The modern world is like a sieve (4): 

This is how it went.

On the morning of the second day after Zhou Song left, when Si Qi was finally not so busy, under Chu Feng’s arrangement, he met with the members of the Bureau of Transversal Management.

Perhaps because they had heard too many rumors about Si Qi in the past two days, the members were extremely curious about him; or perhaps because they were intimidated by Chu Feng’s authority and had already been warned in advance.

This group of people, who had once suffered heavily at the hands of traversers and were deeply afraid of them, were exceptionally friendly when they saw Si Qi.

If not for Si Qi’s cold and intimidating aura, these people would probably have rushed up to give him an enthusiastic hug each.

Of course, it might also have been because Si Qi was holding a sugar-coated hawthorn skewer, eating it bite by bite in such a well-behaved way, that they couldn’t raise the slightest bit of wariness and could only twitch their lips, trying not to laugh.

Si Qi had no idea that, in the eyes of these Chinese people, a skewer of candied hawthorns was no different from a cup of coffee. Chu Feng, being especially mischievous, had no intention of telling him. So, while slowly savoring the treat under Chu Feng’s indulgent gaze, believing he was maintaining his lofty image quite well, he listened attentively to the members’ self-introductions, trying to absorb new knowledge as much as he could.

Things like super hackers, archaeologists, and famous novelists—these were terms Si Qi (or rather, the original host) had never encountered before. Every time someone introduced themselves, Si Qi would ask what that occupation meant, and with each answer, he only felt that there was even more he didn’t know.

Si Qi’s earnest willingness to learn made him seem especially gentle. The sight of him carefully listening while holding his candied hawthorn skewers nearly melted everyone’s hearts.

Normally, when a traverser was discovered (or caught) by the bureau, they would be assigned a counselor who would explain the situation of this world and help them integrate quickly, preventing them from constantly committing illegal acts.

Si Qi, by rights, should also have been assigned such a person. But Chu Feng, using the excuse of “this is the bureau’s first traverser member, I need to stay close to observe and ensure the safety of the team,” confidently seized that role for himself.

From then on, whether it was tasting all kinds of new food, using utensils, figuring out how the shower worked in the bathroom, or learning how to wear modern clothes—Chu Feng always appeared openly at Si Qi’s side, teaching him hand-in-hand.

And because this bureau director always carried himself with such righteousness, the naïve Si Qi never realized the other was actually a scheming wolf, teasing him the entire time without him noticing.

Now, after everyone had finished giving their names and professions, all eyes turned toward Si Qi. When they saw him take out a bagua compass from a jade talisman no bigger than a thumb, they all gasped in amazement, as if watching a magic trick.

Si Qi: “From now on, every morning, I will conduct a divination to mark out the traversers within the country.”

The self-proclaimed super hacker tapped on his keyboard, projecting a national map onto the large screen in the command room so everyone could see clearly.

Soon, Si Qi pointed out all the current traversers in the country one by one, while the hacker marked each location on the map.

“There are five here locally, and one in X province.”

Of the five locals, one was naturally Si Qi himself. Of the remaining four, three had already been found and placed under surveillance by the bureau, leaving only one unaccounted for—a so-called fish that slipped through the net.

The bureau members present all looked grim. They had known there must still be undiscovered traversers in the country, but learning there were actually two more made their hearts sink.

Chu Feng: “What are their identities and abilities?”

Si Qi: “One of them is from your world’s ancient past, has no special abilities, name is Zhou Yankang, profession: founding emperor.”

The moment he said this, the room erupted. Si Qi looked at the suddenly excited people, puzzled as to why they cared so much. To him, an emperor was nothing special; in the cultivation world there were plenty of them. He continued unhurriedly: “The other is a wood-element elf. Since there are too few plants in the city, it is currently recuperating in the forest…”

Since X province was famous for its many mountains and forests, an expert in geography and biology nodded in realization. But before he could speak, a historian had already burst out in excitement, shouting at the top of his lungs with a red face: “I want to see the First Emperor! Let me go!!”

“I must welcome His Majesty!!”

A girl nearby rolled her eyes and pushed him back down. “The Great Qing’s been gone for thousands of years, what do you mean ‘welcome His Majesty’? Do you really want to bring back an emperor to worship?”

The historian roared in outrage: “You must not be disrespectful to the First Emperor!”

The girl rolled her eyes again and said to Chu Feng: “Boss, I think he’s out of his mind. Better not let him go.”

The historian jumped with fury: “No! I must go!!”

So, when Zhou Song arrived, this was the scene he saw.

After hearing the situation, Zhou Song could only laugh and cry: “If it really is the First Emperor, there shouldn’t be too much danger. Just send a few special forces members to go with Elder Yang and bring him back.”

The girl muttered, “Most likely just another guy demanding special privileges and concubines…”

The historian nearly exploded: “What do you know about the First Emperor? He’s a world-renowned great man, a wise and diligent ruler! He and his wife shared deep affection, leaving countless beautiful stories. He founded the glorious Great Qing dynasty…” and on and on.

The girl rolled her eyes: “Fine, fine, go ahead. When he calls you a ‘lowly commoner,’ says you’ve overstepped your station, despises you for daring to walk alongside him, and orders your head chopped off, you’ll see.”

The historian shouted: “My idol would never do such a thing!!”

The girl smirked: “Aha, finally you admit it. You’re just going to chase a celebrity!”

Zhou Song: “……”

Ignoring their bickering, Zhou Song turned to Si Qi: “And the wood-element elf you mentioned—could it be dangerous?”

Si Qi: “You mean does it have combat power? Yes. To ordinary people, if you anger an elf, the forest will become a purgatory of plants, swallowing intruders whole.”

Zhou Song frowned: “But we don’t understand the elf’s language. How can we communicate and get it to cooperate with us?”

If the elf loved plants too much and saw concrete cities as harming vegetation, or saw villagers cutting trees and trampling grass, it might grow furious and drive humans out, flooding cities with plants. That would be a disaster.

This wasn’t wild speculation, but a reasonable deduction based on previous traversers’ cases.

Si Qi thought for a moment: “I’ve heard that the Chinese people love planting, and see the land as their nurturing mother?”

Zhou Song was startled, then nodded: “Yes, that’s true.”

Farming was something etched into Chinese DNA. Even city dwellers who barely knew crops still liked keeping flowers and plants at home. Even just a cactus on the desk could cheer them up.

Si Qi: “In that case, there’s no need to worry.”

At first Zhou Song didn’t understand, then his eyes lit up, faintly grasping something.

Chu Feng spoke directly: “Scientific planting, cuttings, organic fertilizer—I think the wood elf would like our gifts.”

At once, Zhou Song realized what had just flashed through his mind and laughed heartily: “Exactly! If the wood elf loves plants, it will surely love our gift!!”

Si Qi: “Miss Bai is our team’s botany expert, and Mr. Li is an agricultural researcher. I’m sure they can handle this task.”

The two, suddenly named, turned to look at Si Qi.

They hadn’t expected that after they had merely given their names and professions earlier, Si Qi would remember both of them, and accurately pick them out from the crowd.

Si Qi: “The wood elf is shy and timid. After arriving here it was frightened, and on the way to X province it saw many people harming plants. It doesn’t have a good impression of humans. This time there may be some obstacles, so I will accompany them to ensure their safety.”

Hearing this, Li and Bai both breathed a sigh of relief.

They had only met Si Qi half an hour ago, yet when he said this, they felt a genuine sense of reassurance, as if instinctively certain that this person could protect them. Whatever it was, if entrusted to him, it would be fine.

Zhou Song, hearing that Si Qi was willing to help and might even perform spells on-site, was moved. He asked Chu Feng: “What do you think, Director Chu?”

Chu Feng would never casually deny Si Qi’s proposal. He nodded: “I’ll go with them.”

Zhou Song let out a breath of relief.

As long as Chu Feng followed, no matter what happened with Si Qi, he was confident Chu Feng could handle it.

The two scholars, suddenly given an important mission, didn’t waste time. They discussed what “gifts” to prepare and gave a list to the logistics department.

Then they went to the planting base, carefully choosing two pots of crops that had been carefully bred over generations and were in excellent condition, transplanting them into flowerpots as “greeting gifts.”

After a busy morning, the bureau members split into two teams: one led by the historian, to “welcome the First Emperor”; the other composed of Si Qi, Chu Feng, and others, who flew to X province to find the wood elf hiding in the forest.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, near the place where Si Qi had first arrived in this world, a young man named Han Zhen was squatting by his doorstep, clutching his head in despair.

“Why hasn’t he come? Why isn’t he here…”

Han Zhen slumped against the dirty outer wall of his house, muttering to himself, eyes full of panic and anxiety.

Yesterday had probably been the hardest day of his life. The golden finger he had been so certain would appear never came. That feeling of falling from heaven into the dust was unbearable.

As the bright sky darkened bit by bit, Han Zhen’s mood sank into darkness with it. He spent the whole night squatting outside, staring at the sky, unable to sleep.

“Could it be that my rebirth caused a butterfly effect, delaying the leader’s arrival? Or did I get the time wrong…”

Han Zhen kept trying to think positively, never daring to guess that maybe Si Qi had never come to this world at all—or that he had arrived, but hadn’t chosen him this time, instead choosing someone else.

That would mean Han Zhen would have no connection with that great man, would never regain the “glory” of his previous life, would never become the vice-leader of the Traverser Alliance, second only to Si Qi, commanding others.

He knew clearly in his heart: without Si Qi as his golden finger, he was just another insignificant person among billions on Blue Star. Losing Si Qi’s trust meant losing his shortcut to rise above the masses. If he wanted to become someone powerful, he had to find Si Qi and cling to him.

No other traverser would do, because their personalities were too unpredictable to get along with. Only Si Qi, despite his overwhelming strength, had been willing to communicate sincerely and believe every word Han Zhen said. Their cooperation had been seamless, and every day after meeting Si Qi had been immensely enjoyable for him.

Perhaps once he was strong enough to stand as Si Qi’s equal, he might think of replacing him as the leader of the alliance. But for now, that was impossible. Without Si Qi, the Traverser Alliance of the past could never have been established. That unruly bunch of members only listened because of Si Qi’s strength. Han Zhen had never planned to go it alone—he only wanted to cling to Si Qi’s leg and flaunt borrowed power.

The sun in the east slowly rose overhead. Having stood in place for an entire day and night, with his stomach growling from hunger and not daring to return to his room for food, Han Zhen, who had been frozen stiff all night, finally could not hold on any longer.

Drowsily leaning against the wall, his consciousness slipped bit by bit into darkness. The long-lost sleep felt unbelievably comfortable, but before long, someone suddenly shoved him awake, shocking him so badly that his whole body trembled.

He thought the person was Si Qi, and his face lit up with joy, only to see instead a middle-aged woman standing above him, looking down. Realizing he was still alive, she scolded in irritation, “Where did this drunk come from, lying on the ground in broad daylight? Scared me half to death—I thought you were a corpse! I almost called the police!”

Han Zhen froze. Since crossing over, he had barely encountered any living people—or even before that, he hadn’t often seen such “lively” living people. What he had seen were refugees wailing in despair and zombies reeking of rot.

After spending so long at Si Qi’s side, even government leaders treated him with vigilance and respect, speaking to him as if he were an important figure. It had been ages since anyone had dared curse him so bluntly. His pent-up frustration from the previous night erupted all at once. He leapt up and kicked the woman in the stomach, leaving her dumbstruck.

When she recovered, she was nearly beside herself with rage, screaming, “He hit me! There’s a lunatic hitting people! Help!” Waving her hands, she lunged at Han Zhen, clawing at his face, unleashing the formidable combat power of a middle-aged woman. She pounced, and Han Zhen—who had never fought in such an “undignified” way—ended up being pinned to the ground and beaten instead.

She gouged at his eyes, kicked between his legs, and within moments, the groggy, half-asleep Han Zhen was left utterly defenseless. Collapsed on the ground, clutching himself in excruciating pain, he tasted humiliation carved deep into his bones.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, you wretched woman! I’ll tear you to pieces and let the zombies bite you to death!”

Han Zhen cursed nonstop, terrifying the passersby who had rushed over after hearing the cries for help.

Instinctively, they thought they’d stumbled upon some vicious murderer and nearly turned to flee. But on closer look—hey! The loudmouthed young man spewing threats was actually being pinned down and slapped silly by a woman. Every time he shouted, she smacked him again, leaving his face covered in handprints, a complete mess.

For someone in his twenties, young and strong, to be beaten like this by a woman—it was obvious just how useless he was.

The bystanders who had felt afraid just moments ago no longer feared him. They came forward to break up the fight and pulled Han Zhen away from the woman, though he kept cursing.

Because he looked so miserable, some even felt sympathy, assuming he must have unintentionally offended a difficult middle-aged woman who had gone too far.

But the woman, trembling with fury, pointed at the slap marks on her face and the footprint on her belly, eyes reddened as she cried out to the crowd, “Tell me, was I wrong? I saw this young man lying on the ground, thought he might be in trouble, and came over to help. And what did he do? He kicked me in the stomach, called me a wretch, and even slapped me! I’m over forty years old—why should I suffer this humiliation for no reason?! And listen to the things he’s saying now. He’s a mad dog who bites everyone he sees!”

Meanwhile, saved by the onlookers, Han Zhen found their amused stares unbearable as they mocked, “How can you be so useless, getting beaten by a woman?” His face burned hotter than before, and he grew angrier than the woman herself.

He shoved away the kind passerby who tried to steady him and shouted, “You worthless peasants! What right do you have to stand before me and point fingers? Sooner or later, I’ll kill you all!”

The words froze the crowd into silence for a moment—then everyone exploded in anger.

The woman charged at him again, hands gripping his throat, snarling, “Mouth full of murder threats—you little bastard, I’ll strangle you!” Han Zhen struggled to resist, but the bystanders who were “breaking up the fight” subtly blocked him, scolding, “How can you hit a woman?” He ended up once more on the ground, pinned and beaten by her.

Though furious, the woman never struck to kill—mostly slaps. But the public humiliation was unbearable for Han Zhen, who was already deeply delusional. The more he was beaten, the angrier he grew, spewing wilder threats: that zombies would devour them, their souls would be eaten by vengeful spirits, they’d never reincarnate.

The more he spoke, the angrier the crowd grew, fully convinced he was a lunatic babbling nonsense.

Finally, exhausted, the woman dusted off her hands and stood up, muttering, “Meeting a nutcase like this must be the worst luck of eight lifetimes!” She turned and left.

None of the other passersby thought of calling the police or intervening further; as soon as she left, they scattered even faster, afraid Han Zhen might drag them into it as witnesses.

Han Zhen was left alone, collapsed by the wall, watching the alley empty in an instant. His eyes reddened with fury, tears nearly spilling from sheer anger.

“Leader… Leader, where are you… These lowly beasts dared to bully your most loyal subordinate. You must kill them for me…”

Si Qi, on the other side of the country, had no idea that a so-called “loyal underling” was pining after him. And even if he knew, he’d probably be applauding those passersby.

At that moment, Si Qi had just followed Chu Feng off the plane, heading straight into the forest outside the city.

In this modern age of advanced technology, it was rare within China to find such untouched land, free of human presence and pollution. The moment they stepped out of the car, two scholars who knew the country’s ecological conditions best gasped in disbelief at the lush forest before them, sighing from the heart, “It’s perfect…”

The ecosystem, the growth of the plants, even the color of the leaves—all of it was breathtaking.

To the untrained accompanying staff, the experts’ excitement was incomprehensible. They couldn’t tell subtle differences between plants, just as they couldn’t appreciate why an agronomist would spend half a lifetime making one rice stalk just a bit sturdier than another.

All they saw was that the dense vegetation would make the path difficult and hinder their ability to protect the Bureau members if danger arose, so their expressions remained grim.

In contrast, the two experts’ faces relaxed with delight the moment they got out, tension gone.

The soldiers of the special forces instinctively reached for their knives to clear a path through the knee-high weeds. But remembering the mission’s key rule—“absolutely no harm to the plants”—they instead used their bodies to gently push the grass aside, testing a path forward.

Still, no one knew what poisonous insects or snakes might lurk in this primitive forest. Their vigilance rose to the highest level.

But Si Qi’s actions quickly ended any thought of taking such risks.

The tall young man raised a slender, pale hand and pointed forward.

Instantly, the thick vegetation shifted aside as if alive. Fallen branches slid away, grasses bowed low, and a clean, orderly path opened before them, like something out of a movie.

Everyone gasped in awe, eyes shining as they looked at Si Qi.

Si Qi spread his divine sense across the mountain and found a small figure lying dazed among the flowers.

Si Qi: “Found her.”

It was a tiny girl, no taller than a thumb, with two little braids, wearing a dress of leaves, her skin pale as snow.

After Si Qi roughly described her appearance, Chu Feng commanded, “Stay behind the Immortal, and do not damage any plants.”

The group answered solemnly, carrying various agricultural products as they stepped into the forest.

The two less-fit scholars insisted on carrying their institute’s newest treasures themselves, cradling the pots like their very lives. The special forces soldiers could only shake their heads helplessly at their devotion.

Yet, unlike the dangerous encounters they had imagined, this “contact with an otherworldly being” went surprisingly smoothly. Si Qi casually moved massive tree stumps aside with spiritual power, clearing the way. Not even mosquitoes dared approach them. The journey felt more like a sightseeing trip, filled with awe at the natural beauty they rarely experienced.

When they finally spotted the timid little spirit hiding behind a tree root, clutching a fallen leaf, she looked so pitifully cute that they thought, “She’s adorable,” instead of seeing a threat.

The tiny girl gazed tearfully at the approaching giants, hugging the leaf tighter. A gentle force lifted her up, and she squeaked in fright, looking wronged like a bullied child.

The surrounding trees suddenly grew, branches forming a protective barrier around her.

Seeing this, Si Qi did not push further, withdrawing his spiritual power and letting her hide.

Little spirit: “Chirp chirp, ya ya!”

Everyone: “……”

They had already prepared for the language barrier and turned expectantly to the two scholars.

Witnessing such a miracle, the two were instantly filled with love for the little spirit who could accelerate plant growth. Ignoring the soldiers’ attempts to stop them, they rushed forward with their treasured pots, eyes shining, and said, “For you! A gift!”

“Hope you! Like it!”

“We, humans! Friendly!”

“Let’s be friends!!”

Why humans always spoke in broken phrases when facing foreigners, aliens, animals, or babies—no one knew. The little spirit wouldn’t understand anyway.

But their eager sincerity still reached her. The tiny girl peeked shyly out, watching the two giants.

Nearby, a Bureau member recording the scene thought to himself, “This looks less like diplomacy and more like two weird uncles trying to lure a child.”

Yet, before their eyes, the two plant fanatics, through sheer passion, expressions, and gestures, gradually melted the spirit’s fear. Slowly, she stepped out from her wooden fortress. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

What they didn’t realize was that it wasn’t the scholars’ heartfelt words that reassured her. Rather, it was the plants in the pots boasting proudly to her about how humans treasured and cherished them, how happy they were living at the institute. That was what eased her fear of these noisy giants.

This little spirit—who in the original timeline would have become the notorious “Plant Tyrant,” humanity’s sworn enemy—now timidly walked up to the overjoyed researchers and offered a cautious, friendly smile.

Her sweet smile melted their hearts at once. They enthusiastically introduced her to human “specialties”: fertile soil, nutrients that plants loved—perfect gifts that unlocked her trust. Delighted, she fluttered in the air, laughing joyfully with clear, happy cries.

She had become humanity’s friend.

The modern world is like a sieve (5): 

With just a pile of fertilizer and two pots of plants, they managed to trick the powerful wood spirit into coming home. Members of the Bureau, who had once fought several times against the traversers and still carried deep psychological shadows, stared blankly at the lively little spirit fluttering around the office, feeling as if they were dreaming.

They watched as the little one scattered seeds here, blooming pretty flowers to gift the young lady she found beautiful; over there, she wove a delicate vine crown and carefully tried to offer it to Siqi. Gradually, everyone lowered their guard and began to truly like this adorable little spirit.

The spirit loved nature and naturally felt goodwill toward cultivators, who were close to the Dao of Heaven. The spiritual energy radiating from Siqi brimmed with vitality; just being near him was extraordinarily comfortable. The little one liked him very much, just as she loved her spirit trees.

The two experts circled her the whole time, holding the plants she had given them, their faces radiating such exaggerated joy that it looked unsettling, so much so that people around them instinctively stepped back.

Sitting at his seat, Zhou Song gazed at the little bird-like spirit fluttering nearby. Her translucent green wings shimmered like rippling light, looking as beautiful as gemstones.

It was hard to imagine that within such a tiny body lay such tremendous power—enough to make an entire mountain range of plants thrive within just a few days, growing at several times the normal rate.

If such power were unleashed upon humans, the consequences would be catastrophic. Unless humanity was willing to set fire to the mountains, neither bullets nor tanks would have much effect on plants that felt no pain from wounds of flesh or blood.

What’s more, as long as there were seeds and soil, the wood spirit could endlessly attack humans. If this little one were ever angered and chose to hide and grow in secret, humanity would surely face a devastating disaster.

Back in the Grand Elder’s office, Zhou Song had once read letters describing how, after traversers appeared, many cities across Huaguo were attacked by plants. Some became havens for vegetation, and many crops growing in the soil suddenly turned poisonous. Instead of providing nourishment, they drained the life of those who ate them, as though taking revenge for being harvested by humans. Now humans were dying in the same way they had once killed the plants.

Watching Siqi and the spirit getting along harmoniously, Zhou Song felt a wave of relief.

The letters had said that Siqi belonged to the same camp as the Plant Tyrant, bringing great disasters to Huaguo.

Now, however, Huaguo maintained friendly cooperation with Siqi, and because of him, the wood spirit had also become a friend to Huaguo. As long as this relationship continued, the so-called “Traverser Alliance” mentioned in the letters might instead become the “Huaguo Alliance,” turning into a powerful support.

As he was thinking, a group of middle-aged men and women, darker-skinned than the average person, knocked and entered the office.

The moment they pushed open the door and saw the little one flying inside, they froze in their tracks, as if witnessing something too bizarre to comprehend.

Startled by the sudden newcomers, the little one nervously darted behind Siqi. The two botanists, still holding their flowerpots and grinning foolishly, stood behind Siqi, so absorbed in their own delight that they didn’t even realize they should step forward to introduce both sides.

It was the newcomers who first regained composure. Remembering what their superiors had told them earlier, they forced themselves to remain calm, walked up to the two scholars, and, looking curiously at the spirit perched on Siqi’s shoulder, asked, “This… this is…?”

The two experts, snapping back to reality upon seeing old colleagues, hurriedly explained: “This is a newly discovered species within the country, a wood spirit. She has the ability to control plants, accelerate their growth, and make them complete rooting, sprouting, and fruiting in just a few dozen seconds…”

This group, all veterans in the field of botany with decades of experience—people who understood plants better than their own families—almost had their worldviews shattered hearing this. Their hearts nearly skipped a beat before one of them strained to ask, “Do you… have any concrete research records of this?”

“Of course we do.” Since the Bureau couldn’t be exposed, the experts had to claim she was a newly discovered Blue Star species. But all of their interactions with her had been recorded. A Bureau staff member opened a laptop and replayed the footage of the spirit manipulating plants.

The magical, almost otherworldly scenes left the agricultural experts gasping in disbelief. Before long, they were gazing at her just like the two botanists, eyes blazing with fervor.

