Capital City was the kind of place where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. To survive here, a person had to be exceptionally disciplined and outstanding.
Qi Jing couldn’t agree more. He rose from the spacious bed and settled in front of the vanity mirror, starting to slather on lotions and creams from his collection of bottles and jars.
996 floated about curiously. The blue unidentified blob landed on the lid of a large jar of moisturizer and asked:
【What are you doing?】
The person at the mirror sat with perfect posture, his eyes clear and bright. He applied a sheet mask to his face.
“Just getting ready for work.”
“Why are you still here? Has the slip-up at your job been fixed?” His words came out muffled, his lips pursed slightly.
996 flattened itself into a pancake. The 256th World had stopped deploying dungeons long ago, but that day it had been snacking on melon seeds at the control panel and punched in the wrong code.
Dragging an unlucky kid into the mess.
Luckily, the Main System hadn’t noticed. And this dungeon was just a straightforward romance story—nothing melodramatic about it.
【Not yet.】
The blue slime fashioned a sheet mask for itself too, draping it perfectly over its flattened body. Quite elegant.
【But I’m not planning to report it. No big deal.】
【Sorry for getting you killed in your original world.】
【Once the mission’s done, I can take you back.】
Its beady eyes blinked rapidly, steam rising from its body as its data overloaded.
But it just treated the whole thing like a spa treatment.
The young man sat in his chair, glancing at the little clock beside him. He crossed his legs and mumbled, “Want me to flip yours?”
“This one’s super hydrating. Here, flip it for me.”
996 obeyed. The blue slime flipped over, its beady eyes shifting to the back, and Qi Jing slapped on another mask.
Slender white fingers smoothed it out neatly.
“I’m not going back.”
“Got to thank you, though. Being a pampered wife is the life. Right, am I the pampered wife?”
996: 【?】
【No, you got it wrong again. You’re a goldfinch.】
“Oh, right, that’s the one. I’m Little Bird.”
Qi Jing took it in stride, swinging his foot. He was about to say more when the sound of the front door opening echoed from downstairs.
The young man shot to his feet at once, peeled off his mask, and tossed it in the trash. “Pack it up when it’s done,” he mumbled indistinctly.
Then he headed downstairs.
Qi Jing had been in this world for two years now. Back home, he was a kid from the mountains, with a lame younger brother.
He’d always suspected he’d been stolen as a baby—they didn’t look anything alike, and his parents treated him like dirt.
He’d worked so hard, earned a spot at the city high school, but they wouldn’t let him leave the mountains.
In the end, they’d chained him up.
Just to smash his legs to pieces.
Even now, the memory sent chills down Qi Jing’s spine. Good thing he’d been yanked into a new world—no pain, just luxury and fine living.
Who said the goldfinch life was bad? This goldfinch gig was paradise!
The book was your standard cheesy redemption trope. The protagonist bottom—a poor college student—got drugged at a bar, stumbled into a one-night stand with the top by sheer luck.
Fateful bonds and all that.
Qi Jing was just your run-of-the-mill goldfinch, a prop to highlight how the top breezed through flings without a trace.
The perpetual sidekick pushing the main couple along.
But right now—
The young man came trotting down the stairs and threw his arms around the weary-looking man. The servant nearby quietly took his coat and stepped away.
“You’re back… I missed you so much.”
Qi Jing counted silently in his head—one, two… three.
Fingers ruffled his hair, and a steady voice came from above.
“Alright.”
Three seconds, max.
Qi Jing let go like the perfect boy he was, head bowed, feigning heartbreak. He was playing the part of the guy pining hopelessly for Bo Chengyan.
Truth be told, the role was for a seventeen-year-old. Unrequited love at that age? Pretty juvenile.
Still underage!
“Mm. Go eat.”
Qi Jing genuinely didn’t get why Bo Chengyan kept him around. The original owner had been an orphan too, from somewhere in the Sichuan Great Cool Mountains, apparently.
The book skimmed right over the little goldfinch’s backstory: some kid Bo Chengyan had brought back from the mountains.
Never even touched him—just a convenient shield.
But the goldfinch fell hard, convinced he was special. Later, he stirred up drama between the main pair.
Cue his glorious exit stage left. The Bo Family perks dried up; he didn’t even finish college.
Love-struck fools never won.
Qi Jing was starting his senior year of high school, birthday still a ways off at eighteen. Slender as he was, he sat primly at the dining table.
This routine played out every week.
Bo Chengyan showed up at Brocade River Villas every Friday night to watch him eat.
It struck Qi Jing as odd.
Mountain life hadn’t prepared him for it. Still, he’d mulled it over. Sometimes, when frustration boiled over from tending his lame, macho little brother, he’d go watch the caged pets.
They ate with such focus. Therapeutic.
Qi Jing figured Bo Chengyan was after the same vibe. Except his “pet” was human.
Auntie bustled in soon with the food: pork rib soup, corn porridge, and a few quick veggie sides.
Two place settings.
If Bo Chengyan was in a good mood, he’d take a couple bites alongside. Bad mood? Gone in a flash.
The young man ate slowly, quietly. Truth was, he was starving.
996 had explained his body was his own. The “goldfinch” was cannon fodder’s cannon fodder—no name, even. The perfect spot to slot in an innocent soul.
Which meant the body was fragile. Easy to drop dead.
So he ate with focus.
Until Bo Chengyan spoke up. “Weight lately? Grown any taller?”
His voice carried a faint rasp, like an elder checking in. Sometimes Qi Jing wondered if the man was half-playing dad.
Zero sexual vibes.
Just popping in on his little pet now and then.
Qi Jing stood—he’d need the scale to check.
