It was raining again.
Wan You lounged in his chair, lazily flipping through the book in his hand. The weather meant few customers, and since he hadn’t stocked much, he wasn’t particularly worried about business being slow.
Rainwater washed away the dust on the ground as pedestrians hurried through the downpour.
The sky gradually darkened, but the rain showed no sign of stopping. Wan You decided to pack up and return to his rented room to read. Halfway through packing, a woman holding an umbrella appeared in front of his stall.
"Ugh." Wan You sighed, eyeing Xiaojuan, who had braved the rain to come here. "Fine, let’s go. I’ll treat you to dinner."
He had known she would come looking for him eventually.
Five minutes later, Xiaojuan stared at the bowl of egg noodles with greens in front of her—ten yuan a bowl. Had Wan You always been this stingy?
This was what he called treating someone to dinner?
"You’re not eating?" Wan You eyed the fried egg in her bowl.
"I am." Xiaojuan snapped apart the disposable chopsticks, quickly took a bite of the egg, then silently finished the rest of the noodles.
"So, what brings you here?" Wan You opened his umbrella and led Xiaojuan to sit beside his stall. "Just sit here. With the rain this heavy, no one will pay attention to what we say."
The little connection he had with Xiaojuan wasn’t worth her making this trip in the rain.
Xiaojuan got straight to the point. "Wan You, in that failed instance, what role did Chao Musheng play?"
Chao Musheng?
Wan You noticed that Xiaojuan’s tone when mentioning Chao Musheng was noticeably more familiar than the last time she had visited his barbecue stall.
"He was an outstanding student at Jinghua. When we entered the instance as trainees, he was one of the guides." Wan You paused. "The final assessment was graded by the guides."
"So, the guides could decide the players’ lives?" Xiaojuan immediately understood—Chao Musheng had been a key NPC in the last instance.
A major character from the last instance had now become a significant presence in the one she was currently in.
This was definitely not something the Main God would do.
"This world isn’t an instance at all."
A fierce gust of wind blew, splashing rain onto Xiaojuan’s face. "The so-called instance strategies are just a deception by the Main God’s space."
"Worlds successfully conquered by players become territories controlled by the Infinite Main God." Xiaojuan’s face paled. "I suspect that the more times an instance is cleared, the more rigid its NPCs become, until they eventually turn into mindless puppets of the Infinite Space."
Only lifeless worlds could be subjected to the Main God’s rules, while vibrant ones would always be filled with unpredictability beyond its control.
That was why the instances in the Infinite Space had varying difficulty levels.
The lowest-tier instances were likely worlds that had already "died" completely.
"That’s a bold theory." Wan You tapped his temple. "Aren’t you afraid of being monitored?"
"I brought a handheld signal jammer." Xiaojuan pointed to her bag. "I’ve tested it—as long as I use a jammer from this world, the system parasitizing my brain can’t monitor me properly."
The black-market vendor who sold it to her had sworn that while the jammer’s range was only one meter, it could block any signal.
Turns out he hadn’t lied—it even worked on the system.
It was so effective that she almost wondered if this world had some kind of supernatural resistance against the Infinite Main God’s invasion.
And that was exactly why she had grown increasingly suspicious of the Main God.
A system created by the Main God, defeated by a handheld jammer from this world? It was laughable.
"Wait." Wan You looked surprised. "Isn’t this thing illegal for civilians to buy?"
Xiaojuan was even more stunned. After dropping such a huge revelation, his first concern was the legality of the jammer?
She glanced at the top of Wan You’s head, deactivated the jammer, and used her skill. The purple identifier above him had stopped flickering, now firmly fixed in place.
Wan You had fully become a part of this world.
[Ding! Dear play—]
Hearing the system’s voice in her head, Xiaojuan turned the jammer back on, restoring momentary peace to her mind.
"What did you see above my head?" Having spent so long in the Infinite Space, Wan You recognized at once that Xiaojuan was using a skill or item to check his stats. Who would’ve thought he’d have stats in a player’s eyes too.
"A purple-tier identifier, same level as a B-rank instance’s major boss." Seeing Wan You’s pleased expression, Xiaojuan leisurely added, "But at Kunlun Headquarters, gold-tier employees are everywhere, and purples are as common as dogs. You’ve still got a ways to go."
"If they work at Kunlun Headquarters, it’s only natural they’re stronger than me." Wan You’s smile stiffened briefly before returning to normal. "No surprise there."
Xiaojuan scoffed at his stubbornness. His mouth was hard enough to chisel stone.
"That thing can only temporarily keep your words hidden from the system, but the system knew when you bought the jammer." Wan You studied the audacious woman before him. "How do you plan to fool it?"