Faced with countless towering figures staring at her with burning eyes, the little one: “…QAQ”

These giants were terrifying.

But experts were indeed experts—within just three minutes, the frightened spirit was “bribed” with a variety of crops, the latest high-quality seedlings, and nutrient solutions. Soon she had happily accepted a whole new circle of middle-aged friends.

Grinning ear to ear, the group invited her onto their vehicle, their smiles as bright as if they had stumbled upon a fortune. Hugging a flower, the spirit smiled sweetly, so delighted that she didn’t even notice she had already left her beloved Siqi behind.

The Bureau members stared at one another. After a while, someone remarked, “At this rate, we won’t have to worry about domestic crop yields anymore!”

Another person quipped, “Not just crops—rare medicinal herbs and precious flowers that could never be mass-produced won’t be scarce either…”

“So in other words, we’ve stumbled upon a massive treasure…”

“Before, we thought traversers coming to Blue Star would only bring disaster, but ever since the Immortal Lord appeared, everything has started to feel… different.”

“Rather, it’s precisely because of the Immortal Lord that…”

Everyone fell silent, realizing that without Siqi, they never would have found the wood spirit. And even if they had, it likely would have been in the worst way—plants overrunning cities, humans uprooting them, accidentally enraging the spirit, and thus triggering a disastrous first encounter.

With this thought, their gazes at Siqi grew complicated. The last shreds of wariness dissolved with every instance of his help, replaced by genuine recognition.

Zhou Song didn’t stop it; the better the members treated Siqi, the more this pure-hearted and kind cultivator would accept humanity and stand with them.

With that thought, Zhou Song turned his attention to the other expedition team and asked, “How’s the situation with Zhou Shihuang?”

They had already retrieved a wood spirit from two provinces away, yet the local Zhou Shihuang still hadn’t shown up.

The liaison gave a wry smile, pulling up a live feed from the field and summarizing the historian’s actions:

“More than five hours ago, Professor Mo found Zhou Shihuang begging on the street…”

Zhou Song interrupted in shock: “Wait, what? Who was begging?”

The liaison’s mouth twitched: “Zhou Shihuang.”

The great emperor who had unified the six kingdoms more than two thousand years ago, the founder of Huaguo’s original territory, had ended up begging for food in modern times. If it weren’t reality, the liaison wouldn’t have believed it either.

If written into a short story, the title might well be: “I, Who Unified the Six Kingdoms, Now Beg in the Modern World”

Author: Zhou Shihuang

Zhou Song’s face was full of disbelief. The liaison explained, “Actually, there’s a reason…”

When historian Professor Mo first arrived, he couldn’t believe his idol had fallen so low. Eyes brimming with tears, he rushed to greet him.

The ancient emperor stared blankly, listening to Mo’s emotional speech before replying with a string of incomprehensible “foreign” words.

For a moment, Mo nearly thought he had found the wrong person. After all, how could this man with a thick rural accent and odd, slurred speech possibly be the emperor he had dreamed of meeting?

Yet despite his shabby appearance, the emperor’s regal aura and clear eyes could not be faked. Mo quickly remembered—though TV dramas depicted ancient people speaking modern Mandarin, in reality the “official speech” of each dynasty was its native dialect, while the scholars communicated in classical phrases, as seen in the Analects.

Phrases like “Who are you?”, “Where is this?”, or “I don’t understand what you’re saying” would never have come from the emperor’s mouth. This language barrier meant he couldn’t understand modern people, nor they him. Some who had encountered him in the past few days even assumed he was mute or mentally impaired.

Adding to that, suddenly thrust into this era, the emperor had seen iron monsters (cars) filling the streets, strangely dressed foreigners with colorful hair (ordinary pedestrians), transparent walls (glass), and humans and landscapes trapped inside small boxes (LCD screens). He concluded he had entered the realm of gods.

His era believed deeply in mystics and divine arts. So when he saw “immortals” holding little squares that displayed the world, he imagined, “I unified the six kingdoms and achieved great deeds. Heaven rewards me by admitting me into the divine realm to broaden my vision.” Thus he looked upon the people around him with awe, never thinking to scold them for indecency or demand guidance through the divine lands.

Having endured hardships all his life, he felt no shame. Once he understood his situation, he quietly began wandering like a humble tourist.

He marveled at smooth roads, was astonished that water flowed from walls, and gasped at everything he saw—just like a true country bumpkin.

Dressed oddly and reacting strangely, he drew no friendly attention, so he walked on until the enticing smell of street food made his stomach growl, halting his steps.

Through observation, the emperor realized that these “immortals” did not use mortal money. To them, everything seemed free. Before taking an item, they only needed to wave their little square in the air.

But Shihuang knew he did not possess such a divine artifact, and so could not obtain food as easily as the other “immortals.” After much hesitation, he removed the white jade pendant from his waist and, using mortal language mixed with gestures, indicated to the deity distributing food: this item for you—may I have some of that food in exchange?

To Shihuang, this was a small step for himself, but a giant leap for mankind. In his mind, this exchange symbolized the first diplomatic contact between mortals and gods, and his heart surged with emotion.

Yet to the stall owner, it was simply a strangely dressed country bumpkin, speaking oddly, trying to barter some cheap trinket he had probably picked up somewhere for food.

The only thought in the vendor’s mind was: this person must not be quite right in the head, or perhaps mentally impaired.

In modern cities, where resources were not scarce, people were usually not stingy when it came to sharing food with strangers in need.

So without paying much attention to the jade pendant that Shihuang eagerly tried to hand him, the stall owner simply prepared a bowl with some rice cakes, tofu, and sausages, fried them up, and handed it over.

Shihuang was overjoyed. To him, this small bowl was none other than the legendary celestial peaches or sweet dew of the heavens—immortal food that granted eternal life. With trembling fingers he lifted the priceless (actually a disposable paper bowl costing less than a dime) flawless, feather-light celestial bowl and ate with tears in his eyes.

The vendor, seeing this, could not help but feel even more pity. Vendors nearby, knowing Shihuang could not understand, pointed at him and murmured, “So pitiful, who knows how long it’s been since he’s eaten?” “I wonder where his family is, how could they just let him wander homeless like this?”

The “homeless” Shihuang, who once had three palaces, six courts, seventy-two concubines, and dozens of children, each meal attended by servants, now stood before a food stall and quickly finished his food. Seeing the compassionate gazes of the immortals passing by, he felt somewhat embarrassed. Fearing the vendor might not value it, he left his most precious jade pendant on the stall and jogged away.

The stall owner, helpless, picked it up. Feeling its cool, smooth texture, he realized it wasn’t plastic at all. He thought: if I were to auction this off, it could easily fetch over a billion. He pocketed it casually.

Later, when he saw Shihuang on television and realized his true identity, recalling this memory, he might finally understand what the jade pendant he had stuffed into his bedside drawer really was—and what it meant that “good deeds are rewarded.”

But that was for the future. For now, Shihuang continued wandering, eating and drinking here and there thanks to the kindness of passersby, living safely and healthily for over half a month.

Although roughing it had left him far more disheveled than when he first arrived, every time he could eat richly seasoned delicacies and see countless marvels, he still found great joy in this world.

It was then that Professor Mo, with a group of people, found Shihuang. They had a confusing, half-understood exchange. Realizing the language barrier, Mo contacted his department to send a linguistics expert.

The Bureau was full of talent, linguists included.

This expert, who had spent his life buried in language studies, translating countless ancient texts, never imagined he would one day be translating for an actual person from antiquity. Listening to Shihuang through the live feed, he told Mo with a strange expression: “He thinks you’re a god.”

Professor Mo, who had always treated Shihuang as his idol: “…”

Shock! My idol thinks I’m the idol!

With the language barrier lifted, matters became easier.

Overwhelmed, Shihuang was escorted into a “steel beast” (a car), then into a splendid “celestial palace” (a hotel) far grander than any imperial palace. He enjoyed washing in the long-envied “celestial spring” (tap water), though he washed himself. Dressed in soft, luxurious garments (bathrobe and cotton shirt with trousers), he reclined on a “cloud couch” (sofa) more comfortable than a dragon throne, blissful and ecstatic.

This was truly the treatment of the immortals.

Then the linguist arrived at the hotel and provided direct translation.

Shihuang was shocked to learn this was the far future, thousands of years later, and that his great empire had fallen within just a century. The heartbreak on his face was almost unbearable for Professor Mo to watch.

Mo spoke passionately, recounting the deeds of Shihuang’s era, anecdotes and stories flowing endlessly. From great historical figures to small details like tableware and farming tools, he painted a vivid picture that filled Shihuang with nostalgia.

Seeing how the world had changed beyond recognition over millennia, yet finding someone who knew his life so thoroughly, Shihuang could not help but look favorably upon Mo.

Some modern people, when discussing history, treated what was deadly serious to those of the time as mere anecdotes, casually gossiping about the intrigues of rulers, even turning imperial affairs into entertainment.

Had Shihuang learned modern language on his own and discovered such irreverence, along with slanders of him as a tyrant, he surely would have been enraged.

But here stood before him not a careless gossip, but a scholar who devoted his entire life to history, who respected the wisdom of the ancients, and who spoke with heartfelt reverence.

For decades, Shihuang had called himself the “lonely one,” having unified the six kingdoms through endless trials. Neither wife, subordinate, nor child had ever truly understood him.

Until now, across thousands of years, he met someone who recognized his every act, who sincerely told him: you were great, your choices were right, time has proven your efforts, history has witnessed your success.

What would Shihuang feel?

It was like meeting a true confidant. He was deeply moved.

Because he felt Mo’s sincerity, even when Mo later showed him photos from excavations, telling him, “This is your tomb,” Shihuang did not erupt in fury but instead patiently gave him time to explain.

In Shihuang’s time, death was regarded with utmost seriousness. People believed in rebirth in another world and carefully prepared their tombs during life.

Even a modern person would be enraged if their ancestors’ graves were dug up—how much more so a superstitious ancient emperor?

Yet because of Mo’s exceptional approach, Shihuang restrained himself and gave him a chance.

Mo earnestly explained: “During modern cultural development, we sometimes uncover ancient relics. We did not rob graves with malice. We only sought to preserve your legacy, to let future generations know the brilliance of your era, so that history would never be forgotten.”

Watching this exchange, Zhou Song let out a sigh of relief.

Well done, Professor. Without an expert, Shihuang would never have let this pass.

Otherwise, everyone would have had to bow their heads in shame before their ancestor, unable to strike back or talk back. And once word spread, officials and archaeologists alike would be mocked by the gossip-hungry media.

To persuade an emperor who brooked no disobedience in just one afternoon required deep understanding and trust.

Specialists truly make the difference.

Zhou Song believed that the information Mo would now obtain from Shihuang would become priceless treasures for historians across the nation, shaping countless related fields.

As he thought this, he overheard Chu Feng nearby instructing his men: “Have a doctor examine Shihuang, check for any illnesses, and give him the necessary vaccinations.”

The subordinate, startled, quickly understood and muttered uneasily, “Let’s hope he’s lucky…”

Modern people are vaccinated from birth, immune to common infectious diseases.

But Shihuang, coming straight from antiquity with no antibodies at all—if he had unknowingly drunk from the same cup as a hepatitis patient, or come close to a leper, the results would be unimaginable.

Seeing this, Zhou Song had to admit that Chu Feng was meticulous and thoughtful.

Then he thought of Siqi, also a traverser, but as a legendary cultivator—immune to disease, living as long as the heavens. He surely had no fear of mortal illnesses, nor need of vaccines.

Still, Zhou Song could not help but wonder about a cultivator’s constitution. Could ordinary humans ever hope to reach it?

If only he could obtain Siqi’s detailed medical data…

With that thought, Zhou Song’s gaze instinctively turned toward Siqi, his imagination running wild.

A Star Who Can Do Everything Except Filming (18): 

Chu Feng’s serious explanation successfully made Si Qi achieve the ultimate social-death moment.

Si Qi, both angry and embarrassed, pushed his beloved off the stage and forcibly demanded the reporters to skip this topic. His anxious, almost childish tantrum made everyone burst into laughter.

This also proved just how close their relationship really was. No one took Fang Huai’s words seriously anymore, instead cheerfully watching the two of them show affection.

Of course, while things on Si Qi’s side settled down, misfortune fell on Fang Huai.

Many people felt their concern for Si Qi had been exploited by Fang Huai’s scheming. Furious, they came to curse him, saying he was still trying to sow discord even now, attempting to break up Si Qi and General Chu.

Fang Huai could not defend himself. He wanted to use his past text exchanges with Si Qi as evidence, but the timestamps only confirmed his own infidelity. Doing so would only backfire, proving how unfaithful and despicable he was. In the end, he could only shut his mouth, scolded by the entire world.

Eventually, everything the original main character had suffered in the original timeline now fell onto Fang Huai instead. Scheming against Chu Feng, clinging to the powerful, harboring malicious thoughts—all became synonymous with his name.

His family background was exposed; everyone knew he was Chu Feng’s younger brother. Yet instead of gaining any advantage, he became “famous” for all the wrong reasons. Whether job-hunting or living a normal life, he faced overwhelming obstacles.

The love and bright future he once had were gone. Before, he could at least rely on the money his father siphoned from the Chu family to live comfortably. Now, because his father offended Si Qi, the strictly wife-controlled Chu Feng cut off their living expenses entirely.

Especially since Chu Feng worried Fang Huai still had “wicked thoughts” and would continue harassing Si Qi, he sent people to reclaim all the money he had given Fang Bozhong over the years. Whatever couldn’t be returned was compensated with property, luxury goods, even the mistress’s branded handbags as collateral. In the end, the family of three was left scrambling for survival, too busy making ends meet to cause trouble for Chu Feng and Si Qi.

Thus, the family of three “happily reunited” under one roof, living in constant chaos and squabbles over every little thing.

Their bank cards were emptied, and with nothing left to pawn, Fang Huai’s mother told Fang Bozhong to go get a job.

But Fang Bozhong said he hadn’t worked since before Chu Feng was born. Now, at over fifty, how could he possibly start working?

What’s more, his face was plastered all over the internet, and wherever he went, people looked down on him. No one would hire him. The only one in the household who could realistically work was Fang Huai’s mother, so she had to provide for both father and son, or else the three of them would starve together.

At first, she was unwilling, but seeing there was no money for food and life could no longer go on, she gritted her teeth and went out to find a job. She had never expected that after being a mistress her whole life, living like a wealthy lady, she would now, in her forties, be forced to work and support her family, living like the very commoners she once despised. The bitterness was indescribable.

Every time she came home, she cried endlessly about the hard work, the boss scolding her, the coworkers despising her. She would collapse on the sofa in tears, refusing to suffer further humiliation, which only frustrated the father and son. They coaxed her gently, trying to persuade her to continue, pushing her nearly to a breakdown.

Her life was miserable, but the father and son’s wasn’t much easier. With nothing to do at home, Fang Bozhong began meddling in Fang Huai’s affairs. He said since Zheng Shi had entered a mental hospital, the marriage was probably over, so Fang Huai should quickly find a new girlfriend to continue the Fang family line.

But Fang Huai, traumatized by Zheng Shi, had developed an almost phobia of women. Even going to the bathroom felt like torture. He knew deep down how impossible continuing the family line was for him, so he kept delaying, making excuses that no one liked him anyway since everyone hated him now.

Seeing this, Fang Bozhong grew anxious. Their argument escalated until, in a fit of rage, he pointed at Fang Huai’s nose and yelled that after raising him so painstakingly, Fang Huai couldn’t even give him a grandson, making him no better than trash.

No child could hear such words and not be devastated. Fang Huai exploded on the spot, hurling back all the resentment he had bottled up for years, leaving Fang Bozhong stunned.

When Fang Bozhong recovered from the shock, he began cursing nonstop—insulting Zheng Shi as a whore, cursing Fang Huai as useless, raging at Chu Feng and Si Qi, cursing everything.

After venting, he still refused to give up. He scoured the internet for all kinds of obscene videos to show Fang Huai, trying to “cure” him, embarrassing him beyond belief.

The father and son struggled against each other for quite some time until Fang Bozhong finally accepted that his son was truly “ruined.” So he dragged his mistress to continue their “efforts,” leaving Fang Huai’s mother—already exhausted from working—to collapse under the burden. She resisted bitterly but was forced into it, crying miserably each time. Ironically, the lifelong mistress had now reached the opposite extreme: not only did she have to support her former “patron,” but she was also forced into the most degrading tasks of all.

For the sake of continuing the family line, Fang Bozhong spared no effort. After months of day-and-night exertion, his mistress still wasn’t pregnant. Panicking, he dragged her to the hospital for tests, suspecting she was too old to conceive, in which case he’d just find someone else.

Hearing this, Fang Huai’s mother’s face went pale, and she immediately told Fang Huai.

As for Fang Huai, upon hearing it, his feelings could be imagined—at least now he could vaguely understand how Chu Feng must have felt all these years.

Meanwhile, Fang Bozhong underwent a full medical checkup. The results showed his sperm were all dead, and he had completely lost the ability to reproduce.

Fang Bozhong didn’t believe it. He said he was only in his fifties; it shouldn’t have come to this. Even in his seventies or eighties, modern science could still make a man father a child. As a self-proclaimed professional stud, he knew this field all too well.

The doctor also found the case unusual and, after multiple tests at Fang Bozhong’s insistence, finally gave the conclusion: “You’ve been drugged. Your sperm are completely dead.”

Fang Bozhong’s face turned pale. Furious, he roared, “Drugged?! Who drugged me? Who?!”

The doctor didn’t want to meddle in his filthy family matters and casually said, “Most likely someone close to you.” Instantly, Fang Huai’s figure flashed in Fang Bozhong’s mind.

It was only natural. After all, he had told Fang Huai before: once Chu Feng died, everything of Chu Feng’s would belong to them. And since he only had Fang Huai as his son, once he passed away, Fang Huai would inherit everything.

But what if Fang Huai feared that after he gained the Chu family’s wealth, Fang Bozhong had more children? Wouldn’t Fang Huai then have to split the inheritance with siblings?

So, Fang Huai might as well go all the way and drug him into permanent sterilization…

Realizing this, Fang Bozhong let out a stifled roar—Fang Huai truly had a vicious heart!

He stormed home in rage, clashing with Fang Huai, who was furious about his father’s shameless open affair. In the cramped house, father and son came to blows, landing both of them in the hospital.

This exhausted Fang Huai’s mother to no end. She had to care for both men, pay their medical bills, and even beg her boss for leave, only to be harshly scolded for being incompetent.

Within just a few months, Fang Huai’s mother aged over ten years. The delicate, pampered lady she once was could no longer be seen—her hands and feet were rough, her spirit utterly broken.

After the father and son fought fiercely, Fang Bozhong realized he could no longer rely on himself—he had to pin his hopes on Fang Huai. So he doubled down on forcing Fang Huai, trying every method to make him “get better.”

To Fang Huai, this was no different from having salt constantly rubbed into an open wound. It hurt so much he broke into cold sweats, but the real torment was the endless psychological pressure.

Fang Bozhong dragged him to see a doctor. The doctor said it was a psychological issue, and Fang Huai needed to work it out himself.

Fang Bozhong argued, “That’s exactly why we came to see you—because he can’t work it out! Don’t you have some special medicine? Something like that little blue pill to stimulate him?”

The doctor was speechless and simply suggested the father and son submit a petition on the website Si Qi had launched. Si Qi was composing all kinds of songs to help patients suffering from mental illness worldwide. With luck, perhaps Fang Huai and his father might get their turn.

The moment Fang Bozhong heard Si Qi’s name, his desire for descendants outweighed even his hatred for him. He told Fang Huai, “Weren’t you Si Qi’s ex-boyfriend? Didn’t you say he loved you to the bone? Go apologize to him, ask him to write you a song. He’s sharp-tongued but soft-hearted—he’ll definitely agree!”

Fang Huai’s face flushed red. He already felt too ashamed to even see a doctor, let alone confess to Si Qi that he was “not functioning,” that he had psychological trauma from being castrated by the fiancée he’d cheated to obtain. If Si Qi heard that, he’d probably laugh himself to death—help him? Not a chance!

Fang Huai refused outright. Fang Bozhong grew furious and tried to beat him, pushing and pulling, but Fang Huai, stubborn as a mule, wouldn’t budge. In the end, Fang Bozhong swallowed his pride and went to see Si Qi himself.

He shamelessly forced his way through Chu Feng’s connections and finally stood before Si Qi. But when he made his embarrassing plea, Si Qi laughed so loudly it felt like the ceiling would collapse. Even when the guards escorted Fang Bozhong out, Si Qi’s hearty laughter echoed far, far away.

Face dark as iron, Fang Bozhong returned home and cursed Si Qi in front of his mistress and son. Hearing this bad news, Fang Huai nearly fainted from rage, and father and son plunged into yet another cycle of mutual torment.

When Si Qi later heard about the family’s situation from Xiu Xiu, he laughed so hard for an entire week that his body twitched. People around him asked what good fortune had made him so happy. Si Qi just smiled mysteriously without explaining, then whispered to Chu Feng, “Something others beg for but can’t get—you enjoy it every night. Don’t you think you’re especially lucky?”

Chu Feng replied with a puzzled “?”—and under Si Qi’s teasing, his face flushed red.

By now, Si Qi had become the world’s darling. Everyone adored him.

He continued his original calling: providing constant spiritual support to all who loved him, making their lives better. But instead of acting—a craft he was never skilled at—he now did it through music and painting.

Painting was a new method he devised after realizing very few people could merge spiritual energy into music. Both music and art naturally convey the creator’s emotions, perfectly complementing spiritual energy. By infusing certain emotions into a painting, the resulting work could achieve the desired therapeutic effect.

Countless psychiatric experts rushed from all over the world. With government arrangements, they studied at Si Qi’s side. He was a diligent teacher, and soon, many mastered the method of using spiritual energy for treatment. They returned home to spread this knowledge further.

Some were doctors, some artists, others from entirely different fields. Each applied Si Qi’s works in their own way.

Very quickly, people discovered: listening to Si Qi’s music before bed brought sweet dreams; having his paintings on a desk improved focus in study; hearing his music before battle boosted combat effectiveness; even dairy cows produced more milk when listening to his performances.

Si Qi’s name became inseparably woven into everyone’s daily life. Even hundreds and thousands of years later, he still lived in people’s hearts.

…

After finishing that world, Si Qi deliberately returned to the Tower of Worlds, flying up to the branches of the World Tree.

A golden butterfly rested there, gently fluttering its wings. Si Qi lifted his finger, and the butterfly obediently landed on it.

Countless memories flowed into his mind through the butterfly. Lowering his gaze, Si Qi poured his own memories of several worlds into it, then released it again.

The butterfly fluttered away, heading toward the distant starry seas.

Xiu Xiu asked curiously, “Master, what are you doing?”

Si Qi replied, “Receiving memories passed from the other me.”

Because the two Si Qis lived in different domains of the main gods, their memories couldn’t stay perfectly synchronized. They had to “update” from time to time to prevent personality differences caused by different experiences.

Xiu Xiu’s curiosity deepened. “So you also experienced small worlds on that side? What were they like? Xiu Xiu wants to know!”

Si Qi flew toward the Tower of Worlds, smiling as he said, “That world… I’ve been repairing a small world on the verge of collapse. In that world, the barrier was too weak, and countless intelligent beings from other dimensions entered by accident. I became one of those transmigrators, while Chu Feng became a quick-transmigration agent…”

As he spoke, Si Qi shared the memories with Xiu Xiu.

