Chapter 13: The Godlike Man Is Beautiful and Kind-Hearted

At dawn the next day, Jinshan City, Lishton Hotel.

Last night, the Xia Nation rescue team stayed here.

Originally, Director Zhou had planned to take Yang Yi back immediately after resolving the Fire Demon incident—such a priceless treasure, left in another country, who could possibly feel safe? Even though the Jinshan municipal government repeatedly pleaded for them to stay, offering a banquet to express gratitude for Xia Nation’s crucial aid, Director Zhou firmly refused.

But then something happened that made Director Zhou pause: Akka Nation spoke sweetly, yet in the division of the Fire Demon’s corpse, they showed no mercy—they wanted to claim it all!

Their excuse? The Fire Demon appeared on Akka Nation’s soil; Jinshan City had paid a heavy price; and Xia Nation’s rescue team had come at the United Nations’ request—how could they divide Akka Nation’s assets?

How could this be allowed? Xia Nation was the main force that slew the Fire Demon! Without our support, Jinshan City would now be nothing but ruins!

Moreover, the Fire Demon is the first discovered extraterrestrial intelligent species, possessing energy usage methods entirely different from humans. Studying its bodily structure and genes could yield vital information about extraterrestrial environments, geography, and culture.

And those armors clearly bore casting marks. That black great blade—even Yang Yi’s psychic force couldn’t cut through it, yet it remained perfectly intact. What material was it made of? Who wouldn’t covet it?!

To secure these relics left by the Fire Demon, Director Zhou reluctantly left Yang Yi behind—to serve as a figurehead.

Domestic researchers had rushed here overnight to study the pile of corpse fragments on the beach.

——————

Lishton Hotel, Presidential Suite.

On the retro champagne-colored silk bed, Yang Yi slowly woke.

Beside the bed stood a floor-to-ceiling window, controllable by voice or remote; she was too lazy to move or speak, so she used her psychic force to “manually” pull back the curtains. Sunlight poured in, and the blue ocean outside rushed toward her.

The ocean—blue ocean. She had gazed at that boundless blue countless times in her secret base.

At age five, a neighbor boy gave her a candy; its wrapper was transparent blue, printed with the sea and white waves. The candy was sweet, orange-flavored, and so, in her childhood imagination, the sea tasted like oranges.

She kept that candy wrapper all along—first hiding it in wall cracks, under stones, in the doghouse; later, after starting school, she slipped it between the pages of her books.

But her cousin tore the book apart, and the wrapper was lost.

Her small heart brimmed with fantasy: the sea was so vast, so much water—all orange-flavored. How happy those living by the shore must be! When they craved candy, they’d just drink a sip of seawater.

When I grow up, I’ll live by the sea—I’ll never run out of candy again. When I crave candy, I’ll dive straight into the ocean.

She once owned a glass marble, thumb-sized, also blue. The outer layer was clear glass; inside, blue patterns formed a flower.

She found it on her way home from school, nestled in the grass—surely a mischievous child had lost it during a marbles game with a friend.

She treasured that marble dearly—it was her only toy. She hid it inside her buckwheat hull pillow core, took it out each night before sleep to admire and play with it. Even though the back of her head ached from the pressure, her heart felt full.

One day, her cousin spotted it and snatched it away. She cried, begging for it back; he mocked her: “A nobody kid. No one wants you.” He said, “Everything in my house is mine—I can take whatever I want.”

Back then, to win favor from elders, she studied relentlessly and ranked first in her grade. She believed this was her strength, so she gathered courage to complain to her grandmother. Her grandmother glanced at her dismissively: “A glass marble? If he wants it, give it to him.”

“But he has a whole box—I only have one,” her childish voice sobbed.

“A kid with no parents to care for her? You’re lucky to get a bite to eat. Don’t waste my time—get out of here…”

In her rented apartment hung a shell wind chime she made herself on the beach. Whenever the breeze stirred it, it tinkled softly—she took it as a greeting from the sea.

Chris’s eyes were blue too—deep blue, just like the sea. She’d never seen such pure blue. The most beautiful sapphire on Earth couldn’t match his gaze. If he ever looked at her, she’d drown in those eyes.

He must taste like oranges.

‘You’re at it again, lovestruck fool. No one tastes like oranges.’

‘Maybe he does?’ Yang Yi used two uncertain words.

‘Ha~’ it mocked. ‘See? Even you’re not sure. The one you’re obsessed with is just a fantasy you invented—has nothing to do with the real man.’

‘So you finally deign to speak to me—just to tear me down?’

‘This lovestruck nonsense disgusts me. Why can’t you aim higher?’

‘Rule the Earth? Hah…’

‘That’s the limit of your vision.’

‘Yes, yes, yes—you know me best. You’re just my other personality…’

‘Arrogant fool! You’re you, I’m me. I look down on your muddy, useless self—always idle, moving only when pushed, or else sitting still, doing nothing. Cowardly, weak, self-pitying, escaping reality…’

‘If you’re so good, go do it yourself!’ Yang Yi snapped.

‘Then die. Give me your body. Let me take over!’

‘I won’t die. Seafood’s delicious, the scenery’s beautiful, Chris is so handsome…’

‘Hmph. The coward’s philosophy of survival.’

‘Say whatever you want!’

‘Ding ling ling—’ Her phone alarm rang. Yang Yi silenced the screen and kept arguing with herself.

