Chapter 72: Ode to Joy 2301

A sensation surged through his body; Wang Yan opened his eyes to find himself wearing only a pair of loose white shorts, lying on a bed. He glanced around, confirmed everything was fine, and began receiving the system’s information.

Wang Yan, male, 28, lost both parents in an accident at age 20, received compensation, combined with his family’s assets and personal investments; after graduating college, he opened a bar staffed with employees and bought Unit 2301 in Building 19 of Huanle Song, plus stocks, cash, and other assets totaling roughly a hundred million. He had been drifting elsewhere until today, when he finally moved in. All his identification documents were stored in the space.

He rolled off the bed and surveyed the room.

Standard one-bedroom layout: private bathroom, large living room, a spacious study complete with inkstone, brushes, paper, ink, and a computer, an open kitchen, and the remaining space filled with shelves serving as partitions. He pulled out a few books at random—none he’d read. The entire floor was solid wood, the walls adorned with obscure ancient landscape paintings and calligraphy. Wang Yan stepped closer: every character was his own, written in the previous world—from his twenties to the crooked, shaky strokes of his final years, when he could no longer hold the brush but refused to stop.

The balcony had been converted into a sunroom, its floor laid with tatami, furnished with a recliner, cushions, low tables, and tea sets. A door on the side opened to a vast open area. Beneath the extended awning connected to the sunroom stood a low wooden table, with several single armchairs placed haphazardly. Beside it was an elevator shaft, humming softly.

Normally, this complex had two elevators serving three units per floor, with the 22nd floor as the top. This layout was the system’s doing. Learning from “Thirty Is the New Twenty,” it had modified every top-floor unit in Huanle Song to accommodate Wang Yan’s preference for high floors over low ones. Wang Yan, whether the system responded or not, silently licked his palm in his mind—his system’s living dad.

He walked to the rooftop’s edge, stood with his hands behind his back, facing the wind, gazing at the familiar yet alien city, his thoughts drifting to the stories he’d lived here.

After a while, he snapped back, turned, returned inside, poured himself a glass of water, and sat in the living room. Suddenly, he felt a tremor beneath his feet, accompanied by muffled drumbeats and electronic music.

Wang Yan immediately recalled the scene that kicked off the plot, pulled out his Aiyipao phone, dialed 110 to report it, hung up, then called property management as per the system’s info, instructing them to come up with the police.

He waited a while, estimated the time, slipped on his slippers, stepped out, and went downstairs to wait by the elevator on the 22nd floor.

He had barely leaned against the wall with his arms crossed when he heard a loud “clang” as the door opened.

Qiu Yingying locked eyes with Wang Yan, smiled at him, turned, closed the door, and started walking toward 2203 beside her.

“Miss,” Wang Yan called out.

Qiu Yingying stopped, pointed to herself, and asked Wang Yan: “Are you calling me?”

Wang Yan smiled: “Is there anyone else here?”

“Hehe,” Qiu Yingying scratched her head, blushing. “What do you want?”

“I’ve already called the police and notified property management,” Wang Yan said with a smile. “Don’t bother knocking— they won’t listen even if you do.”

“What? You called the police? … Okay then.” Qiu Yingying was startled, but then thought it made sense—no harm in calling. She dropped the issue and immediately asked curiously: “Are you a resident here? I’ve never seen you before.”

“You’d be surprised if you had—I just moved in today.” Wang Yan smiled and pointed upward. “I live upstairs.”

Qiu Yingying gasped in realization. “Oh, that’s why! I never saw you.” She happily extended her hand to Wang Yan: “Hi, I’m Qiu Yingying. You can call me Xiao Qiu or Yingying—I live in 2202.” She felt very positively about the tall man before her; his smile felt warm.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Wang Yan.” Wang Yan shook her hand, then let go. “I’m probably older than you—call me Brother Wang. You’ve lived here longer; I’ll need your help in the future.”

Qiu Yingying grinned sheepishly. “I haven’t been here that long. We’ll help each other out. If you need anything, just come find me.”

Wang Yan said: “Then if you need anything, just knock on my door upstairs.”

Qiu Yingying nodded vigorously. “Mm-hmm.”

Suddenly, the fire exit door opened, and a man stepped out. He nodded at Wang Yan and Qiu Yingying, ignored them, and walked straight toward 2203.