The moment returned to when Main God Si Qi first sent his consciousness into a small world.

When he regained awareness, he found himself standing in a remote alley.

The ground was wet and muddy from rain, narrow ads were pasted on cement walls, and smooth cylindrical power poles stood beside him, with thick black cables stretching into the distance.

Si Qi had never been in such a place. Everything before him was strange and unfamiliar. Stranger still, he had a vague awareness: he was not the original owner of this body—he had come here for some reason, and the body’s original owner had been a cultivator capable of controlling wind and rain.

Sweeping the surroundings with his divine sense, Si Qi tried to quickly assess his situation. When he saw a young man in the neighboring alley, memories crashed into his mind like an avalanche, making him frown.

In those memories, the original owner had approached the young man to learn about the world.

After a brief panic, the young man quickly accepted that he had encountered an “immortal” and eagerly explained everything about this world. For instance, there were no cultivators here, but technology rivaled immortal arts; and this world was a brutal one where only power could be relied upon.

The original owner knew how mortals feared cultivators, and he could tell the young man spoke sincerely without deceit. Soon, he accepted his “ascension into another world” and understood its unjust social system: like mortal dynasties in the cultivation world, the gap between officials and commoners was immense. The elite exploited ordinary people mercilessly, while the common folk lived like ants—yet accepted it meekly, as if they were tamed livestock.

The young man even provided novels, films, and animations as “historical records,” vividly proving that whenever the authorities encountered extraordinary beings, they used cruel, irrational methods to control them—imprisonment, dissection, torture.

Seeing the images of high-tech weapons and suffering “others,” the original owner immediately realized the grave danger he was in.

With the young man’s help, he changed his conspicuous otherworldly attire and hid among the masses, treating all humans as potential enemies.

The young man, the only one who knew his identity and hadn’t reported him, naturally became his bridge to the outside world, continuing to explain things to him.

Over time, they encountered many other transmigrators. The young man suggested that to avoid being isolated and hunted by the government, the original owner should gather them under his banner.

Not wanting to fight alone against the authorities, he accepted the idea and secretly formed a Transmigrators’ Alliance.

Once the alliance grew strong enough, they openly challenged the government, demanding high status instead of living in constant hiding.

The young man stepped forward and claimed responsibility for several recent incidents.

These “incidents” were really just misunderstandings caused by the panic and cultural clashes of new transmigrators:

For example, an angel was angered by mortals and used holy fire to “purify” the wicked; a general mistook modern foreigners with dyed hair as illusionists and slew them; zombies appeared in cities and spread chaos, leading to the fall of several towns.

The government reacted exactly as the young man had described. Upon discovering these unusual individuals, they immediately dispatched heavily armed troops to capture or kill them.

When the alliance demanded “power” and concessions, the government flatly refused, calling them invaders and terrorists, declaring that the people of Hua Nation would never bow to evil forces harming its citizens.

This uncompromising stance enraged the original owner. In his memory, whenever mortals faced cultivators, even emperors had to bow down, surrendering everything.

Don’t even mention killing a few mortals— even if an entire country were destroyed, those people would still have to endure it.

Feeling insulted, the original owner led his followers in battle against the imperial court. Both sides fought until their eyes were red, and countless commoners were caught in the crossfire, suffering heavy casualties.

In the end, the original owner was killed by dozens of weapons falling from the sky. Before his death, his faction had already plunged the nation into blood and chaos. People could only struggle to survive under endless disasters—zombies, undead, unknown robots, insectoid invaders.

Thinking of this, Si Qi shook his head slightly.

His “gaze” swept across the young man’s face. Si Qi didn’t bother with him, but turned and walked toward the exit of the alley.

Beyond the alley lay a bustling street filled with passersby.

Many hurried pedestrians, upon seeing such a refined young man suddenly appear, cast curious glances at him. Occasionally, when their eyes met Si Qi’s, some would reveal an awkward, shy smile as if embarrassed to be caught staring.

Si Qi looked back at them, wary that they might report him to the authorities because of his unusual appearance. Yet unlike the original owner, he did not show disdain. His spiritual sense overlooked the prosperous land beneath his feet.

As he observed, the tension in Si Qi’s heart gradually eased.

Many things didn’t need others to explain—one could discern much from small details.

For example, the smooth and even road beneath his feet was completely different from the muddy paths of mortal society in the cultivation world. It showed that officials here truly considered the common people, willing to spend money and effort to build proper roads so that ordinary folk could live in comfort.

On the street, people walked freely and with ease, without the nervousness of hunger, poverty, or fear. This proved they lived in a land where they felt safe and content, not numb from oppression nor in despair about the future. Spiritually and materially, they had no worries.

Moreover, from the “memories,” whenever a transmigrator appeared and harmed civilians, the officials called police or soldiers would always rush to the scene immediately, evacuating ordinary people.

Though they were “officials,” they repeatedly stood in front of the “citizens,” using their own flesh and blood to block attacks, never once retreating even in the face of death.

And this was still called “an unbridgeable gap between classes, where commoners are brainwashed into docile livestock”?

At least in the cultivation world Si Qi remembered, no one would willingly die to protect mere livestock.

When Si Qi had examined the memories earlier, he had vaguely felt something was off. Now, he fully understood what it was.

That young man truly dared not lie before a cultivator. Every word he spoke was heartfelt.

But who could say that the world he imagined in his mind was the truest reflection of reality?

The Great Dao has ten thousand paths. Even cultivators follow different “daos,” each with a unique understanding of the laws of the world. So why wouldn’t mortals have countless personalities and perspectives of their own?

Though the young man did not lie, every word he said was subjective, subtly influencing the original owner.

But Si Qi was not the original owner. He would not look at the world through another’s eyes. He trusted only himself, his own judgment.

And even if his choices turned out to be wrong in the end, he would never regret it—because this was his Dao.

After weighing things for a moment, he divined his fortune with his fingers. Seeing the result as “auspicious,” Si Qi felt reassured. He then approached a curious young man nearby and said, “Hello, may I borrow your phone to call the police?”

The young man looked puzzled, his eyes lingering especially on Si Qi’s long hair that didn’t look like a wig at all. He asked, “Why? Did you run into some kind of trouble?”

Si Qi: “…Trouble?”

“If you’re in trouble, find the police!” The young man recited the familiar saying known to everyone in the country. Noticing Si Qi’s calm tone and lack of urgency, he didn’t press further and asked instead, “You didn’t bring a phone?”

Si Qi nodded. With his refined, unworldly appearance, he looked harmless.

The young man figured someone like this couldn’t be the type to snatch a phone. Without hesitation, he unlocked his own and handed it over, joking, “This is the first time I’ve seen someone wear Hanfu so beautifully. If I weren’t past my chuuni stage, I might almost think you really transmigrated here!”

Hearing that, Si Qi answered seriously, “How could there be transmigrators in this world? You’ve overthought it, little brother.”

The young man laughed. “Of course, I know it’s impossible!”

Even so, standing nearby and watching the long-haired man with elegant bearing hold his phone, the young man couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

The man’s refined way of speaking aside, just his aura and demeanor truly seemed like those of someone from ancient times.

No, no, what nonsense am I thinking? I’m already in my twenties, way past that chuuni phase.

He kept correcting his wandering thoughts, telling himself not to overthink.

Meanwhile, in a nearby alley, the young man who had been lying at home reading novels—still stuck in his chuuni years—suddenly cried out in agony, clutching his head and curling into a ball, as if something were falling onto him from above.

After a long while, breathing raggedly, he looked around in panic, only to realize he was no longer in that luxurious skyscraper penthouse but back in his shabby little home. Staring in stunned disbelief, he instinctively checked the time and date on his phone—then leapt up from his bed!

“I… I really am the chosen one! I’ve been reborn!!!”

His face flushed red, overwhelmed with excitement.

“What time is it now? When will the Alliance Leader arrive?” He paced anxiously, muttering, “This time I must warn him ahead of time—the government will use hot weapons. We’ll make quiet gains first, then strike suddenly… yes, hide in the shadows while the zombie horde and undead army slaughter most of Huaguo’s population! Let the military collapse completely! Then…”

Muttering feverishly, unable to wait any longer, he clutched his phone and rushed out the door, eager for that immortal to once again descend into his home and find him before his ambitions could be realized.

But while his heart blazed with passion, dreaming of his leader’s return to help him stir the winds and rains and become the new world’s god… his Alliance Leader was already being driven away in a police car, sirens blaring.

The modern world is like a sieve (1): 

The young man sat in an interrogation room no larger than a few square meters. His skin was as white as snow, his long hair black as a waterfall. His entire bearing was cool and ethereal, like an immortal who had just stepped out of the heavenly palace, noble and untouchable.

The police officer sitting across from him felt uneasy under the young man’s gaze. Even his breathing felt too loud, as though he might disturb something. He asked, “You said you had something to tell us. What exactly happened?”

As he spoke, his eyes unconsciously flicked to the jade pendant hanging at Si Qi’s waist, wondering why it glowed. Could it really have a battery hidden inside?

Si Qi thought for a moment and said concisely, “A group of outsiders will soon arrive in your country and cause unimaginable destruction among the people. Preparations must be made in advance.”

The policeman, who had been stealing glances at Si Qi’s face, gradually became serious. With a few swift strokes of his pen, he wrote something on paper and asked sternly, “Are you saying you discovered foreign terrorists who are planning an attack within the country?”

Si Qi: “…………”

Si Qi nodded slightly. “Something like that.”

The officer frowned, his tone sharp. “Where did you discover them? What do they look like? What exactly did you hear? Is the situation urgent?”

Si Qi: “Urgent.”

“As for their location and time of appearance, that cannot yet be determined.”

After a pause, Si Qi added, “If you must know right now, I… can cast a divination for you.”

A question mark slowly appeared over the policeman’s head.

His expression hardened, and he tapped his pen against the desk, raising his voice: “Comrade, I am not joking with you. Please take this seriously!”

Si Qi replied even more earnestly, “I am not joking. I am very serious.”

The officer: “……”

Showing up at a police station dressed like this and claiming he was here to report something was already not serious at all.

Seeing Si Qi’s solemn demeanor, the officer found himself unable to continue questioning. Carrying the notes, he left the interrogation room and went to his superior.

Si Qi saw him leave and knew the mortal did not believe him. He thought to himself that mortals of this world were not like the young man in his memory, who had instantly accepted the existence of cultivators. After some thought, he drew out a divination compass from the jade pendant and began to cast a reading.

Moments later, the director returned with the officer. They saw that Si Qi had somehow produced an antique-looking metal object and was muttering while counting on his fingers. Exchanging glances, they both thought the same thing—this person really did seem mentally unstable.

The director said kindly, “Comrade, we took what you said just now very seriously. It’s just that the information you gave is incomplete. Could you be more specific? For example, where did you hear about this, and what are the time and location?”

Before Si Qi could answer, someone suddenly stumbled into the room. He looked terrified, glanced at Si Qi, then at the two officers.

Both knew who he was: the officer responsible for monitoring the surveillance.

Before they could question him, the man pointed at the ceiling camera, then at the divination compass on the table, swallowing hard. “That thing… that thing came out of the glowing jade pendant!!”

He had replayed the footage more than ten times—he could not possibly be mistaken!

The two officers present: ???

What nonsense was this?

They were just about to say that the jade pendant was far too small to contain such a large object, when right then, Si Qi finished his divination, slipped the compass back into the pendant, and looked at the three stunned officers. “Could you help me contact Director Chu Feng of the Bureau of Dimensional Management? His number is 187…”

Si Qi’s tone was so calm it made the three almost believe they were dreaming.

Soon after, the officer who first spoke to Si Qi dazedly went to verify whether such a department existed, whether there really was a Director Chu Feng, and if that phone number was correct.

Meanwhile, the director and the other officer tried to act calm, asking Si Qi about his “magic trick,” saying it looked amazing.

Ten minutes later, the first officer staggered back, speaking as if in a trance: “The director said our country really does have a Bureau of Dimensional Management…”

And it specifically handled special cases that science and common sense could not explain.

Countless movie and novel plots flashed through his mind. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became, his face flushing red.

He wanted to look at his colleagues’ expressions, to see if they were just as shocked.

But the director and the other officer weren’t listening at all. They stood frozen, their lifelong materialist worldview collapsing. Just moments ago, they had seen with their own eyes Si Qi take out and put back an object the size of a human head from a pendant no larger than a thumb—without the slightest trace of trickery.

Not long after, the police chief entered with a grave expression. His eyes fell on the strikingly out-of-place youth in the interrogation room, then on his dumbfounded subordinates. He addressed Si Qi: “Hello, Si Qi, was it? I’m Chief Liang Feng. How did you know about the Bureau of Dimensional Management? And what did you mean by ‘a group will cause destruction within the country’?”

Si Qi explained patiently, “The Bureau of Dimensional Management—I calculated its name during my divination.”

In the original host’s memories, there had never been such a term. Si Qi had simply read it aloud when it appeared on the compass.

The “ignorant” mortals present stared at him with reverence.

Either this man was deeply delusional, or he truly had ability.

“As for what I said earlier, the result is something you cannot handle. It would be better to wait until people from the Bureau arrive, then I will explain everything together.”

Before coming, the chief had already phoned the Bureau. They said they would send people immediately and warned him to treat Si Qi with extreme caution. Even if he seemed like a lunatic, they were to handle him gently.

They were not to say anything that might upset him, nor do anything that might seem normal to them but unacceptable to him.

In short: as long as he didn’t attempt to disrupt social order or break the law, they were to accommodate him in every way and not let him leave or go into hiding.

The chief didn’t understand why the Bureau was so insistent, but as a career soldier used to following orders, he obeyed. While carefully observing Si Qi’s reactions, he tried to lower his guard and coax information out of him.

He had thought the Bureau’s people would need at least half an hour to arrive, but less than ten minutes later, a helicopter descended on the police station, attracting crowds outside.

Three young men and women in their early twenties jumped down from a rope ladder and rushed inside, immediately laying eyes on Si Qi.

The moment they saw him—his gaze and aura so utterly unlike modern people—they stiffened. There was no mistake: this man was not from their world. He was a transmigrator.

The nearby officers noticed that one of the young men went pale, his body tensed, and his hidden hand trembled uncontrollably, as though facing something terrifying. His reaction was too strong to ignore.

The one at the front glanced at the chief and said, “Please ask your people to step out first.”

The director raised a brow, wanting to speak, but seeing the chief’s silence, he obeyed and left with the others.

The pale young man whispered to the director, “Tell your people to be prepared.”

The director frowned. “Prepared? Prepared for what?”

“For battle—or to run.”

The director’s body stiffened, his eyes locked on him.

The young man said nothing more, busy contacting the Bureau to report that the person they found was indeed a transmigrator.

Si Qi, sharp-eared, could see through the door and glanced meaningfully at the people outside, then at the chief and his companions.

“I have no intention of being your enemy,” he said. “There’s no need to be so wary.”

Despite being in a police station, despite facing three high-ranking officials, Si Qi maintained a calm and assuring air, as if saying, “Don’t worry, I won’t harm you.” This only made them even more uneasy.

The chief, a seasoned man in his forties, smiled and said, “Of course we’re not enemies. We just don’t know you yet. Young man, whatever you wish to say, please tell us. We are friendly, and since you chose to approach us, we believe you are friendly too.”

Si Qi glanced at him and replied, “You should not call me ‘young man.’”

The three across from him froze, thinking he was displeased.

But then Si Qi added, “I am more than thirteen hundred years old.”

The chief looked bewildered. What nonsense was this? But the Bureau agents, knowing much about transmigrators, felt their hearts sink heavily.

Si Qi did not wait for them to ask questions and continued, “Do you know what a ‘cultivator’ is?”

In the original host’s world, they were not called cultivators but were addressed as certain immortals or celestial lords.

But according to the young man Si Qi had once met, those who could ride clouds and command the forces of nature were called cultivators here on Blue Star. So, Si Qi simply used that term.

The chief, who had never read a xianxia novel and had no concept of such things, was utterly confused. The members of the Bureau, however, due to the nature of their work, were much more “well-informed” and quickly said, “Yes, yes, we know!”

Could it be that this ethereal youth before them, who looked nothing like a mortal, was one of the legendary cultivators who could command the wind and rain?

Si Qi nodded slightly, raised his hand, and under the nervous gazes of those before him, channeled spiritual power. With a sudden whoosh, a ball of flame appeared in his palm.

The bright, flickering flame radiated such an intense presence that, even at a distance of more than a meter and a half, the chief could feel waves of scorching heat—far beyond what ordinary fire could produce.

The hardened soldier, who had never encountered anything like this, was stunned on the spot. The Bureau members, however, adapted more quickly. In fact, seeing Si Qi voluntarily reveal his abilities, they faintly sensed what his true purpose in making contact was, and their attitude toward him softened.

With a casual wave, Si Qi dispersed the flame that could easily have melted rock. Then, moving his fingers, he conjured countless wisps of white mist that swiftly condensed into crystals, merging into a glittering, diamond-shaped ice pillar.

This time, the chief—who had still been hoping it was just an extraordinarily powerful lighter—was left completely speechless.

Once he was sure they had seen clearly, Si Qi closed his palm and crushed the solid ice pillar into formless cold air. He said, “As you understand it, cultivators can use immortal arts to do many things, such as the fire and frost you just witnessed, and also divination.”

“Not long ago, I came to your world. Since I could not find a way back, I decided to reach out to you and accept your offerings.”

The Bureau members, well-read and full of knowledge from novels, immediately recalled the meaning of “offerings” in cultivation stories. Their hearts leapt with joy. “You mean, you are willing to join our department and become one of us?”

Si Qi nodded slightly. “That is what I mean.”

“What do you require from us?”

Si Qi thought for a moment and said, “A livable environment.”

The group was taken aback. They thought this request could be either simple or difficult, depending on how high his standards truly were.

One of the Bureau members said, “In that case, we will arrange a place for you to rest. Whatever needs you may have, please tell us. If it is within our power, we will do our best to provide it.”

Then he paused, locking eyes with Si Qi, his tone firm. “But there is something we must make clear in advance. In our world, the safety of the people’s lives and property is protected by the state. No one may infringe upon it. That is our bottom line, and we hope you understand.”

Hearing this, Si Qi once again confirmed that the reality of this world was different from what that young man had told him. The young man had been wrong, and his own judgment was correct. He replied calmly, “I know. If it were not so, I would not have sought you out.”

The Bureau members’ expressions shifted slightly, secretly delighted.

It seemed things had turned out for the best: this transmigrator was not a villain, not a bloodthirsty madman, nor a selfish, twisted individual impossible to coexist with. He was someone they could live alongside.

Even if Si Qi did nothing more than settle in some quiet, scenic place and refrained from causing trouble, they would be endlessly grateful.

Like respectful hosts, they carefully escorted Si Qi out of the interrogation room, through the silent police station, and to the rooftop where a helicopter was waiting.

The pale-faced young Bureau member peeked out, exchanged glances with his colleagues, and only after seeing their reassuring expressions did he finally relax.

He had dreaded facing unreasonable outsiders like this. Their very existence defied common sense, and every encounter made his scalp prickle.

“The chief said we’re to bring him over. He wants to meet Si… Si Qi.”

The other two nodded, then explained to Si Qi, “This is a helicopter, a kind of vehicle that can fly in the sky. We need to take it to another place.”

Si Qi nodded slightly.

In the host’s memories, he had seen such machines. Mortals in this world were far more capable than in his own—they could achieve feats only cultivators could in his world. They were by no means inferior.

That was also why Si Qi disagreed with the host’s view of mortals as ants.

Perhaps because he had seized this body and was not a pure cultivator himself, Si Qi did not think cultivators or transmigrators were inherently nobler. Peaceful coexistence was far better than mutual harm.

They flew toward the capital. Since the journey was long and it happened to be lunchtime, the three Bureau members, uncertain if a cultivator needed food, politely asked whether Si Qi wanted to eat something with them.

Si Qi knew cultivators had no need for food and shook his head.

But when they opened chocolate bars, the sweet fragrance filled the air. Si Qi’s gaze shifted to the dark treats in their hands, his burning eyes almost tangible.

The young man across from him, who had been pale and trembling, found himself oddly unafraid under that gaze. Instead, almost against his will, he asked, “Would you like some?”

The other two instinctively glanced at Si Qi, expecting him to refuse again.

But to their surprise, this man, aloof and luminous like the distant moon, actually nodded. He reached out, accepted half a chocolate bar, and took a light bite.

The rich sweetness bloomed in his mouth, and his cold expression softened visibly. Like the first plum blossom blooming in winter, the corners of his lips curved upward, an otherworldly beauty that made their hearts skip a beat. Their pupils constricted as if glimpsing the most breathtaking sight in existence.

In that moment, they all thought the same thing.

Perhaps… this man was not as frightening as they had imagined.

The hour-long flight, marked by that piece of chocolate, suddenly felt less tense.

One by one, they offered him more snacks, and Si Qi ate them all. With every bite, his expression grew gentler, much to their relief. By the time they landed, their initial fear had melted away. They even found themselves making plans to get him ice cream and lollipops later.

They had assumed, from his aloof aura, that he was some untouchable ice-cold beauty. Now, they pictured him instead as a powerful senior who knew little of the mundane world, focused only on cultivation. Smiling, they escorted him into the chief’s office.

When the door opened, a man in a black uniform stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, turning to look their way.

The crisp lines of his uniform highlighted his tall frame and strong build, his sharp features radiating authority. His commanding presence did not pale even before the ethereal Si Qi.

Seeing the snowy-skinned, black-haired youth at last, Chu Feng’s eyes softened with a smile as he walked over.

That smile, undeniably gentle, nearly scared the three Bureau members out of their wits. They almost blurted out, “Boss, have you been possessed?”

Chu Feng said to Si Qi, “You’ve had a tiring trip. Nothing unpleasant happened on the way, I hope?”

His three subordinates exchanged strange looks. This didn’t sound at all like something their boss would say to a newly encountered transmigrator. Was it because good looks had that much advantage? Or was it because Si Qi was the first transmigrator to voluntarily contact the state and seek cooperation?

Especially since, as a thousand-year-old cultivator, his combat power must be terrifying. Such a person clearly could not be treated like the others.

Yet as they pondered this, they noticed Si Qi standing silent, not answering for a long time.

Puzzled, they turned to him. Si Qi seemed to return to himself, his gaze flickering, lips pressed tight. His voice came out tense: “No, everything was fine.”

Chu Feng acted as if he noticed nothing unusual and invited Si Qi to sit. With a magician’s flair, he produced from the stern, dark-toned office—

A pile of snacks.

The three subordinates: “…………”

So their boss had definitely been possessed, right? Otherwise, how could this be explained?!

With his stern brows and upright air, who would have thought that beneath it all he was a closet lover of popping candy and strawberry cake? They had truly misjudged him.

The modern world is like a sieve (2): 

Si Qi sat on the sofa, looking at the snacks in front of him that were clearly delicious. There was none of the curious and naive look he had shown earlier; instead, he acted reserved and said, “Thank you.”

Then he picked a pudding that gave off the scent of milk, taking small bites, slowly and gracefully enjoying it.

Chu Feng had known Si Qi for many years. Even if Si Qi only blinked, Chu Feng could guess what this little fellow was thinking.