"Who said I bought the jammer for the system? Everything I do is for the mission." Xiaojuan smirked, her smile laced with mockery. "Who knows? Maybe the system is desperately pretending everything’s normal, hoping I won’t figure out the truth."
Wan You raised an eyebrow. "Alright then. It’s pouring—you should get going."
Keeping the jammer on was interfering with his phone searches.
"Wan You." Xiaojuan opened her umbrella. "Looking forward to next time."
She turned off the jammer and disappeared into the bustling crowd.
[Ding! Dear player, the Main God temporarily lost connection with you earlier. Any progress on the mission?]
[None.]
Xiaojuan paused, listening to the cheerful patter of rain against her umbrella, and smiled.
As expected—the system was afraid.
"Xiao Chao, that intern you’re close with—she actually knows Wan You. They were talking downstairs just now."
At a dry pot restaurant upstairs, Old Li waved at Chao Musheng from his seat by the window. "Should we invite her up to eat with us?"
Chao Musheng leaned over to look outside. Xiaojuan had already gotten up with her umbrella, preparing to leave. He shook his head. "No need. She probably has her own plans."
Earlier, after work, he had received a text from Xiaojuan saying she was meeting a friend to catch up.
So that friend was Wan You.
"Xiao Chao, thanks again for helping us out during your lunch break. Otherwise, the Marketing Department would’ve been on our case again." His senior colleague was both grateful and somewhat wistful. To others, he was a team leader at Kunlun Headquarters’ game division—a respectable career.
But standing beside Chao Musheng, he truly felt the gap between their abilities.
No wonder their mentor adored Xiao Chao so much, treating him as a trusted right-hand man and even taking him along for major projects.
Hell, even he adored Xiao Chao.
"Xiao Chao, your summer internship ends in five days." The senior colleague sighed, reluctant. Without Xiao Chao, who else would be willing to help him like this?
"What are your plans for the next month?" his senior colleague asked. "Will you still come to the company for training during winter break?"
He hoped the company executives would have the sense to beg Chao Musheng to stay if necessary.
"The company extended my contract for another month, so I can be your colleague for one more month," Chao Musheng said as he poured a drink into his senior’s glass. "But I don’t want to work during winter break—I’ll be staying home with my family."
The senior stared at Chao Musheng’s vibrant, youthful face, feeling a pang of envy. This was the textbook definition of a radiant, energetic young man.
"So, does this mean our game development team is saved for the next month?" Old Li snatched the drink bottle from Chao Musheng’s hands, fawning over him. "Let me handle this—such menial tasks shouldn’t be done by our Brother Chao."
"Here, Brother Chao, have some meat."
Chao Musheng looked at the mountain of food piled in his bowl, then at the three different flavored drinks placed in front of him. "..."
How had he, the youngest in the group, ended up being called "Brother" by everyone?
His colleagues in the game department were overly enthusiastic. By the time Chao Musheng left after the meal, he was uncomfortably full.
Declining their offers to see him home, he walked along the roadside with his umbrella. Wan You’s barbecue stall had already packed up, leaving the usual spot empty.
Exiting the alley, his ride-hailing app showed over 20 passengers ahead of him in the queue. He sighed helplessly.
Once this month’s internship ended, he’d drive himself to work.
"Musheng."
A car pulled up in front of him. Su Chenzhu stepped out, holding an umbrella, and walked toward him. "Waiting for a ride?"
"Mr. Su?" Worried that rainwater might drip from his umbrella onto Su Chenzhu, Chao Musheng quickly closed it.
"Where are you headed?" Su Chenzhu shifted his own umbrella to cover Chao Musheng, turning slightly to shield him from the wind and rain.
"I was planning to go home." Chao Musheng noticed raindrops landing on Su Chenzhu’s shoulders, soaking through his white dress shirt and making it translucent.
"Get in. I’ll take you." Su Chenzhu lightly guided Chao Musheng’s arm toward the car door before quickly letting go. He took the folded umbrella and stashed it in the trunk. "Hurry inside—don’t get wet."
Chao Musheng slid into the car, moving over to make room on the right.
"Mr. Su," he said when Su Chenzhu returned after storing the umbrella, noticing that most of his clothes were drenched. "Do you want to change?"
"It’s fine. There aren’t any spare clothes in the car." Su Chenzhu took a towel handed to him by the driver, removed his glasses, and casually wiped his damp hair. "The weather isn’t cold."
His half-soaked shirt clung to his chest, faintly outlining his firm, well-defined muscles.
The driver in front silently tossed a bag from the passenger seat to the floor, where it tipped over, revealing a corner of fabric.
He averted his gaze, staring straight ahead as he raised the partition between the front and back seats.