“Friend, I’ve called the police—they’ll be here soon. Don’t knock,” Wang Yan called out.

“Called the police? Alright, I’ll head back.” Without another word, he left.

At that moment, the elevator door opened, and property staff arrived with the police.

“Was it you who called?” one officer asked first.

“Yes, sir. Officer,” Wang Yan pointed toward 2203. “The occupant here is disturbing the peace. Listen to the noise—how can anyone sleep? Even upstairs, I feel the whole floor shaking. Imagine those on the same floor or below.”

The officer nodded. “Wait here. Don’t show yourself.” He walked to the door and pounded loudly—there was no other way; the music was too loud. Clearly, this wasn’t his first time handling such a case.

The property staff said to Wang Yan: “We’re truly sorry, Mr. Wang, we…”

Wang Yan cut him off, patted his arm. “I understand the difficulties. No need to explain.” Then he leaned back against the wall beside Qiu Yingying, waiting.

The property staff gave Wang Yan a grateful look and moved behind the officer knocking on the door.

At that moment, the door to 2202 opened. Guan Juer and Fan Shengmei, having waited too long and worried about Qiu Yingying, came out to check. They saw the police, property staff knocking on the door, Qiu Yingying, and a stranger standing together.

Confused, the two women stayed silent, glancing at Qiu Yingying. Qiu Yingying met their eyes and signaled with a glance: the tall man beside her had called the police. They nodded, understood, and leaned against the doorframe to watch.

After a few minutes, the door opened. The officer saluted and showed his badge: “Turn off the music. We’ve received complaints…”

Yao Bin and the other second-generation kids politely assured him they wouldn’t do it again.

The officer said a few more words, then left without further comment. Only when he turned the corner did they hear the door slam shut behind them.

“Alright, go back inside,” the officer told Wang Yan. “They’re clearly not normal people. Keep an eye out. We’re leaving.”

Wang Yan nodded and said to the officers and property staff entering the elevator: “Thank you, officers. Sorry to trouble you so late at night. Take care, goodbye.”

“Goodbye, officers!” Qiu Yingying waved happily behind Wang Yan.

Once the elevator door closed and began descending, Wang Yan said to Qiu Yingying behind him: “Alright, Xiao Qiu, it’s resolved. Go back inside.”

“Alright, goodbye, Brother Wang,” Qiu Yingying said politely, walking over to Guan Juer and Fan Shengmei, who watched her with curious, gossiping eyes.

Suddenly, the door to 2203 slammed open. It was Qu Xiaoxiao, who had been humiliated after the police left and her friends scolded her for backing down. She stormed out, yelling: “Did you guys call the police? What’s the point?”

Before Guan Juer could speak, Wang Yan called out: “Hey, hey, hey—I called the police. If you’ve got a problem, talk to me.”

Hearing the man’s voice, Yao Bin, unable to see him, hurried over. The other second-generation kids followed, crowding behind Qu Xiaoxiao.

Qu Xiaoxiao turned, scrutinized Wang Yan from head to toe, then back again, sneering: “Who the hell are you?”

Wang Yan smiled: “I live above you.”

“Above me?” Qu Xiaoxiao looked at his cheap streetwear and doubted it—probably a renter. Even if it were his, whoever lived here couldn’t be much.

“What’s the problem?” Wang Yan knew what she was thinking. Though he knew nothing about luxury brands, he knew the system’s gear was never inferior—even a plain white T-shirt or loose shorts.

Unlike An Di in the original plot, Wang Yan didn’t show off or intimidate them. His outfit, in their eyes, was indeed shabby.

“No problem, of course no problem. Since you’re upstairs, we’re neighbors, right? This kind of noise, calling the police—what’s the point?”

“No point. Very little point.” Wang Yan agreed. He nodded. “Then since we’re neighbors, why are you blasting music, throwing parties at midnight, disturbing everyone? What’s the point?”

Though true, she didn’t care about her neighbors’ peace—what did it matter to her? She wouldn’t tolerate this idiot’s behavior. She glanced at Yao Bin and the others behind her, found her confidence, tilted her chin, and looked down at Wang Yan: “I like to dance. What are you gonna do about it?”

“I like to call the police. What are you gonna do about it?” Wang Yan said calmly. His expression and tone dripped with utter contempt.