Seeing him act shy, pretending to be reserved in front of him, Chu Feng felt like laughing. He couldn’t help but reach out and rub Si Qi’s head. Watching Si Qi—who had never been treated with such intimacy before—reveal eyes like a startled fawn, Chu Feng’s smile grew wider. Sitting across from him, he said, “If you like them, all these snacks are yours.”

Si Qi coughed lightly and whispered, “I am not particularly fond of these indulgences of appetite…”

He was worried that the man in front of him would think he was greedy, childish in personality, someone who only liked to eat.

Whether in the cultivation world or in the modern world, from Si Qi’s memory, people always preferred dignified and unfathomably powerful figures.

Chu Feng did not expose him. He had arrived in this world more than half a year earlier than Si Qi, and had been waiting every day for Si Qi to appear.

To better help Si Qi complete his mission, he had even specially created this department, the Bureau of Traversers, so that the country’s leaders would be aware of the existence of traversers beforehand and better prepared to deal with their arrival.

He knew that with Si Qi’s personality, it was impossible for him to act like the original host, breaking laws and committing crimes. He just hadn’t expected Si Qi to go even further than he had imagined—seeking out the authorities directly upon arriving.

In other words, on the very first day he came to this world, Si Qi had actively sought him out.

Thinking of this, after not seeing Si Qi for over a hundred days, Chu Feng couldn’t stop the smile at his lips from widening further, leaving the three subordinates beside them glancing at one another, silently muttering in their hearts.

Perhaps Chu Feng’s gaze was too warm, leaving Si Qi unable to withstand it.

Si Qi put down the small spoon in his hand and said to Chu Feng, “You said you wanted to see me?”

Chu Feng nodded and invited, “I hope you can join our department.”

The three subordinates behind him opened their eyes wide, hearts pounding like drums.

What? Recruit this traverser into their ranks? Wasn’t that far too dangerous?!

Their leader had never done something like this before…

Chu Feng said, “The traversers I dealt with before were either violent and impossible to communicate with, or their values clashed completely with ours, so I could only set them aside to be dealt with coldly. But you are different. Your ability is extremely strong, and you treat us kindly. I hope you can become a partner in our department. I will also be your support, making sure you live in this world free of worries, without any trouble.”

The subordinates were shocked, thinking their leader’s words were far too hasty. They had barely known him for a few minutes—wasn’t this going too far, too fast?

Si Qi also thought Chu Feng’s words were too warm, almost overwhelmingly so. But he did not dislike this closeness. Pretending to stay calm, he said, “You want me to fight for you?”

Although a cultivator unprepared could not withstand dozens of missile strikes, when it came to conventional weapons or other traversers, handling them was nothing difficult.

Perhaps Chu Feng valued exactly this point, and that was why he treated him so attentively. After all, in the cultivation world, mortals also looked upon immortals with such attitudes—eager, awestruck, revering them like gods…

Si Qi was even prepared that if Chu Feng invited him into the Bureau, he would face dangerous traversers again and again, fighting on the front lines.

Although he disliked fighting, if it was this man who asked him, he would not refuse to help…

But Chu Feng merely smiled and said, “In this world, strength is not measured by force alone.”

Si Qi looked confused. Chu Feng explained, “You know, hot weapons are very powerful. Even a child too weak to truss a chicken, if holding a single button, could easily kill the bravest warrior.”

Si Qi recalled the original host’s fate, nodded, but still didn’t understand what Chu Feng’s purpose was in saying this.

Chu Feng looked at him, eyes gentle. “Hot weapons were created by countless scientists, relying on the knowledge in their minds, exploring the unknown, searching for the hidden key buried in the universe’s laws, little by little piecing them together.

“And you, are the one who holds countless such keys.”

Si Qi looked bewildered, still half comprehending.

Chu Feng pulled a folder from the drawer under the coffee table, clearly prepared long in advance, and opened it before Si Qi.

Si Qi looked at the strange numbers and symbols on the paper, utterly lost.

Chu Feng said, “Here are dozens of problems our scientists have worked on for years without breakthroughs. Can you use your divination, ask the heavens, and calculate the answers?”

The three subordinates behind them jolted.

Only then did they finally understand what their leader meant by “strength is not measured by force alone.”

If Si Qi could divine Chu Feng’s long string of digits, then naturally he could also divine answers that had always existed but had not yet been discovered by present-day scientists.

It was like asking a modern person for the bureau chief’s phone number, or Newton’s three laws. The latter might even be easier.

Divination was similar—it was just like that.

And imagine: if, before nuclear weapons had been invented, Si Qi had divined the formula for nuclear fusion; if, during the era of smallpox, he had divined the method of vaccination…

What is “common knowledge” in the future is a treasure of immeasurable value in the past!

No wonder Chu Feng said Si Qi was the one holding the keys. To glimpse the future through heaven’s laws—of course he was! Absolutely!

To be blunt, even if Si Qi was a cultivator who could overturn seas and grasp the stars, so what? As long as humans mastered enough knowledge, they could cross mountains, level seas, even reach the distant galaxies!

Because knowledge is the greatest power!

Now, looking at the thick folder before Si Qi, the three subordinates’ breathing grew uncontrollably heavy.

If Si Qi could write out the answers, then Huaguo would instantly leap across decades, even centuries, of struggle, grasping the core codes of cutting-edge technology…

They looked at Si Qi, who had taken out a divination compass, calculating with his fingers while writing down complex formulas with a brush. Their eyes burned with fervor, nearly overflowing.

The first page of answers was written out. Chu Feng told a subordinate to send the content via encrypted channel to the aerospace department.

The subordinate, holding the still-wet ink-stained page, fingers trembling, suppressed the urge to shout, saluted Chu Feng and Si Qi with deep respect, then carefully escorted the paper away.

Ten minutes later, the subordinate returned.

Half an hour later, a call came directly from the national aerospace department to Chu Feng.

Then followed calls from the communications bureau, physics institute, national leadership… The content Si Qi had written in mere tens of minutes shook half of Huaguo’s academic world.

The cultivator Si Qi, who might once have been viewed with suspicion and fear—as though he were a walking nuclear bomb ready to explode within the country—suddenly became the most precious treasure of the nation’s top scholars.

No one dared to touch a hair on his head. Instead, everyone stayed vigilant against anyone who might try to harm him.

Si Qi no longer needed to worry about living well in this world.

Because Chu Feng had already prepared, long in advance, a carefully crafted gift for his long-lost lover.

To protect him, to free him from worries.

…

Si Qi had played a trump card from the very beginning, and the subordinates no longer dared say “a traverser isn’t fit to join our department.”

With Si Qi’s abilities, anything the department wanted to do would be smoothed over by countless hands eager to help.

At this moment, how could they not bind Si Qi tightly to them, rather than let him slip away?

The subordinates gazed at Si Qi with fiery eyes, then looked at Chu Feng, silently urging their leader to seize the chance and secure him.

Chu Feng did not disappoint them.

He said to Si Qi, “You’ve just arrived here, and there’s much you’re unfamiliar with. I’ll guide you, little by little.”

Si Qi knew he carried the original host’s memories. Many things the host had encountered in modern society were not strange to him.

But hearing this man say “I’ll guide you, little by little,” Si Qi found himself unable to utter any refusal.

His thoughts were a tangled mess, but outwardly he forced himself to remain calm, saying, “I’ll trouble you then, Director Chu.”

Chu Feng smiled, glanced at the clock, told his subordinates “off work,” and gestured for Si Qi to follow.

He led Si Qi to the nearby dormitory building.

“The dorms here are usually two to a room. If someone prefers living alone, that’s fine too.” Chu Feng smiled at Si Qi. “I’ve always lived alone, but now I can stay with you.”

Before coming, Si Qi had never imagined he’d be living with this man. Hearing this suddenly, his heartbeat stumbled.

Seeing his reaction, Chu Feng teased, “Do you prefer living alone? That’s fine too. But since you’re still unfamiliar with many modern things, it would be better to stay with me for now.”

Si Qi, hearing this, reluctantly agreed, saying with guilt, “You’re right. Let’s do it that way.”

It wasn’t that he wanted to live with this young man—he just had to adapt to modern life… yes, that was all!

Chu Feng brought Si Qi to his residence. Inside, the lighting was bright, the decor refreshing, exactly the type Si Qi liked best.

He showed him his room and explained the use of each piece of furniture.

Then he led Si Qi to the bathroom, patiently teaching him, step by step, how to use body wash, the showerhead, and towels.

The bathroom was separated into wet and dry areas, but the shower stall was small. With two grown men standing inside, even a small step backward would bump one into the other’s arms.

As a cultivator, Si Qi had keen hearing and sight, his five senses unusually sharp. At this moment, his attention drifted toward the man speaking. His nose picked up the grassy, woody scent on the other’s body—whether it was cologne or body wash, he wasn’t sure. His ears were filled with that magnetic, sensual voice… as if his entire being was enveloped by the presence called Chu Feng, leaving him faintly uneasy.

His thoughts were scattered, and his gaze fell on Chu Feng’s Adam’s apple, which moved slightly as he spoke, then shifted down to his collarbone.

Chu Feng’s collarbone was beautiful—straight, masculine, exuding strength, and made all the more alluring beneath the fabric covering it.

Instinctively wanting to see more clearly, Si Qi released his divine sense from his mind. But caught off guard, he suddenly saw a detailed outline of a male body.

Completely unprepared, Si Qi felt his cheeks burn instantly, hurriedly withdrew his divine sense, and broke out in a fine layer of sweat on his back, guilty and flustered.

His extraordinary memory etched that fleeting image deep into his mind, impossible to erase. He tried desperately to push it away, silently reciting a calming mantra.

As the main god, Chu Feng naturally sensed Si Qi’s divine sense just now. He raised a brow, noticed Si Qi’s unease, and said with deliberate meaning, “When you bathe, if you forget how to use it, just recall how I did it earlier.”

Si Qi’s heartbeat quickened. That sentence made it impossible to calm down—recall? Recall what? Why would he need to recall while bathing?!

Now every time he bathed, wouldn’t he unconsciously think of this again?!

This man was far too malicious. Every word he spoke left Si Qi restless, not knowing how tormented he was at this moment!!

Chu Feng watched with a grin as Si Qi’s ears grew redder and redder, not exposing him, his mischievous pleasure fully satisfied.

Si Qi like this was truly adorable.

Blank and unknowing, led by him bit by bit, every new thing he touched would bear Chu Feng’s imprint.

Just imagining it put Chu Feng in an excellent mood.

Raising a child (crossed out) guiding a lover like a blank slate was far too amusing. No wonder in past worlds, Si Qi had always enjoyed teasing him—this was indeed addictive.

With that in mind, Chu Feng deliberately said, “By the way, I didn’t expect someone would suddenly move in, so your bed doesn’t have sheets or quilts yet. Tonight you can just sleep with me.”

Si Qi, who had finally calmed a little, felt dizzy again.

This, this, this—how could he take advantage so easily?!

No, how could he think like that? He was supposed to be a dignified cultivator! How could he share a bed with someone he’d only just met? That was far too unreserved!

Seeing Si Qi speechless, Chu Feng teased, “Of course, if you feel embarrassed, we could put on sheets now. But I don’t have any new ones here, only ones I’ve used before. With your sharp sense of smell, even if I washed them, you’d still notice my scent on them, wouldn’t you? After all, sheets are in direct contact with the body, and you’d be lying on them all night…”

Si Qi imagined lying all night on bedding carrying Chu Feng’s scent… He lowered his head, flustered, muttering, “I… I don’t need to sleep tonight…”

Chu Feng shook his head. “That won’t do. Sleep is very important for people.”

Si Qi whispered, “Even if cultivators don’t sleep…”

Ignoring his excuses, Chu Feng, always decisive, directly made the decision: “Here’s what we’ll do. Tonight you’ll sleep with me. Tomorrow I’ll have logistics prepare new bedding, towels, a toothbrush, and everything else for you. Tonight, just stay in my room. As for bathing… just wash in my bathroom. Otherwise, carrying toiletries back and forth would be troublesome.”

“…” Si Qi’s face was now so red he couldn’t show it to anyone, unable to say a word.

If he hadn’t experienced it himself, he’d never believe he could be so shy in front of someone.

Was this really an ordinary human? Not some powerful cultivator from the Hehuan Sect?! How could someone naturally exude such charm the moment they appeared?!

It was terrifying!!

The next morning, Si Qi slowly awoke in Chu Feng’s arms. Realizing his situation, he trembled slightly, not daring to look at the man beside him.

He carefully climbed out of bed, refusing to recall the anxious, chaotic struggle in his mind the night before, or how he had gradually inched into Chu Feng’s embrace as he slept.

It was unbearably embarrassing.

Sitting up, covering his face with one hand, Si Qi questioned his life. The man beside him stirred awake at the movement. Seeing his beloved right next to him, Chu Feng naturally leaned over, pressed a light kiss to Si Qi’s forehead, and with a still-husky morning voice, said, “Morning.”

Si Qi’s pupils shook, his body stiffened, and his face flushed scarlet. “You—you—you—you, what are you doing?!”

Chu Feng blinked and smiled. “What? Didn’t you know? It’s a custom here. In the morning, when you wake up, you give the person beside you a good morning kiss.”

Si Qi stammered, “I-is that so?!”

He racked his brain, trying to recall the original host’s memories, but couldn’t think of such a detail.

“Of course,” Chu Feng said with perfect composure. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask others—”

“How could I ask something like that?!” Si Qi blurted, no trace of his usual calm, celestial demeanor. “If you say it’s so, then… then it is…”

He couldn’t very well say Chu Feng was kissing him just to take advantage.

That thought made his heart pound even faster, even more uncontrollable.

He wanted to tell Chu Feng to stop this habit that didn’t exist in the cultivation world, but then he thought—what if Chu Feng really did stop? Heart pounding, he silently shut his mouth, hurriedly jumped out of bed, and rushed to the bathroom to wash up.

Chu Feng followed lazily behind, smiling at Si Qi’s averted gaze in the mirror. “You’re not holding the toothbrush correctly,” he said.

He reached from behind, adjusting Si Qi’s wrist, his body half enveloping him. Feeling his closeness, Si Qi flushed again.

And Chu Feng, still serious-faced, asked, “Are cultivators always this easy to make blush? The higher your cultivation, the faster you blush?”

Si Qi: “……”

Now he was certain—the serious, decisive man in front of him was, in truth, a terribly wicked rascal!

He was doing this on purpose!!

After eating breakfast Chu Feng cooked himself, Si Qi followed him back to the Traverser Bureau headquarters.

The materials Si Qi had written yesterday had, after spreading overnight, shaken the entire Huaguo academic world.

Countless white-haired elders, treasured by the nation, had flown or taken trains overnight to rush before Si Qi.

If it had been the old Si Qi, he could have easily handled the flood of questions from top intellectuals across every field, answering them smoothly one by one.

But now, with only the original host’s memories and no other knowledge, once he wrote down the answers, whenever the scholars anxiously pressed for details, asking why such-and-such must be one way and not another, Si Qi calmly looked back at them and patiently asked, “What does that mean?”

The great scholars froze, stunned that someone who had written such stunning answers hadn’t even understood the questions. They looked at him with despair, as though they had lost billions.

No, even if they really had lost billions, they wouldn’t feel so bad.

“As long as we have the answers, we can work out the process from there,” a state leader quietly comforted them.

The national treasures looked at Si Qi’s ethereal, otherworldly appearance, then at the pages of elegant brush calligraphy beautiful enough to fetch a fortune at auction, and sighed. Clearly, Si Qi wasn’t the type to understand chemical formulas or mechanical principles. Reluctantly, they held his hand, telling this youth who could have been their ancestor’s ancestor’s ancestor, “Thank you, little one,” before leaving, both regretful and satisfied.

Before leaving, knowing he liked snacks, each elder brought bags and bags of local specialties and treats, piling them before Si Qi.

It seemed people in this world were truly different from those in the cultivation world. Mortals who met a cultivator not only showed no fear but even dared open snack packages and shove them into his hands. Truly, truly…

Impossible to resist!

Expression blank, Si Qi watched the elders depart while chewing spicy beef jerky, unable to stop.

A Star Who Can Do Everything Except Filming (16): 

Si Qi’s words left everyone dumbfounded.

Not only the audience who had just rushed in to catch the live broadcast, but also the fans who had listened to Si Qi’s “concert” the previous night and fallen into a sweet dream — all were completely bewildered.

“What… what is he even saying right now?”

“Even if music can make people feel comfortable, this is not the time to play, right? People are still dying out there nonstop! And he’s already starting to ‘celebrate’???”

“Such a baffling move.”

The adjutant stared at Si Qi, completely confused. He instinctively wanted to persuade him otherwise, but when he met Si Qi’s unwavering gaze and thought of the authority he had built up over time, the adjutant found he couldn’t say a single word in protest.

Common sense told him this was absurd, and if they really did it, he’d look like the dumbest fool alive — guaranteed to be ridiculed by everyone afterward.

But he still went to ask the stationed soldiers where the equipment for cultural performances was stored. Under their incredulous stares, he ran to the warehouse and brought back a violin.

Because he was worried about Chu Feng’s safety, the adjutant had been keeping a constant eye on the livestream. He had watched last night’s broadcast, knew Si Qi played the violin, and so deliberately chose it.

Si Qi took the violin, tested the sound, and after confirming it was in tune, placed it on his shoulder.

With one downward stroke of the bow, the sound infused with mental power spread outward instantly, radiating to every place where it could be heard.

In that instant, it was as if time magic had been cast. Everyone’s attention snapped to Si Qi, their voices freezing in their throats — the silence was like someone had pressed pause.

Si Qi glared at the doctors. Startled awake, they hurried to continue their work, but the rest of the people still couldn’t tear their attention away from him. The flowing notes from his violin carried a gentle, soothing emotion that caressed everyone’s spirit. Many soldiers, who hadn’t flinched even when pierced through, suddenly found themselves tearing up uncontrollably, sobbing into their hands.

The wounded soldiers waiting for treatment reacted like this, and those directly in front of Si Qi, under the full focus of his mental power, had no chance of hiding their emotions.

The gentle music was like a soft breeze slipping deep into their hearts, smoothing out the chaos in their minds. In a daze, they saw mottled shadows of trees swaying in the wind, children laughing as they ran along the streets, the bright sunshine and the endless blue sky.

They were sitting on a balcony in short sleeves, with their closest friends and their dearest loved one by their side. Clink — the sound of wine glasses touching. That tipsy, cloudlike comfort was wonderful.

Every corner of the air was filled with peace, their tense nerves relaxing, and smiles of ease appearing on their faces.

The resilient, flowing music gradually soothed their fear and restlessness, then gently drew them back from the dreamlike vision to reality.

When the piece ended, everyone felt like they had been jolted awake from a dream, sitting in stunned disbelief. The soldiers on the brink of collapse instinctively lowered their heads to check themselves, then looked around, confirming they were really in the barracks, not back in their most relaxing home…

Everyone’s gaze turned instinctively toward Si Qi, who was slowly lowering his instrument. The room was utterly silent.

But the viewers behind the screen were on the verge of losing their minds.

They had first seen the people in the room freeze motionless, entranced like statues. Then they saw the soldiers who had been crying in agony gradually calm, their expressions shifting from pain to peace, then to enjoyment — as though some miracle were unfolding!

Even those in poor mental states felt a wave of calmness wash over them after hearing the music. After a long while, someone finally typed in disbelief: “I feel so much better…”

“I’ve been depressed for years, but right now I feel better than ever. It’s like the colors of the world have brightened… This is incredible!”

The livestream audience was utterly stunned. They all knew this was tied to Si Qi’s performance, but their minds couldn’t make sense of it. How could simple music achieve what even the best psychiatrists could not?

The soldiers, once they snapped out of it, quickly stood up. Even if they didn’t understand, they still rushed to give Si Qi their sincerest thanks.

Then, without needing to say a word, they all grabbed their weapons and ran out of the infirmary — back to the battlefield.

In the blink of an eye, the medical room was half empty. Some doctors couldn’t hold back their questions, wanting to know what had just happened.

Si Qi didn’t have time to explain. He brushed them off briefly and told the adjutant: “Find me an open place. I’ll play for the soldiers fighting outside.”

The adjutant’s face was priceless. He nodded quickly, calling for the soldiers to find a suitable spot, and then urgently instructed: “Bring the best sound system here! Blast the music across every corner of the battlefield!”

The soldiers hurried to comply.

Si Qi followed them up to the city wall, to a flat terrace-like space.

Standing near the edge, he looked down at the fierce battle below. Behind him, rows of speakers were set up. He raised his violin, lowered his gaze, and drew the bow.

A deep, resolute melody flowed out, spreading across half the defensive line in an instant.

On the battlefield, the soldiers’ focus was locked on the enemy. They could no longer hear the deafening clamor of battle. Si Qi’s music seeped into their minds unnoticed, merging into their spirit, attaching itself to every strike they made.

The viewers seemed to see soldiers standing tall atop the city walls under the cold night sky, faithfully watching the endless darkness. Their swords in hand, fearless of the chill, their hearts burned with fire, offering their lives as shields, their will as spears, dedicating themselves to their nation without regret.

That unshakable resolve pierced into every soldier’s heart, banishing fear and worry. Their spiritual power solidified like stone, no longer wavering under outside force.

Then Si Qi lifted his wrist. When the bow fell again, the music burst forth — passionate, powerful, stirring! A solemn, awe-inspiring force filled the land, igniting a blazing fire in every heart, making them want to roar and bellow!

Limitless strength surged through their veins, fury and valor boiling in their blood. They fought, they struggled — even death could not stop them!

The audience shook with excitement, their bodies trembling uncontrollably. They saw the soldiers, roaring, breaking through the beasts’ defenses, holding them outside the human settlement. Step by step, visibly pushing those bloodthirsty monsters back!

“Ahhh I can’t take this anymore!!”

“I can’t keep listening! I feel like when I drive right now it’s like I’m driving a tank, I can’t control myself!! I’m so pumped up!!!”

“Damn it, my fingers won’t stop shaking. This music is too strong. With the scene, I swear I’ll dream about this tonight…”

“Die, beasts! Not a single one of you can stand against us!”

It was unbelievable — yet it was real, happening right before their eyes.

The soldiers behind Si Qi were stunned beyond words. More than the viewers, they could see everything clearly: their comrades who had been struggling suddenly rising up, fighting back with music as the spark, holding the invaders at bay. That boiling blood and fierce roars, almost tangible, sent shivers across their skin, goosebumps rising all over!

Their eyes turned to the lone youth standing at the city’s edge, his bow like a sword, fighting on the front line. They branded this sight into their souls, knowing they would never forget it for the rest of their lives.

The battle raged for two full days, with Si Qi by every soldier’s side in another form, standing behind them all.

The doctors were the first to notice the change: casualties were less than a third of what they usually were! They weren’t so overworked that their brains went numb, nor did they dream of stitching wounds all night. On the contrary, lulled by Si Qi’s stirring music, they felt like they could roll up their sleeves and storm out to beat down the beasts themselves!

When they woke, their rest was unusually refreshing. Many soldiers collapsed to sleep as soon as they came off the battlefield, and after just three hours, they woke up feeling as if they’d had a full-body massage — light and comfortable beyond belief.

Reports from soldiers and doctors quickly reached Chu Feng and the border commander. They both linked everything to Si Qi without hesitation. The commander filed a report upward, praising Si Qi’s ability, firmly stating that Si Qi had indirectly saved countless lives.

