Chapter 141
The May Day holiday arrived, and the long-prepared “godparent recognition” ceremony, planned for two months, was finally about to take place.
For the older generation, “recognizing godparents” was a significant event.
But for the young men of Dorm 414, what might have started as playful enthusiasm—preparing gifts for their adorable little “god-daughter”—had, over time, unintentionally accumulated layers of ceremonial grandeur.
Most children, even when recognizing godparents, would only gain one godfather or godmother.
Yet for Little An An, who suddenly acquired five godfathers and one godmother, anyone hearing about it would surely dismiss it as youthful mischief.
“Yan, aside from the gifts, did you prepare anything else?” In the girls’ dorm, Chu Bingbing asked curiously.
“I read online that there’s supposed to be some kind of ‘pledge document’? Online godparent ceremonies seem very formal—like gifting a belt to symbolize being ‘bound together,'” Yi Zhi said, scrolling through her phone.
“We didn’t do any of that,” Yan replied. Today, she wore a long, water-blue dress with her chest-length hair loosely tied back by a wide navy headband, looking effortlessly elegant.
“Everyone just prepared gifts, and we’ll have a meal together. The ceremony supposedly involves the child serving tea, but Little An An isn’t even two yet,” she added with a laugh.
“What’s Zhu Jue wearing?” Ding Ling asked.
“A shirt, probably with a suit jacket. I think all the guys will wear suits—except Xiao Qingnang,” Yan said.
“So formal!” Chu Bingbing clasped her cheeks in delight.
He Xing, who had been quietly packing nearby, couldn’t resist chiming in, “If they all walk out in suits, people on campus will think they’re graduates heading to internships.”
“Pfft—ha ha ha!” Yan, mid-sip of water, nearly spat it out laughing.
“Senior, you’re absolutely right!”
With June’s graduation season already here, the dormitory area had been frequented by seniors in professional attire during last fall’s and this spring’s recruitment seasons.
After all, in university, aside from job interviews or special events like hosting campus galas, no one usually dressed so formally.
“Jue’s here to pick me up. I’m heading down,” Yan said, checking her phone.
“No lipstick?” Chu Bingbing asked.
“Probably not today—I might be holding Little An An. Just some baby lip balm,” Yan pointed to her lips.
She picked up the neatly wrapped gift box from her desk, bid her roommates goodbye, and headed downstairs.
As Yan descended the stairs, her group chat buzzed incessantly. With one hand holding the gift box and the other gripping her phone, she couldn’t spare a hand to check the messages.
When she finally stepped out of the dormitory building and saw the entourage waiting for her, she couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“Oh my god, you guys.”
Zhu Jue had already stepped forward to take the gift box, but Yan, looking at Chu Shen, Yuan Ye, and Ye Ping’an, completely lost control of her facial muscles. Leaning into Zhu Jue’s side, she clutched her stomach, laughing breathlessly.
“I can’t—I have to show the girls this.”
Quick as lightning, Yan snapped a photo and sent it to the dorm group chat.
Yuan Ye wore a light beige casual blazer over a white T-shirt.
Chu Shen had on a light blue shirt paired with a gray suit jacket.
Ye Ping’an’s outfit was slightly more rebellious—a denim shirt beneath a deep khaki blazer.
“Did you three buy these together?” Yan couldn’t help asking. The gradient of colors and nearly identical cuts made it look like they were modeling a capsule wardrobe of interchangeable suits.
In fact, Yan thought if there were buttons to swap their outfits, they could play a matching game right then and there!
By contrast, Xiao Qingnang’s gray cross-collar outerwear stood out starkly, as if he’d stepped out of a completely different aesthetic.
“Yeah, we went shopping together two weeks ago. We can even trade clothes,” the straightforward Chu Shen answered.
“What’s so funny? Did we dress wrong?” He glanced at his friends, puzzled.
“Yan, are you laughing because we’re not formal enough?” Yuan Ye, also baffled by her reaction, checked his outfit again.
“My guess? She’s laughing because, next to Jue, we look like his groomsmen,” Ye Ping’an remarked dryly.
Yan paused, then admitted, “I hadn’t thought of that, but now that you mention it…”
Zhu Jue, in a silver-gray shirt layered with a coffee-toned buttoned vest and a subtly patterned tie, was indeed far more formally dressed than his roommates.
“Picking up the bride? Seriously? A wedding?” A passing student couldn’t help staring at the unusually well-dressed group outside the girls’ dorm.
“Then, ‘groomsman,’ you hold this,” Zhu Jue said, pretending to hand the gift box to Ye Ping’an.
“Jue, if you’re serious, we’re wearing these exact outfits at your and Yan’s wedding,” Ye Ping’an shot back.
“Deal. They’re suits anyway—you guys look great,” Zhu Jue replied.
Amid laughter and chatter, they headed straight for the southern gate of the school near the South District and boarded a pre-booked business van. Yan browsed through the flood of messages in the dorm group chat on her phone.
[Chu Bingbing]: [Photo]
[Yi Zhi]: [Photo][Photo]
[Ding Ling]: Her Highness Yan has arrived—bow down! [Heart]
The photos showed Yan surrounded by four men in suits.
[He Xing]: [Photo]
The photo shared by senior He Xing captured the group walking out, with Yan and Zhu Jue flanked by four guys—two in front and two behind.
The couple’s formal attire made the scene look even more like a wedding procession!
The seven-seater van fit all six of them, though three had to squeeze into the back row.
“Wild Bro, wanna join us in the back?” Yan asked, eyeing the guys. Aside from Yuan Ye, the rest of the dorm boys were all over six feet tall, making the back row an uncomfortable fit.
But Yuan Ye shook his head vigorously. “No way I’m playing third wheel. I’ll squeeze in with Boss Chu and Ping’an.”
He dragged the two of them into the cramped third row.
With Xiao Qingnang taking the passenger seat, Yan and Jue once again found themselves in the van’s prime middle row.
Good news: it was the VIP spot.
Bad news: they had to sit apart again.
Xiao Qingnang, buckled in, turned around and snapped a photo of them, posting it in the group chat. “Now it really looks like a wedding car,” he remarked.
“Wild Bro,” Chu Shen suddenly spoke up.
“Ever notice we’re now three third wheels?”
With the couple seated in the middle, every move they made was visible to the trio in the back.
Yan glanced back at them and chuckled. “You guys are shining bright today—looking extra handsome.”
“Ooooh~ Keep the compliments coming!” Chu Shen grinned.
“Jue, you won’t get mad if Yan praises us, right?” Yuan Ye teased in a playful tone.
Ye Ping’an facepalmed, while Xiao Qingnang turned around with an amused look, enjoying the antics.
Zhu Jue raised a brow and silently waved his ring-adorned hand in front of the three of them.
As the official partner, he couldn’t be bothered to engage with their nonsense.
The group instantly remembered his nickname in the chat:
Zhu Jue (Engagement Ring Edition)
This guy was flaunting his ring again!
It had been a while since the dorm had a group outing. On the way from campus to the hotel, Chu Shen and Yuan Ye took turns complaining to Yan.
“Single guys have no rights in our dorm now!”
“It’s always just the three of us left behind—so lonely and pitiful!”
Yan laughed so hard her face hurt from their dramatics.
Thanks to the May Day holiday traffic, they hit a snag on the road.
By the time the group of six arrived at the hotel private room, Lin Fan and Lin Lu (the married couple), Little An An, and Lin Anran were already there.
“Oh my god!” Lin Anran gasped the moment she saw them enter.
After two months in this world, her personality had become much more outgoing.
“You guys went all out with the formal wear,” Lin Fan remarked, though his face was full of delight. Their outfits showed how seriously they took the occasion.
“I saw the photos Lin Fan shared, but seeing it in person is even more impressive,” Lin Lu added.
The “godfathers” set down their gifts and immediately flocked to Little An An’s side.
The toddler, with her thick hair tied into two tiny pigtails, wore a white top and pink overalls. Standing on the ground, her big, round eyes blinked adorably at the newcomers.
Aside from Zhu Jue and Chu Shen, the other three were meeting Little An An in person for the first time.
Right now, the little girl was pointing at each person and counting, “1, 2, 3…” all the way up to 10.
“My goddaughter can count to ten already? She’s a genius!” Yuan Ye exclaimed, giving her a thumbs-up.
Though they saw Lin Fan’s daily baby photos, the real-life version of the tiny human was infinitely cuter!
The guys huddled around her but hesitated to touch her. Ye Ping’an gently patted her hair, then immediately retracted his hand, afraid of accidentally hurting the delicate little creature.
She was so small, so soft, so adorably clueless—it melted their hearts on the spot.
“An An, these are your godfathers,” Lin Fan said, pointing at the group.
The little girl looked up, her bright eyes scanning each of them one by one.
“Same…” she said in her tiny voice.
“Same?” Lin Fan paused before realizing she meant their matching outfits. Everyone burst into laughter.
“Ugh, I knew we should’ve gone for different styles,” Chu Shen groaned, clutching his head.
“An An, I’m your fried rice godfather. Whatever you wanna eat, I’ll make it for you,” he cooed, squatting in front of her with his hands cupping his cheeks.
“Little An An, even though all your godfathers are very handsome, we’re each unique in our own way.” Yuan Ye wagged a finger playfully.
Though the formal godparent ceremony hadn’t even begun, they’d already started taking turns introducing themselves to Little An An, each claiming the title eagerly.
Lin Anran watched quietly as her younger self was surrounded by such affection, feeling waves of warmth surging through her heart.
How wonderful—to see another version of herself grow up like this was truly a blessing.
“An An, you look so beautiful today.” Lin Anran suddenly found herself pulled into an embrace. Turning, she saw her… godmother.
“You look even more stunning,” she returned the compliment.
Lin Anran couldn’t help but glance at her godparents’ outfits—they were dressed the most formally. “It feels a bit vintage,” she remarked.
“What time did we pick for the ceremony?” Ye Ping’an asked.
“Wait, we even chose an auspicious hour?” Chu Shen responded, confused.
Lin Anran leaned closer to Yan and whispered, “Is Jiasui not coming?”
Ever since that incident where the actor Ling Hong tried to fabricate a romantic pairing with her, Lin Anran had gone down a rabbit hole researching scandals about this now-famous celebrity who wouldn’t rise to prominence until over a decade later—exhausting, to say the least.
Still, she hadn’t missed the fact that another godparent pair had emerged from their dorm—yes, yet another set of godparents.
But today, Gu Jiasui, who had already become close with her, was noticeably absent.
The moment she asked, Lin Anran regretted it. She might have touched on a sensitive topic.
“She’s using her rare break to reshoot some documentary scenes,” Yan explained.
The men crowded around their little goddaughter, completely losing themselves in the chorus of “Godfather!”
“Wait right here, sweetheart—Godfather’s going to get your gift now!”
“What did you all prepare?” Lin Anran couldn’t contain her curiosity.
Little An An was now being held in Lin Fan’s arms, watching her godfathers with wide eyes.
Yan went with Jue to retrieve two boxes, opening them to reveal two gifts—one pushed toward Little An An, the other handed solemnly to Lin Anran.
“This one’s for our Little An An.”
“And this one’s for our grown-up An An.”
Lin Anran froze. She got one too?
Even her parents looked stunned.
Inside were two matching peace lock pendants—one gold-inlaid jade, the other jade-inlaid gold, both engraved with the same character: “An.”
“Let me put it on for you,” Yan offered.
Lin Anran felt her body lock up as she lowered her head slightly. The pendant’s silk cord settled around her neck, and Yan carefully adjusted the length, tucking it neatly under her collar.
The peace lock was exquisite—the jade clearly of the finest quality, edged with delicate gold filigree. The silver cord was threaded with alternating jade and gold beads, tied into an intricate knot. Absolutely beautiful.
Lin Anran pressed her lips together, fighting the tightness in her nose.
“How’s my beadwork?” One godfather’s gaze met hers.
“Look how perfectly it suits our An An.” Her godmother’s voice sounded like she was coaxing a child.
Their eyes held the depth of calm oceans—bottomless, tender, all-knowing.
Then she noticed none of the godfathers had brought just one gift.
The pressure in Lin Anran’s nose grew stronger. In this life, it seemed she was about to receive more love than she’d ever imagined.
***
Chapter 142
Inside the private room of the restaurant, one after another, gifts were brought out.
“Brother Ye, is this… a Hundred Families Cloth?” Chu Shen was astonished by what Yuan Ye had produced.
“It’s a Hundred Families Bag,” Yuan Ye corrected.
“Our daughter is already grown, and a proper Hundred Families Cloth requires cutting fabric from healthy children’s clothes. I took a shortcut here.”
As he spoke, Yuan Ye revealed two handmade patchwork bags.
Pieces of fabric in varying colors and sizes were stitched together—one larger crossbody bag and a smaller one with tighter, more intricate patchwork.