The trio in 2202, Qu Xiaoxiao’s female friends, and the watchers inside watching the monitor—all froze in exhilaration. So satisfying!

Before Qu Xiaoxiao could fly into a rage, Yao Bin stepped forward first. He walked up to Wang Yan: “Kid, how dare you talk like that?”

“I advise you not to meddle.”

“Who’s the one with the foul mouth? Who are you? Telling me not to meddle?” Yao Bin took another step forward. “I’m meddling. So what?”

The other male second-generation kids followed behind Yao Bin: “So what?”

Suddenly, a scream—Qiu Yingying dashed over, shoved Yao Bin aside, and stretched her arms out protectively: “You… you can’t bully people!” Her voice trembled. “Bullying the few with the many—what kind of heroes are you?” She had just promised mutual support.

Fan Shengmei shouted from the doorway: “Little Worm, come back! Come back!”

Guan Juer said nothing. She had tried to grab Qiu Yingying earlier and failed, so she followed closely—two steps behind. She rushed over and grabbed Qiu Yingying’s arm: “Qiu Yingying, come on.”

Qiu Yingying pulled away. “Stop pulling me!” She turned to Yao Bin and shouted: “Come on! If you’ve got guts, come at me! I’ll fight you!”

Seeing she wouldn’t be pulled back, Guan Juer hardened her resolve and joined in: “Yeah! What kind of heroes are you? Come at us!” These people clearly weren’t to be trifled with—she couldn’t bear to imagine what might happen.

Yao Bin and Qu Xiaoxiao froze, then burst into laughter, mocking the two fools for their arrogance and the men hiding behind women.

Qiu Yingying and Guan Juer glared at the smirking second-generation kids, eyes wide. Fan Shengmei paced at the doorway, stomping her feet, mouthing words through the gap between them.

Wang Yan sighed, grabbed one arm from each girl, pulled them behind him. Guan Juer obeyed silently; Qiu Yingying struggled, flailing wildly. “Enough. Calm down. Don’t interfere.”

“Brother Wang, they…” Qiu Yingying tried to speak, while Guan Juer watched him anxiously.

“I’ll handle this myself. You two stay back. If I can’t handle it, come help me, okay?” He said this mostly to soothe the overeager Qiu Yingying—Guan Juer was calmer.

“This…” Qiu Yingying hesitated, then, meeting Wang Yan’s firm gaze, nodded. “Alright. Be careful, Brother Wang.”

Wang Yan gave her a reassuring look, then gestured to Yao Bin and the others, who were nearly done laughing: “Come on. All of you. At once.” He deliberately moved toward An Di’s door—there was a camera there, after all.

Yao Bin couldn’t take it. If they’d been women, he might’ve ignored them—no need to fight two girls. But this idiot: “F***ing hell, beat him!” He charged forward.

The move was slow. Wang Yan instantly recognized it aimed at his jaw—but from his perspective, if he stood still, the punch would land on his neck.

He shook his head, grabbed Yao Bin’s wrist, shoved his face forward with a palm strike, and swept his leg—sending Yao Bin flying backward. He crashed into the second-generation kids behind him, knocking several down. Wang Yan finished off the two stragglers with a punch and a kick—battle over.

The trio in 2202, Qu Xiaoxiao’s female friends, and An Di watching from inside—all froze. Five or six people, taken down in seconds?

Wang Yan stepped forward to deal with Yao Bin properly when the elevator door opened again—the two officers and property staff returned.

The officer looked at the fallen men, frowned. This kind of situation was messy. He glared at Wang Yan: I told you to be careful, be careful—how long had I been gone?

He sighed. “Who called the police? What happened? I hadn’t even left the complex, and now this?”

Qiu Yingying snapped out of it first, pulling Guan Juer forward: “Officer, I know—they started it!”

Qu Xiaoxiao protested: “Don’t lie! Why say we started it? Look—they’re all on the ground!”

Why? Guan Juer fell silent, then quietly turned to look at the camera above 2201’s door.

Qiu Yingying followed her gaze, then pointed excitedly: “Officer! There’s a camera! Right there!”

Everyone turned. The second-generation kids lowered their heads.