The central government had already been monitoring the situation through the livestream and had even assembled an expert team to study it. Though the effect of the music (and the mental power within it) was weaker through a screen, it was clear that listeners showed emotional uplift, stronger willpower, and calmer minds.

Si Qi’s music was extraordinary — the expert team compiled a detailed, data-backed report and handed it in. The central authorities, recognizing the significance, ordered that Si Qi’s safety be prioritized at the highest level, designating him a nationally protected figure.

To put it bluntly, at this moment Chu Feng’s life was not as valuable as Si Qi’s.

Because Si Qi might just be the key to opening a whole new system of spiritual healing — the lifeline for soldiers collapsing under mental strain, a sharp spear and a sturdy shield, with power beyond measure.

Humanity had fought beasts for thousands of years, but never before had someone like Si Qi appeared. The world’s leaders all turned their attention to him, quietly observing his every move through the livestream, eager to see what astonishing miracle he would perform next.

And the result was indeed staggering, leaving them shaken and unable to calm for a long time.

Two days later, the frenzied battle finally came to an end.

What they thought would last at least a week concluded swiftly and perfectly in a way no one had expected.

Though Si Qi had never truly stepped onto the battlefield, he had been busier than any soldier. Playing music and infusing it with spiritual power was no easier than wielding a blade infused with it to slay beasts. And since his music had to cover tens of thousands of soldiers, the strain was nothing short of immense.

 Other soldiers could still rest, and if they were badly wounded, they could retreat. But Si Qi hadn’t moved his feet for two full days — he kept playing, matching the soldiers’ battles below.

Many viewers witnessed this with their own eyes, feelings tangled and complex. Even the most argumentative types couldn’t find fault to pick at this time.

Everyone saw what Si Qi had done: his ability, his dedication, his courage, the lives he had saved — none of it could be measured by money, power, or fame.

Two days later, Si Qi finally lowered his sore, exhausted arms. Even the slightest movement hurt terribly.

Doctors hurried forward, carefully undoing his collar and applying ointment to his arms.

Seeing how swollen they were, the doctors’ eyes turned red, tears uncontrollably streaming down.

“Thank you, thank you so much…”

They whispered as they helped Si Qi back indoors. Soon after, representatives sent by the central authorities arrived, speaking quietly with him.

Si Qi answered calmly and steadily. At that moment, he seemed just like when he had once helped Chu Feng host the visiting ladies — polite, reliable, composed. Many officials who had prepared carefully, rehearsing strategies to deal with an aloof star, now found all their preparation useless, with a faint sense of regret.

Thanks to advanced medical technology, Si Qi’s arm recovered quickly. He then recorded twelve different pieces, each with unique effects, in front of several recording devices. The music would continue providing “battlefield support” in his place, while officials and soldiers carefully escorted him into a vehicle bound for the central capital.

The livestream ended. The public, staring at the darkened screen, felt no panic anymore.

What they felt instead was swelling anticipation.

“So those pieces Si Qi played really do work, right?!”

“The central government sent people to protect him directly — of course it’s effective!”

“Hahaha, I knew our 77 was amazing!!”

“General Chu marrying 77 was so farsighted!! Let’s see who dares say again that our 77 doesn’t deserve him!!”

“Hehehe, I can’t stop smiling right now!”

“My brother is a soldier. He was discharged because of a mental collapse, and years of treatment hadn’t helped. Two days ago, I heard about this and played him a recording of Si Qi’s music from the livestream — the one where he treated the soldiers. My brother listened for two days, said he felt much better, and just now the doctor told us he’s nearly recovered?! We were both overwhelmed with joy. Even the doctor was stunned, and now they’re studying that music nonstop… Si Qi saved the person most important to me. I’m so grateful!”

“Since Si Qi’s been sent to the central capital, the investigation results should come soon, right? I’m so nervous, I hope it’s good news!”

“The results are already great, aren’t they? I believe Si Qi’s ability is real. Those two days of livestreaming couldn’t have been faked.”

“And we really have to thank the livestream! Without it, how would we have heard so many songs — the lullabies, the soothing ones, the battle anthems? Luckily the livestream sphere recorded everything!!”

Indeed, the livestream sphere had captured it all.

But the viewers weren’t only ordinary people wishing safety for Si Qi and Chu Feng, hoping Si Qi’s powers were genuine. They also included those hoping Chu Feng would die in battle, and that Si Qi would turn out to be worthless trash — the so-called “Heroine of the World” and the protagonist, Fang Huai.

For them, the nationwide celebration of the last two days was like the cruelest punishment imaginable.

When the Heroine of the World saw Chu Feng collapse and be carried off the battlefield, she leapt up in excitement, shouting, “See, I told you he would die here!”

But her joy didn’t last. Within three minutes, Si Qi calmed the nation’s strongest general with his violin, pulling Chu Feng back from death and completely shutting Fang Huai out of his only chance to rise.

Fang Huai collapsed onto the sofa in shock, still clutching the contact list his father and the heroine had gathered for him. He had been waiting to rally those people once Chu Feng died. But now… Chu Feng was alive. None of them would look at him.

Then came the image of Si Qi in the infirmary, saving dozens of mentally collapsed soldiers with just a violin — another crushing blow.

The heroine raved, “Impossible! How can this be?! Si Qi’s just a pretty face, a useless waste! Impossible!” But Fang Huai never actually believed Si Qi was worthless. The fact that Si Qi, an orphan with no background, had become a top star in just a few years, offending countless people with his blunt words yet holding his position unshaken — that proved his strength.

Fang Huai had abandoned Si Qi for Zheng Shi purely because Zheng Shi’s family background was better. He never thought Si Qi was weak.

Now he sat slumped on the sofa, clutching his head, crushed by regret and despair that filled every corner of his soul.

He knew exactly what Si Qi’s actions meant: Si Qi would become a hero to the soldiers, more precious and respected than warriors themselves.

He had pioneered the field of spiritual power therapy. Even in the far future, when people underwent treatment, they would remember Si Qi’s name, grateful for his legacy.

Si Qi would be an honored guest in any nation. Any country that valued its soldiers would not miss the chance to have him.

His future status was beyond question. And Fang Huai, once Si Qi’s beloved, once the closest family he had — he could have shared that protection, risen with him, become untouchable.

Marshal, duke — even kings would treat Si Qi with utmost courtesy, never daring disrespect. His influence had already surpassed borders, reaching across the world.

The regret and torment suffocated Fang Huai. As someone obsessed with power and used to trampling the weak, he realized he had tossed away Si Qi’s love like trash, treating a watermelon like a sesame seed. His heart ached with stabbing pain, and he wanted to slap himself a dozen times, cursing his own stupidity.

It was worse than losing a lottery worth millions. Worse still, he hadn’t only lost Si Qi, but had also offended him. And because of Si Qi, he had missed his only chance to inherit Chu Feng’s “legacy.” All these reasons piled together until his eyes burned red with hatred.

And all of it, every bit, was because of Zheng Shi. If not for Zheng Shi’s seduction, if not for her hostility toward Si Qi, none of this would have happened. He would still be Si Qi’s boyfriend, still the most important person in his life!

Chu Feng would have left because of their relationship, dying on the battlefield. Someday, Si Qi’s healing powers would have been discovered, making him the world’s treasure. Fang Huai would have inherited Chu Feng’s assets and possessed the most precious person alive.

All of Chu Feng’s things should have been his. But now, he had nothing.

Memories of Si Qi flooded his mind — his pride, his cuteness, his tenderness, the way his eyes glowed with focus and affection when he looked at Fang Huai. Fang Huai’s heart twisted in agony, and he wept bitterly.

Zheng Shi noticed his reaction and quickly pieced things together. Unable to bear it, she snapped completely, lunging to choke him: “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?! You regret it, don’t you?! You opportunistic ingrate, you wolf-hearted bastard, you never had any real feelings!!”

Fang Huai, having lost so much, was in no state to endure provocation. And here came Zheng Shi, the culprit behind it all, daring to attack him. Fury surged up; he slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to the floor: “Bitch!!!”

Zheng Shi, hot-tempered, couldn’t take such humiliation. With a burning red handprint on her cheek, she grabbed a fruit knife from the table and stabbed him.

Xiu Xiu, watching from afar, clicked her tongue at the brutal fight.

They were more vicious than the soldiers had been against the beasts.

As Zheng Shi slashed, cutting off Fang Huai’s manhood, Xiu Xiu shuddered in shock, her body trembling with aftershocks. “Truly the Heroine of the World. Even with her world-power fallen so low, she’s not someone others can trifle with…”

Fang Huai, gravely injured, collapsed on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The heroine showed no mercy, straddling him, slapping his face over and over, venting her fury a hundredfold. She muttered nonsense as she struck — “author,” “the story’s all wrong,” “it’s all fake” — the ramblings of a madwoman.

When she finally tired, covered in blood, she left without looking back.

A passerby noticed the open door, tried to close it, and heard Fang Huai’s faint cries for help inside. Startled, they called the police.

The ambulance arrived quickly, carrying the battered Fang Huai to the hospital.

There, someone who had followed Si Qi’s livestream from start to finish recognized Fang Huai from the annoying couple that had appeared onscreen.

Curious people, seeing him wheeled in covered in injuries, secretly asked around among doctors and nurses.

With Si Qi still the hottest topic, Fang Huai’s case rode the wave into public attention: word spread that he had fought with his fiancée, been beaten bloody by a mere girl, and even had his manhood cut off, now undergoing reattachment surgery.

Some found the story too ridiculous and laughed shamelessly. Others, not knowing the full details, felt pity for him, blaming the duke’s daughter for being a violent abuser who had harmed her fiancé.

But then, someone dug up the truth: Fang Huai’s father was Fang Bozhong, and Fang Huai was his illegitimate son, a stain on the Chu family’s name.

He was also the one Zheng Shi had sworn would “definitely become a general in the future” — Chu General’s younger brother.

The one who had tried to seize the Chu family inheritance.

A Star Who Can Do Everything Except Filming (17): 

Back during the livestream, many viewers already found it strange. As the duke’s daughter, she was knowledgeable and well-informed, privy to many secrets ordinary people had no access to. So how could she be so certain that Fang Huai, just an ordinary rich heir, would definitely become a general in the future?

Later, when Fang Huai’s background was exposed and netizens learned that he was Chu Feng’s younger brother, they vaguely felt it made some sense at first glance, but something about it didn’t sit right.

Soon, a netizen furiously posted a series of comments that cleared things up for everyone.

“Damn it, that bastard Zheng Shi, and that dog Fang Huai!￥！#@……%#……”

After a torrent of curses, the netizen finally explained the reason for his outrage.

“Logically, if someone is alive and healthy, their money, power, and status all belong to them alone. There’s no need for anyone to inherit an ‘estate’!”

“Before General Chu’s public mental breakdown, none of us knew his condition was so critical. The state kept it hidden so we wouldn’t worry, which we can understand. But as General Chu’s own brother, Fang Huai couldn’t possibly not know!”

“Yet Zheng Shi kept saying over and over that Fang Huai would become a general. Wasn’t she, in front of everyone, including General Chu himself, repeatedly implying that General Chu would definitely die and Fang Huai would inherit his estate? How could a human being say something like that??? My worldview is shattered!”

“What’s even more outrageous is that Fang Huai, a bastard child with not a drop of Chu family blood, heard all this and didn’t think there was anything wrong. Look at this screenshot [image.jpg]. That beast actually smiled?! When he heard General Chu might die, he smiled?!”

“After knowing this, going back to watch Zheng Shi on the show calling him ‘general’ and ‘my fiancé the general,’ I was so disgusted I wanted to strangle her!”

“Then I replayed the video of Fang Huai deliberately getting close to Si Qi, speaking ambiguously to him. Damn, I nearly exploded!”

“Everyone knows General Chu’s mental state was very poor at that time, and Si Qi was helping him heal. They couldn’t afford to be separated. What they needed most was mutual love, trust, and honesty. That’s why Si Qi, despite the huge public backlash, joined the dating show—to publicly acknowledge their relationship and help it grow. But Fang Huai saying those ambiguous things to Si Qi was clearly to sow discord, to stop Si Qi from properly treating General Chu! That’s deliberately delaying treatment, indirectly trying to murder the general! This isn’t just sabotaging a military marriage, this is killing someone!!”

“The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I can’t hold it in anymore—I have to expose this! We can’t let a national hero suffer such humiliation!!”

“Zheng Shi, Fang Huai, and that scheming father who had an illegitimate child to snatch the Chu family’s inheritance—none of these three scum should be let off!!!”

Not only was the blogger furious, but every netizen who saw this was also enraged. The post quickly went viral, amassing tens of thousands of comments within half an hour, with shares skyrocketing and spreading like wildfire across every platform.

Outraged netizens bombarded official hotlines, reporting the three of them under real names and demanding harsh punishment.

Naturally, the authorities couldn’t ignore it. The state machinery kicked into motion, and within half a day, they had thoroughly investigated the three, uncovering their communication records, chat logs, and even their schemes against Chu Feng—using words to provoke him during his illness, trying to lure Si Qi away, and pushing Si Qi to abandon treatment.

Once someone wants to dig, there’s always evidence.

The three weren’t exactly geniuses, and their actions were sloppy and dirty. One piece of evidence after another surfaced. Even immortals couldn’t save them now—and no one would want to.

The duke had already publicly expressed his disappointment in his daughter during the livestream, repeatedly apologizing to Chu Feng because of Zheng Shi. His stance was clear.

Even so, he was dragged into the mess, interrogated for a long time, and only released days later, battered and worn. He would remain under surveillance until officials confirmed he hadn’t ordered Zheng Shi to harm Chu Feng.

The duke understood what this meant: his career would be ruined for a long time. His work, his network, every aspect of his life would be obstructed. This was the beginning of his household’s downfall.

Never had he regretted so much. He always thought his daughter was just a bit spoiled—bullying weak teachers and classmates at school—but never crossing any serious line. She was “smart,” knew how to act differently in front of different people, and never embarrassed the family. Many even thought her gentle and well-mannered, a true lady of high society.

But now? She had grown foolish, arrogant, and beyond saving. If only he had corrected her habits earlier, perhaps she could have changed. But now, it was far too late…

The only way to save Zheng Shi now was to use her constant ravings—“this world is a book, Fang Huai is the male lead”—as grounds to send her to a psychiatric hospital.

Even if she resisted, being locked in a mental institution was better than prison, where other inmates would surely attack her. With Chu Feng’s revered status, no prisoner would forgive the one who nearly killed him.

He thought he had arranged the best outcome for Zheng Shi. But she refused to accept it, screaming, “I am the chosen one! I’m a higher-dimensional being! You’re just book characters, how dare you treat me like this! I’m not crazy, I’m not going to a mental hospital!!”

The duke watched his deranged daughter with a face full of twisted rage, feeling regret like never before.

Fang Huai too was drowning in regret.

When he woke up in the hospital, the doctor told him everything that had happened, including the fact that his “little brother” had been severed and left detached for over half an hour.

Hearing this, Fang Huai’s face turned pale green. He held back his emotions and listened until the end, then ran to a bathroom alone to confirm, before letting out a heart-wrenching scream.

His uncle Fang Bozhong came to see him, noticed his distress, and reassured him that doctors had confirmed he wouldn’t lose full function—just slightly dulled nerve responses. He could still have children.

But the psychological trauma of being mutilated was something surgery couldn’t heal. Every time Fang Huai looked there, he remembered Zheng Shi’s attack, triggering phantom pain. Even using the bathroom became difficult, let alone intimacy.

He couldn’t bring himself to say this, so he bore it alone, his hatred for Zheng Shi cutting to the bone.

At that moment, he picked up his terminal, trying to look up advice, but was immediately bombarded by endless online discussions about him and Si Qi.

People accused him of seducing Si Qi to harm Chu Feng, of wanting to step on Chu Feng’s corpse to rise in power, of the duke’s daughter revealing their wolfish ambition long ago. Every comment made his head spin. Official investigations had exposed all their dirty secrets to the world.

With Si Qi and Chu Feng so beloved, even a single offhand insult against them drew public fury. But Fang Huai’s actions? That was like holding a knife to Chu Feng’s throat. Of course the public exploded, cursing his family for eighteen generations.

“How dare such a beast be the one General Chu saved, after all he’s done for our country!”

“You think you deserve to inherit General Chu’s legacy? Even a stray dog has more gratitude than you!”

“And you dare try to seduce our QiQi? Look at yourself—disgusting!”

“I always hated online violence, but if it’s aimed at scum like you, count me in!”

The extreme comments made Fang Huai dizzy. He finally understood why the doctors and nurses had looked at him with such disgust—not just because he got mutilated by his fiancée, but because all his filthy little schemes had been exposed.

Now he wasn’t just no longer a man—he wasn’t even human anymore.

Shaking under his blanket, ice-cold, his face deathly pale, he thought:

How did it come to this…?

I didn’t do anything. I just said a few words to Si Qi. I was only… talking to my boyfriend, telling him how much I loved him… Yes, I just wanted him back! I didn’t want him with Chu Feng—I was just fighting for my love!

Eyes brightening, Fang Huai frantically typed on his terminal:

“Seducing Si Qi? Ridiculous! I dated Si Qi for years—until a month ago, we were still together! It was only because Chu Feng’s mental power went berserk and matched with him that he forcibly stole my boyfriend and even filed for marriage!”

“Si Qi and I loved each other for years. He’s the most important person to me. I love him like myself! I went on the show only to reconnect with him, because Chu Feng wouldn’t let us meet!”

“Chu Feng has long torn my family apart, keeping my parents from being together. Now, just to save himself, he stole Si Qi from me! Why?! Just because he has power, just because he’s a general admired by millions? I’ve lived my whole life under his oppression!”

“I’m powerless, no one listens to me. I’m the real victim, I’m the one who’s lost everything. But in your eyes, because Chu Feng once helped you, because he served the empire, you all trample my grievances and dignity into the ground!”

“Think about it—before a month ago, did Si Qi and Chu Feng have any connection? None! Only after Chu Feng’s breakdown did they start crossing paths. And in such a short time, Si Qi actually married him?! If this wasn’t Chu Feng abusing his power, forcing Si Qi, would they have split and gotten together like that? Clearly Chu Feng was on the verge of death, using authority and morality to pressure Si Qi!!”

He furiously typed it all out and posted it online.

Now, more people were watching this than stars in the sky. Within seconds, countless netizens saw it and shared it.

They swarmed to Fang Huai’s page, mocking him: “Finally stopped playing dead, huh?”

Then, reading his words, they finally saw his claims.

Fang Huai clutched his terminal, anxiously refreshing for reactions. Would people turn on Chu Feng? Would they sympathize with him? Would they hope Si Qi would divorce and return to him?

Result…

“??? Do you take us for fools??”

“Snatching and forcing could win you back a soulmate who can calm a spiritual power riot in three minutes?? Are you half-asleep, or do you think everyone else is an idiot? That lie is way too outrageous, completely lacking common sense.”

“And you even said that Si Qi was forced by General Chu to sign the marriage application? If you had really been ‘in love’ with Si Qi for so many years, would you not know his character—that he’d rather break than bend? There’s no way he would ever agree! If he were truly coerced, then Si Qi would only hate General Chu, there’s no way he would save him.”

“Damn, I’m about to vomit from disgust. If I remember correctly, you got engaged to Zheng Shi three months ago, right? And now you claim you were still in a relationship with Si Qi one month ago? Are you seriously trying to openly declare your extramarital affair, and still drag Si Qi into it?!”

Viewers watching the livestream had even more to say: “You clearly said in the stream that you were the one who pursued Zheng Shi, and you described the time and place clearly. If you really were with Si Qi, then you cheated on him with Zheng Shi. And when you saw that Zheng Shi’s family background was better than Si Qi’s, you just kicked Si Qi aside and got engaged to Zheng Shi! And yet you still have the nerve to say, ‘You love him as you love yourself’? Is your way of loving yourself just constantly adding more green to your own head??”

“Saying General Chu broke up your parents is even more laughable! Your mom was a mistress, you’re an illegitimate child, what kind of respectable family life did you expect? It was your dad who couldn’t give up the Chu family’s wealth and status, insisted on staying on the Chu household registry, taking advantage of them, and only visited you from time to time. You’re the one who got all the benefits while still playing the victim, eating and drinking from the Chu family, and now you paint General Chu, the victim, as the perpetrator? Have some shame!”

“Sorry, I’m not defending General Chu because of his high rank or because he protected all of us. I just purely hate you, and hate people like you! Zheng Shi has high status too, right? Didn’t everyone still scold her? Stop trying to play the ‘I’m just a nobody’ card to gain sympathy. I’ll tell you—you’re not worthy. Even if you were born into tragedy and disabled, if you do things like this, no one will pity you.”

“Bah! Disgusting!”

The netizens’ reaction completely exceeded Fang Huai’s expectations. He never thought that his so-called “confession of truth” would not only fail to gain sympathy but instead pour oil onto the flames, making the fire burn even stronger!

Furious, he kept replying to comments, typing frantically.

But no single voice could overwhelm millions of others—especially when he had no ground to stand on. In no time, he was cornered, exposed, and left with nothing.

In anger he shouted: “I’m also my father’s son, why can Chu Feng have things that I can’t?!”

Netizens were all laughing in disbelief at his twisted logic: “Are you even a member of the Chu family? Do you really not understand why you were born the way you were? Do you really have to put your stupidity on display like this?”

“If you want the glory General Chu has, then go to the battlefield and kill enemies too, act as a human shield, and come back covered in wounds every day!”

“While you were enjoying Chu General’s protection and spending the Chu family’s money recklessly, he was on the frontlines, fighting to the death every second! And you dare say why can’t you have what he has? Then tell us—why should you be allowed to have it?!”

“And you even want to inherit General Chu’s estate? Dream on!”

Fang Huai’s self-defeating words didn’t earn him any sympathy; instead, they made the public’s disgust toward him even stronger.

Still, hidden within his rant was a sliver of “truth”: many netizens noticed that “Si Qi and Chu Feng only got together after Chu Feng’s spiritual riot,” which struck them as odd and uncomfortable the more they thought about it.

That very night, the state authorities confirmed that Si Qi’s music had an extraordinarily significant effect in treating spiritual power disorders. They announced this would be a blessing for all soldiers and even for patients with mental illnesses worldwide. No one would ever again have to fear dying helplessly just because their spiritual power broke down. Every country rushed to report the news. Countless media outlets and heads of state competed for a chance to meet Si Qi, who instantly became humanity’s darling.

At this point, someone raised the issue of Si Qi and Chu Feng’s marriage, tactfully suggesting: “If Si Qi only married General Chu to save him, and now General Chu’s condition is stable, perhaps Si Qi should pursue his own happiness.” Others claimed Si Qi’s healing ability was simply a unique talent—that he could treat anyone’s spiritual disorder—and so his relationship with Chu Feng might not actually be that deep. The program was just meant to cultivate it, but now there was no need.

This view unexpectedly gained traction. Some pitied Si Qi, believing someone like him shouldn’t sacrifice his future happiness just to save another. Others had ulterior motives, thinking that if Si Qi stayed with the patriotic Chu Feng, his allegiance would tilt toward their country, preventing others from profiting.

In any case, the topic stirred heated debate.

After publicly displaying his abilities, Si Qi was busy for over a week explaining to experts why his music could heal spiritual power. Finally, he had time to face international media and clarify.