“I made them myself. The stitching is… passable. Can’t compare to Jue Jue’s craftsmanship, but don’t judge too harshly,” Yuan Ye said, scratching his head.
“But rest assured, these are made from over a hundred pieces of clothing. To be safe, I collected around a hundred and twenty.”
“Here, try them on.”
“I figured since our daughter is already over a year old, making clothes would be tricky with sizing, so a small bag seemed more practical.”
Lin Anran’s mouth fell open. The larger “Hundred Families Bag” was unmistakably for her.
The hand-stitched seams looked a bit rough, but they were tightly sewn. Some fabrics were deliberately chosen for matching or contrasting colors, creating gradients and bold color clashes—truly beautiful.
“Brother Ye, you’ve been quietly working on something huge! No wonder you’ve been running off to the anime club these past two months,” Ye Ping’an couldn’t help but comment.
Yuan Ye chuckled. “Had to keep it a secret.”
Originally, he hadn’t planned on making something so elaborate—just buying a gift for the child. But after some thought and delays, his online friends suggested the idea of a “Hundred Families Cloth.”
“With a group like ours, everyone can contribute a piece of clothing, right? Besides, as cosplayers, who doesn’t have decent sewing skills?”
Yuan Ye glanced at the number of people in his hobby group and decided it was doable.
The group had been around for years, filled with regulars from comic conventions—cosplayers, voice actors, and even doujinshi artists.
For the first time, Yuan Ye, under his alias “Yuan Ye,” collected clothing. To keep his real-life identity hidden, he used an e-commerce warehouse forwarding service to receive the items.
Afraid of being discovered in his dorm, he spent his days stitching in the club room.
“I almost feel bad accepting this,” Chu Shen muttered.
“Same,” Ye Ping’an agreed.
Chu Shen then presented two boxes, one large and one small.
Inside the gift boxes were two sets of silver tableware—bowls, plates, spoons, and chopsticks.
Most striking was the inscription circling the silver bowl:
[Lifetime Rice Bowl from the Chu Family Diner]
“Good for eating and testing for poison. I’d say I’m a genius,” Chu Shen declared proudly.
“Our daughter will never go hungry,” he emphasized.
Yan and Jue Jue silently gave him a thumbs-up.
“You really are a genius.”
“Now I’m feeling the pressure,” Ye Ping’an said, wiping nonexistent sweat from his forehead.
He pulled out two small boxes, each containing a 10g gold bar engraved with the words “Peace Every Year.”
“Damn, Ping’an, you went straight for gold bars?” Chu Shen exclaimed.
He had originally considered gifting gold spoons and chopsticks, but the ones sold in stores were too light and impractical.
“Gold is always valuable. Saving a little for our daughter every year—10g isn’t much,” Ye Ping’an explained.
The rewards from his interstellar livestream could only be converted into Xia Country Currency at a fixed rate, so he couldn’t exactly bring back futuristic items. But money? He had plenty.
At first, he worried that 10g might seem too modest and considered 50g instead. But after checking the value of Zhu Jue’s gift, he felt reassured.
“Practical,” Brother Xiao remarked bluntly.
“Old Xiao, you’re the only one left,” Ye Ping’an pointed out.
Xiao Qingnang smiled. His gift was simple—packed in a wooden box.
“After much deliberation, I settled on this.”
“As a doctor, I can’t just give anything.”
In the past, he’d gifted friends homemade pills, medicinal patches, and powders. But for a child, it was tricky.
Especially as a physician, giving medicine carried an unintended ominous tone. After days of contemplation, he finalized his goddaughter’s gift.
“Huh?” Lin Fan couldn’t help but exclaim upon seeing the contents of the wooden box.
“Is this… a Wushi Pendant?” Lin Lu recognized it first.
Xiao Qingnang had brought out two slightly different wooden Wushi Pendants, strung with black cords, sized for adults.
“Correct. These are Wushi Pendants made from lightning-struck wood. From a century-old tree in my family that was struck by lightning—warding off misfortune, ensuring peace and safety.”
One by one, the gifts were laid out on the table.
A longevity lock, the Hundred Families Bag, silver tableware, gold bars, and Wushi Pendants.
Each carried the most heartfelt blessings parents could wish for their child.
A life free from want, safety, and a long, healthy existence.
Lin Lu’s throat tightened, rendering her speechless. Lin Fan, holding Little An An, couldn’t turn away but discreetly wiped the corner of his eye with a knuckle.
At first, he’d thought his roommates were just joining in for fun. But today, their sincerity overwhelmed him.
“Alright, little one, call us godfathers and godmother.”
Lin Fan lifted Little An An’s tiny silver bowl while glancing at his elder daughter.
Lin Anran now wore both the longevity lock and Wushi Pendant around her neck while testing the depth of the Hundred Families Bag.
Little An An addressed each godfather—and the sole godmother—in turn. Except for Xiao Qingnang and Zhu Jue, the others were too nervous to hold her.
Watching Xiao Qingnang’s effortless handling, Yuan Ye remarked, “Brother Xiao truly lives up to his reputation.”
“Old Xiao even taught me infant massage. Of course he knows how to hold a baby,” Lin Fan said.
With some guidance, the flustered godfathers each took a turn holding their goddaughter—though Yan noticed how rigid they became, as if even breathing might harm her.
“Our daughter is so tiny, just a little bundle. I wonder what she’ll look like grown up,” Ye Ping’an mused.
Yan stayed silent, thinking, The grown-up version is right beside you.
Lin Anran watched them quietly. Though she’d known their names beforehand, today, she could only address them as godfathers in her heart.
At lunch, the group cheered as Little An An ate independently from her high chair.
“An An can feed herself? So impressive!”
“Our daughter isn’t picky at all—so easy to raise!”
Lin Fan facepalmed. “You haven’t seen her when she’s being clingy.”
When that child latched onto someone, it was downright exhausting.
Especially since he felt his daughter had completely inherited his constitution—her health was robust, she ate everything with gusto, her stamina was extraordinary, and her energy was boundless! She could play outside all day without getting tired and still have the energy to bounce around at home until ten at night!
He glanced around with a mischievous grin. “Starting tomorrow, each of you will take turns babysitting as punishment.”
“An’an is sweet and soft—how hard could it be?” Chu Shen boasted confidently.
A faint, knowing smile appeared on Lin Lu’s face. “I’d be thrilled if you all took turns looking after her anytime.”
Lin Anran silently lowered her head. Her parents were setting up her godfathers, digging a deep pit for them.
To be honest, she hadn’t realized how she was as a child—well-behaved most of the time, but when she wasn’t, she was an unstoppable force, never tiring, practically a little troublemaker. And when someone was playing with her, they absolutely couldn’t glance at their phones or do anything else.
When she first arrived in this world, Lin Anran had thought, “How hard could it be to take care of my younger self?” But now… professional matters were best left to professionals. Between daycare and a nanny’s supervision, even weekends with the family made her long for Monday classes.
Chu Shen and Yuan Ye volunteered eagerly, completely unaware of the impending disaster. “Then it’s settled—we’ll come tomorrow.”
Ye Ping’an silently glanced at the two of them. These idiots—hadn’t they noticed the young couple staying quiet? He himself didn’t dare take on the challenge of babysitting.
The meal was lively and full of laughter. Afterward, Little An’an was still buzzing with energy, pointing her spoon at each person: “Godfather, Dad, Mom, Mommy.”
Yan and the others watched as Lin Fan and Lin Lu took turns coaxing Little An’an, but she refused to nap, her big eyes blinking endlessly, full of spirit.
“Is skipping a nap really that bad?” Ye Ping’an asked curiously.
Lin Fan wore a pained smile. “It’s become a habit. The problem is, if she doesn’t sleep now, she’ll nap later and wake up even later, and then who knows when she’ll finally go to bed at night? Whatever time she stays up, I have to stay up too.”
As the most energetic person in the family, with his wife working hard and their eldest daughter also exhausted, it fell on him to handle bedtime duty. One word summed it up: endurance!
Lin Lu watched their little daughter’s boundless energy and couldn’t help but twitch her lips. “With this level of energy, we’re in for an all-nighter.”
Not long after the meal, the group relocated from the hotel’s private dining room to its top-tier suite, where the couple took their child to try and get her to sleep.
The gifts were carefully packed back into their boxes. The suite even had a dedicated game room, combined with a tea lounge.
Soon, Ye Ping’an, Chu Shen, Yuan Ye, and Zhu Jue started a round of mahjong, while Xiao Qingnang brewed tea and played chess with Yan.
Their chessboard stretched like a winding dragon, densely packed with moves.
Meanwhile, in the master bedroom area, Lin Anran tiptoed inside, careful not to disturb Little An’an.
She overheard her parents talking.
“Everyone brought two gifts today,” her mother said, unable to hide her surprise.
“Wife, I asked Chu Shen about it. He said it was because they saw Yan and Zhu Jue preparing two sets.”
“They said it wouldn’t be fair if An’an had everything and Ning’er had nothing, so the others followed suit,” the other person explained.
Lin Fan thought for a moment before adding, “Could it be because of that time at the aquarium when I mentioned they should help look after An’an? Maybe they guessed something.”
She heard her mother’s voice. “Yan and the others probably have their suspicions—otherwise, they wouldn’t have brought paired gifts. They’re all geniuses from Bin University. No matter how careful you usually are, you’ve never been able to fully hide things when it comes to An’an.”
“That’s true,” Lin Fan admitted helplessly. When it came to his daughter, there was just no way around it.
Lin Anran shrank back outside, quietly retreating. Had her godparents really figured out her identity long ago? But wasn’t that a bit too unbelievable?
No wonder she always felt like “Godmother Yan” treated her with a subtle sense of elder affection.
The group waited until Little An’an woke from her nap, fully recharged and ready to go out again—by then, it was already five in the afternoon.
No one was in a hurry to leave, though. After all, they had booked the luxury suite for the night, and it would be a waste to check out after just an afternoon.
They saw Lin Fan and Lin Lu’s family off in the lobby. Since no one was hungry yet, they decided to enjoy afternoon tea at the hotel’s revolving rooftop restaurant.
“Best men! Oh my god, best men! You’re finally here—any later and the flowers would’ve wilted! How are you not freaking out when it’s not even your wedding? Aren’t you the groom’s best friends? Hurry up and go over the schedule!”
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Yuan Ye was immediately seized by a man in a three-piece suit and dragged away.
“Wait, no!” Yuan Ye protested.
“Bro, you’ve got the wrong guys!”
“We’re not the best men!”
***
Chapter 143
“Big bro, big bro!” Amid the chorus of calls, the sharply dressed man in a three-piece suit finally turned to look at them. He scrutinized their youthful faces and their formal attire, his expression one of utter bewilderment.
“You’re really not groomsmen? Not Feng Hao’s buddies?”
The group collectively took a step back. “If you insist on calling us groomsmen, then we’d have to be the groomsmen for this pair,” Yuan Ye said, pointing at the young couple holding hands.
“We’re here for afternoon tea,” Yan chimed in.
“Groomsmen! Have the groomsmen finally arrived?”
Just then, a long-haired woman in high heels came rushing over. She skidded to a stop on the polished floor, eyeing the six strangers with curiosity.
“Did the Feng family change their groomsmen? Hired from a male modeling agency?”
The three-piece-suit man waved his hand dismissively. “Wrong people. They’re hotel guests.”
“Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen, really sorry,” the man apologized profusely before turning to explain to the woman.
The woman’s phone suddenly rang. She turned away to answer, her voice rising sharply.
“What?!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
She hung up with a snap, then fixed the group with an intense gaze before beckoning a hotel attendant. “Serve these ladies and gentlemen afternoon tea—best seats by the view.”
“Uh, hold on—you’re hosting a wedding. Maybe we shouldn’t stay?” Chu Shen stammered.
Having been pulled in by the man earlier, they now saw the entire top-floor restaurant decked out in wedding decor, complete with a banquet sign at the entrance:
[Sheng Family Celebration]
Clearly, the place was booked for a private event—though the elevator they’d taken up hadn’t yet been marked with signage.
“Guests are guests. Since you’ve made it up here, consider it a stroke of luck. We can’t just turn you away,” the woman said, grabbing Yuan Ye’s wrist. “No need to be shy. Have some tea—we’ll count you as friends of the bride.”
Dressed in high-end couture and adorned with expensive jewelry, the woman radiated warmth and charm.
The hotel staff in suits were already ushering them to the prime seating area, leaving no room for refusal.
“You came for afternoon tea, right? Perfect timing. Our groomsmen are running late—mind helping us rehearse the procession? We’ll record it for them,” the woman asked earnestly.
The group exchanged glances. With no other plans, and her polite insistence making it hard to decline, they all turned to Yan.
“Yan, what do you think?” Ye Ping’an asked.
Facing their expectant stares, Yan twitched her lips. Why are you all looking at me?!