The door to 2201 opened with a clang. An Di stepped out: “Officer, I called the police. I can confirm they started it.” She had witnessed the entire scene, including Wang Yan’s first conversation with Qiu Yingying. She didn’t want trouble—but the camera was there, and she’d made the call herself.

The officer stepped forward, saluted: “Ma’am, according to procedure… I need to retrieve the surveillance footage from your unit. Please cooperate.”

An Di nodded. Soon after, the two officers completed their evidence collection.

They came out and explained the findings—mainly urging both sides to reconcile, especially Wang Yan.

Wang Yan understood. The officers didn’t know his situation. In their eyes, he was the vulnerable party. Overall, they were genuinely trying to help him.

Wang Yan didn’t press his advantage—that would only make things harder for the officers trying to help. He turned to Yao Bin, now standing: “Let’s call it even?”

Yao Bin gritted his teeth: “Call it even.”

“Can you accept it?”

“I can.” Yao Bin had no choice. If this blew up, it’d be disastrous for his family’s company. If this stupid incident caused trouble, his father would break his legs.

“Thank you,” Wang Yan said to the officers. “Sorry to drag you out so late. You’ve gone through so much.” He pulled out his Aiyipao. “Let’s add each other on WeChat. Exchange numbers. When you’re off-duty, let’s grab some skewers, have a drink, chat, become friends. Would you give me that chance?”

“Ah, police and civilians are one family. No trouble at all—we serve the people.” They were satisfied with Wang Yan’s attitude. He was reasonable, didn’t make things hard for them. A drink wouldn’t hurt. Neither was rich or powerful; they just wanted to chat. They didn’t refuse, exchanged WeChat contacts, got in the elevator, and left with the property staff.

Seeing the matter settled, Qu Xiaoxiao, who had been simmering with suppressed rage and fury the whole time, snorted, turned, and stormed back inside. The second-generation kids exchanged glances, then slunk away after her. Clearly, a grudge had been formed.

An Di glanced at Wang Yan, nodded slightly, and closed her door. Only Wang Yan and the three women from 2202 remained.

Ignoring Fan Shengmei, Wang Yan turned to Guan Juer: “Hello. May I ask your name?”

Guan Juer said: “Oh, Brother Wang, hello. I’m Guan Juer.”

“We all call her Guan Guan. Wang Dage, you can call her Xiao Guan—she’s even younger than me.” Qiu Yingying chimed in, excitedly gesticulating: “Wang Dage, you were amazing just now! Just like that—bam… crack… crash—you took them all down! Are you one of those legendary martial arts masters? Can you do the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms?”

“Where did you get that idea? I just exercise regularly and like studying this stuff—kept at it long enough, that’s all. Most people can’t even get close to me.” He mimicked a few moves to match Qiu Yingying’s gestures, making her burst into laughter.

After playing around with Qiu Yingying, Wang Yan smiled: “So, Miss Qiu and Miss Guan—tomorrow’s Saturday. Do you have time to let me thank you properly?”

“How to thank…” “Sorry…” Both women spoke at once. Mid-sentence, they glanced at each other and awkwardly grinned at Wang Yan.

“To thank? Obviously, a big feast. What’s more joyful than that?”

“Mmm…” Qiu Yingying nodded solemnly, fully convinced, making Guan Juer cover her face in exasperation.

“Xiao Guan? Why are you embarrassed? Do you have plans tomorrow?”

“Yes, Wang Dage,” Guan Juer nodded. “I have to work overtime tomorrow—I don’t know when I’ll get back.”

Wang Yan thought for a moment: “Then here’s the plan—I’ll take Xiao Qiu out for a meal first. Then we’ll buy ingredients and head back. When you’re off work, text us—we’ll get everything ready so you two can taste my cooking. Next time, when you’re both free, I’ll treat you both again. How’s that?”

“Great! Great!” Before Guan Juer could speak, Qiu Yingying was already thrilled—two meals instead of one, and all to thank her, with zero burden. She wasn’t stupid; she wouldn’t casually agree to a stranger. But she truly felt Wang Yan’s kindness—it felt strange, yet deeply familiar.

Seeing this, Guan Juer could only nod helplessly: “Fine, it’s settled then.”

Wang Yan then pulled out his phone and added both women as WeChat friends, telling Qiu Yingying to message him once she was ready—or just knock on his door upstairs.