Su Chenzhu loosened his tie and tossed it aside, then undid the top buttons of his damp collar. A few unruly strands of hair fell over his ears.
"Want something to drink?" He bent down to open the car’s mini-fridge and glanced up at Chao Musheng.
Chao Musheng’s gaze inadvertently dipped, following the open collar down to the contours of Su Chenzhu’s chest and abs.
Stupid eyes, stop staring!
He pretended to look away with exaggerated nonchalance. "I drank a lot at dinner—I’m not thirsty right now."
Mr. Su’s abs are really well-defined.
"How about candy?"
Another orange-flavored lollipop.
"Thank you, Mr. Su." Chao Musheng took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. Instantly, he was enveloped in the sweet, tangy scent of oranges.
Unable to resist, he glanced at Su Chenzhu again. The man was rolling up his sleeves, a few stray locks of hair falling over his eyelids.
Without his glasses, Su Chenzhu looked sharper, more strikingly handsome—his usual elegance replaced by an air of dominance and intensity.
"I heard someone from the film department gave you trouble?" Su Chenzhu put his glasses back on, his demeanor once again refined and composed as he looked at Chao Musheng. "I’ve already dealt with it. They won’t bother you again."
"It wasn’t a big deal." Chao Musheng hadn’t expected the matter to reach Su Chenzhu’s ears. Recently, Agent Wang from the film department had approached him twice, apologizing on behalf of an artist and hoping he’d put in a good word with his mother. "I don’t know much about my mom’s work, so I couldn’t help even if I wanted to."
And even if he could, he wouldn’t. He’d seen the vile comments from the artist’s fans attacking his mother online.
Who would help an outsider who hurt their own mother? He wasn’t that naive.
"The film department’s conduct has been problematic—poor management, some artists lacking integrity. I’ve ordered a strict investigation." Su Chenzhu continued, "Lin Hui’s case has been resolved. His personal misconduct led to the termination of his collaboration with Time Magazine. He brought it upon himself."
He handed his phone to Chao Musheng. "Five minutes ago, the film department issued a formal apology."
On the screen was a public statement from the company’s official account, detailing Lin Hui’s various misdeeds since his rise to fame and explicitly condemning his lack of moral character.
The comment section was flooded with shocked onlookers. Companies usually defended their artists—this was the first time anyone had seen one publicly denounce their own.
[Did anyone else notice this line? "The company respects artists’ freedom of choice but will not tolerate illegal behavior or emotional manipulation." Classic Kunlun move.]
[LOL, Lin Hui’s fans are still in denial while everyone else is laughing at how hard the company just threw him under the bus.]
[Kunlun’s film division has been around for two years, right? I don’t think they’ve produced anything noteworthy. Bet they’re running at a loss.]
[No wonder Time Magazine cut ties with Lin Hui. His fans even harassed the editor-in-chief. The magazine handled it professionally—they never badmouthed him despite the backlash. Fans should go apologize.]
Chao Musheng clicked into Time Magazine’s official account. The comments were full of praise for their principled stance—refusing to enable toxic behavior for profit.
He absentmindedly liked a comment complimenting his mother, then remembered it was Su Chenzhu’s phone and hastily unliked it before handing the phone back.
"Don’t worry, this is my personal account." Su Chenzhu took the phone and re-liked the comment.
Seeing the little red heart reappear, Chao Musheng couldn’t help but smile at Su Chenzhu.
"Once the software testing phase is over, would you prefer to stay in R&D or spend some time in the executive office?" Su Chenzhu inhaled the sweet orange scent lingering in the air. "If you’re considering entrepreneurship, the executive office might offer valuable experience."
At Chao Musheng’s current level, staying in the software team wouldn’t contribute much to his growth. The chip research center was a state-collaborative project requiring extensive confidentiality agreements—not ideal for his future flexibility.
Chao Musheng hesitated. "Mr. Su… aren’t you putting too much faith in me?"
The CEO's office held countless corporate secrets—was it really appropriate to let an intern stay there?
"Kunlun is vast; it won't collapse over a few trade secrets." Su Chenzhu relaxed his brows with a faint smile. "Besides... I trust you."
Chao Musheng's heart itched slightly. He rubbed his nose and turned to gaze at the raindrops on the car window.
Ah, such straightforward trust made him a little shy.
The car stopped outside the residential complex. Su Chenzhu opened the door, stepped out, and unfurled an umbrella, waiting for Chao Musheng to exit.
The broad umbrella shielded the car door completely, ensuring not a single drop of rain touched Chao Musheng as he stepped out.
Glancing at his perfectly dry self and then at Su Chenzhu’s disheveled shirt, Chao Musheng wondered—wasn’t it a bit upside-down for the boss to open the door and hold an umbrella for him?