“We don’t have other plans. Today’s already a bit festive—we’re celebrating a friend’s child becoming part of our family. Running into your wedding feels like doubling the joy,” she said smoothly.
The woman clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Blessings truly come in pairs.”
“Relax, enjoy your tea. Once we’re ready, we’ll just need you to stand in for a quick recording.”
Yan and the others indulged in the complimentary spread—three trolleys laden with delicate pastries, both Western and Chinese, as if fearing they might go hungry.
Dressed to the nines in a luxury hotel, Yan and Zhu Jue snapped photos of the group savoring the treats.
“Whoa, is that me? Your skills are insane—I’m changing my profile pic,” Chu Shen exclaimed.
“Fancy desserts, a high-end hotel, suits… If I use this, my classmates might think I’m running a scam,” Ye Ping’an mused.
“Nah. You never post anyway. Scammers need more—private jets, yachts, skydiving, the whole package,” Yuan Ye teased.
“I’d skip the profile update,” Zhu Jue said drily to Chu Shen.
“Your diners might think you’ve joined a law firm or something.”
Already mistaken for groomsmen in real life, a suit-clad avatar would likely spark internship rumors.
Yan nodded vigorously—Zhu Jue had a point.
“Fine. I’ll just post it. Gotta flex this free tea on Brother Fan,” Chu Shen decided.
Only after sitting down did Yan look up the hotel’s afternoon tea reputation online. “This place is famous for its desserts. Not too sweet, just right.”
“Though macarons are still pretty sweet,” Yuan Ye remarked.
“Yuan Ye, come on. If they weren’t sweet, they wouldn’t be macarons,” Ye Ping’an countered.
Yan calculated calories on her phone, sampling each treat sparingly while passing the rest to Zhu Jue.
“Yan, live a little. A few extra bites won’t hurt,” Chu Shen urged.
“Nope. Even one bite each is over my limit,” Yan insisted.
“Then Zhu Jue’s gonna need triple workouts this week,” Yuan Ye said.
Xiao Qingnang, seated near the trolley, handed out small bowls of herbal jelly.
“Try this. It’s cooling and detoxifying.”
“Xiao, you haven’t touched anything else, and now you’re pushing more food?” Chu Shen groaned.
Throughout the tea, Xiao Qingnang had focused on serving others, barely tasting anything beyond a spoonful of almond tofu, his phone never far.
“I rarely indulge. A taste is enough,” he said. “You all enjoy.”
None were dessert fanatics, so they nibbled lightly, wary of cloying richness—even Zhu Jue, tasked with finishing Yan’s leftovers.
Though buzzing with curiosity about the wedding, they kept gossip in check out of respect for the hosts.
After signaling the staff to clear the table, they were summoned to help with the rehearsal—four groomsmen needed, so everyone but Zhu Jue stepped up.
Watching them, Yan and Zhu Jue clasped hands approvingly. “Sharp and stylish. Very impressive,” Yan said.
“Still, custom tailoring’s a must,” Zhu Jue noted.
Their eyes on the wedding decor, their minds wandered to their own future.
“What’re you two whispering about?” Yuan Ye asked upon returning.
“Guess,” Yan teased.
The group wrapped up the rehearsal swiftly, earning heartfelt thanks from the wedding party.
Afternoon tea was finished, and since they had helped out, it didn’t feel like a wasted trip. The six of them decided to take a stroll to walk off the meal. One floor of the hotel was dedicated to an exclusive art exhibition, accessible only to guests.
The wedding banquet was scheduled to begin at 7:28 PM, so the six freeloaders returned to the rooftop restaurant just before seven. By then, the venue was already dotted with formally dressed guests. A familiar server guided them to the seats reserved for the bride’s friends.
The table had eight seats, two of which were already occupied—one by a silent young man in a tailored suit and the other by an elegantly dressed woman in a cocktail dress. The two seemed to know each other but weren’t close, sitting several seats apart. When they noticed the group being led over by the server, they froze in surprise.
The woman with short curly hair whistled. “Wow, since when did Qing know so many handsome guys? She never introduced me to any of them.”
The young man’s gaze swept over the group with palpable intensity, his thoughts unreadable. He fiddled with his cufflinks before simply saying, “Sit.”
Yan offered a faint smile. “Thank you.”
She took a seat beside the woman, while Zhu Jue and Xiao Qingnang settled into their spots. However, the suited man remained planted between several empty chairs, making no move to shift. It was clear he didn’t want to sit near the woman, leaving Yuan Ye with no choice but to take the seat beside him.
“I’ve never seen you guys before. Are you Sheng Qing’s friends from studying abroad? She’s been holding out on me—hiding such high-quality people,” the short-haired woman teased, her tone lively.
“We’re friends of Xia Meizhen,” Yan explained.
Xia Meizhen was the long-haired woman who had enlisted their help earlier.
“Ohhh, that makes sense. Meizhen must’ve called you in to liven things up,” the woman said, as if everything clicked into place.
Even as she chatted, she kept scrolling on her phone. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she nearly dropped her device.
“Oh my god,” she gasped.
The suited man immediately stood up.
Yan and the others noticed that within minutes, the murmur of voices in the restaurant had grown louder. Guests were whispering among themselves, glancing around at the wedding party members wearing boutonnieres.
“What’s wrong?” Yan sensed something was off.
“You don’t have Feng Hao on WeChat? The groom?”
The woman stiffly turned her phone screen toward them.
“He ran off to chase his true love. He’s ditching the wedding.”
The screen displayed a WeChat Moments post with a location tag: Bin City International Airport.
“…What?”
Even though it wasn’t their problem—they were just crashing a stranger’s wedding—the group from Dorm 414 was stunned.
If the groom was gone, what was the point of the wedding?
More importantly, the banquet was already set up. The bride had likely finished her makeup and was ready to make her entrance. With so many guests here, how would this end?
Just then, Yan spotted the bride, Sheng Qing, in her mermaid-style wedding gown. She had striking, delicate features—high cheekbones, a heart-shaped face, and an ethereal beauty that needed little makeup to shine.
But what truly caught Yan’s attention was the massive golden halo floating above her head.
[Transmigration into a novel!]
Now, Sheng Qing was walking step by step toward the main stage. All eyes were on her. Would she announce the cancellation of the wedding?
Or would she go through with it—alone?
Her face betrayed no anger or sorrow, but that only made it more unsettling. Yan and the others watched as Xia Meizhen followed closely behind the bride, forcing a smile.
“Miss Sheng, would you be interested in replacing the groom?”
The words came from the suited man at their table, who had now risen and was striding toward the bride.
Yan’s grip tightened around Zhu Jue’s hand, her eyes wide.
Holy hell, this was the most dramatic wedding she’d ever witnessed!
“Okay.” Sheng Qing’s expression flickered with emotion for just a second before she agreed without hesitation.
The man—Ming Duo—was momentarily stunned, his smile breaking out just as the bride took his hand.
“Now that we have a groom, the wedding will proceed in ten minutes,” Sheng Qing declared.
Xia Meizhen, flustered by her cousin’s decisiveness, stammered, “Alright, if you’re fine with it, then—what about the bridesmaids and groomsmen?”
“Find them if you can. If not, it doesn’t matter. The only ones who really matter today are Ming Duo and me.” With that, she whisked her newly appointed groom away.
Xia Meizhen’s pleading gaze landed on Yan’s table. “Guys… would you mind?”
Ye Ping’an sighed. “I knew this seating arrangement was too good to be free.”
Now they were really going to be groomsmen. At least their suits hadn’t gone to waste.
Meanwhile, Yuan Ye’s expression twisted strangely as he fought to keep his lips from twitching.
His damn system had just triggered a limited-time scenario quest.
[You have activated a special event outfit change—Wedding Banquet.]
[Current progression locks your attire to: Bridesmaid Dress.]
[Hurry up and become a gorgeous bridesmaid to bless the newlyweds!]
Yuan Ye wanted to cry. He didn’t know whether to be grateful that the system hadn’t forced him into a wedding dress to compete with the bride.
***
Chapter 144
Wedding Venue.
Yan watched as Sister Meizhen counted on her fingers, her expression troubled. “Four groomsmen and four bridesmaids—we’re still short three bridesmaids and need all four groomsmen.”
“We have five guys here, so four groomsmen should be no problem,” Zhu Jue chimed in.
“I can be a bridesmaid,” Yan offered.
Saving a wedding—another day spent upholding world peace and social harmony.
“Sister Meizhen, I can do it too,” the pretty girl beside Yan added.
“Even with you two, we’re still one short,” Sister Meizhen sighed, rubbing her temples.
“Should we ask a guest?”
“Or just go with three pairs?”
Weddings are all about symmetry and auspicious pairings. Three would feel off, and two pairs didn’t quite fit either.
“Does the bridesmaid have to be a girl? As long as they look the part, right?” Chu Shen suddenly interjected.
Everyone turned to stare at him, then their eyes shifted to Yuan Ye. Yan’s lips twitched—she seriously doubted Chu Shen would survive the day without Yuan Ye beating him to a pulp.
“W-what do you mean?” Sister Meizhen was clearly baffled by Chu Shen’s suggestion.
“He’s suggesting I be the bridesmaid,” Yuan Ye said flatly.
“I’ll fill the last spot.”
Yuan Ye had been unsure how to bring it up himself, knowing the moment he did, all eyes would be on him.
But he never expected Chu Shen, of all people, to blurt it out first.
He really owed Chu Shen a “thank you” for that.
Sister Meizhen and the girl beside Yan were momentarily stunned. “I-is that allowed?”
“I’m a crossplay coser and model,” Yuan Ye explained, his face still expressionless.
“We only have ten minutes. Let’s get changed.”
Moments later, the entire group vanished in a flurry, scrambling to change outfits.
Yan exchanged names with the girl with short, curly hair—Chen Yu.
The bridesmaid dresses were champagne-colored, sleeveless gowns that hugged their figures just right, hiding any tummy flaws. The hems brushed the floor, covering their feet and shoes entirely.
Yan changed at lightning speed, borrowing the professional makeup artist’s kit for a quick base and applying her own lip gloss from her purse.
Aside from Yan and Chen Yu, the third bridesmaid was the bride’s cousin, Xia Meichen.
From the dresses and shoes to the makeup and backup supplies, everything was brand-name and top-tier—proof of the bride’s affluent background.
“Hey, Yan… your friend must be a pretty famous coser, right?” Chen Yu asked curiously, trying to learn more about Yuan Ye.
Yan shook her head. “Not sure. We don’t really ask.”
Though she’d accidentally stumbled upon Yuan Ye’s online alias at a convention last year, only she and Zhu Jue knew about it. The other roommates were aware of his crossdressing but not his online persona.
Besides, Yan could see the halo above Yuan Ye’s head. His crossdressing might not even be by choice.
Remembering how Yuan Ye had appeared as a female ghost in Ning City’s Jingshan Park during the New Year, Yan sighed inwardly. Who knew what had forced him into that state?
Eight minutes later, Yan watched as Yuan Ye emerged with long, flowing wig, fair skin, and an elegant, tall figure.
Chen Yu gaped beside her—especially since he was wearing makeup! Not heavy, but expertly applied. His delicate features, soft jawline, and slender frame made it impossible to tell he was male at a glance.
“Professional indeed. That vibe is something else,” Chen Yu murmured in awe.
Yuan Ye stared blankly at his “girl mode” interface. The task still wasn’t marked complete. He gritted his teeth internally.
He was already in a bridesmaid dress—did he really have to wait until the wedding ended?
“Yuan Ye, let’s go,” Yan called.
“Coming.” His voice was muffled. As the tallest one there, it was a miracle the largest-sized bridesmaid dress even fit him. The bride’s family had prepared impeccably.
In truth, the bridesmaids and groomsmen had little to do at this wedding beyond being background decor.
They weren’t tasked with tending to the couple or performing skits like in those viral wedding videos.
After all, they’d all met the bride and groom less than ten minutes ago.
For Yan and the others, the main perk was getting to enjoy the show.
The groomsmen wore gray suits—simpler than the groom’s three-piece but just as refined.
As the four groomsmen and four “bridesmaids” flanked the couple down the aisle, Yan winked at Zhu Jue. She caught Chu Shen’s poorly suppressed smirk and Ye Ping’an’s equally strained smile. In contrast, Zhu Jue and Brother Xiao remained perfectly composed.
With the rushed outfit changes, she and Zhu Jue hadn’t had time to talk.
Perhaps to keep guests from waiting too long—or maybe the ceremony was just short—the original host, who’d mistaken the groomsmen, was replaced by Sister Meizhen herself.
When the freshly minted groom, Zhou Mingduo, pulled a ring box from his chest, even the bridal party froze. Yan noticed the bride, Sheng Qing, stiffen in surprise.
The original groom hadn’t shown up—where had this ring come from?
From the box, he produced a jaw-dropping pink diamond ring, teardrop-shaped and as thick as a finger.