“I merge my spiritual power into music, and through music as a medium, it influences the spiritual power of others…”

“Yes, music has no physical form, so it has to be grasped and fused through consciousness… People with talent can manage it, just like how some can channel spiritual power into weapons to fight beasts, while others can’t. I only changed the medium from physical weapons to invisible music… It’s a bit harder, but I’ll do my best to teach. Anyone from any country can come to learn, I can even livestream lessons. This isn’t just about one nation—it’s about the entire world fighting together against the beasts…”

“…That’s right, my music can influence people’s emotions. The effect is stronger live, but even through recordings it still works, though weaker. Listening multiple times has the same effect. Treat it like a medical method, just like taking medicine… Why didn’t my singing before have this effect? Who says it didn’t? Didn’t it already come with the side effect of ‘painful to the point of wanting to run away’? Should I give you a live demonstration?”

The audience burst into laughter, and the journalist who asked quickly waved his hands, looking uneasy. Netizens around the world filled with joy, sending bullet comments like, “I absolutely love his proud yet genuine personality.”

The global press conference felt less like a serious event and more like a comedy show—all thanks to Si Qi’s personality. But since it was good news being announced, the cheerful atmosphere wasn’t unwelcome.

Si Qi was so down-to-earth and likable that one journalist impulsively asked about his personal life: whether he and Chu Feng were truly in love, and if he had any plans to divorce.

Si Qi’s expression changed instantly. Furious, he said: “Who said I’m getting divorced? Who said that?! I finally managed to get married—who said I’d divorce?!”

The reporter was dumbfounded, exchanging glances with his colleagues.

Many who had doubted the rumors online now had no more doubts—seeing Si Qi’s reaction made it clear their feelings were real. The rumors were just rumors; these two were deeply in love.

Netizens came to a realization: “Looks like Si Qi really loves General Chu. Otherwise, with his current status, why would he bother to compromise? Love is love.”

“Hahaha, I can’t stop laughing—Si Qi said, ‘I finally managed to get married.’ Just how anxious was he?”

“Now General Chu doesn’t need to worry that Si Qi only married him to save him. If Si Qi really wanted to save someone, he wouldn’t need to tie himself down—just one violin would be enough.”

“Si Qi must have known about his ability long ago. Otherwise, why would he have been so confident in asking for an instrument on the battlefield? I have a strong suspicion that he already had a way to heal General Chu, but because he secretly liked him, he kept quiet. He made sure to marry him first, bind him, secure the advantage, and then show his power—so that by the time General Chu wanted to back out, it’d be too late~ (dog head emoji)”

“Hahaha, that makes so much sense! This is the classic scheming bottom’s trick! General Chu could have been cured with one song, but was step by step lured in, seduced, and completely taken! Only after being thoroughly devoured did Si Qi reveal his true power. Tsk tsk, what a cunning plan!”

“Hahaha, quick, run! Si Qi will hit you if he sees this!”

Si Qi never expected netizens to have already dissected all his so-called “schemes,” boasting about it smugly. He shouted back: “Chu Feng loves me to the bone—he couldn’t possibly divorce me! I’m kind-hearted and would never break someone’s heart! So I had no choice but to stay with him~”

The reporters, who were monitoring netizens’ comments in real time, nearly burst out laughing as they watched Si Qi brag about being so loved.

At first, Si Qi didn’t notice anything wrong, continuing to boast proudly and even winking at Chu Feng beside him to show off how much he was loved.

Finally, his companion Xiao Xiao couldn’t bear to watch him embarrass himself and discreetly reminded him. Si Qi froze mid-sentence, then exploded with anger: “Who said I was scheming? Who said I tricked Chu Feng on purpose? Who said that?!”

Chu Feng, who had always felt guilty for taking advantage of Si Qi, was left speechless: “…?”

The adjutant beside Chu Feng was trembling from holding back laughter. Seeing Chu Feng’s confusion, he leaned in to whisper an explanation.

Chu Feng’s eyes widened in shock.

What—so Si Qi could have healed him from the beginning? He didn’t need to marry him at all?! Si Qi kept quiet because he wanted to take advantage, to tie him down!!

No wonder Si Qi knew him so well, no wonder he signed the marriage papers so quickly—it was all premeditated, a long-held crush!!

That explained why, when their spiritual powers first connected, Si Qi showed such deep affection, like he’d loved him for ages. It all made sense now!!

Chu Feng looked at Si Qi with a new, meaningful gaze. Si Qi glanced at the laughing reporters, then at Chu Feng’s eyes, and exploded: “Nonsense, all slander, I didn’t! Chu Feng, get up here and explain to them!”

Chu Feng walked up on stage and solemnly explained: “Yes, I was the one who pursued Si Qi first. He just agreed quickly. As for using music to heal me… maybe he simply forgot at the time and didn’t remember.”

Si Qi: “…………”

You’d have been better off not explaining at all!!

A Star Who Can Do Everything Except Filming (15): 

It was already late, and more and more viewers were gathering in the live stream. The production team released a new mission, instructing everyone to head to a designated location to search for a “treasure.”

Everyone packed up their things and began the second day of their “adventure journey.” Along the way, as expected, they encountered quite a few strange beasts. Luckily, with Chu Feng and the others protecting them, they passed through each encounter without any real danger.

Until the sudden appearance of the fifth beast—Chu Feng pulled his dagger out of its neck, frowned at the corpse at his feet, and fell into thought.

At the same time, inside Si Qi’s consciousness space, Xiu Xiu, who had been lying on a small sofa, suddenly sat up, tapped its little paw in the air, and said to Si Qi: [Master!]

Si Qi was tilting his head, admiring Chu Feng’s looks. The man in uniform, standing tall and straight, was too handsome—his fitted military attire made his waistline especially striking. In the future, he had to make sure Chu Feng wore that outfit with him… Si Qi finally drew his attention back from Chu Feng: [Hm?]

Xiu Xiu: [A beast tide appeared more than three hundred kilometers away! They’re charging this way and will soon crash into the border defense line!!]

Just then, Chu Feng suddenly turned toward the live broadcast drone with a serious tone: “Director, give me a terminal, I need to contact the border defense department.”

According to the rules, program guests were not allowed to use high-tech equipment or check the live chat feedback. Everything was supposed to be about self-reliance, showing the most authentic version of themselves. But in this situation, rules were just words. The director immediately replied, “Alright, please wait, we’ll send it to you right away.”

Not a single viewer mentioned the program rules. Instead, the barrage was full of speculation:
“What happened? Why did General Chu suddenly turn so serious?”
“He’s contacting the border defense department… sisters, I suddenly have a bad feeling…”
“Wait, me too…”
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it? I’m starting to panic…”

Soon, a drone delivered the terminal into Chu Feng’s hand. He dialed an official number, reported his military ID, and the call was quickly patched through to a nearby border defense department. Then, an anxious voice on the other side said: “There really is a horde of beasts heading this way! We’re already contacting city authorities to issue a warning!”

The next second, a piercing siren wailed from the distant city. The guests froze for half a second, then instinctively sought cover, only to collapse in despair—because they were in the most dangerous place of all: the wilderness!

Inside the live stream, viewers were stunned by the familiar alarm. Then they broke into frantic shouts:
“Don’t tell me the city near the show is under beast attack?! My god!! Run!! Get back to the city!!!”
“77!! 77!!”
“Stay with General Chu, don’t fall behind, run!!!”

Chu Feng, holding the terminal, stood upright like an unsheathed sword: “I must go to the front line. A helicopter will come shortly to take you back to the city.”

Si Qi suddenly stepped forward and grabbed his hand: “I’m going too!”

Chu Feng instinctively refused: “No!”

Si Qi said loudly: “I must go!”

His eyes locked firmly onto Chu Feng’s, repeating again: “I must stay by your side.”

Chu Feng froze. A moment later, he remembered his own condition, his unstable spiritual sea that even on the battlefield he dared not recklessly use. His expression slowly stiffened.

Online, countless viewers who saw the exchange were emotionally overwhelmed.

“77, don’t go!!”
“General Chu is going to war—why are you going along?!”

Amid the angry and anxious voices, Chu Feng hesitated for a long time, then finally said “Alright” under Si Qi’s unwavering gaze.

In an instant, curses and cries of despair filled the live stream. Many netizens couldn’t hold back their fury, but their words could not reach Chu Feng and Si Qi. Even if they could, the two wouldn’t listen.

The other guests, though panicked, breathed a sigh of relief after hearing Chu Feng’s arrangements. But when they heard that Si Qi was going with him, they grew worried, wanting to dissuade him. Si Qi, however, refused them with calm determination.

On the side, Fang Huai pursed his lips as if uninvolved, waiting for the helicopter. Suddenly, his arm was yanked by Zheng Shi, whose face was burning with excitement. A bad premonition surged in Fang Huai’s chest. Sure enough, the “madwoman” whispered: “This is our chance!”

Fang Huai: “……”

Zheng Shi lowered her voice: “Right now, Chu Feng will collapse and die from overusing his spiritual power while resisting the beast tide.”

In the book, it was shortly after this that Fang Huai suddenly inherited his brother’s legacy and began his path into the military.

Zheng Shi’s face was alight: “Chu Feng won’t survive this trial. He’s only known Si Qi for less than a month—Si Qi can’t possibly save him!”

And once Chu Feng died in battle, the soldiers defending the border would also be overwhelmed by the beasts, suffering heavy casualties. As for Si Qi, who stubbornly insisted on staying by Chu Feng’s side—he would almost certainly… haha!

Zheng Shi exclaimed: “When you return, be ready to inherit the troops under Chu Yuxi Feng’s command!”

Fang Huai’s heart pounded wildly. He couldn’t help but ask: “Really? Where did you hear that? Could Chu Feng really die so easily?”

Zheng Shi replied with absolute certainty: “Of course! It’s written in the book. How could that be false?”

As she spoke, a loud rumble came from overhead, accompanied by strong gusts that bent the trees, rustling their leaves.

A rope ladder dropped from the helicopter. Chu Feng gestured for Si Qi to go up first. Si Qi quickly climbed, not giving Chu Feng extra trouble. The soldiers above hadn’t expected Chu Feng to bring someone along, so they hurriedly grabbed an extra headset for Si Qi—the noise was too loud, and communication could only happen via electronic devices.

Meanwhile, the live drones automatically filming each guest now followed after Chu Feng and Si Qi.

Since the production crew was in chaos packing equipment and counting people, they had no time to manage the live stream. The viewers could only watch as the drones followed the helicopter, capturing shots of the wilderness below, and the dark, surging tide of beasts rolling in the distance.

“My god!”
“This is terrifying!!”
“Everyone else runs away, but the soldiers are rushing straight toward danger… I suddenly feel so sad.”
“Praying for all soldiers, may everyone return safely.”
“So many are going to die again this time… damn those beasts!”

The helicopter quickly dropped the two at the defense line, right where the beasts would soon crash into. Chu Feng joined up with the border commander, while Si Qi kept a low profile and trailed close behind. Overhead, the drones floated, recording the entire scene.

“Ahhh, I’m so scared! This is live—it’s happening right now!!”
“I’m from City G… I heard we could see the wilderness here, so I opened the stream… How could there be so many beasts? I’ve never seen this many… Will they break into the city? I’ve seen videos of cities destroyed before, I’m so scared…”
“My classmates and I are all hiding in the basement under our teacher’s direction. We’re all watching the live stream now. Please, program team, don’t shut it down, let us know what’s happening!”

Bullet comments flew by rapidly. On screen, a soldier ran up to Chu Feng, saluted, then pointed at the two drones overhead.

Chu Feng glanced at the cameras. The viewers tensed up, terrified he would order them shut down.

But after Si Qi said something to him, Chu Feng paused, then nodded. The soldier glanced at the drones, then ran off without touching them. Minutes passed, and the live stream was not shut down. The viewers exhaled in relief. “Looks like the stream won’t be cut.”

People began to pray outside the screen: “Hope everything goes well… hope everyone comes back safe…”

Of course, there were also those who criticized mercilessly, pointing at the people in the video:
“Really? At a time like this, they’re just standing around talking? Shouldn’t they be preparing weapons and getting ready to fight?”
“As a general, Chu Feng is setting the worst example—bringing a family member into the military zone? That’s publicly breaking discipline. Is this a place just anyone can walk into? He treats a military base like a playground! He must be held accountable afterward, otherwise discipline will mean nothing to people in power!”
“Si Qi, if you want to die, don’t drag others down. If you end up hindering real soldiers, can you take responsibility? That’s human lives on the line!”

More and more people rushed into the stream to watch. Seeing so many attacking Si Qi, others joined in, making it a trend, treating it as politically correct to curse him.

“Chu Feng himself got in through connections. He’s never followed rules anyway.”
“Those poor soldiers~ Not only do they have to fight beasts, they also have to babysit these freeloaders, sigh~”
“That’s why so many people die every time there’s a beast invasion. It’s not the beasts that kill them—it’s because they have to protect these upper-class people so they can safely return to the city.”

Long-time viewers in the chat were dumbfounded by these comments and angrily refuted: “Do you shameless keyboard warriors have no conscience? The only reason you can sit there safe and sound, spouting nonsense, is because of General Chu’s protection—and now you dare kick them when they’re down!”

“Not even worthy of being human!”

“If you have evidence, show it. If not, then shut the hell up!!”

The keyboard warriors lounged back, laughing smugly as they watched netizens curse, typing: “Oh my, oh my, the stray dogs are rushing to protect their master~~.” The next second, a pop-up suddenly appeared on their screens: “Your comment has been reported for insulting a state officer and spreading reactionary speech. Your account has been permanently banned. The content has been logged and submitted to the relevant authorities. Please report to your nearest Public Security Bureau within three days for questioning. Thank you.”

Their grins froze instantly. The keyboard warriors stared in disbelief at their screens. Cold sweat broke out down their backs, their expressions quickly shifting from smug to pale, and their fingers on the keyboard trembled slightly.

Doing a good deed without leaving a name, Xiu Xiu clapped its little dragon claws, snorted, and said to Si Qi: [Master, what should we do next?]

Si Qi said nothing. He followed behind Chu Feng, trying to get a hot weapon from him, but Chu Feng flatly refused.

“You’re not a soldier, you can’t use army weapons.”

Thinking Si Qi was scared of the beasts, Chu Feng reassured him: “Don’t worry. Soon you’ll be hiding in the underground shelter. Nothing will happen to you.”

Si Qi shook his head. “The reason I came was to be your lifesaving medicine, to help you when your mental power spirals out of control. If I just hide, then there’s no meaning to me being here.”

Chu Feng looked at him and spoke gently: “Don’t worry. If I get into trouble, I’ll come to you.”

Si Qi gazed deeply at him. “Do you believe that yourself?”

Chu Feng fell silent.

“I’ll stand right here, watching you.” Si Qi pointed to the ground beneath his feet, then at the approaching beast tide. “You fight at the front. I’ll watch from behind. If you don’t leave, I won’t leave.”

Chu Feng’s pupils contracted. He quickly steadied himself, looked at Si Qi deeply, then instructed his adjutant: “Assign someone to protect him.”

The adjutant immediately replied: “Yes, sir.”

Under Si Qi’s watch, Chu Feng hurried away. Soon after, the beast tide slammed into the sturdy city walls, the ground beneath their feet shaking violently. Flying beasts dived down to snatch people, only to crash against the electric barrier of the defense shield. Though not killed, they wobbled, circled, and kept searching for openings.

The soldiers dared not let them pass into the city. They deliberately exposed themselves to the birds’ sightlines, stepping into uncovered areas without shelter.

After all, the mission of the border troops was not only to resist beast invasions, but also to draw the beasts’ attacks onto themselves, thereby sparing the civilians from harm.

They exchanged their own danger for the people’s safety.

The roar of heavy weapons thundered. Bullets slammed into the thick hides of the giant beasts, with little effect. Soldiers, fully armed, wielded metal blades that could conduct mental power, leaping into the seemingly endless tide.

Si Qi quickly located Chu Feng below, his gaze heavy as he watched his back.

This body’s mental strength had already been good, and since arriving, Si Qi had trained deliberately, sharpening it greatly.

He could clearly sense how dangerous Chu Feng’s mental state was. Though Chu Feng’s strikes were sharper and deadlier than any soldier’s, every swing consumed more of his mental power, pushing his fragile state closer to collapse.

Silently, Si Qi raised a bow, aiming at the battlefield below. The soldier assigned to guard him was startled and quickly tried to stop him—but before he could finish, the arrow had already flown. It pierced cleanly into a beast’s forehead, saving a soldier from certain death.

The live drone captured the scene perfectly, even zooming in on the rescued soldier’s stunned, bewildered face as he stared at the small wooden shaft.

The new viewers, who had just been about to scold Si Qi for being a liability: “…………”

The fans, who knew he was skilled but not this skilled: “…………”

Si Qi: “Go find me some arrows.”

The nearby soldier instinctively responded, “Yes, sir!” Then he froze mid-turn. “Uh… we don’t have arrows here…”

This place stored the country’s most advanced heavy weapons. Who would stock something as outdated as arrows?

Si Qi: “……”

He sighed softly, counted the few arrows left in his hand, and shot again—perfectly saving another soldier.

This time, even the diehard critics who wanted to insist his earlier shot was just luck had nothing left to say.

Third arrow. Fourth. Fifth. By the sixth, his quiver was empty. Si Qi tossed the weapon aside and started walking toward the battlefield.

The soldier quickly followed, glancing at him with a trace of awe—this man had felled beasts impervious to RPGs with nothing more than a bow. “Where are you going, sir?”

Si Qi thought for a moment, then chose not to hide it. At this point, hiding was impossible. “Chu Feng’s mental power is spiraling out of control. He’s still in recovery and won’t last long.”

The soldier froze, stunned, unable to believe it.

The viewers behind their screens almost thought they’d misheard. Then the realization sank in, panic erupted:

“What?! How could this happen?!”
“Get General Chu back!! How could he go into battle like this?!”
“How could he not? Even with his mental power in chaos, with his sense of duty, General Chu wouldn’t leave the battlefield while still breathing…”
“So that’s why Si Qi insisted on coming—because only he can stabilize General Chu’s mental sea! That’s why they revealed their relationship and went on that show, because things had already gotten this bad!!”
“But if Si Qi could heal him, he would have already. If Chu Feng fully loses control, and Si Qi tries to save him, won’t he get dragged down too? Plenty of people have gone mad trying to heal their partners’ shattered mental seas!!”
“Oh god… why is it one bad news after another today? I can’t take this…”

Just outside the walls, Si Qi lifted his head and saw Chu Feng falter, his blade swinging slower. A half-decapitated wolf slammed into another soldier.

Chu Feng gritted his teeth, yanked his blade down through the beast’s neck to kill it, but staggered, forcing himself forward two steps—before collapsing to the ground.

His adjutant, always close by, rushed to catch him and carried him back toward the wall. Then he saw Si Qi standing there. Instinctively, he cried: “M-Mr. Si, please—save our General, save him…”

Si Qi’s expression was steady. He took Chu Feng into his arms, drenched in blood.

Chu Feng still clung to a sliver of reason. Trembling, he pushed weakly at Si Qi: “No… no, I’ll hurt you…”

Only those truly connected could feel each other’s hearts. With his mental sea in this state, Chu Feng knew he would lash out uncontrollably. He didn’t want that…

“Good boy.” Si Qi gently stroked his bloodstained face, pressed a kiss to his brow, and whispered: “Don’t be afraid. Leave it to me.”

Then, under Chu Feng’s anxious, resisting gaze, Si Qi extended his own mental feelers and touched Chu Feng’s mental sea.

The storm inside raged like an ocean, waves crashing violently. Tornado-like whirlwinds churned the waters, threatening to tear everything apart. Si Qi’s mental presence was like a tiny boat, about to be capsized and swallowed.

Through that fragile connection, Chu Feng’s berserk mental power found a new outlet—surging toward Si Qi’s mind with overwhelming force.

Chu Feng tried desperately to restrain it, but how could someone unable to save himself hope to save another? He bit down hard, trying to tell Si Qi to run, but Si Qi didn’t move.

The adjutant watched, fists clenched tight, palms slick with sweat.

He was braced for the moment Si Qi screamed and collapsed, crushed under Chu Feng’s outpouring, his fragile mind destroyed.

In the best outcome, Chu Feng would “recover,” stable enough not to break down at any moment—but Si Qi, whose spiritual strength was far lower, would burn out and shatter, left a broken, mindless husk.

The adjutant knew this was cruelly unfair to Si Qi. But no one else could do it. If it were possible, many—including himself—would willingly take Si Qi’s place. But the truth was, only Si Qi could save Chu Feng.

Then, he saw Si Qi’s calm expression, gentler than ever before. With one hand he supported Chu Feng and dropped a soft kiss on the space between his brows. Instantly, a deep love that had lasted tens of thousands of years and crossed countless worlds swept away the unease in Chu Feng’s heart.

Every strand of his spiritual power was conveying love to Chu Feng. Every ocean of his spirit was calm and peaceful, bearing all of Chu Feng’s “damage” without the slightest resistance, only tolerance, comfort, and a deeply entwined affection.

In that moment, Chu Feng’s mind went blank as he stared at Si Qi in a daze. Even without words, he was certain that this young man loved him, with a love no less than his own for Si Qi, perhaps even more.

Si Qi’s spiritual tendrils turned into fine threads, touching the tightly knotted cores of Chu Feng’s mental power. Each tendril struck with astonishing precision, and at a dazzling speed, unraveled the knots into their original smooth yet resilient form.

Chu Feng’s pallid face improved visibly, and the chaotic, suppressed aura around him gradually calmed. The adjutant beside him was dumbfounded, glancing at Si Qi and then at Chu Feng, as if witnessing an impossible miracle!

Moments later, Chu Feng recovered enough to stand steadily on his own. Si Qi withdrew his hand, while thousands of spiritual tendrils continued to comb through Chu Feng’s spiritual sea over and over, as smoothly as running a comb through hair.

It had not been in vain that after coming to this world he had devoted himself wholeheartedly to cultivating his spiritual power and breaking down Chu Feng’s defenses. Wasn’t this the moment he had been waiting for?

Chu Feng looked at Si Qi, lips parting, but his face flushed first. In the end, he said nothing, just squeezed Si Qi’s hand. His spiritual tendrils conveyed endless love and the resolve to protect him no matter what, before he turned and walked toward the beast horde.

The adjutant jumped in fright and hurriedly shouted, “General, where are you going?! Your spirit is in upheaval—”

Si Qi: “He’s already fine.”

The adjutant’s eyes widened. “What?! How is that possible?!”

Viewers watching through the live broadcast orb were stunned: “…Wasn’t this supposed to be a spiritual riot?”

“Isn’t a spiritual riot said to be worse than terminal cancer, more unbearable than anything? This isn’t like what I know a riot to be!”

“Must be a mistake?”

“Who would dare make such a mistake? Even if you gave the adjutant a hundred guts, he wouldn’t dare curse General Chu like that to his face!”

“So… did Si Qi really just suppress the general’s spiritual sea disorder with ease? I thought only partners whose hearts are connected, who entrust life and death to each other, could do that? Looks like they truly are soulmates… how wonderful, how perfect.”

“Just for this alone, Si Qi deserves General Chu’s deep affection. He’s truly sincere toward him!”