"This umbrella is large. Take it home." The still-warm handle was pressed into Chao Musheng’s hand before he could react, and Su Chenzhu had already bent down to slip back into the car.
Staring at the rain-soaked marks on the other man’s shirt, Chao Musheng felt a surge of respect.
No wonder Kunlun thrived so well—the boss would go to such lengths to retain talent, treating them with such humility.
Was this the magnanimity and vision of a great leader?
"Goodbye, Mr. Su." He waved at the figure inside the car.
"Hurry back. Don’t get wet."
Actively concerned about his health—what a good boss.
Watching Chao Musheng leave, Su Chenzhu removed his glasses, staring blankly at the blurred silhouette fading into the rain.
Did that so-called "half-hidden, half-revealed wet shirt allure" from the books actually work?
"Not the one with the fully exposed upper body—too blatant ruins the aesthetic." Chao Yin was on the phone with a colleague. Spotting Chao Musheng’s return, she lowered her voice. "The allure lies in what’s hinted at, not fully shown."
"Musheng, you're back?" Hanging up, Chao Yin asked, "You have tomorrow off—any plans?"
Chao Musheng shook his head. "After a week of crunching with the software dev and gaming teams, I just want to lie in bed and go nowhere."
"Fine. Your dad and I are visiting the Song Family tomorrow, so order takeout for lunch." Chao Yin was in high spirits, unfazed even by the mention of the Songs.
Chao Musheng hesitated. "Mom, have you seen Kunlun’s public apology from their film division?"
"I have." Chao Yin smiled. "In our industry, PR is everything. The moment Kunlun’s statement went live, I got word."
"Seems their internal cleanup is serious this time—I’ve never seen a company slap its own artists left and right like this." She pushed a fruit platter toward him. "After so many firms shielding their own, Kunlun’s bluntness is almost shocking."
Truly, the deep pockets of Kunlun made their boldness intimidating.
"Maybe the boss just disapproves of the film division’s conduct." Chao Musheng nibbled on a piece of fruit. "At least Lin Hui’s fans won’t keep harassing you."
"In our line of work, criticism comes with the territory." Chao Yin brushed it off. "Remember two years ago, after your college entrance exams, when that media outlet interviewed you? The comments were full of netizens gushing over your looks, urging you to join the entertainment industry."
"Netizens fall for eighty pretty faces a day—since when are their words reliable?" Chao Musheng scoffed. If he actually debuted, they’d nitpick him head to toe.
Gluttonous, playful, and drawn to drama—his personality was hardly idol material.
"Tch. And yet, who screenshotted those comments and bragged on social media, ‘Guess I could conquer showbiz’?" Chao Yin mercilessly exposed him. "Who was that?"
"I was young and dumb." Chao Musheng flushed. "Besides, I deleted it right after!"
At seventeen or eighteen, craving praise and brimming with vanity—such cringe was best left buried.
It wasn’t exactly a proud moment.
With three days left in the instance, the player chat group had dwindled to five active icons.
The survivors eyed No. 25’s lit avatar with mixed feelings—who’d have thought the weakest link would last this long?
Since the last player’s failed mission led to erasure, the group had sunk into silence, no messages for days.
No. 2 stood outside the office, watching staff box up Lin Hui’s belongings. Adjusting his black-framed glasses, he observed coldly.
"Without me and Lin Hui, you won’t last here either." Agent Wang strode out, clutching his personal effects. Spotting No. 2 loitering, he sneered. "Was it you who fed the higher-ups evidence of my ‘employee abuse’?"
"Brother Wang, I’ve no idea what you mean." No. 2 smiled. "May your post-Kunlun ventures thrive gloriously."
Agent Wang’s face darkened. Blacklisted by Kunlun, his career was as good as over.
This bastard was mocking him.
Who’d have guessed the meek, pushover intern would stab him in the back?
Ignoring Agent Wang’s glare, No. 2 headed to the cafeteria to "coincidentally" bump into Xiaojuan.
At the sight of him, Xiaojuan scowled. "I told you to stay away."
"If you truly wanted me gone, you’d have used NPCs to kill me long ago." No. 2 set his tray beside her. "Keeping me alive serves no purpose."
"I spared you because, in my first rookie instance, you were the only one who helped me." Xiaojuan met his gaze. "Back then, you smiled often—told me to call you Brother Qiang."
No. 2 froze.
He hated remembering his early days—naive, impulsive, recklessly kind, nearly getting himself killed by teammates.
He didn’t even recall aiding Xiaojuan.
How laughable—his survival now hinged on the very past he despised.
The past he refused to acknowledge.