“The mystery buyer of that Swiss vivid pink diamond… was him?”
Yan’s pupils contracted. That stone had to be nearly 20 carats—a top-tier vivid pink. If she remembered right, it had sold for nearly 30 million Swiss francs, roughly 200 million Xia Country yuan!
This wasn’t something that could be rushed over last-minute. The groom must’ve been carrying it all along.
She watched as he knelt, cradling Sheng Qing’s hand like a treasure, sliding the ring onto her finger. Yan noted it fit perfectly.
Her brow arched. Seems this “stand-in” groom had planned this for a while—had he come intending to crash his beloved’s wedding?
Given the [Transmigration] halo above Sheng Qing’s head, Yan suspected there was more to their story than met the eye.
The ceremony was brief. After the ring and kiss, the bridal party exited, and the impromptu groomsmen and bridesmaids settled in for the banquet.
The five-star hotel’s wedding feast was exquisite. Despite having snacked earlier, they still managed to eat plenty.
“This is my first time being a groomsman,” Ye Ping’an said.
“At our age, we’re not even legally old enough to marry. Unless you have older siblings, there aren’t many chances to be groomsmen or bridesmaids,” Yan remarked.
“I never thought my first time as a groomsman wouldn’t be for you two,” Chu Shen added.
“Neither did I,” Yuan Ye muttered coldly from behind.
The table erupted in stifled laughter. Brother Xiao consoled him, “Just treat it as a temporary job for today.”
Yuan Ye kept his head down, focused on his meal. His task was already marked as complete, but he was still stuck in his formal attire.
Midway through dinner, the newlyweds arrived together to toast the bridesmaids and groomsmen—strangers who had stepped in to save the day.
By the time the banquet ended and everyone changed out of their outfits, it was nearly 9 p.m.
Sister Meizhen was still overseeing everything, especially for this group of strangers who had been such a huge help. Not only were the bridesmaid and groomsmen outfits gifted to them, but even the originally prepared morning robes and other items were handed over. Hotel rooms had also been arranged.
“We’re really so grateful and sorry for all the trouble. Words can’t express it enough.”
“Keeping you so late, we weren’t sure about your plans, so we prepared eight rooms as originally intended. Let us know how many you’ll need.” She held a stack of keycards.
The six of them exchanged glances. “We have a suite booked already, and our stuff is there,” Yan said.
“You two take the suite from earlier. The four of us can split into two rooms—no need to waste anything. Oh, and make sure they’re twin beds,” Ye Ping’an added.
“No problem. The staff will bring some things over shortly,” Sister Meizhen assured them.
After leaving the top floor, the elevator doors closed, leaving only their group inside. Everyone let out a long sigh of relief.
“What a bizarre and hectic day,” Ye Ping’an said.
The sentiment was met with unanimous agreement.
“But it just proves today really was a lucky day,” Yan remarked.
They had chosen this day for their sworn sibling ceremony, and coincidentally, it was also the wedding day of the bride—blessed with a “transmigration” aura—who had fervently switched grooms.
The six of them returned to the suite together. Except for Zhu Jue, the others shed their suit jackets, collapsing onto the sofas in their shirts, limbs sprawled haphazardly.
Before long, the suite doorbell rang. A hotel attendant wheeled in a sizable cart, delivering their clothes and a series of gift boxes.
“Whoa, I’ve only seen these online. Never thought I’d actually get one,” Chu Shen marveled.
“Hey, the count… two bridesmaid sets and five groomsmen sets,” he tallied.
The boxes shimmered in stunning iridescent blue and sapphire hues, easily distinguishable by color and quantity.
The contents were nearly identical for both bridesmaids and groomsmen: tie clips, Montblanc pens, and red envelopes stuffed with 8,888 yuan. The only difference was a small accessory—one set had brooches, the other cufflinks, both from luxury brands.
“Damn,” Zhu Jue raised an eyebrow. “These folks are loaded.”
The wedding hosts clearly had deep pockets. From the new groom to the bride, every detail oozed extravagance. For the makeshift bridal party that had saved the day, these thank-you gifts were definitely not going back.
Yuan Ye stared at the two gift boxes placed before him and couldn’t help asking, “Do you think one of these might have been a mistake?”
The other five shook their heads in unison. “Nope.”
Chu Shen grinned. “Wild Bro, given your outfit today, if anything was a mistake, it’d be the groomsman’s box.”
“So which one do you want to receive?”
Yuan Ye clapped a hand over his mouth. “Boss Chu, you’d better watch your words from now on.”
Yan and Zhu Jue leaned against each other, watching Brother Xiao hold his phone at eye level, spine straight, typing with intense focus. Meanwhile, the other three had somehow ended up in a tussle. The two of them couldn’t help but laugh.
Today had been a detour—a brief plunge into someone else’s story, witnessing a wedding full of unexpected twists, celebrating a picture-perfect couple, and then stepping back out.
And this? Just another ordinary day in the lives of Yan and Zhu Jue.
***
Chapter 145
Today was an “emotionally saturated” day for several people—recognizing godparents, attending a wedding, and the dramatic twists at the ceremony left everyone still reeling.
“Alright, alright,” Zhu Jue and Xiao Qingnang each reached out to separate their wrestling friends—Yuan Ye, Boss Chu, and Ye Ping’an—pulling the playful bunch apart.
“Your clothes are all wrinkled,” Yan remarked.
“Let’s send them to the hotel laundry and request washing and pressing services.”
“Good idea,” Chu Shen immediately agreed.
Since they’d be changing into sleepwear anyway, handing the clothes over to the hotel meant they could wake up to freshly laundered and pressed outfits.
After a long, exhausting day and some casual chatter, everyone retreated to their rooms, leaving only Yan and Zhu Jue in the luxury suite they’d booked earlier.
Once their friends were gone, Yan finally felt the fatigue set in.
They were staying in the suite’s secondary bedroom, which had its own bathroom with a bathtub. While Yan changed into her sleep robe, she noticed Zhu Jue had already scrubbed the tub clean and was now filling it with water.
They hadn’t originally planned to stay out tonight, so they hadn’t brought many essentials, but fortunately, the hotel’s provided amenities were excellent.
Zhu Jue was still wearing his three-piece groomsman suit, though he’d removed the outer jacket, leaving him in a vest and shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms as he worked with water.
Yan sneaked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
She pressed her face against his back, her warm breath brushing his skin.
Zhu Jue had been standing at the sink, carefully unwrapping various toiletries. After washing and drying his hands, he gently clasped Yan’s slender fingers, turned around, and pulled her into a quiet embrace.
When exhausted, clinging tightly to a loved one felt like slowly recharging.
After a while, Yan tilted her head at the sound of running water. “Is the bath ready?”
Before the porcelain-white tub, Yan tossed in a bath bomb, instantly transforming the water into a dreamy hue.
Zhu Jue had already laid out a bath mat, and Yan stepped onto it barefoot, waving at him contentedly.
Zhu Jue chuckled. “Lady Yan, this humble servant shall take his leave now.”
The hot water enveloped her completely, the warmth of the tub so soothing it nearly lulled her to sleep.
Yan rested a fist under her chin, lost in thought about the strange aura she’d seen at the wedding today.
[Transmigrated into a Novel]
The bride at today’s wedding, Miss Sheng Qing, had the words “Transmigrated into a Novel” floating above her head—the first time Yan had seen such a thing.
The term “transmigrated” was easy enough to understand—like Gu Jiasui’s “Ancient to Modern” label.
But Sheng Qing’s “Transmigrated into a Novel” gave Yan pause. Did it mean she’d crossed over into a book?
The groom running away and the last-minute replacement were certainly dramatic enough to be straight out of fiction.
If this aura meant entering a novel’s world, was tonight’s wedding the original plot or an altered development?
Yan’s mind buzzed with questions, but even after her bath, she still had no answers.
The hotel bed was incredibly soft. While Zhu Jue showered, she lay there scrolling through her phone.
Long ago, after the incident involving Lan Ruo and Xie Zhen, Yan had followed a few high-society gossip accounts recommended by Boss Tu.
Sure enough, the scandal from tonight’s wedding was already making waves!
By the time Zhu Jue stepped out of the bathroom, Yan was sitting on the bed, eyes wide and glued to her phone, utterly engrossed.
He tiptoed over, unscrewed a bottle of the hotel’s complimentary volcanic mineral water, and set it on the nightstand.
“What are you reading?”
“Gossip about today’s wedding,” Yan said, looking up.
“Jue, come up here quick—it’s wild!” Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of juicy drama.
The king-sized bed gave Zhu Jue plenty of space to climb in from the other side. He tested the mattress’s firmness and felt the pillows.
“Should we switch the pillows? Are these too hard?” The hotel offered six options—two soft, two firm, plus latex and buckwheat pillows.
“No need. I actually sleep better with firm ones,” Yan shook her head.
“This soft one’s a bit too plush—my back feels unsupported.” She was propped against the headboard, and Zhu Jue adjusted the pillow behind her.
His arm slid beneath her waist, his broad hand naturally resting against her abdomen.
His palm radiated warmth like a natural heating pad, quietly serving as her personal hot-water bottle.
As they nestled closer, Yan settled into her human-shaped recliner and eagerly relayed the latest scoop she’d dug up online.
“Jue, listen—the runaway groom was apparently a high-school heartthrob, a rich second-gen. This gossip reads like a novel!”
Zhu Jue took her phone, holding it where they could both see. Yan swiped to the most explosive post and pointed.
“This one right here.”
[TONIGHT’S SHOCKING SCANDAL! The Sheng-Qing-Feng-Hao arranged marriage COLLAPSES! The “ugly duckling” from Gold Mountain High transforms into a swan—Feng the Third flees the wedding to chase his love overseas! Meanwhile, Princess Sheng replaces the groom last-minute with tech mogul Mr. Xie!]
The gossip account accepted submissions, and the comments section was flooded with reactions.
[I need updates! How did Feng the Third and Sheng Qing grow up betrothed, only for him to ditch her at the altar? And who’s this new groom?]
[Anyone else think Feng’s just using this as an excuse to flee the country and avoid his family’s mess?]
[Who’s the “ugly duckling”??]
[Replying above: International rising designer Lou Yun. Three years as Feng’s classmate—here’s their graduation photo. She’s already built her own brand.]
From the flood of comments and leaks across platforms, netizens pieced together a story that, stripped of emotions, went like this:
The original groom abandoned his childhood fiancée—a marriage of alliance—on their wedding day. With help from his “bros,” he fled to Europe to pursue his high-school sweetheart, the scholarship student who’d shared his desk for three years.
The jilted heiress, Sheng Qing, was beautiful, proud, and followed an artistic path—the epitome of a “blue-blooded princess.”
The runaway groom’s high-school sweetheart, once an unremarkable “ugly duckling,” had since blossomed into a “swan.”
“This is practically a textbook story template,” Yan groaned to Zhu Jue.
“In fairy tales, it’s always about the prince giving up the neighboring princess arranged for political marriage and choosing the Cinderella-like ugly duckling who once accompanied him, then receiving everyone’s blessings—the end. But no one ever cares about the neighboring princess. Or Cinderella’s own feelings,” Zhu Jue finished the unspoken thought for her.
Yan nodded emphatically. “The comments are already praising him for pursuing true love. What a joke. If the bride hadn’t acted decisively, this runaway groom stunt would’ve ruined her reputation.”
“It’s obvious he never wanted this marriage. He had so much time before the wedding to resolve things, but by running away, he just shifted the conflict onto the two women,” Yan grumbled, frustration clear in her voice.
Now, the comment section was flooded with people digging up comparisons between the two women—ugly duckling, white swan, black swan—while the runaway groom conveniently faded into the background.
“Don’t be upset. We shouldn’t waste energy on people who aren’t worth it,” Zhu Jue soothed, lifting his hand from her stomach to intertwine their fingers, swaying them gently.
Yan pouted. “I shouldn’t have read this gossip. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.”
“If Sheng Qing hadn’t transmigrated into the book, things would’ve turned out completely differently.”
Zhu Jue set his phone aside, and the two leaned into each other.
“Jue, do you think the groom Sheng Qing chose at the last minute today is really the right one for her?” Yan murmured, her voice subdued.
“I don’t know,” Zhu Jue answered honestly after a moment of thought.
He held Yan’s hand tightly, replaying the scene from the wedding in his mind.
“He clearly prepared that ring in advance, even had it photographed, but waited until today. If the bride, Miss Sheng, hadn’t switched grooms at the last moment, I wonder if he would’ve kept silent forever,” Zhu Jue said slowly.
“If today’s upheaval hadn’t happened, he would’ve just watched the woman he loves walk into a wedding with someone else—even after preparing such a gift. I can’t understand that.”
“If he came as a friend to celebrate the wedding, it would’ve been better not to give that ring at all. A diamond ring as a wedding gift? That’s just inappropriate.”