At first shocked and then overjoyed, the audience’s fear of losing Chu Feng turned into relief at his rescue, sending their favor for Si Qi soaring to new heights.

Moreover, that moment also explained why Si Qi had “trespassed” into the military stronghold, clearing up a major misunderstanding—he had risked his life not for fun, but to save Chu Feng.

Si Qi returned to the top of the wall. Inside the building, batches of gravely wounded soldiers were carried in to receive urgent care from doctors and nurses.

Because of the constant wars, this world’s medical technology was highly advanced. Even severed limbs could be reattached quickly on the spot. Many soldiers were treated right after leaving the battlefield, only to rush back again immediately afterward, treating themselves like war machines.

Many viewers saw the soldiers in torn, blood-soaked clothes running headlong back into the very battlefield that had nearly claimed their lives moments before, and their eyes filled uncontrollably with tears.

On the other side of the wounded, soldiers whose physical injuries had been healed still screamed in agony, clutching their heads and trying to smash themselves against the walls with any part of their bodies, desperate to escape the torment of spiritual collapse.

They wanted to die, to end the torture more painful than a thousand cuts. They cried and begged for help, but even the doctors could do nothing.

The hellish scene cast a shadow over countless viewers’ hearts, their faces pale with fear.

“Actually, wasn’t General Chu suffering like this just now too…”

“His spirit had already gone into riot, that’s why he hadn’t stayed with the legion and instead stayed in the city with Si Qi… because his condition was so bad he couldn’t leave Si Qi’s side. Yet none of us realized it, we even thought he was just ‘showing off his romance’! He bore that crushing burden all alone, unable to confide in anyone!”

“Yet even so, General Chu still went to the battlefield without hesitation. That’s the responsibility of a soldier…”

“Isn’t there some way to save these poor warriors? Even knocking them out with anesthetic would be better than this…”

“I’m going to cry to death.”

Si Qi turned his head, calm-eyed and resolute, and said to the adjutant behind him: “Do you have musical instruments here?”

“—Bring me the instruments!”

A Star Who Can Do Everything Except Filming (14): 

Fang Huai glanced at Zheng Shi, whose expression was twisted and frightening, then looked at the expressionless Chu Feng. Gritting his teeth, he turned to Si Qi and said, “I shouldn’t have made you sad…”

Si Qi raised his hand to cut off Fang Huai’s sentimental speech, blocking all his words in his throat, and said impatiently, “No need for those pretty words. I’m asking you, where do you think you were wrong?”

Fang Huai froze, looking at Si Qi in confusion. Other than this, what else could it be?

When he didn’t answer, Si Qi said for him, “You were wrong because you didn’t see clearly the relationship between me and Chu Feng, you didn’t anticipate my worth. So now, realizing your past mistake, you’ve come to apologize, isn’t that right?”

Fang Huai’s face fell, embarrassed. “How can you misunderstand me like this?”

Si Qi sneered. “Is this a misunderstanding? Didn’t you used to insist you were right, that your choice was the wisest? If you hadn’t realized how much Chu Feng loves me, would you be here?”

Fang Huai was dumbfounded and blurted out, “He loves you? Impossible! He doesn’t feel anything for you at all!”

The netizens, who had been quiet all this time, instantly exploded.

“Damn! What’s this guy trying to do?! Stir up trouble between 77 and General Chu right to their faces?!”

“Do you know that destroying a military marriage is a crime?”

“Go back and play your love-hate games with that shameless fiancée of yours. Stop messing with our 77!!”

“At first I thought he was trying to curry favor with General Chu by starting with Si Qi, but now it’s clear—he actually wants Si Qi himself!”

“Unbelievable. His fiancée is standing right there watching, and he still dares to flirt with someone else’s partner. I’m disgusted!”

Fang Huai’s words were like poking a hornet’s nest. Zheng Shi rushed up and slapped him across the face, hysterically pulling him away. “I warned you, you’re not allowed to talk to him!!”

Chu Feng also came to Si Qi’s side at the same time. His emotions weren’t as explosive as Zheng Shi’s—much more restrained—but anyone could see the anger simmering around him.

He said to Si Qi, “Don’t be angry.”

Si Qi snorted coldly. Without sparing a glance at the disheveled Fang Huai, he said to Chu Feng, “Someone like that isn’t worth my anger.”

He pulled Chu Feng away and added, “From the moment he asked me to go against you, I’ve hated him.”

Chu Feng’s eyes flickered.

Si Qi wasn’t angry about his boyfriend’s supposed infidelity, but because Fang Huai tried to hurt Chu Feng. During the earlier Q&A, Si Qi had also shown he knew everything about him… Could it be that even before he approached Si Qi, Si Qi had already been paying close attention to him?

Does this mean that in Si Qi’s heart, he wasn’t just a patient in need of saving, but someone he had admired for a long time, someone he already liked? Was that why Si Qi so eagerly signed the marriage application back then, perhaps because…

While he was still thinking, Si Qi said to Chu Feng, “But… is our relationship really so bad that even an outsider would think we don’t care about each other?”

Chu Feng froze for a moment, unsure how to answer.

The ever-watchful netizens quickly chimed in:

“No, no! You two are super sweet!”

“Seriously, just standing together, every glance between you makes my heart race—better than any romance drama!”

“When you really love someone, you can tell just by their eyes!”

“General Chu’s gaze never leaves you, he definitely loves you! 77, don’t worry!”

The online comments were one-sided, but Chu Feng didn’t know that. Suddenly hearing Si Qi’s almost-accusatory words, he felt guilty. In his eyes, he hadn’t done anything for Si Qi at all—though the reason he agreed to join the show was to clear Si Qi’s name online, to prove to everyone that being with him wasn’t about power, but because he truly loved Si Qi.

Now, hearing Si Qi’s complaint, Chu Feng grew anxious. “I—I’m not… I really do like you.”

The netizens widened their eyes, covering their mouths as waves of shrieks echoed in their hearts.

Ahhhh, Si Qi is too good! Just one casual line, and General Chu confessed out loud. Good job!

Si Qi snorted. “Plenty of people like me. I’m tired of hearing it.”

Chu Feng parted his lips, regret flashing in his eyes.

“Then how should I prove it? Do you like sports cars? Or gaming consoles? Whatever you like, I’ll buy it for you…”

If his mental power hadn’t been damaged, he could’ve extended it to Si Qi, letting him feel his most genuine love, letting him believe.

But now…

The netizens burst into laughter.

“General Chu is way too pure. He doesn’t even know how to say romantic words?”

“Pfft, don’t tell me Si Qi is his first love? He’s so awkward!”

“Tsk tsk, looks like even I’m better at this than General Chu! Suddenly feeling confident!”

Sure enough, after Chu Feng said this, Si Qi rolled his eyes and said, “We’re already married. What’s mine is yours. What difference does it make if you buy it for me or I buy it myself?”

The chat instantly blew up:

“Holy crap?! They’re already married?!”

“I thought they just started dating!!”

“Wow, I was worried about their future, whether Si Qi could join the Chu family smoothly. Now it’s clear—they’re already tied together!”

“Ahhhhh I’m so excited!!”

Chu Feng thought for a moment. “Then… I’ll take you traveling. I’ll show you the most beautiful sights I’ve seen. I’ll give you all my time—that’s my most precious gift.”

Si Qi’s eyes widened, turning to look at him, his heart racing.

Damn it. Every time they fall in love again, Chu Feng always manages to fluster him.

“W-who wants your time. But since you’re so sincere, even though I’m busy, I can reluctantly spare some time to keep you company.”

“Hahaha, he’s blushing!” the audience laughed.

“Si Qi is the perfect mix of sharp tongue and soft heart—strong as hell but can’t resist sweetness!”

“This is what they call a natural counter to tsunderes! General Chu ignores the ‘tsun’ part and goes straight at him with heartfelt words, leaving only the ‘dere’ behind.”

“I love watching them interact, it’s killing me with sweetness.”

Chu Feng could see Si Qi wavering. His suspicion grew clearer—Si Qi really did like him. It wasn’t just out of duty or pity that he agreed to marry him.

But remembering Fang Huai’s words to Si Qi earlier, thinking that Fang Huai might try to win him back, a crushing urgency weighed on Chu Feng’s chest.

Before, he had thought Fang Huai was nothing but a clown, and for the sake of being one of his few blood relatives, he hadn’t planned to really act against that father-son pair.

But now…

Chu Feng’s eyes turned icy. He cast a distant look at Fang Huai, who was still quarreling with Zheng Shi. His cold expression made even viewers in front of their screens shiver instinctively.

“Hiss, General Chu is angry. I’ve never seen him lose his temper in public before.”

“Trying to steal his partner right in front of him, of course he’s mad.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t be as restrained as General Chu. I’d have punched him already.”

“And really, does that spoiled rich brat Fang Huai even deserve it? Standing next to Si Qi, he looks totally out of place. Where does he get the courage?”

Fang Huai’s attempt at reconciliation fell flat. Not only did he fail to gain Si Qi’s “forgiveness,” he got slapped by Zheng Shi and scolded by the audience, leaving him humiliated and disheveled.

The funny part was, after the “breakup,” the original Si Qi kept humiliating himself by obeying Fang Huai’s every demand, solving his biggest problems, and in the end, once he was no longer useful, was discarded like trash.

Now, with Si Qi’s arrival, he hadn’t given Fang Huai a single kind word, making him lose face at every turn, deliberately doing the opposite of what he wanted—and yet Fang Huai now clung to him desperately, regretting ever abandoning him.

How pathetic.

Si Qi stood there lost in thought, while Chu Feng, holding the prepared ingredients, asked him, “Can you eat spicy food?”

Si Qi nodded. “A little.”

Chu Feng looked at the others. “What about you?”

Everyone quickly responded: “We’ll eat whatever you cook!”

“I’m not picky!”

Chu Feng turned back to Si Qi. “There’s oil smoke here. You should rest to the side.”

Si Qi raised his chin proudly. “If it doesn’t taste good, I won’t eat it. My stomach’s really picky!”

As he spoke, he tentatively extended his mental power, only for it to be caught by Chu Feng’s spiritual sea.

Feeling the hungry craving within, Chu Feng chuckled. “Really not going to eat?”

Si Qi: “…”

He muttered under his breath, “I’ll force myself to eat a little. After all, in a place like this, I need to save up energy…”

His sulky expression after being caught off guard was so adorably silly that many netizens quickly took screenshots, turning them into memes with all kinds of captions. The more he thought about it, the more justified he felt. Si Qi raised his head, put his hands on his hips, and declared righteously, “Yes, I’m eating more for the sake of team unity, so I won’t drag everyone down! It’s absolutely not because I want to eat your cooking!”

Professor Bai and the others couldn’t help but snicker: The dish isn’t even cooked yet, and you’re already sure you’ll eat a lot? And you say you don’t want it!

Chu Feng also chuckled, glancing at the proud young man who looked as if he had just won a battle. Turning back, he tossed the pre-cut pork belly into the hot wok, where it sizzled with a sharp hiss.

As the pork belly was heated, it turned from white to golden brown, slowly releasing golden oil. Chu Feng poured in the diced meat from the side and stir-fried it gently. In just over twenty minutes, he had produced six home-style dishes that looked quite decent.

Because the ingredients were relatively plentiful, each dish was made in generous portions. Even though most of the guests present were young and strong, the sight of so much food left them a little stunned.

So much—could they really finish it?

With this thought in mind, they all sat down. The female doctor brought out eight bowls of rice, smiling as she served them, saying how fortunate it was that the production team hadn’t gone so far as to make them prepare even the staple food themselves.

Everyone picked up their chopsticks, their faces brimming with excitement as they stared at the dishes before them, already imagining how unforgettable General Chu’s cooking must taste.

The male warrior accepted his rice bowl calmly. Unlike the other guests who had always lived in cities, his work often took him into the wilderness. He had long since stopped expecting much from food found in such places.

After all, without seasoning—no salt, sugar, soy sauce, or MSG—whatever was cooked usually ended up plain, dull, and rough. Hardly worth anticipating.

He silently prepared some words in his head, ready to speak up and smooth things over when everyone was inevitably disappointed, so Chu Feng wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

But as soon as the others put food into their mouths, the next second their eyes lit up in astonishment. Their jaws worked rapidly as they chewed, unable to hide their amazement. The warrior frowned in doubt. Impossible—was the halo of idol worship really so strong that even plain food could taste delicious?

With that thought, he picked up a piece of diced meat with his chopsticks and put it into his mouth.

The stir-fried meat was a light golden brown, crispy outside yet tender and springy within, cooked to perfection. Paired with rice, the rich aroma instantly filled his mouth—so flavorful it was almost unreal!

In a blink, a wave of hunger surged from his stomach, overwhelming his mind. His jaw moved faster without him realizing, swallowing the food in no time, and his hand automatically reached for more.

This time he tried pork bone stewed with mushrooms. The mushrooms burst with juice at the first bite, and the stir-fried meat had been boiled soft and tender, melting in the mouth. The rich broth was so savory it made one doubt reality itself.

The guests who had been laughing and joking a moment ago now fell completely silent, eating like starved refugees clutching their rice bowls, shoveling food down greedily. Their ravenous yet satisfied expressions made the viewers at home hungry just watching.

“I couldn’t resist opening the food delivery app…”

“Who would’ve thought a survival show could make me this hungry?”

“Just how delicious is General Chu’s cooking? They’re eating so much they can’t even talk.”

“Ugh, I’m so jealous of the guests. What luck they have.”

“Can’t they pause for a second and tell us what it actually tastes like?! (going crazy)”

The heaps of food dwindled visibly, the bottoms of the plates showing through. By the time the guests realized it, every dish had been scraped clean, and even the bowls of rice were empty.

They held their empty bowls in bewilderment, staring at the bare plates with a sense of loss. After a long while someone said, “I feel like I only took two bites.”

“General Chu’s cooking really is incredible. Si Qi will be lucky at home.”

“Food after exercise really does taste the best!”

Everyone smacked their lips, savoring the aftertaste.

The director, seeing the viewers demanding to know just how delicious the food was, kindly relayed their questions.

The lawyer thought a moment and said, “Honestly, it just tastes like home cooking.”

“No fancy tricks, just delicious. Purely delicious.”

“Each dish brings out the most essential, natural flavors of the meat and vegetables, a simple yet perfect kind of taste.”

The others nodded in agreement. “Exactly, just purely good.”

The audience was consumed with envy. Luckily it was a livestream—later they could watch the recording and maybe recreate the dishes step by step. Perhaps then they too could taste General Chu’s home-style cooking.

The meal left everyone content and full. They leaned back, rubbing their stomachs, gazing up at the starry sky that had appeared unnoticed overhead. Surrounded by the primeval forest, their spirits felt utterly refreshed.

Seeing their state, the director suggested at the right moment, “Since fate has brought us together today, and you’ve all gotten to know each other, why not take this chance to show off some talents?”

The warrior laughed. “I’m a rough guy, no talent here. Put me on stage and I’m just a post.”

The female doctor blushed. “I don’t have much artistic sense either… even my singing is off-key.”

Si Qi suddenly interjected, “What a coincidence, same here.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Seeing no one covering for him, Si Qi got annoyed. “Even if I sing off-key, it still sounds good!”

The lawyer said, “Si Qi can sing, and I can play piano. But we don’t have instruments here, so I guess that’s out.”

The director replied, “Don’t worry, we always have a car nearby, with everything you need.”

The lawyer nodded gracefully. “Then I’ll accompany Si Qi later.”

Si Qi: “……”

He glanced away guiltily, then quickly looked back, feigning confidence. “Actually, I’m even better at violin.”

The lawyer blinked. “Didn’t know you had that skill.”

Si Qi puffed out his chest proudly. “I’m versatile!”

The lawyer chuckled and nodded. “Alright, then I’ll listen carefully.”

The instruments were quickly brought over. The lawyer asked, “What music should we play?”

“Of course, one of my songs! My songs are amazing!” Si Qi declared.

As a top star, any song of his was well-known, the kind that played everywhere, from streets to shops.

The lawyer couldn’t help laughing, thinking, of course he’d say that. He told the director, “Then please prepare two copies of the sheet music.”

Si Qi waved dismissively. “One copy’s enough. I know my own songs by heart.”

The lawyer gently reminded him, “Singing and playing are pretty different…”

Even pianists who had practiced a piece hundreds of times often needed sheet music on stage—it was really hard to memorize.

Si Qi snorted. “If my singing sounds bad, that’s a matter of skill. But whether I memorize it or not is about attitude. You can say my skill isn’t enough, but you can’t say I lack dedication. I’ve always taken my career seriously!”

Fans quickly chimed in online: “That’s right! 77 might sing off-key, but he’s super professional when it comes to work!”

Bystanders almost died laughing: “Did you all just openly admit your idol sings off-key?”

“Never seen such a straightforward idol-fan relationship.”

“Now I don’t even think Si Qi’s off-key singing is a flaw—it’s actually kind of adorable!”

Si Qi said, “Since it’s nighttime, I’ll pick something gentle… hmm, how about ‘Summer.’”

The director soon printed the sheet music for the lawyer. After a quick discussion, they divided the parts.

Knowing the lawyer had just gotten the score, Si Qi gave him the simplest section, less prone to mistakes. After going over it mentally, the lawyer nodded confidently. They sat down by the fire, a little apart.

The warm yellow firelight lit their faces. Wood crackled softly, insects murmured in the forest, and moonlight bathed the land. Everyone watched the pair in silence.

Soon, light piano notes fell like raindrops, their lively rhythm easing everyone’s mood, bringing smiles to their faces.

Seeing this, Si Qi thought it was the perfect moment. Quietly, he infused his spiritual power into the violin’s voice.

The graceful notes blended with the melody, calm yet passionate, like the coolest breeze of a summer night, carrying everyone into its serenity.

Leaning back in their chairs, they imagined a scene in their minds: a plate of sliced watermelon beside them, the croak of frogs and chirping cicadas in the distance, an endless starry sky overhead. A breeze stirred the wind chimes hanging under the eaves.

Ding-ling—the memories of summer stirred, freshness wrapping around their bodies, their minds filled with nothing but ease and relaxation.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, in a crowded bus, office workers stood wearily in the aisle, frowning as nearby girls chattered about idols.

Work stress and the unpleasant environment weighed on their expressions, leaving them drained and irritable.

Suddenly, a gentle melody flowed from a phone speaker, like a refreshing spring breeze slipping into their ears and minds, sweeping away the gnawing frustration.

For a moment, they felt transported to a summer forest, saw streams winding, smelled wild grass and earth. Sunlight poured down, clouds drifted across their eyes, mountains and mist spread before them, the world vast beyond imagination.

Unknowingly, their furrowed brows relaxed, their faces softened, irritability vanished. A glimmer of light appeared in their eyes, their expressions eased, and even the corners of their lips lifted into a faint smile.

The voices inside the car had vanished at some unknown moment. Everyone subconsciously listened to the flowing music. Even after the melody ended, no one spoke for a long while.

In a residential building, a heartbroken woman had taken leave from work and stayed at home, choosing to distract herself by watching variety shows. Her numb expression changed mechanically along with the program, as though by not thinking, she could numb the fragile nerve that at any moment might collapse into tears.

Yet the instant the piano began, gentle emotions wrapped around her heart like a spring of water. She was like a traveler in the depths of winter, unable to find shelter, suddenly being embraced in a tender hug. An invisible hand stroked the top of her head, as if saying, “Everything will pass.” Her emotions lost control in that instant, like a flood bursting through a dam. She curled up on her bed, clutching her phone, and wept with heartbreaking sobs. Her long-suppressed feelings finally found release.

At the same time, all over the world, people burdened by work, family, or school, constantly under immense pressure, unable to sleep properly for months on end, found themselves clutching their phones—and then, unknowingly, drifting into sleep.

The music by their ears accompanied them into dreams. That night, for once, they had a good dream.

The next morning, as they woke to the bright sunlight, they stretched and discovered their moods were better than they had ever been. With light steps and genuine smiles on their lips, even when facing the usual stifling troubles of life, they no longer felt so irritable.

They had no idea why this was, and simply assumed they had suddenly figured things out. Until, in their spare time, they opened that familiar livestream room again. The screen was flooded with comments:
“Last night I fell asleep listening to the stream! When I woke up, my whole body felt so relaxed!”
“I was so nervous about finals that I hadn’t slept properly for days. But last night I fell asleep around eight, slept straight through to morning, and did better than ever on today’s exam!!”
“This music is magical!”

The delayed feedback, fermented through the night, finally exploded in the morning.

Professor Bai also awoke, feeling lighter than ever, with no trace of the fatigue from yesterday’s long journey.

He opened the tent and saw General Chu and Si Qi preparing breakfast together. With a knowing smile, he quietly went to fetch water and make a fire, readying warm water for everyone to wash with.

“Morning.” The female doctor came out of her tent and greeted him with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than ever,” Bai replied with a smile. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but instead I had a rare good dream.”

The doctor widened her eyes in surprise. “What a coincidence! So did I!”

She had expected the simple mat in the tent to be uncomfortable, yet she had slept soundly until morning, and woke with an unprecedentedly clear mood.

“Could it be that living in the forest just makes people happier?” she joked. “I suddenly envy the soldiers stationed at the border.”

“It has nothing to do with where you live.” A warrior walked out of his tent behind her. “When I sleep outdoors, I’m always tense and hardly rest at all. The soldiers stationed for long years outside have it even worse.”

The doctor, sensitive to anything related to medicine, frowned in thought. “That’s true. I used to think I’d never dare to sleep soundly outside… then what is this about?”

Professor Bai said, “Maybe because you know General Chu is here, so you feel safe?”

Yawning as he came out, the lawyer added casually, “Or maybe because last night we had a full meal and listened to soothing music, so everyone relaxed?”

The doctor’s eyes lit up. “That could be it! Isn’t it said that music helps relax emotions and release stress?”

“When you’re in a good mood, sleep improves, and your spirit is more relaxed overall.”

The lawyer smiled. “But don’t give me the credit. I’m only an amateur. Si Qi was the one holding everything together—he played all the music last night by himself.”

Everyone looked toward Si Qi in the distance. He, unaware of their conversation, was smiling warmly at Chu Feng.

“You fell asleep so early last night,” Si Qi said softly.

“Mm.”

Si Qi leaned close, distracting Chu without meaning to.

“I was lying right beside you, yet you slept so soundly. Seems like you don’t care about me at all. I have no charm in your eyes.”

“It’s not like that—” Chu hurried to explain.

Si Qi gave him a wounded look. “Only when you’re next to someone you like do you get too nervous to sleep. Do you know how I spent last night?”

Chu stiffened, instinctively asking, “How did you…?”

Si Qi gazed at him, half-smiling. “What do you think? Do you want me to have sweet dreams, or do you want me tossing and turning all night?”

Chu: “……”

How could he answer that?

Si Qi leaned closer, his lips brushing Chu’s ear, his warm breath grazing against it as he whispered, “Next time… just watch me fall asleep yourself, then you’ll know.”

A shiver of electricity shot through Chu’s nerves, followed by heat flooding his body.

Watching Si Qi fall asleep…

Chu’s ears flushed red as he met Si Qi’s smiling eyes. His heart pounded wildly, stolen away by the young man’s beauty.

Si Qi chuckled softly, his voice like a feather teasing Chu’s heart.

Chu swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes drawn into Si Qi’s gaze as though being pulled in.