Some kind of control thing?
He had no clue.
Obedient as ever, he stepped onto the digital scale Auntie brought over, expression serene.
“Mr. Bo…”
Bo Chengyan’s shirt collar hung open just a touch, hands folded, legs crossed. He didn’t rise, just glanced sideways at the young man’s face.
“Put down whatever you’ve got there.”
Flat tone.
Qi Jing stifled an eye-roll inside, setting the cup he’d grabbed absentmindedly back on the table. His face soured a bit.
1.75 meters tall, a mere 53 kilograms. Without his good proportions, he’d look like a stick insect.
“…”
Bo Chengyan said nothing, signaling Auntie to clear the table. He lifted his gaze to the young man.
“I’ve been eating right.”
“Come here.”
Qi Jing’s scalp prickled. The man only visited weekly, but the plot dump mentioned peculiar tastes.
Still a mystery.
Backwoods boy that he was, city habits were lost on him.
He approached slowly.
Stopped.
“Lift your shirt.”
Qi Jing’s mind went blank. He tugged it up, baring his stomach.
“That’s enough.”
?
He didn’t understand—until Bo Chengyan produced a measuring tape.
Soft black one, custom-made by the look.
It cinched around him—icy cold. He flinched.
Waist: fifty-two.
Before Qi Jing could process, his shirt dropped back down. The man drawled casually, “Eat.”
Dinner was served at last.
Qi Jing resumed his methodical meal, unbothered by the oddity. Probably peeved the pet’s measurements weren’t up to snuff.
What could you do? Puberty sucked all nutrients straight to the bones.
Fat? No chance.
When he finished, Qi Jing said sweetly, “Mr. Bo, all done.”
Goldfinch persona? Gentle, soft, perfectly obedient.
He’d honed it in the villa for half a year solid. Even the curve of his smile was textbook.
Usually, Bo Chengyan would’ve left by now. Meal over.
“Keep eating.”
“…”
Qi Jing blinked, a flicker of confusion, but he didn’t push back. Downed another bowl of pork rib soup.
“Done.”
“One more.”
Qi Jing nearly cracked. He forced down a third bowl anyway.
Stuffed.
But just as he neared the bottom—
Bo Chengyan’s brow quirked. He rose, snatched the bowl away.
“Four meals a day from now on,” he instructed.
Qi Jing’s mouth fell open, helplessness bubbling up—but the man was already heading upstairs.
Four meals? Might as well bury him.
Still—
The young man snuck a glance at the stairs, spotting the retreating figure. Just as Bo Chengyan turned to look back, he whipped around.
His heart hammered.
Spooky. Eyes in the back of his head?
Qi Jing lingered downstairs for quite a while, only heading upstairs and stepping into the elevator after the safe window of time had passed.
Bo Chengyan had the elevator installed later on, but he rarely used it himself—which had ended up benefiting Qi Jing.
Qi Jing glanced curiously at his reflection in the elevator, tilting his head. He even lifted his shirt to check his waist.
It was bulging…
After his shower, Qi Jing settled down to do his homework. But there were some strange things on the desk—sticky residue with a faint burnt smell.
He knew 996 was a system, but he’d never seen one with a physical form. What on earth had it been doing on his desk?
Had it malfunctioned?
That was Qi Jing’s immediate thought.
A gentle breeze rustled through the night. Qi Jing finished his homework right at nine o’clock, letting out a yawn. But then he heard coughing from the room next door.
He frowned.
What was going on?
Bo Chengyan had placed his own room right beside Qi Jing’s. The second floor had a corridor, and Bo Chengyan didn’t have the habit of keeping his door closed. Occasionally, Qi Jing would catch snippets of noise from there.
The boy stood up cautiously. Had Bo Chengyan fallen ill?
According to the plot, the protagonist bottom wouldn’t appear until around university age—still two full years away from when Qi Jing collected his severance pay.
In a situation like this—
The boy pressed his palms together, praying fervently for the big shot to live long and prosper.
It was past nine by the time Qi Jing changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed. He pulled the covers up snugly and set an alarm on his phone.
If Bo Chengyan stayed over, he would usually head out around eight-thirty the next morning.
He had someone to see off.
The persona had to be spot-on.
The traces of the blue slime on the desk gradually faded away. In mid-air, a status bar resembling a TV screen flickered into existence, lingering briefly for three or four seconds.
The next day.
Qi Jing bolted out of bed in a fluster. He had half a mind to rush straight downstairs but paused in front of the mirror to inspect his face first.
Perfect—a very spirited Little Bird!
He deliberately skipped the elevator, bounding down the stairs from the upper floor to make himself look properly eager.
Bo Chengyan stood at the entryway, adjusting his cufflinks. He frowned as he instructed the servant, “No need to give him too much at once. Just add an extra meal for him.”
But before the words were fully out—
Hurried footsteps approached, and suddenly, arms wrapped around his waist.
Bo Chengyan’s eyelids lowered slightly. The servant beside him immediately stepped away.
Less than three seconds later, the boy released him.
Qi Jing was truly an obedient child; it was just that his motives weren’t entirely pure. That could be corrected with some training later on.
Keeping him around was proving quite entertaining. As for anything more… best not to entertain the thought.
“Are you heading out?”
“With this late spring chill, please take care to bundle up. Don’t catch a cold.”
His tone was soft and endearing.
Bo Chengyan turned, lowering his gaze to the boy. He was just about to say something when a familiar voice whispered in his ear.
“Tonight, make sure you don’t cough. Big shot, don’t check out too early—the plot hasn’t even kicked off yet. What would we do if you logged off now…?”