Fan Shengmei watched the whole thing from the side. When Wang Yan left, she called out to Qiu Yingying and Guan Juer, who were skipping happily into the room: “Little Earthworm, what’s going on with this Wang Dage?”

Qiu Yingying recounted the earlier events. As Fan Shengmei listened, her brow slowly furrowed.

Guan Juer asked: “What’s wrong, Fan Jie? Is there something off about Wang Dage?”

“Something off? Big something. His martial skill is exceptional, his actions are sharp, his social maneuvers are polished, and his depth is considerable. Don’t you think so?”

Qiu Yingying blinked innocently: “Fan Jie, I saw his skill with my own eyes—but how did you notice the rest?”

Guan Juer also looked curiously at Fan Shengmei, waiting for an explanation.

Seeing their eager expressions, Fan Shengmei gracefully swept her hair aside and said confidently: “Look at how they interacted when the police first left. Watch his tone, expression, and body language when he provoked that Qu guy. Notice how he made the rich kid strike first—just right for the camera in 2201. And when the police arrived, observe their eye contact, and finally, how he casually said ‘let’s be friends’ to them…”

Fan Shengmei chattered on for a long while, finally making Guan Juer understand: in plain terms, this Wang guy is no good—stay far away from him.

But what’s there to worry about? He lives right upstairs—where’s he going to run?

Guan Juer understood the logic, found Fan Shengmei’s points reasonable—but not entirely right. She couldn’t say exactly why.

Qiu Yingying, after her brief curiosity, saw both women had finished talking and ignored her. She sighed inwardly, then turned back to happily anticipating tomorrow’s feast—just thinking about it made her joyful. Lying in bed, she unconsciously swallowed—she was a little hungry…

Guan Juer, filled with doubt and curiosity about Wang Dage, drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

Fan Shengmei lay quietly, thinking about whom she’d invite tomorrow.

In 2203 next door, Qu Xiaoxiao sat angrily on the sofa, her eyes darting. Yao Bin sat beside her, pondering how to investigate that idiot.

“Yao Er, we can’t let this slide.” This was a second-generation with roughly equal status.

“Yeah, Bin Ge, when have we ever taken such a beating? We absolutely can’t let that idiot off.” This one was of lower standing.

“Enough. If you want to deal with that poor, arrogant fool, you need to know his background first—why is he so bold?” Qu Xiaoxiao snapped, then turned to Yao Bin: “Yao Bin, find out everything about him—he lives upstairs, we’ve got the apartment number. Not hard, right?”

“Don’t worry—I’ll dig up every last detail,” Yao Bin gritted his teeth.

“Alright, then focus on this. Now, let’s go out—have another round, dance, drink, really unwind.” Qu Xiaoxiao stood up loudly.

The others cheered in unison, as if forgetting the earlier unpleasantness, and a large group marched off toward the Bund.

An Di was thinking about something—certainly part of it involved Wang Yan.

Wang Yan returned upstairs, stretched out with a big yawn, and lay down on his comfortable bed. Perfect timing—he’d arrived around nine, now it was just past ten, perfect for sleep—no jet lag to adjust.

The next day, dawn. His strong biological clock woke him on time. He got up, drank a glass of water, changed into sportswear, and headed out for his daily morning routine.

The air around Happy Song was fresh, filled with birdsong and floral scent. An Di had said it was a mid-tier residential complex—enough space, with a park nearby, twenty minutes by car to her company. Tan Zongming’s company was in Lingkong SOHO; it was 2015, Happy Song was still close to the subway, with an average price of around 80,000… Overall, the facilities were quite adequate.

One hundred meters from his door was the park. Wang Yan began jogging around it, maintaining a steady pace for roughly fifteen kilometers—about an hour. That’s top amateur level. Of course, he hadn’t pushed himself—if he had, he could’ve been much faster.

His peak was back in his last life, when he was being hunted down and surrounded by the Japanese. He’d probably never run that fast again. Though he’d never trained professionally, given his physical condition—and accounting for terrain, wind speed, and other factors—he likely hadn’t missed the record by much, maybe even surpassed it. After all, they were shooting at him from behind—run slow, and you’re dead. He ran like his life depended on it.