If any man dared to present a special diamond ring as a congratulatory gift at his and Yan’s wedding, Zhu Jue would hunt him to the ends of the earth.
Yan rested her head in the crook of Zhu Jue’s arm, staring at the ceiling.
“Based on the halo over Sheng Qing’s head, if her story is a book, then what are we?”
“In the original book, the bride Sheng Qing wasn’t the female lead. We probably didn’t even have names.”
“Maybe in the altered version, we’re just named extras—background characters,” Yan mused.
“Then everyone today was a background character,” Zhu Jue said.
Tonight’s wedding—whether the guests or the hastily recruited groomsmen—were all insignificant bystanders in the eyes of the true protagonists.
“Stories always revolve around a select few,” Zhu Jue remarked.
“But we’re still us,” Yan turned her head to look at him, her eyes bright.
Passersby brush against others’ stories, intersecting briefly before inevitably returning to their own lives.
Soft, lingering kisses traced her eyelids and collarbone. The ambient lights in the room flicked off one by one under the reach of an outstretched arm, leaving only the quiet rhythm of restrained breaths and shared warmth to lull them to sleep.
Tomorrow, perhaps they’d wander into another story.
***
Chapter 146
The next day, Yan and her group of six had a buffet breakfast at the luxurious hotel where they were still staying. Their attire made them stand out in the dining area. Though the hotel was no stranger to guests in suits, a group of impeccably dressed young men gathered during the holiday season inevitably drew attention.
“Are we going anywhere today?” Chu Shen asked.
The moment he spoke, the others looked up in unison, even Uncle Xiao couldn’t help but respond, “Are you serious?”
It was the May Day holiday, and Bin City was always crowded with tourists, not to mention locals looking to unwind—families, friends, office workers, and students like them.
“I was just asking for suggestions. As a local, I usually avoid going out during holidays,” Chu Shen muttered, taking a bite of the pickled cucumber from his plate. The Chinese-style breakfast at this hotel’s buffet was excellent, and the side dishes were particularly tasty.
“If we go out dressed like this, people might think we’re part of some event,” Ye Ping’an said, his lips twitching.
Even though they were wearing their own clothes, a group of young men in suits walking together during the holidays would definitely turn heads.
“Then let’s just go back—I mean, back to school,” Chu Shen corrected himself, smacking his lips.
Yuan Ye chimed in with a dry tone, “Your restaurant took a few days off.”
Since the start of the semester, “Boss Chu” had restructured his eatery’s operations to open every other day. The catch? He had to attend classes five days a week, leaving only weekends to alternate between opening and closing. As a result, the now-rarely-open Chu’s Little Eatery drove its customers into a frenzy.
Occasionally, catching a glimpse of Chu Shen’s phone revealed a staggering 9999+ unread messages—enough to make anyone’s scalp tingle.
“Calling it ‘taking time off’ is ridiculous!” Chu Shen declared indignantly.
“This is a normal holiday break! Isn’t Labor Day about not laboring? Everyone does it!”
“And I have a legitimate reason. Yesterday, we officially became godparents, and we were groomsmen—these are major life events!” he argued righteously.
Yan burst into laughter, while Zhu Jue watched him with amused eyes, teasing,
“Only employees need ‘legitimate reasons’ to take time off.”
Chu Shen had an epiphany. “Right, I’m the boss. I don’t need a reason—if I don’t want to open, I won’t.”
These days, Chu’s Little Eatery had expanded its menu compared to last year, but Chu Shen himself had grown lazier.
After deciding to lighten his workload this semester, he streamlined operations—each opening now featured only one dish: either fried rice, Yangzhou fried rice, braised pork with potatoes, or Dongpo pork.
Customer complaints didn’t faze him. With just one chef (himself) and a self-service system where diners cleared their own plates, service was practically nonexistent.
After finishing breakfast and chatting idly, they returned to their rooms to pack and check out.
Taking the subway with six people—and luggage—would have been a hassle, so they hired a shuttle van back to campus. Uncle Xiao was in a hurry to give the kitten Pengpeng her acupuncture session.
When Yan returned to her dorm with her bridesmaid gift box, she found she was the only one left.
After washing her hands in the bathroom, she poked at the small potted plant Yi Zhi had placed there to absorb odors. The plant’s leaves immediately clung to her fingers, only returning to their usual stillness when she pulled away.
Having this little thing in the bathroom was like having a tiny pet, though Yan had observed that its interactivity ended there—it just had a habit of sticking to people.
Still, considering its purpose was to neutralize bathroom smells, she silently washed her hands again. With Yi Zhi around, she wasn’t worried about any issues, though she wondered if her other roommates had noticed it.
Back in her room, Yan changed into pajamas and turned on her computer and phone.
During the May Day holiday, students who lived nearby had gone home, while those from farther away either stayed on campus or traveled. Scrolling through social media revealed a flood of location tags and photos of crowded tourist spots.
Yan dutifully performed her daily social media courtesy, liking every post. Since she and Jue often went out on weekends, staying in during the holidays felt oddly relaxing.
She caught up on TV shows she’d missed during her busy days until He Xing messaged the group chat asking who was around. Yan immediately responded, and twenty minutes later, a cup of lightly iced “Duck Shit” oolong tea and spicy fried potato skewers appeared on her desk.
“Done with practice, Senior?” Yan asked between bites of potato.
He Xing nodded as she packed her things. “Yeah, a friend sent me some performance videos to review.”
With the other roommates gone, it was just the two of them—a rare chance for a private conversation.
After a pause, He Xing spoke up. “Yan.”
“Yeah?” Yan sipped her lemon tea.
“Is there anything you want?” He Xing asked.
“Eh?” Yan blinked in confusion. Why was her senior asking this?
Now that He Xing had settled her grudges, reunited with her parents in dreams, and regained her health, life had returned to normal.
If there was one thing still weighing on her, it was how to repay Yan.
Whether it was vengeance or meeting her parents in dreams, Yan had been the bridge.
This debt couldn’t go unanswered.
He Xing immediately regretted her phrasing. She was convinced Yan was a “Fate Master”—was this too blunt?
Seeing Yan’s puzzled expression, she quickly added, “Never mind. I’m flying abroad during the short semester to watch performances, so I can bring back stuff for you all.”
Yan sensed there was more to it but played along. “I can’t think of anything I need right now.”
“Ugh, the short semester—I haven’t even decided if I’ll sign up for it yet,” she groaned, stretching.
The short semester system was unique to many universities in Xia Country, tacked onto the end of the spring term between July and September to fulfill the academic year’s requirements. It offered elective courses, lectures, and social activities.
But to students with simple values, it was just stealing their summer vacation!
Bin University required students to complete one short semester during their four years, meaning even if Yan skipped it this year, she’d have to do it next year or the year after.
Different departments handled the short semester differently. Notices had gone out before May Day, but course selection wouldn’t open until June.
“The short semester will probably have off-campus activities or summer social practices. The campus is gonna be packed,” Yan grumbled.
Worst of all, Bin City in summer was stifling—hot and humid. Her hometown Ning City wasn’t much better, but at least the heat there was dry, not sticky!
Bin University is quite generous when it comes to holidays. The academic calendar for the semester had been distributed early, and even the unluckiest students with the latest exams would finish their final test by June 24th, with the next term not starting until September 9th. Those who finished exams earlier could enjoy a vacation of up to eighty days.
However, a short summer session loomed ahead, and Yan wasn’t sure how many days of her extended break would remain.
……
In the end, Yan and Zhu Jue chose to participate in the summer session.
As the saying goes, a sharp knife cuts through tangled hemp, and a short pain is better than a long one.
Completing this unavoidable obligation early meant they wouldn’t have to worry about it later.
At the beginning of June, after selecting their summer session courses and practical arrangements, the spring finals week began, and the entire dormitory fell into a synchronized routine.
Eat, study, sleep. With Yi Zhi supplying fruits, Yan felt her efficiency doubled. Though she couldn’t match Gu Jiasui’s astonishing memory—Gu Jiasui could memorize anything at a single glance—Yan found that eating fruit significantly improved her ability to retain information.
Still, she and Zhu Jue tacitly agreed to study outside the dorm, heading to the library or cafés. Surrounded by other students buried in their books, they felt a sense of camaraderie.
Studying in the dorm with such high-achievers had its own atmosphere, but the pressure of comparison was undeniable.
Even though the two of them had grown accustomed to the pressure from their talented peers, there were just too many of them around!
While the whole dorm was grinding through exams, He Xing had already finished all of hers. With a casual wave, she bid farewell to her juniors, packed her bags, and flew abroad to attend a performance.
He Xing didn’t leave in a hurry, but Yan, who spent her days outside the dorm, didn’t get the chance to say goodbye before her senior rushed off to catch her flight.
When Yan returned to the dorm, she found a USB drive left on her desk.
[He Xing]: Junior Yan, you’ve helped me so much. After much thought, this is the only thing I have that might be of use to you.
[He Xing]: Keep it if you find it helpful, or pass it on to someone who can use it.
He Xing had left too quickly, and by the time Yan sent a reply, her messages were met with flight mode—only her own texts remained.
Baffled, Yan opened the USB drive and saw the sole folder inside—
Yan: Huh?
“North Star Guiding Method,” “Key Points for Practicing the First Three Levels of the Guiding Method,” “Breakthrough Techniques for the North Star Guiding Method”…
What is this? Did He Xing get scammed into buying some kind of martial arts manual?!
***
Chapter 147
He Xing, already on the plane, had no idea how many messages Yan had sent her.
Leaving a gift for her junior before running off was something she had planned long ago.
Translating the cultivation manual from another world into a document suitable for this one had taken considerable effort.
The manual she brought back was actually etched in her mind, and the modern world lacked materials capable of bearing its contents.
He Xing had initially considered handwriting it but soon realized it would be a monumental task—creating a digital version was far more practical.
The manual, known as The Stellar Arcana in the other world, was renamed by He Xing after some deliberation. She even added a few modern adaptations as safeguards, treating them as hidden enhancements.
After all, she had once seen Yan in possession of a Skyfire Crystal. Though He Xing detected no traces of cultivation in her, a Fateweaver was never so easily deciphered.
This manual was both precious and not precious to He Xing, yet it was undoubtedly the most valuable thing she could offer.
A gift given sincerely, from the heart.
Inside Room 320, Yan repeatedly opened and closed the “document” stored in the USB drive left behind by He Xing, which bore an unmistakable xianxia-novel aesthetic.
He Xing wasn’t the type to joke around.
In their WeChat conversation, the senior had been deliberately vague, likely due to the document’s peculiar nature.
Much like how Ding Ling would use coded language in messages to avoid data surveillance, He Xing had done the same.
Yan moved her laptop to her bed, mainly to avoid the awkwardness of her roommates catching her staring blankly at the screen.
Right now, she leaned against the bed frame, lost in thought.
The North Star Attunement Method. Every individual character made sense, but strung together, they might as well have been gibberish.
Phrases like “drawing starlight into the body” and “opening stellar meridians” left her baffled. The supplementary materials were even more bewildering—she skimmed two pages before giving up.
This thing clearly didn’t belong in a modern, technologically advanced society.
Considering He Xing’s “Retired Quick-Transmigration Tragic Romance Protagonist” aura, coupled with her hints, Yan had a rough guess: this was probably something the senior brought back from one of her transmigration worlds after retirement.
And if this was the only thing He Xing could offer, its value had to be immense.
Still, Yan’s mind wandered. The fact that He Xing had converted the method into a digital document suggested she had studied it herself.
Maybe her physical recovery was related to this. Alternatively, perhaps He Xing had brought it back unchanged from a modern cultivation world.
This single USB drive sent Yan’s thoughts spiraling. She had no intention of practicing it—despite being surrounded by people with extraordinary auras, recklessly dabbling in something so out-of-place could have unpredictable consequences.
For one thing, “drawing starlight into the body” sounded like a midnight rooftop activity. She’d rather sleep.
Besides, most wuxia novels emphasized that the best time to start cultivation was childhood. While she didn’t know if she had any talent, Yan wasn’t about to upend her life plans over an unexpected gift.
She closed the document, ejected the USB, and sighed. Knowing the stubbornness of people like Ding Ling and He Xing, refusing this gift probably wasn’t an option.
With He Xing away for now, the drive would have to stay with her.
June 19th. The College of Liberal Arts and the School of Medicine had wrapped up their exams, and Yan and Jue Jue could finally breathe. Between finals and the start of the summer semester, they had a blissful two-week break—completely class-free.
“Finally done.”
“Still, we owe Boss Lu for this.”
Stretching as she walked across campus, Yan reflected on how they’d borrowed Lu Chen’s Dimensional Convenience Store twice for cram sessions. After whatever calamity had befallen him months ago, the store had barely operated, which ironically gave Yan and Jue Jue undisturbed study time—even managing a secret meetup with Xu Jiaojiao overseas.