But then she—or he—or it—left again. No matter how she called, it didn’t respond.

Luckily, today was quiet. She could stare out the window at the ocean all day.

After all, yesterday she was “exhausted,” “drained,” “fell from the sky,” “pale-faced,” “unsteady on her feet,” “physically spent,” “psychic energy depleted”—she needed long rest to recover.

Best to give her a vacation when she returns—find a scenic, serene sanatorium for a year or two.

If she acts weak, she appears less threatening—but it seems pointless now. Since slaying the Fire Demon, the internet has labeled her “the world’s only S-Rank Awakened,” “Human Nuclear Bomb.”

For her, gentle persuasion is needed—but so is vigilance, even defense measures. Or worse: an uncontrollable power within one’s own ranks is a threat—and must be eradicated.

The bedside phone rang. She hesitated, then answered. It was Iris, the exclusive concierge of the presidential suite, politely asking if she’d like breakfast delivered to her room.

Five-star hotel breakfast—free! Of course she wanted it.

Five minutes later, a luxury dining cart rolled in, followed by Liu Siyuan—Director Zhou’s assigned assistant and driver, who had just arrived this morning and had been standing outside for less than half an hour.

Under Iris’s guidance, two tall, well-dressed waiters in suit vests swiftly and elegantly laid out the breakfast on the table.

“Captain Yang, Director Zhou assigned me to assist you with your work and daily life,” said Liu Siyuan, over 1.8 meters tall, dark-skinned, muscular, smiling shyly, a red pimple on his forehead.

“Captain Yang? Me?” Yang Yi blinked. “When did I get promoted?”

“Last night. You should’ve received a text message,” Liu Siyuan chuckled.

Yang Yi checked her messages. Sure enough, a new one: “Notification of Yang Yi’s Appointment: All units and departments under the Bureau, upon approval from higher leadership, hereby appoint Yang Yi as Team Leader of the Special Operations Division, Awakened Bureau…”

At first glance, Yang Yi’s head spun. She whispered to Liu Siyuan, “Did my salary go up?”

“You’ll have to ask Director Zhou,” Liu Siyuan scratched his head.

The breakfast was lavish—or rather, absurdly excessive. There was her usual Xia Nation breakfast: soy milk, fried dough sticks, buns, pan-fried buns, various porridges, desserts—even spicy pepper soup—her hometown’s morning staple, which she rarely found elsewhere in Xia Nation.

Alongside it: English black tea, coffee, sausages, bacon, eggs, toast—essentially a global breakfast buffet. The large table, meant for ten or more, was nearly full.

So this is what five-star luxury feels like?

“Is there anything else you need?” asked Iris, a brown-haired young man with flawless smiles and perfectly standard Xia Nation Mandarin.

“No, thank you,” Yang Yi said, gazing at the overflowing table.

Iris and the waiters bowed politely and left. Suddenly, a blonde waiter paused, turned back, and stared at Yang Yi, lips parted but silent.

Iris frowned, reminding him of hotel rules.

Liu Siyuan tensed, motionless, his right hand sliding toward his lower back.

Yang Yi found it odd. She smiled at the blonde waiter. “What is it?”

The blonde waiter had brown eyes, making him seem sincere: “Thank you for saving Jinshan City. My parents and sisters work downtown. Without you, today I’d be searching rubble for their bodies—not working here.”

It seemed he’d held this inside for a long time. After speaking, he exhaled deeply.

“Anyone with the ability would have done the same,” Yang Yi said.

“No, they wouldn’t,” the blonde waiter smiled.

Iris glanced at him thoughtfully, then led them out of the presidential suite.

Yang Yi thought: Even if some people and factions fear and watch her, at least in moments like this, it’s worth it.

Yang Yi prepared to enjoy her meal, but Liu Siyuan stopped her.

“Captain, don’t eat yet,” Liu Siyuan said, pulling out a long box and removing a pair of special forks. Each fork had a tiny screen that flashed rapid data whenever he dipped it into food.

Yang Yi stared, dumbfounded.

Worse—he took a bite of every dish.

“Isn’t this overkill? Is it really necessary?” Yang Yi sighed.

“Absolutely necessary. You’re pivotal. Your safety is critical. No caution is too great,” Liu Siyuan said seriously.

“Uh… okay.”

After several minutes, all food was tested. Liu Siyuan remained unharmed. Only then could Yang Yi pick up her chopsticks.

“Sit down and eat with me!” Yang Yi awkwardly invited. “There’s too much—I can’t finish it all.”

“That violates my duties,” Liu Siyuan scratched his head, smiling sheepishly. “Besides, I already ate my fill tasting everything.”

He quietly withdrew from the room, leaving Yang Yi alone to eat.

Alone in the room, this familiar loneliness eased her. She opened her phone browser, scrolling novels while eating. A pop-up notified her that Chris, the person she followed, had posted a new personal blog.

She immediately abandoned her novel and opened the pop-up.

“The disaster in Jinshan City is heartbreaking. Thanks to Miss Yang Yi’s timely intervention, an even greater catastrophe was averted. Praying for the people of Jinshan City!” Below it was news of Chris donating five million Kars to the Jinshan City Disaster Relief Fund, along with a link for donations.

My crush is truly beautiful-hearted and kind!

And he praised me—sob sob—