After catching his breath, he found a quiet spot and began his daily martial routine. His boxing now had no rigid forms or patterns—his previous move might be a crashing fist, the next a stepping pivot, twisting waist, and shoulder-press against an imagined opponent. He finished with a chaotic flurry, drenched in sweat.

After loosening his muscles, Wang Yan walked back slowly, hands behind his back. On the way, he bought breakfast from a roadside stall. Waiting for the elevator downstairs, he saw An Di stepping out in sportswear. They nodded to each other and passed by.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, An Di turned back—their eyes met until the doors shut.

He shook his head, didn’t overthink it. Wang Yan returned home, washed up, and slowly finished breakfast. After tidying up, he went to his study and began writing calligraphy.

After some time, his phone buzzed with a new message. He opened it—it was Qiu Yingying, saying she was ready. He checked the time: just before ten.

After replying, Wang Yan changed into sportswear, grabbed his phone, and went down to the 22nd floor. As he stepped out of the stairwell, he saw Qiu Yingying waiting by the elevator.

“Wang Dage, you’re here!” Qiu Yingying’s entire mind was now filled with food.

“Mm. Have you eaten?”

Qiu Yingying grinned: “Hehe, not yet.”

“Perfect—I haven’t either. Let’s go eat first.”

Qiu Yingying beamed: “Great!”

“Ding.” The elevator arrived. Wang Yan and Qiu Yingying stepped in.

Qiu Yingying immediately pressed the first floor. Wang Yan canceled it and pressed B1.

“You have a car, Wang Dage?”

“Mm, I do.”

“Having a car’s great. I want one too, but Shanghai’s always jammed—subway’s faster, better.”

Wang Yan nodded: “Yeah, I’ve been stuck in traffic plenty of times.”

Qiu Yingying lifted her chin: “See?”

The elevator was fast—twenty-three floors passed in an instant. Wang Yan led Qiu Yingying to his car: still the latest imported top-spec A8.

They got in. Wang Yan reminded her to buckle up, then drove to a moderately busy area. After waiting a bit, he treated her to another meal. Qiu Yingying ate with obvious delight—she had a big appetite and occasionally offered commentary.

After breakfast, they set out again. Qiu Yingying asked: “Where are we going now, Wang Dage?”

“Xiao Qiu, I owe you an apology,” Wang Yan said as he drove.

“What’s wrong, Wang Dage?”

“I didn’t expect you to wake up so early, so I booked the big meal too late. We’ll need to kill some time first.”

“Ah? Wang Dage, you’re not thinking…” Qiu Yingying tensed up.

“Thinking what?” Wang Yan sighed. “We’re here. Get out.” He pulled over, turned off the engine, and unbuckled in one smooth motion.

It was a street near Happy Song. The walls were lined with black wooden panels. In the left corner stood a door, with a sign hanging outside: a single character—“Wine.”

Wang Yan looked around—he’d never been here before. It felt novel. With nowhere else to wander, and since they hadn’t checked the bar yet, he brought Qiu Yingying along.

Looking at the place, Qiu Yingying apologized: “Sorry, Wang Dage—I shouldn’t have thought that about you.”

“I’m the one who owes you an apology. Why are you embarrassed? Come on, let’s go in.”

They entered. The space was spacious, with soft music playing and dim golden lighting. A few scattered patrons sat in corners sipping drinks. Aside from the music, it was utterly quiet.

“Wang Ge, you’re here,” two men at the bar greeted him.

Wang Yan nodded and greeted them back.

Qiu Yingying suddenly realized: “Wang Dage… you’re not the owner here, are you?”

“Yes, you’re quite clever—I hid it so well and you still found out?” He gestured for her to sit, then said to one of them: “Xiao Li, two juices, and some snacks.”

Qiu Yingying sat down, curious, asking questions. Wang Yan patiently answered.

After a while, Xiao Li brought over freshly made juices. Wang Yan placed one beside Qiu Yingying: “Here. No alcohol—these are my apology. Tastes good, but I advise you to eat sparingly. If you fill up now, you won’t have room for the big meal later—and that’ll be torture.”

Qiu Yingying declared confidently: “Wang Dage, seeing your sincerity, I forgive you. But don’t worry—I can eat a lot.”

“I’m not being unfair—I warned you again,” Wang Yan said, taking a sip of juice.

Qiu Yingying patted her chest: “No problem at all.”