began to suspect he understood.

Oh, right. People misunderstood your relationship with the protagonist, and you framed him. The system, convinced it had figured it out, kept chattering.

Stop eating. Quan Heng had tried several channels, but Wen Congrong hadn’t paid for a streaming subscription, so none of the shows would play. He finally settled on a free cartoon channel.

The childish voices of animated animals making friends filled the room. Bored, he took the orange from the fluff’s hand and started to set it aside.

You’ve eaten almost everything he has. He’d thought to himself that the kid, who’d just turned eighteen and earned his living delivering food, had probably scraped together enough to buy a little fruit. The system shouldn’t gobble it all up.

He’d barely taken the orange when Wen Congrong came out of the kitchen, untying his apron. His gaze landed on Quan Heng’s hand.

Quan Heng froze. His eyes followed Wen Congrong’s to the orange, then shifted to the orange peels scattered across the table and the empty fruit bowl.

The obedient system floated back to his side, completely unaware of the palpable awkwardness. It gazed longingly at the orange.

Quan Heng met Wen Congrong’s eyes. When Wen Congrong came over, Quan Heng sighed, peeled the last orange, and put it in his hand.

Wen Congrong looked down at the orange. After a long pause, he divided it into segments and ate them one by one. Quan Heng shot the system a sharp look.

The system thought it understood. It checked the Villain Points. They’re going up, Host!

Quan Heng closed his eyes. Then the system exclaimed again.

Wait! Why are my Villain Points going up too?!