During those visits, Lu Chen had ushered them into a VIP room, but Yan sensed he had something left unsaid.
To thank him, Yan had snagged a box of premium fruits from Yi Zhi’s farm. Ordinary snacks wouldn’t cut it for a proprietor of interdimensional goods. Now that they had Lu Chen’s contact, summoning the store’s door was much easier.
The two made their way to a secluded, camera-free grove on campus—their usual spot. According to Lu Chen, most people couldn’t even see the store’s wooden door. Yan and Zhu Jue stepped inside with practiced ease.
“More studying?” Lu Chen’s voice greeted them the moment they entered.
Months after his ordeal, his hair had barely grown back, leaving him with a conspicuous wig.
“Not today. We’re done with exams. This is for you—thanks for the VIP treatment.” Yan gestured as Zhu Jue set the fruit box on the counter.
“Wow, freedom at last. Need me to open the door for summer break?” Lu Chen asked.
His expression faltered slightly. The phrasing sounded ominously final—like they were settling debts before leaving for good.
“You’re not… going far, are you?” he ventured carefully.
His “far” implied leaving this dimension entirely.
“Huh? How’d you know?” Yan blinked.
With finals over and summer semester yet to begin, she and Zhu Jue were planning a trip to visit friends.
Lu Chen’s face fell. “Just a guess.”
Of course. Two dimension-hoppers wouldn’t stay in one place forever. That they’d lingered this long was already surprising.
“We’re just traveling. We’ll be back soon,” Zhu Jue reassured, mistaking Lu Chen’s gloom for loneliness.
But if the store’s door could open anywhere, why did Lu Chen seem so resigned? Was he leaving too?
“Are you restocking soon?” Zhu Jue asked.
“Have to. Same old suppliers,” Lu Chen replied.
Three months of sporadic operation had left his shelves nearly empty—except for the items nobody wanted.
Lu Chen had visited the interstellar and post-apocalyptic dimensions multiple times. He feared that if he grew too comfortable, he might lose his drive to improve, so he decided to return to the familiar dimensions to continue his explorations.
However, his lack of combat prowess had always been a source of frustration for him.
Ever since he began speculating about the true identities of the young couple, Lu Chen had done everything in his power to provide them with conveniences—opening doors for them at any time, relocating guests—none of which fell under the usual operations of his small shop.
“That…” Lu Chen gritted his teeth before speaking.
“I know you both have your own matters to attend to, but there’s something…”
“I knew you had something to say! You’ve been holding back this whole time,” Yan remarked, exchanging a glance with Jue Jue.
“Is there anything we can help you with?” Yan asked curiously.
“I know this request is rather presumptuous, but I can’t think of anyone else to turn to,” Lu Chen continued.
“I want to improve my ability to defend myself against external threats—to enhance my combat skills. Do you two happen to have any cultivation manuals or secret techniques you’d be willing to trade with me?”
The request left both Yan and Jue Jue stunned.
Huh? What? Boss Lu, why on earth would you think we have something like that? What gave you that impression?!
“I—I know this sounds sudden and strange. But you both know about my last dimensional trip three months ago… I almost didn’t make it back,” Lu Chen said, now feeling like he had nothing left to lose.
“Honestly, I wanted to ask you both to take me as your disciple, but I know that’s difficult. So, if I could just trade for something suitable, that would be more than enough.”
This string of words left Yan momentarily speechless.
What? Boss Lu, why do you suddenly sound so reverent?! And what’s this about becoming your disciple?!
“I think there might be some misunderstanding here,” Yan said carefully, while Jue Jue facepalmed.
This wasn’t the first time someone had suddenly started talking to them as if they were something they weren’t.
“That red gemstone you gave me before… was that supposed to be a disciple gift?” Yan suddenly realized.
“No, no, not at all,” Lu Chen shook his head.
He wanted to smack himself. The couple clearly didn’t want to reveal their identities, and now, with his slip-up, they were still trying to play dumb.
He had no idea how to salvage the situation—he’d completely messed things up.
Yan and Jue Jue exchanged glances, silently communicating.
After a brief moment, Lu Chen saw Yan rummaging through her backpack.
“This thing inside… a friend gave it to us. It might be useful to you, or it might not,” Yan said thoughtfully, extending her hand to reveal a silver USB drive.
“Anyway, we don’t know much about it. We have things to do, so we’ll be going now.”
With that, Yan shot Jue Jue a look, and the two of them bolted for the wooden door, fleeing before any further misunderstandings could arise.
“Hey—” Lu Chen stared blankly at the USB drive in his hand.
He hadn’t even opened the box of fruits the couple had brought, and they’d left in such a hurry. Were they in a rush for something important? He couldn’t very well stop them.
Lu Chen plugged the USB drive into his computer and opened the document inside, nearly falling off his chair in shock.
“Heavens…” he murmured under his breath.
The “North Star Guiding Method” was, by sheer coincidence, a cultivation technique for harnessing stellar energy—exactly what he had needed in the dimension where he’d nearly met his demise!
Not only that, but the document also contained meticulously detailed explanations of key breakthroughs and common pitfalls, as if a master had highlighted every crucial point for him.
Lu Chen devoured the contents of the “material” voraciously.
The more he read, the more he realized the immense value of what was stored on that tiny USB drive.
In that stellar world, the constellations were different from those in the modern era. Many cultivation techniques required aligning with specific fate-bound stars, but this “North Star Guiding Method” had clearly been adapted for “modernization”!
Using the Big Dipper as an anchor, it allowed the practitioner to draw in the power of countless stars—something that could be cultivated even in today’s society!
As he scrolled further, Lu Chen’s breathing grew more erratic. His eyes were glued to the diagrams in the document, unable to look away.
The text also listed supplementary materials that could enhance cultivation efficiency.
One of them, a cluster of “alien flame ore,” was identical to what he had stored in his spatial storage!
“So this is called ‘Celestial Flame Ore,'” Lu Chen murmured.
He had hoarded a large amount of it in his storage, never realizing it could be used as a direct energy source for cultivation.
Then it hit him—the exceptionally rare “red gemstone” he’d gifted before was actually “Celestial Flame Crystal.” A flash of understanding crossed his eyes.
“So that’s how it is.”
Clearly, three months ago, when he’d given them that gift, the well-traveled couple had immediately recognized which dimension he’d visited and identified the resources he possessed.
Yet they hadn’t said a word—instead, they’d prepared a cultivation method perfectly suited to him, painstakingly detailed and stored on this USB drive!
Only now, as they were wrapping up this chapter of their lives and preparing for a long journey, had they handed it to him.
He just happened to have Celestial Flame Ore, and the couple had just happened to provide him with a stellar cultivation method—one that had been modified to work with Celestial Flame Ore.
No doubt, obtaining something so perfectly tailored to his current situation couldn’t have been easy for them.
They’d delivered it and left in a hurry, casually brushing it off as something a friend had given them, claiming they didn’t understand it themselves.
Lu Chen sniffled. How could he ever repay them?!
How incredibly fortunate he was to have met two such selfless veteran dimension travelers, willing to help a newcomer like him!
They’d saved his life once, and now they’d given him the means to grow stronger.
The saying goes, “Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.” But they had done both—given him the fish and the fishing rod!
Especially this cultivation method. Based on Lu Chen’s brief experience in that world, obtaining something like this in the mortal realm would have been nearly impossible. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what price the couple had paid to acquire this USB drive, only to hand it over to him without hesitation.
Lu Chen took a deep breath. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he owed them.
High-level dimension travelers had seen it all—they probably didn’t lack for gifts.
All he could hope was that his next dimensional journey would yield something interesting, something that might bring a smile to their faces.
As for becoming their disciple… Lu Chen quietly reflected that in his current weak state, having only experienced a few dimensions, he wasn’t worthy yet.
But in his heart, the couple had already become his mentors—his guiding lights!
He aspired to become a dimension traveler like them—one who could casually traverse worlds as if on a leisurely journey, extending such generosity and care to newcomers.
They were his role models, his beacon of inspiration!
***
Chapter 148
Yan and Zhu Jue quickly left the dimensional convenience store after handing the USB drive to Boss Lu. Yan then sent a message to senior He Xing, informing her that the item had been delivered. However, He Xing replied that since the gift was given to Yan, it was hers to handle as she pleased.
Walking across the campus, Yan and Zhu Jue sighed deeply. When had Lu Chen developed such a misunderstanding about them?
The more they tried to explain, the less he believed them—how strange. Still, it was a relief to have finally handed over the peculiar item they didn’t know how to deal with to someone who actually needed it. That so-called “Star Attraction Method” should be useful for Boss Lu, right? Yan thought to herself.
“Holy crap! This box of fruit is actually this valuable?!”
Inside the dimensional convenience store, Lu Chen had a sudden inspiration and activated his “Appraisal” skill as the store owner, exclaiming in shock.
[Current item appraisal in progress…]
[Item: Assorted Spirit Fruits]
[Grade: Low]
[Appraisal Result: Grown with wood-attribute spiritual energy and purified spiritual spring water on a special type of soil, these fruits gradually enhance physical constitution and invigorate the spirit.]
“So this box of fruit was specifically meant to improve my physique before I start practicing the Star Attraction Method,” Lu Chen murmured.
Now, he truly felt the young couple’s thoughtful intentions.
The spirit fruits were packed in what looked like an ordinary foam box, but each was carefully wrapped and well-preserved. What caught Lu Chen’s attention, however, was the custom packaging inside.
[Yi Jia Farm]—printed on the front was a QR code for customer service and damage reports. Scanning it with his phone, Lu Chen was redirected to a mini-program.
His eyes widened as he saw the shop interface.
This was… a store selling these spirit fruits, though everything was currently marked as “sold out.” He checked the product details, noting the weekly restock schedule and purchasing process word for word.
The “Yi Jia Farm” mini-program was clearly left by the couple as a way for him to continue buying spirit fruits and slowly improve his physique.
Lu Chen washed a few fruits and ate them. His eyes brightened with each bite. The large strawberries, completely out of season for June, defied logic—but then again, since they were “spirit fruits,” defying logic was the norm.
The fruits were delicious, but Lu Chen didn’t overindulge.
He wasn’t sure how much his body could absorb or whether there would be any “impurity expulsion” effects like in novels, so he didn’t dare eat too many.
Though the appraisal labeled the fruits as “low-grade,” Lu Chen didn’t underestimate them.
He saved the “Yi Jia Farm” mini-program to his collection and even set an alarm to ensure he could snag some before his next dimensional exploration.
Who exactly was behind Yi Jia Farm?
“Wood-attribute spiritual energy,” “purified spiritual spring water,” “special soil”—the appraisal results hinted at the extraordinary nature of both the fruits and their growers. Were they retired dimensional lords? Or some other extraordinary individuals?
Lu Chen had no idea. If fate allowed, perhaps they’d meet in the convenience store someday.
After appraising the spirit fruits, Lu Chen moved on to the “Skyfire Ore” and the USB drive the couple had given him.
[Dimensional Lord’s appraisal level insufficient. Please level up before attempting again…]
As expected, the dimensional realm brimming with stellar energy far surpassed any he had visited before—including his own current level. Just like during his time in the Stellar Dimension, his appraisal skill had failed on everything, leaving him unable to discern the value of the Skyfire Ore and Skyfire Crystals he’d brought back. Only now, with the help of the power couple, did he finally understand.
“Still gotta level up,” he sighed.
“If my physique isn’t strong enough to explore new dimensions, I’ll just keep grinding the old ones.”
Inside the dimensional convenience store, Lu Chen stored the fruits away and began inventorying his stock, planning what goods to take on his next trip.
June 21st.
Yan and Zhu Jue flew from Bin City to Yang City.
This time, they had been invited by an old high school friend, Brother Bao.
Brother Bao had mentioned acquiring a new “big toy” and enthusiastically invited them to come play. Since Yan and Zhu Jue hadn’t traveled in a while and had free time, they readily accepted their old friend’s invitation.
Brother Bao wasn’t part of the “gifted” crowd, and Yang City was perfectly safe! Plus, the city was famous for its food—Yan was already craving it. They packed up and left without hesitation.
The only downside was the season—humidity and heat were unavoidable. On their first day in Yang City, as soon as they dropped their luggage at the hotel, Brother Bao arrived with a local herbal tea from a time-honored brand.
The taste was so bitter it made them grimace.
Brother Bao was tall and broad-shouldered. His skin hadn’t been particularly dark before, but now it was noticeably deep brown.
Especially since he’d recently shaved his head, his dark skin and the work gloves he carried made him look years older than the two of them.
“Brother Bao, holy crap, how did you get so dark?” Yan blurted out in front of her old friend.
Though she’d seen photos and videos before, she’d assumed it was just Brother Bao messing around with filters. Now, seeing it in person, she realized it was real!