Worse still, Si Qi’s spiritual tendrils were brushing against his, probing, touching, breaking through his fragile defenses—about to be welcomed as a new guest in his inner world.

Around them, the other guests woke and began preparing breakfast together.

As they ate, the conversation naturally turned to the good dreams of last night, and then to Si Qi’s “concert.”

When someone joked that maybe the music had relaxed everyone enough to dream well, Si Qi declared, “Of course it was the music! My music is better than any mental massage.”

Everyone was used to his “narcissism,” and laughed it off.

But some people, suffering serious insomnia and heavy stress, had actually recorded his entire half-hour performance, planning to keep it as their nightly lullaby.

Some of these people were self-treating; some also saw therapists regularly. One patient even mentioned it during a session, proudly playing the recording in the consultation room.

In this world, mental clinics did not only treat psychological issues, but also problems of spiritual power.

The two overlapped, differing only in severity. Mild issues could be eased with therapy, medication, or travel. Severe cases required complex spiritual treatments, beyond physical means.

For this reason, therapists usually had strong spiritual power themselves, so they could intervene when patients’ spiritual energies went awry, instead of being overwhelmed by them.

As the recording played, the flowing piano notes filled the room. The doctor thought it was indeed a pleasant, relaxing tune, good for sleep.

But it was still just an ordinary piece of music—hardly something that could produce the extraordinary results the patient described.

Then, a violin joined in, weaving into the piano’s melody. The patient sighed contentedly, sinking into the soft couch. The doctor, watching closely, suddenly saw the patient’s spiritual sea ripple like a swing—gentle, soothing, and joyful.

The doctor’s eyes widened. “……???”

Unable to resist, he asked where the music came from, why it felt so… unusual.

Meanwhile, perched on a wooden stool, Si Qi was bragging shamelessly: “My playing? Unmatched! I can make people happy or sad, laugh or cry, all at my fingertips!”

The others, eating breakfast, laughed at his confidence, humoring him with “Yes, yes, exactly,” without taking him seriously.

Si Qi nodded solemnly, nose in the air. “As long as you know,” he said, before plucking a berry from the fruit plate and popping it into his mouth.

The audience found it hilarious, never imagining that just a few hours later, this music would unleash such terrifying power.

A Star Who Can Do Everything Except Filming (13): 

When Fang Huai came rushing back, panting and carrying a lotus leaf as big as a person, the scene he saw was unbearably awkward.

The Daughter of the World stood frozen in disbelief, staring at the rabbit not far away whose brain had been pierced by an arrow, while everyone stood across from her with unreadable expressions.

“What… happened?” Fang Huai asked as he walked over.

The female doctor didn’t bother being polite with him and said directly, “Didn’t I tell you to protect your fiancée? Why are you only showing up now?”

Still stupidly holding a lotus leaf in his hands, no one could tell if he had come to rescue someone or to watch the show. His reaction was far too slow.

Fang Huai said, “…I don’t know.”

He had been picking leaves, while Zheng Shi stood motionless in the distance, not helping at all. Suddenly, Zheng Shi shouted “Fang Huai, you bastard!” before turning and running off. By the time Fang Huai realized what was going on, Zheng Shi was already gone, leaving him baffled.

Netizens also found it hilarious: “That rabbit was clearly after Zheng Shi, but he managed to dump the blame on Fang Huai, as if Fang Huai had lured it over.”

“I have to say, these two really are a perfect match—in every sense.”

Zheng Shi still refused to believe that he had been saved by Si Qi. His face turned pale and green as soon as he saw Fang Huai, scolding him for being useless, saying Fang Huai had endangered him and still hadn’t bothered to save him. Fang Huai was left with question marks all over his face, almost unable to maintain his gentle façade. He darkened and didn’t argue back, but in his frustration finally defended himself: “How was I supposed to know you ran into a beast? If you wanted me to save you, you at least had to run toward me!”

Zheng Shi blurted out, “You’re such a useless weakling, what’s the point of running to you? Of course I could only run to Chu Feng!”

Fang Huai’s face turned green on the spot. Observant viewers even noticed his body trembling slightly, proof that he was truly furious.

Chu Feng carried the wind rabbit over to Si Qi and said, “I didn’t know you could use a bow.”

Now, with Si Qi capable of handling himself, Chu Feng no longer had to worry too much when traveling outdoors—at least Si Qi had some means of self-defense.

Si Qi tilted his nose up proudly and told Chu Feng, “I didn’t know either! But I’m a genius. Once I see it, I can do it!”

Everyone was astonished. “That was your first time using one?”

“Where did you learn it, then? Did a teacher show you before?”

Si Qi said matter-of-factly, “I learned from a video! Remember Lin Beipo’s battle, when Chu Feng used a bow?”

Everyone: “You mean General Chu’s battle video?”

Professor Bai teased, “How many times did you watch that video before you got so skilled that you could actually use it yourself? Don’t tell me you were imitating it shot by shot while watching.”

“If it wasn’t at least a hundred times, I don’t believe it.” The lawyer chimed in with a laugh, even making a joke: “Maybe even a hundred times wouldn’t do it. After all, Si Qi’s good at everything except imitating other characters when acting, otherwise where would that Golden Toilet Award at home have come from?”

Everyone burst into laughter. Fans of the general quickly dug up the battle video.

They compared Chu Feng’s movements in the footage with Si Qi’s archery form just now, even using software to overlay the two videos. When they saw the two figures moving identically, they were stunned and shared the discovery in the bullet comments: “Oh my god! I just compared the videos and found that Si Qi’s movements are exactly the same as the general’s! Not a single difference!!”

“If it weren’t for their different heights and builds, I’d think they were the same person!!”

“Even the general himself might not manage to make his movements identical every single time he shoots!”

“Si Qi really can do everything except his actual profession!”

Everyone laughed and teased him a bit, ignoring Zheng Shi’s ashen face. They packed meat and mushrooms in the lotus leaves and set off again.

With another fighter in the group, the journey became more relaxed. They even had the mood to “tease” Si Qi, asking what other videos he had watched, whether he knew all of Chu Feng’s battles by heart.

Si Qi at first stubbornly denied it, pretending he hadn’t watched deliberately, but Professor Bai and the others easily exposed him: “Then how come in the compatibility test you answered everything exactly the same as the fans online?” He was so flustered he bared his teeth in frustration.

“I even know how the general got the scar on the back of his hand, but you don’t, Si Qi. Looks like you’re not qualified enough as a fan,” the female doctor said with a smile.

Sure enough, Si Qi couldn’t stand the provocation. He lifted his chin and declared, “Of course I know! I know it all perfectly well!”

Then he pointed at Chu Feng’s shoulder and began counting them one by one: “This was from the 2002 battle on the outskirts of Lasvit, when Chu Feng led his squad against the beasts attacking the town, saving thousands of civilians. He had to lie in the hospital for over a month to recover, and was promoted to second lieutenant afterwards.

“This one was from the 2006 Battle of Magra. His arm was nearly bitten off by a beast, but he kept fighting in a week-long battle and was covered head to toe in blood by the end. Because the treatment was rushed, his left hand still hasn’t fully recovered, leaving a lifelong disability.

“The scar on his brow came during post-disaster reconstruction, when he saved a boy and was clawed by a beast. The wound was so deep it exposed bone, half his face covered in blood.

“…And the most serious one was this wound on his chest, when a steel bar pierced through into his organs. Even so, he killed the beast before collapsing, vomiting blood. The last thing he said before losing consciousness was to order his men to protect the civilians… The post-surgery complications kept him in the hospital for over three months. He went through countless surgeries, tests, treatments, and as soon as he regained a little strength, he rushed into rehabilitation to get back to the front line. Because he was the corps commander, he had to stay with his soldiers at all times, vigilant against beast invasions, never daring to rest.”

Si Qi’s voice softened as he recounted Chu Feng’s experiences.

At first people smiled, thinking he was just showing off how much he knew about Chu Feng. But the more they listened, the quieter they grew. Seeing Chu Feng’s scars exposed one by one—the ones on his arms, his brow—their noses stung with unexpected emotion.

A netizen wrote: “I realized I didn’t know Chu General had done so much for us. I only knew his most famous battles, thought he looked so cool on camera slaying beasts, so reliable. I never thought about how much he went through off-camera.”

“Generals only become generals by rising from ordinary soldiers, earning merit battle by battle, through countless dangerous fights. But I never considered the weight behind that title. I only thought he looked impressive and powerful…”

“Last year I accidentally crushed my fingernail and cried from the pain, couldn’t even work, and hated the person who hurt me for a long time. But looking at Chu General now, I feel so ashamed. If he hadn’t been injured again and again to shield us, how could we live carefree lives, worrying only about what to eat or wear? The comfort we enjoy is thanks to him and all the soldiers. Without them, there’d be no peace.”

“I really admire Chu General, and I respect our soldiers even more now. They are our pride.”

“When I graduate, I want to join the army. I want to become someone as great as Chu General.”

“I used to think it was shameful that Chu General wasn’t working seriously and came on variety shows just to make money. I was wrong. While I was living comfortably under his protection, watching entertainment streams, I criticized him for enjoying normal activities. How could I think that way…”

More and more netizens shared their truest, softest thoughts, and gratitude toward Chu Feng and all soldiers grew.

Si Qi’s words climbed to the top of trending searches: #CountingTheScarsGeneralChuSufferedForUs# More and more people joined the discussion. Many cried while watching Si Qi’s video, seeing all the scars across Chu Feng’s body.

“I used to think this celebrity had a bad personality and was annoying, couldn’t understand why fans liked him. Now I get it. He’s made me realize so many things I ignored before, changed my perspective. Isn’t that what celebrities should do—set a positive influence? He did it.”

“General Chu really went through so much… just hearing it hurts me so much…”

“To wear the crown, one must bear its weight. We only see his glory, never the blood and sweat behind it. Thank you, soldiers—you are the most lovable people!”

The netizens’ comments were deeply emotional. Some soldiers on rotation sat in their barracks watching the video, eyes reddening as they read the words of support, feeling prouder than ever of their profession.

Meanwhile, Chu Feng’s adjutant hid in the office with his phone, secretly wiping away tears.

He knew better than anyone how difficult Chu Feng’s years had been, and how critical his condition was after the recent mental power upheaval.

Seeing Si Qi’s words stir so much love and support for Chu Feng, the adjutant’s heart softened completely.

Already fond of Si Qi, the adjutant’s impression of him now shifted from friendly to respectful, because he knew Si Qi truly deserved it.

Of course, this also deepened his hatred for the father and son who were waiting like vultures to take over everything once Chu Feng died. Those two would surely face retribution. As soon as Chu Feng’s mental strength stabilized, he would never let them off.

After Si Qi finished speaking, the online discussions buzzed. The people present at the scene were visibly moved and said in unison: “General Chu, thank you for your hardships.”

Chu Feng buttoned his collar again and said calmly, “There’s no such thing as hardship. It’s my duty.”

Everyone’s expressions softened, and their gazes toward him held not just respect but also tenderness and closeness.

Even though Chu Feng still seemed aloof and not fond of talking, as long as they remembered he was always protecting them, they no longer felt any distance from him. Instead, a natural sense of trust, like that for family, arose.

—After all, he is a soldier!

Standing to the side, Fang Huai wore a complicated expression, head lowered and body turned slightly away, clearly unwilling to join in the conversation.

The more others praised Chu Feng’s nobility and greatness, the more despicable and shameful Fang Huai’s previous scheme—urging Si Qi to kill Chu Feng—seemed by comparison. No one wants to admit something like that, no matter how vile their character might be.

The Daughter of the World secretly rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Taking this kind of thing seriously… what a bunch of fools.” The live broadcast cameras caught it all, and the audience’s dislike of her plummeted completely.

“Bad personality and low education, those you can still put up with, but looking down on soldiers is unforgivable.”

“This is exactly what they mean by ‘eating from the bowl and cursing the cook.’”

“The duke is really unlucky, to have a daughter like this.”

The netizens continued their verbal assault on the Daughter of the World the whole way. Xiu Xiu watched in amazement as the power of the world on her body kept dropping, finding it unbelievable.

This was truly the most reckless and clueless “child of the world” Xiu Xiu had ever seen—an expert at courting disaster.

By the time Si Qi and the others trekked along the path, carefully avoiding beasts and struggling through countless dangers to finally reach the campsite before sunset, the netizens had spent the entire afternoon enjoying what felt like a wilderness survival tutorial. They were thrilled, while the guests themselves were exhausted.

Seeing that the female doctor, being a woman, did not have as much stamina as the men, Professor Bai and the others told her to rest in camp while they went to gather firewood and fetch water, and set up the camp’s basic facilities.

The female doctor didn’t refuse, but while Si Qi and the others went out searching for firewood, she took it upon herself to tidy the camp’s equipment, organizing the cookware and tents, busying herself no less than Si Qi’s group.

That made the sight of the Daughter of the World sitting idly on a rock with her hands empty all the more glaring.

She had walked all day and was parched. Spotting Si Qi’s water flask nearby, she didn’t bother asking him, just grabbed it and gulped down the water. Looking at the mosquito bites on her wrists and neck, she started cursing in anger and called over to the busy female doctor: “Didn’t you say earlier you had herbs for mosquito bites? Bring me some.”

The female doctor straightened up and wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Wait a moment. Preparing the herbs takes time. Let me finish here first, or else when Si Qi and the others come back they won’t even have a place to rest.”

The Daughter of the World complained, “They can just do it themselves when they get back. Why are you working so hard by yourself? They told you to rest, but you’re trying to act busy, making me look lazy in comparison. Are you trying to make yourself out to be some virtuous hard-working woman at my expense?”

The female doctor: “……”

She knew the duke’s daughter was a piece of work, but hadn’t expected her to be this bad.

The Daughter of the World continued, “You were going to prepare the herbs anyway, and they aren’t just for me. It’s for everyone, right? So if you do it now, I’ll suffer less. Isn’t that for the good of all?”

The female doctor: “……”

She had no idea how netizens were reacting. She only knew she couldn’t openly clash with a duke’s daughter on camera. So she said tactfully, “The herbs are over there. They’re simple to prepare. I’ll show you how, and you can try it yourself.”

Zheng Shi frowned. “Do it myself? Aren’t you the doctor? Isn’t your job to heal people? You’re just making excuses because you don’t want to help me!”

The female doctor: “……”

Seeing that Zheng Shi was determined to argue, she sighed, picked out some herbs from the bundle Si Qi’s group had gathered, found a suitable stone and wooden stick, and began grinding them on a few lotus leaves.

Zheng Shi immediately grew upset. “Hey, hey, what are you doing? You’re making stuff for me like that? It’s filthy!!”

The female doctor, having held back long enough, finally lost patience. “Then find me a clean container yourself. Out here, I only have these raw materials.”

“What’s with your attitude?!”

She put down the makeshift tools and said flatly, “That’s my attitude. Right now I’m a guest on this show, just like you. I’m not your personal doctor. I can help, but I’m under no obligation to serve you.”

Zheng Shi jumped up from the rock, craning her neck and pointing at the female doctor’s nose, shouting, “Believe it or not, I’ll make sure you can never work again after this show ends! I want to see which hospital would hire a disobedient, unethical woman like you!”

The female doctor sneered. “I run my own clinic. Save your threats. And the empire isn’t ruled by your family’s word alone. You’re overestimating yourself.”

Zheng Shi snapped, “I am a duke’s daughter! My fiancé is the future general! I am the most noble person in this country! And you—what are you?!”

The female doctor rolled her eyes, realizing that her earlier attempts at patience were stupid. People like this only take advantage and never stop. She should never have given her the chance.

“Even if you were the duke himself and your husband really did become a general, you’d still have no right to order others around. And right now, you’re just a fresh graduate with no job, your fiancé is unemployed, and you have less ability to fend for yourself than anyone here—yet you boss others around. Where does your confidence come from? Your family? Don’t you find that shameful? Do you know people like you are usually called parasites?”

Zheng Shi’s face turned livid, as if she had been grievously insulted. She trembled and screeched, “Shut up!”

The female doctor said, “Even if you ask me, I don’t feel like saying more. I’ve got work to do, or else Si Qi and the others won’t have a proper place to rest.”

She shot Zheng Shi a dismissive glance, then turned and met Si Qi’s smiling eyes, along with Professor Bai and the others.

The female doctor suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. “Uh… well…”

Being overheard while scolding someone left her uneasy, even if she was in the right. She felt guilty, as though she had done something wrong.

But before she could explain, Professor Bai and the others gave her sympathetic looks that seemed to say, “We understand, you’ve had it rough.” They imagined the kind of torment Zheng Shi must have put her through to make her lose her temper. Without asking anything, they brought over firewood and water, even praising her: “We told you to rest, but you went ahead and got everything organized for us!”

“Here’s a pot! Great, looks like we can eat something good tonight.”

“Qiao, I cut my hand just now. Can you help me with the wound?”

Snapping back to herself, the female doctor quickly answered, “Yes, of course, I’ll take care of it right away.”

Meanwhile Zheng Shi, completely ignored, grew even more twisted with rage. Fang Huai, steeling himself, walked over and lowered his voice: “What now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’? What do you mean ‘again’? That woman clearly sided with Chu Feng and Si Qi to exclude me, targeting me with cold violence! And she insulted me!”

Fang Huai winced at her shrill voice, his headache worsening. He could only coax her like a tantrum-throwing child. “Alright, alright, I know you’re in the right. Don’t be upset, okay?”

Zheng Shi, both wronged and resentful, ground her teeth. “What kind of trash book is this? What kind of trash author? The CP they wrote is garbage, the characters are garbage too!”

Fang Huai: ?

Zheng Shi: “I’m hungry! And tired! Go get me something to eat!”

Fang Huai: “…Fine. Just rest here, I’ll bring you something soon.”

After soothing Zheng Shi, Fang Huai joined Si Qi and the others.

The warrior was cutting up meat with his dagger, while Professor Bai placed the cleaned mushrooms beside him, then asked who could cook.

Fang Huai hesitated before speaking up that he knew a little, but at the same time Chu Feng, who had been quietly tending the fire, lifted his head: “I can.”

His reply startled Professor Bai, who said in surprise, “Ah, this… isn’t that inappropriate? Better to let Mr. Fang do it.”

Mr. Fang: “……”

Damn it!

You won’t eat Chu Feng’s cooking, worried it’ll tire him out, but mine is fine? How is that not insulting?!

Chu Feng said, “It’s fine. I’m used to cooking outdoors.”

Professor Bai thought it over and agreed.

Cooking at home is one thing—anyone can manage to boil food in a kitchen. But outdoor cooking is completely different: controlling the fire, making dishes tasty without seasonings… that’s not something ordinary people know how to handle.

Professor Bai awkwardly said, “Then, then I’ll have to trouble you.”

Seeing this, Fang Huai had no choice but to shut his mouth, though inwardly he fumed. It’s just cooking a meal, what’s so impressive about that?

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he previously had neither the conditions nor the chance to experience the outdoors, he wouldn’t be so incapable of even cooking a dish. Whether it was cooking or wilderness survival, Chu Feng only looked impressive because he had the advantage of a privileged background.

They were clearly both born of the same father—why was the difference so great? Chu Feng stole their father from him, made his mother live a lonely, bitter life, and even stole his resources and opportunities, crushing him so he could never rise!

If not for Chu Feng… if only Chu Feng didn’t exist!

With that thought, Fang Huai fixed his gaze on Si Qi.

At the moment, Si Qi was helping Chu Feng prepare ingredients for cooking.

His head was slightly lowered, eyes focused on the vegetables in his hands. His jade-like elegance, set against the homely backdrop of smoke and fire, did not seem out of place at all—on the contrary, it gave him a gentleness seldom seen, softening his whole demeanor.

When someone used to housework did housework, no one was surprised. But when a superstar who normally glittered under the spotlight suddenly grounded himself to pick vegetables, the sight felt novel, refreshing—like a pleasant surprise.

All the more because Si Qi’s aura was so unique: just standing there he looked like the cover of a fashion magazine. This contrast—him holding leafy greens—made the image even more unforgettable.

So… Si Qi was also someone who could live a good, ordinary life.

This thought flashed across Fang Huai’s mind.

Thinking about Si Qi: he had always been sincere toward him, capable of earning money, extremely famous, and never made too many demands. At most, he only asked to meet on birthdays, or that Fang Huai send him a message every few days. More than that, given Si Qi’s personality, he would never say it out loud. But precisely those small requests proved how much Si Qi cared. Otherwise, with how popular he was, would he really lack a birthday cake or idle chatter?

Zheng Shi, on the other hand, whether he was truly sincere was still uncertain. Apart from his good family background, he had no real strengths. His looks weren’t as good as Si Qi’s, his knowledge not as broad, and his demands were far harsher. He wanted Fang Huai to kill Chu Feng and become a general himself, even shamelessly saying such disgraceful things openly during a livestream. Completely brainless.

If not for Zheng Shi’s prominent family, Fang Huai would never have been willing to abandon a boyfriend like Si Qi to choose him.

But now, knowing the blood relationship between himself and Chu Feng—if Zheng Shi could no longer help him climb higher, while Si Qi could, why shouldn’t he reconcile with Si Qi, then join hands with him to get rid of Chu Feng, and take the position of general for himself?

Si Qi had loved him down to his bones. Chu Feng was a stranger to him, there was no emotional bond between them. If Fang Huai showed repentance, with how deeply Si Qi loved him, surely he would forgive him?

Tentatively, Fang Huai moved to Si Qi’s side and said gently, “How could you be doing these chores? Put it down and let me do it.”

That ambiguous, tender tone immediately made Si Qi’s skin crawl, goosebumps rising. He couldn’t help but look at Fang Huai as if he were something unpleasant.

Online viewers, who just moments before were enjoying watching Si Qi work and praising their little prince for being diligent, capable, a “virtuous” boyfriend, cooperating so perfectly with General Chu—a pair so well-matched they were hailed as the couple of the century—

Suddenly saw Fang Huai creep over with a leering face, speaking in a strange tone. It disgusted the CP fans to no end: “What the hell is this guy doing?”

“Can he not interrupt my 77 and the General’s two-person time?”

“This dude’s tone is so creepy. Is he trying to seduce my 77?? Back off from my 77, no way!!”

Some casual viewers thought the fans were being too harsh. Wasn’t he just talking to Si Qi? What was the big deal? But the very next second, Fang Huai said, “Chu Feng, honestly, how can you let him do this kind of work? Back then I never made you work this hard.”

The internet exploded: “?????”

“What????”

“What’s going on????”

On the side, Zheng Shi noticed Fang Huai and Si Qi getting closer. His expression changed, and he stood up to call Fang Huai over.

But Fang Huai had already made up his mind to reveal his relationship with Si Qi publicly, confess his mistake, show sincerity, and at the same time drive a wedge into Chu and Si’s relationship.

He said to Si Qi, with an apologetic look, “The reason I joined this show was actually to see you. You never answered my calls, I had no way to find you, so I had no choice but to do this. I’ve realized my mistake. Can you forgive me?”

The sudden twist shocked netizens, who furiously sent barrage after barrage of question marks. Everyone was talking at once—how did Fang Huai know Si Qi, and judging by his tone, did they have a whole story between them?

Chu Feng put down his work and looked over, expressionless, his eyes deep and frightening.

Fortunately, Si Qi didn’t soften and forgive his ex just because of an apology. Instead, he irritably slammed the vegetables onto the low table and said to Fang Huai, “You’re wrong? What exactly are you wrong about?”