“This is dark? I’ve actually gotten lighter compared to before,” Bao Hui said, rubbing his bald head. His grin revealed bright white teeth, which only made the contrast with his dark skin more striking. Yan couldn’t help but facepalm.
“I’ve been slathering on sunscreen like you guys told me, but working outside just does this to you,” Bao Hui said, gulping down the herbal tea effortlessly.
Yan shook her head at his appearance. Brother Bao had been somewhat handsome before, but now he looked like he’d been marinated in a construction site. That said, his toned muscles were impossible to miss.
“But you’re still in school—aren’t you only thrown into construction sites during breaks? How does two or three months do this to you?” Yan couldn’t help but ask.
Brother Bao chuckled. “Spend a day at the beach and see if you don’t turn darker by the next day.”
Because of his love for construction vehicles—and the fact that his family actually had related businesses—Bao Hui had earned the nickname “Foreman Bao.” Every break, he was tossed into construction sites, starting with hauling bricks and now skilled at tying rebar. He’d truly experienced the life of a laborer.
“Brother Bao, you’re wearing gloves—did you come straight from the site to pick us up? Are you still busy lately?” Zhu Jue asked.
“Nah, if I were busy, I wouldn’t have time to invite you guys over,” Brother Bao shook his head.
“I just got back from break, and my family’s site got some new equipment, so I figured I’d ask if you wanted to check it out. Plus, I’ll take you guys for some good food.”
“Making money really isn’t easy,” Brother Bao said with deep feeling.
Looking at Brother Bao now, Yan could tell that working on-site had grounded him. He was darker, yes, but he also seemed more dependable and steady.
“Wanna know why I’m not busy lately?” Bao Hui suddenly asked in a cool tone.
Yan shook her head, while Zhu Jue ventured, “Just got back from break, so your parents are giving you a few days to adjust?”
Brother Bao shook his head slowly with an indescribable expression. “There’s something underground at our construction site. Work has been halted.”
“Huh?” The two of them exclaimed in unison.
Yan and Zhu Jue’s minds immediately raced through countless possibilities.
Yan cautiously asked, “Brother Bao, what exactly is this thing underground that you’re talking about?”
***
Chapter 149
Yan was feeling a bit nervous at the moment, afraid that Brother Bao might bring up something strange. Surely… it wouldn’t involve anything supernatural, right?
“An ancient tomb,” Brother Bao sighed deeply, though Yan and Zhu Jue inwardly relaxed.
“An ancient tomb? That’s normal. What a coincidence,” she said, trying to reassure him.
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Zhu Jue added.
“You’d think Yang City isn’t Chang’an City! The experts just arrived, and we still don’t know what level of tomb this is,” Brother Bao continued.
“Honestly, we didn’t even dig it up ourselves during construction.”
“What do you mean?” Yan was puzzled.
If they hadn’t discovered it during construction, how else could it have been found?
Brother Bao’s expression turned odd. “The experts came to us first. They said based on existing records and calculations, there should be an ancient tomb beneath our construction site.”
“So we were temporarily assigned to dig at the location they predicted—and we actually found it.”
Yan and Zhu Jue exchanged bewildered glances.
Had the local archaeology experts suddenly obtained some precise intel? There was no way they could’ve just calculated it, right?
“Sounds unbelievable, doesn’t it?” Brother Bao asked.
Both nodded in unison.
“According to the liaison teacher, last year, workers at another construction site in Yang City dug up artifacts. One worker secretly took them to Bin City to sell, but was caught and confessed. After that, emergency excavations were carried out at that site. Recently, based on what they uncovered, they deduced there might be another burial site here.”
“Who knows if they’ll find more elsewhere,” Brother Bao mused.
Yan felt the story sounded vaguely familiar, though tales of smuggled artifacts leading to major archaeological discoveries weren’t uncommon.
“Then your construction site will be shut down for a long time,” Zhu Jue said, shaking his head.
Archaeological work was a lengthy process—halting construction for years was normal.
She recalled how in Chang’an City, roadwork, subway projects, or mall constructions often got delayed by discoveries beneath the ground.
“That’s why I said I’ve got nothing to do lately,” Brother Bao shrugged, noticing his friends’ eyes fixed on him.
Bao Hui looked down at himself. “What? Why’re you staring?”
“If you’re not at the construction site anymore, can’t you change your clothes?” Zhu Jue said helplessly.
“Eh, old habits,” he replied, patting the dust off his pants.
Night fell, bringing relief from the daytime heat—though the evening wasn’t much better, at least the scorching sun was gone. As the temporary “host,” Brother Bao led his old friends on a nighttime food hunt.
“We’ll have dim sum tomorrow morning. I’ll take you to a local institution—took me a while to find it,” he said with a grin.
“Tonight, we’re keeping it simple: street food to welcome you. There’s this hidden gem near the construction site—congee stalls, stir-fried rice noodles. The flavors? Amazing!” Brother Bao sighed with genuine admiration.
Among close friends, formalities weren’t necessary. Hearing his enthusiasm, Yan and Zhu Jue grew eager.
“Brother Bao, since construction’s halted, are you staying here for now?” Yan asked from the back seat of his car.
“Yeah. My parents told me to stay and assist the experts unconditionally—do whatever they ask. If we run into this again, we’ll have experience.”
Beyond the construction site’s barricades, Brother Bao drove in, parked, and led them out.
“You’re still living here at night?” Yan glanced around.
“Most workers have been relocated.”
Nearing July, the prefab dormitories had water and electricity, but they were far from comfortable. Brother Bao had previously worked alongside the crew, tying rebar and sharing their living conditions—no special treatment.
“Two teams stayed behind to assist the archaeologists—security, clearing topsoil, transporting debris. The prefabs we built aren’t going to waste; we rented them to the archaeology team as their base. Air conditioning, private bathrooms, even a canteen.”
“The archaeologists seem happy. They say it’s great—air-conditioned rooms with ensuite bathrooms. Top-tier conditions.”
Zhu Jue nodded. “Your family’s site really does have good facilities.”
Even the basic four-person worker dorms had AC and private bathrooms.
“Mom says you can’t cut corners when making money. Everyone’s human—good food and rest mean better work. Even prefabs can be comfortable.”
Though the site was mostly empty, many lights were still on. Brother Bao took them to the liveliest part of the dorm area.
“Lots of stalls used to be outside, but with fewer people, most left. Only Sister Chen stayed—her food’s the best. We recently hired her for the canteen: housing, salary, and insurance included.”
Eating at a construction site canteen at night was a first for Yan and Zhu Jue.
“Sister Chen, I’d like stir-fried rice noodles.”
“Got any mung bean soup?”
As they approached, the air buzzed with chatter and the sizzle of cooking.
Sister Chen—a petite middle-aged woman in an apron and hairnet—was deftly tossing rice noodles in a wok, the aroma irresistible.
“Smells good, right?” Brother Bao grinned.
“So good.”
“Bao’s back!”
“Little Bao’s here!”
“You two sit. I’ll grab the food.” Brother Bao pulled out two red plastic stools for them.
Yan and Zhu Jue watched as workers in uniforms and dusty students ate nearby.
Brother Bao returned with a large tray—claypot congee, soups, and braised pork knuckle with ginger.
“The noodles’ll take a bit. Save room for dessert.”
“Brother Bao, your canteen’s menu is diverse,” Yan remarked, eyeing the spread.
“Sister Chen leveled up our meals. Fewer options than school, but tastier and healthier,” a student at the next table chimed in.
“Now we’ve got daily soups, desserts, congee. The main chef handles three meals; Sister Chen does snacks and late-night bites,” Brother Bao said proudly.
Yan glanced at Sister Chen—her movements were swift, her wok effortlessly airborne. Time had etched its marks on her, but her skill was undimmed.
Listening to Brother Bao, Yan’s mouth watered.
“The food’s seriously good now.”
“Little Bao, noodles are ready!” Sister Chen’s voice rang clear. With an “On it!” Brother Bao dashed to fetch the food.
He returned with three steaming plates of noodles. Yan unwrapped her chopsticks and took her first bite.
The stir-fried rice noodles were perfectly cooked—neither sticky nor clumpy, mixed with water spinach and bean sprouts. The eggs had an excellent hue, and the noodles tasted dry yet satisfying in the mouth. The side dishes were fresh and sweet, blending with the aroma of eggs, making the dish utterly non-greasy.
Yan wasn’t sure if this counted as authentic, but it was fragrant and delicious, offering an extra sense of fullness at night, comforting and homely.
“The rice noodles are delicious,” Yan said.
“Way better than what we had in Bin City,” Zhu Jue remarked.
“Right? Feels soothing in the stomach,” Brother Bao chimed in while devouring his portion.
“Just thinking about not being able to eat this soon makes me sad.”
“Sister Chen, it’s almost time—you should take a break,” Bao Hui called out to her.
“I’ll wait for Teacher Gao and the others,” Sister Chen shouted back. Yan noticed Brother Bao glancing around.
As they spoke, more people entered the canteen.
“That’s Teacher Gao—a top expert from the archaeology institute. I don’t know the specifics of his research, but they say he’s the one who locates ancient tombs and stuff,” Brother Bao whispered to the two of them.
Yan and Zhu Jue turned to look. Her eyes immediately locked onto the figure.
The man called Teacher Gao was clearly the center of attention, flanked by two younger men. His face didn’t betray his age, but his hair was streaked with gray and white, his demeanor vigorous. However, the exposed skin on his arms and face bore the marks of long exposure to wind and sun.
The reason Yan stared at this “Teacher Gao” was because she saw a familiar halo around him.
The halo itself was unfamiliar, but its golden hue was one she recognized.
[Chronicles of Time and Space]
“Teacher Gao, Little Sun, Little Liu, what would you like to eat?” Sister Chen’s voice grew even louder, brimming with enthusiasm.
“Are those two next to him bodyguards?” Yan nudged Brother Bao and Zhu Jue, mouthing the words silently.
“No idea, and I don’t dare ask. My parents told me not to pry,” Brother Bao muttered, burying his head in his plate of noodles.
“How old is Teacher Gao?” Zhu Jue asked.
“Forty-something, I think? Almost fifty. Not entirely sure,” Bao Hui shook his head.
Yan quietly sipped her soup. This was the first time she’d seen a halo-bearer of such an advanced age. She wondered how long his halo had been manifesting.
Still, this halo seemed safe.
Especially with what appeared to be two bodyguards by his side. Considering Teacher Gao’s age, professional standing, and the sudden discovery of this ancient tomb—as Brother Bao had mentioned—Yan strongly suspected that Teacher Gao had already reached some agreement with the authorities.
After all, if Brother Bao’s parents forbade him from asking questions, it had to involve state affairs.
They ate their fill at the construction site and archaeology canteen. Afterward, Brother Bao took Yan and Zhu Jue on a tour of the temporary dormitories.
Since it was already dark, they couldn’t enter the excavation site, and there wasn’t much else to see. Exhausted from their journey, they walked off their meal before Brother Bao escorted them back to their hotel.
“I’ll pick you two up tomorrow morning for dim sum—a legit old-school place.”
The next morning, Zhu Jue received a call from Brother Bao, his voice unusually grave.
“Guys, I can’t come get you today. You’ll have to explore on your own.”
From Brother Bao’s brief explanation, Yan and Zhu Jue learned what had happened.
There’d been an incident at the site.
To be precise, thieves had broken in the night before.
According to one of the thieves’ accomplices, they’d heard the site was shutting down for archaeological work and planned to steal leftover construction materials.
But somehow, one of them had wandered into the excavation area, triggering an alarm. He’d taken a fall—physically unharmed, but now mechanically repeating, “I was wrong,” kneeling and kowtowing relentlessly.
Like a man possessed!
Over the phone, Yan and Zhu Jue listened in stunned silence.
Last night, it was all scientific archaeology. Today, it had turned into a horror movie.
With Brother Bao tied up by the incident, the two of them lost their appetite for sightseeing. After a quick meal at the hotel, they hailed a cab to the site.
As outsiders, even though they’d visited the night before, Yan and Zhu Jue were barred from entering due to the sensitive nature of the situation.
Outside the temporary holding room, they watched as Teacher Gao emerged, his brow furrowed.
Gao Zhiyuan instinctively reached for his pocket, only to remember he’d quit smoking over six months ago—no cigarettes or lighter to be found.
Old habits died hard. When faced with a problem, he still craved a smoke to help him think.
Instead, he pulled out a hard orange candy from his pocket and offered some to the young people at the door.
Ever since he’d reported his “special condition” to the authorities, Gao Zhiyuan hadn’t encountered many situations that made him frown.
But now, his worst fear had materialized.
The butterfly effect.
It all started over half a year ago. As a frontline archaeologist, keeping a daily journal was both a professional requirement and a personal habit.
Then one day, Gao Zhiyuan realized that every time he finished writing his diary, he could see another version—one dated in the future.
His diaries didn’t just record his daily work; they included personal reflections, anything he deemed significant. Major discoveries in the field.
But the future entries he could access weren’t sequential. Dates and times were random, often fragmented, sometimes vague.
This excavation site had appeared in one such entry—a major discovery, a salvage operation. The future Gao Zhiyuan had written with profound grief.
According to the future diary, the site had nearly been bulldozed by construction managers, with workers looting artifacts in the chaos. By the time archaeologists arrived, it was a last-ditch effort—a loss mourned by the entire field.
The first to alert authorities and the cultural relics bureau? A street vendor named Sister Chen, who sold stir-fried rice noodles near the site.
This site was linked to the Nanyue Tribe, a group scarcely documented in ancient texts, long considered more legend than fact.
The Nanyue people—the sorcerers of Lingnan.
The future Gao Zhiyuan had railed against the construction company’s lawlessness and shortsighted greed.
Even more bizarrely, the diary noted that those who’d initially damaged the tomb or stolen from it seemed cursed—falling ill, losing their minds, refusing food or water. Yet later archaeological teams encountered no such issues.
After Gao Zhiyuan “submitted” his future diary to the state, its contents were verified one by one. He was assigned bodyguards for protection.
When he read the entry about the Nanyue tomb, he immediately initiated protocols.
The present was three years ahead of the diary’s timeline. To his surprise, the company overseeing the land now wasn’t the same as the one in the future records—though construction preparations were already underway.
He didn’t know what had changed. But fortunately, the tomb—nearly destroyed in the future—remained intact, allowing for proper preservation.
Yet an anomaly had still occurred.
Just as the rumors recorded in the diary suggested, the young man who sneaked into the construction site with ill intentions last night had been “cursed” by the dead.
When the boy was found, he was clutching a piece of pottery with inscriptions on it—text that Gao Zhiyuan didn’t recognize.
The candy in his mouth hadn’t even finished melting when a student handed him a copy of the inscriptions traced from the pottery shard. Gao Zhiyuan held it, studying it over and over.
“What do you think these characters resemble?” he asked.
“Oracle bone script? Though they don’t quite look like it,” Brother Bao took the paper and examined it, while Yan and Zhu Jue immediately leaned in to look.
Their eyes froze.
No kidding, the more they stared, the more familiar one of the characters seemed.
Gao Zhiyuan had only asked the question casually, but now he noticed the two youngsters were stunned.
“Teacher Gao,” Yan spoke up.
“Do you know Professor Gu Jin?”
Gao Zhiyuan’s expression stiffened. “Student, are you referring to Old Gu from Ning University’s Archaeological Research Institute?”
“Exactly,” Yan nodded.
“The shamanic script of the southwestern tribes that Grandpa Gu studies… it looks very similar to this.”
However… she exchanged a glance with Zhu Jue.
“Now, this problem might not just be about archaeology anymore.”
Compared to the shamanic script Grandpa Gu researched, these “characters” were something both Yan and Zhu Jue had seen before.
They had seen them on the pair of bronze bells Ding Ling had gifted them.
***
Chapter 150
Bao Hui stared dumbfounded as his two close friends spoke to Teacher Gao in terms he couldn’t comprehend, then produced two small black booklets.
After showing the booklets to the guards, they were permitted to enter the area where the “thief” was being held.
Yan and Zhu Jue stepped into the prefab room and saw the thief who had sneaked into the construction site the previous night, only to meet misfortune.
From what they had gathered, this small gang consisted of three people, currently held in separate rooms. The one in this room appeared to be the one afflicted by the “curse.”
Inside, a single bed stood against one wall, and a chair was placed opposite it. The middle-aged thief was handcuffed to the bed, his eyes vacant.
Likely to prevent any erratic behavior, the room contained only these two pieces of furniture.
“Are you alright?” Yan and Zhu Jue approached cautiously, stopping about half a meter away from the shackled man.
He shook his head, lips trembling, his entire body quivering.
“R-reporting to the authorities, I didn’t do anything, I swear I didn’t do anything!”
“I’ll confess, I’ll confess everything!”
Listening to his words, Yan frowned.
His tone and the way he spoke suggested this wasn’t his first time in custody. She was about to ask more when the man repeated himself, his gaze growing increasingly vacant, as if his mind had shut down. His mouth hung open, eyes bulging, yet no more words came out.
This was clearly not normal.
Yan exchanged a glance with Zhu Jue, who nodded—his phone had recorded everything since they entered.
“How long has he been like this?” Yan asked.
“Since last night. When we found him, he was kneeling on the ground, kowtowing nonstop. We couldn’t even pull him up—it was like he was frozen in place.”
“It wasn’t until Teacher Gao loudly declared that he would face strict punishment that he finally stopped. Only then could we bring him in,” one of the guards explained.
“From last night till now, we’ve tried everything, but nothing has brought his mind back to normal.”
Yan proceeded to ask several more questions before sending the video footage to Ding Ling.
This was all she and Zhu Jue could do for now.
Teacher Gao clearly had the backing of state authorities, while Ding Ling’s “Special Case Team” was far better suited to handle the situation.
[Yan]: …That’s the situation.
[Yan]: I think you’ll need to bring the bells to deal with this.
Ding Ling replied instantly, promising to arrive as quickly as possible.
It was still morning, and with numerous flights from Bin City to Yang City, she would likely reach the site by afternoon to resolve the issue.
Though Yan didn’t know exactly how Ding Ling would handle it, she trusted her.
After all, those bronze bells had been gifts from Ding Ling, and they had proven effective during the Lan Ruo and Xie Zhen incident. Given the burial site beneath Bao Hui’s construction site, Yan suspected Ding Ling was already “in the know.”
When the two stepped out of the prefab room, they were met with Bao Hui’s wide-eyed stare.
“What’s going on with you two? Tell me—well, if you can. If not, never mind,” he said.
“Good news,” Yan replied.
“Don’t worry, specialists will handle it from here,” Zhu Jue added.
“Come on, take us to your dorm for now,” Zhu Jue said, pulling him along.
“Really? No trouble? I get it—you contacted experts from back home, right? Did they give a solution? I knew it! We should’ve made offerings before starting construction. We must’ve disturbed the ancestors. If this gets resolved, that’d be great,” Bao Hui rambled.
“Pretty much,” Yan said briefly. “We reached out to an expert who’ll coordinate directly with the authorities here. Things should move faster now.”
She had already learned from Teacher Gao that the relevant departments had initiated procedures as soon as the archaeological team reported the situation.
Still, Yan wasn’t sure which agency Teacher Gao represented—likely different from Ding Ling’s Special Case Team—and the information flow wasn’t seamless. It was quicker for her to call in help directly.
When in doubt, call for backup—that was her specialty.
Though they had reassured Bao Hui, his noticeably smaller lunch portion at the construction site canteen betrayed his unease.
They waited anxiously until, finally, a little past four in the afternoon, Ding Ling arrived!
A Jeep with special plates dropped her off at the construction site entrance. When Yan and Zhu Jue saw her, they noted her slender frame and the oversized bag she carried—the same one Lan Ruo had given her.
“Teacher Gao, this is Comrade Ling from our headquarters. She’ll be taking full charge of coordination with your team,” a local Special Case Team member introduced.
Bao Hui squeezed his head between Yan and Zhu Jue, peering out. “This is the expert? She’s so young!”
The unusually young “expert” walked toward them, greeting his two friends.
“Yan, Zhu Jue, I’ll head over first. You two… staying outside?” Ding Ling glanced at the couple.
“Go ahead, we won’t hold you up,” Yan immediately waved her off.
They had just been at school together yesterday, so there was no need for small talk—solving the problem took priority.
Ding Ling gave them a long look before quickening her pace.
In truth, before receiving Yan’s message, the special case team had already sent her a request for assistance, asking Ding Ling to lend out the two ritual artifacts.
She hadn’t even figured out how to reply when Yan’s WeChat message came through.
With Yan’s permission and the reminder she sent, Ding Ling naturally rushed over without delay.
Inside the makeshift shelter, Ding Ling examined the “victim”—who also happened to be the “suspect”—her gaze briefly sweeping over the “Teacher Gao” present at the scene.
To her slight embarrassment, she was only a nominal archaeologist. Yet, from Teacher Gao’s body—from his very soul—she could detect a strange scent, mingled with the musty odor of ancient soil.
“Comrade Lingdang, what do you need us to do next?” Teacher Gao nearly bit his tongue stumbling over the nickname.
The temporal diary he could access contained no record of the person who would resolve this in the future. But faced with this mysteriously young girl, Gao Yuan had no choice but to trust her.
He now belonged to a certain special division of the state, and this young female comrade before him was a “professional” dispatched by another classified unit after negotiations.
As for the friends of those two from the Bao family, they seemed to be peripheral members of the same organization.
“To untie the bell, the one who tied it must be found. Take me to last night’s scene,” Ding Ling said.
“He’s entangled with the resentment from below. What comes from the earth must return to it—outsiders can’t sever this bond.” Her tone was calm as she pressed her fingers against the suspect’s head in a few precise spots, instantly putting him to sleep.
“Holy shit, was that an acupressure point strike? The sleep point? When did you two meet such a badass sister?” Bao Hui exclaimed beside Yan and Zhu Jue.
Though he whispered, Ding Ling heard every word, the corner of her lips twitching slightly.
“Not acupressure,” she said, glancing up.
Bao Hui immediately fell silent before muttering in awe, “Damn, she heard that from all the way over there?”
For now, Ding Ling used her own yin energy to suppress the resentment clinging to the man, keeping him in a temporarily lucid state. Though she hadn’t visited the scene earlier, the materials she’d reviewed on the way had already given her some clues.
Teacher Gao arranged for someone to bring a wheelchair to transport the “suspect” back to last night’s crime scene. Yan and the others followed, passing under a massive sign that read “Archaeological Site—No Unauthorized Entry.”
“Where exactly did you pick up the pottery shard last night?”
“Boss, I… I don’t remember. It was too dark—I can’t recall a thing.”
“Why did you pick it up in the first place?” Ding Ling pressed.
“I—I don’t know either! It was like something came over me. We knew this was an archaeological site—we never planned to come here! We just wanted to grab some scrap metal!” the suspect protested.
The moment he finished speaking, his body convulsed uncontrollably, pitching him forward from the wheelchair until his forehead slammed against the ground in repeated kowtows.
“I was wrong. I was wrong!”
“I’m guilty. I’m guilty!”
Bao Hui shuddered at the sudden change, instinctively clutching Zhu Jue’s shoulder from behind Yan.
He wanted to reassure them that everything would be fine, but feared speaking might invite something unwanted, so he kept his mouth shut.
Comrade “Lingdang” reached into her oversized H-brand tote, retrieving a wooden box and two bronze bells.
The bells appeared identical, one held in each hand.
Ding Ling’s “Heart-Questioning Bell” and “Soul-Bewildering Bell” chimed simultaneously.
A clear, ethereal ringing resonated in everyone’s ears, as if their thoughts had been pulled across time, leaving all else forgotten.
By the time they snapped back to awareness, it felt like an eternity had passed—or perhaps mere seconds.
“It’s done,” the expert’s voice announced.
“But he’s still…” The suspect remained prostrate, forehead pressed to the ground.
Ding Ling glanced down. “What clings to him is accumulated resentment—what you might call underworld yin energy. Or, in simpler terms, the lingering obsession of the dead beneath this tomb.”
“This is a burial site of the Nanyue Tribe. The Nanyue people died with unfulfilled regrets. Archaeologists work with righteous intent, excavating and preserving as part of the proper order—the tomb’s owner won’t blame them. But those with ill intentions will be sensed… and punished accordingly.”
Teacher Gao froze at her explanation, recalling the description from his future diary.
In the future, when this underground tomb was excavated, those with ill intentions—those who sought to steal the relics and destroy the burial chamber—all fell victim to the “lingering resentment.”
“Don’t worry, at most you’ll be kowtowing for half a day. It won’t kill you,” Ding Ling said without even glancing over.
“There won’t be any issues with your continued work. Proceed as you normally would,” she stated with certainty.
“So… it’s resolved just like that?” Teacher Gao asked cautiously.
“These two bronze bells of yours, along with the materials related to the Nanyue Tribe…” Teacher Gao’s gaze was practically glued to the bells in Ding Ling’s hands. They were engraved with characters he couldn’t decipher at all, yet it was clear this “expert” before him understood them.
She seemed to have a headache, speaking slowly, each word deliberate. “The special case team doesn’t have any records. I’ll stay here for now to assist you.”
“This spot… should have been where pottery was fired,” Ding Ling murmured.
Her mind conjured scenes from countless years ago—fields of pottery scattered everywhere.
She had thought her arrival this time was to settle the karma tied to these two ritual bells, which she had exchanged for.
But just now, when the bronze bells clashed, on this very land, Ding Ling felt a sudden daze.
She thought she might have been a hanged ghost. Or perhaps… she was a bell herself.
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