Chapter 7

Anonymous: Then, thank you.

The boy didn’t want to say more; since his goal had been achieved, it was time to place the order. Whether the other party added an extra item or refused to give anything at all made no practical difference to him—not even a ripple. He glanced at the time: only one minute remained until his scheduled deadline. No more delays. If he lingered, he might not focus during dinner. Better to finish quickly.

Customer service: Oh, don’t mention it! Your patronage is our honor. If you don’t mind, may I ask—what university are you attending? We might even be alumni.

Anonymous: Yishang Academy.

Customer service: Oh, really? That’s a coincidence—I graduated from there too. I still remember when I was playing by the fountain and almost fell in, if not for…

The customer service agent carried on with his performance, but the boy ignored him entirely. He exited the chat interface and placed the order. Whether it was real or fake, he’d find out soon enough. If it turned out to be a scam, he’d just learn a lesson. With the previous bonus as backup, he was still ahead—even if only slightly—and that brought a quiet sense of satisfaction.

The scammer, seeing that all his friendly small talk had fallen into silence, reluctantly gave up. He’d used this tactic a hundred times before—and it always worked. Why had it failed here? He silently swore: once the order was placed and the item shipped, he’d block the buyer immediately. How dare this guy refuse to fall for his tricks? I’ll remember you! He switched tactics, his tone now dripping with temptation. Maybe someone greedy enough would believe they could become the one-in-a-million lucky soul.

Customer service: If you leave a positive review after placing your order, you’ll get a chance to spin our cashback wheel! Let me quietly tell you—the maximum return is ten times your original payment. So feel free to buy with confidence.

Anonymous: Mm. Order placed. Ship it now.

Customer service: Excellent! We look forward to your order. Wishing you a pleasant day!

!!! Huh? He placed the order that easily? Damn, can’t undo it now—so all my lines were wasted? No way. Better check the backend first—did he actually order?

Oh wow! He really did it fast. Looks like a rich kid. Another nickname: the village chief’s dumb son. So gullible. I need to revise the scam difficulty scale—“foolish and wealthy” must rank first. This kind of customer deserves special attention. So… better reply quickly.

Customer service: Hello, esteemed customer, thank you for your trust. We’re arranging shipment for you immediately.

As this string of text appeared, the boy’s mind seemed to flip a hidden switch. Countless obscure, incomprehensible pieces of knowledge surged into him. A sudden wave of dizziness hit—he nearly dropped his phone.

He didn’t know what these things were. Once inside his mind, they vanished completely—as if they’d never come. Yet the influx remained endless, like an ocean that never ceased. Even gripping the edge of his bed for support didn’t calm him—he feared that if he squeezed too hard, he’d snap it off. But it was only fantasy; he still lacked such supernatural strength.

His relatively weak arms now bulged with veins. His handsome face twisted in pain. Sweat dripped down—pain, pure and sharp. He kept telling himself to accept it calmly, but his body refused to obey, fighting to expel the intrusion. It was the extreme of being trapped between two impossible choices.

On one side, an endless flood of information poured into his mind. On the other, he tortured himself to stay conscious. His entire body operated beyond its limit. After a brief but grueling period of strain, he finally collapsed.

…

“Yi Zhen! Yi Zhen! Wake up! Hey, Mingyang, how did he end up lying here? Did someone get jealous and sneak attack our dorm’s handsome guys? Now he’s lying cold on the floor—this is moral decay! We must find the culprit and make them pay!”

The boy had slept for an unknown length of time when voices suddenly reached his ears. Beneath him, there was no chill—he wasn’t where he’d fallen. Where he was now, only opening his eyes could tell. But his eyelids refused to lift. The mental shock had turned dizziness into crushing heaviness. If he didn’t rest a moment longer, he’d fall asleep again. It was no different from being utterly exhausted—moving felt impossible.

“Enough, shut up. Stop being so paranoid. I think he just passed out from hunger—he probably didn’t leave his room all afternoon. Lucky for us, I brought back an extra hand-pulled pancake. Shake him awake, get him to eat, and he’ll be fine.”

The other voice was calmer, instantly recognizing the boy’s condition—it matched exactly those who fainted from hunger. His lips were pale: dehydration and starvation. Sigh. How can he not take care of himself? This kind of thing again. If I hadn’t prepared something, I’d have nothing but water to offer.

The instant noodles were all gone. I’d planned to restock at the campus store tomorrow. Now I see—I need to keep extra supplies on hand. Even if the chance of this happening again is low, I can’t afford to be unprepared.

“Fine, fine. But how long do I have to shake him? I’ve been shaking hard and he won’t react—I’m starting to think Yi Zhen’s faking sleep.”

The boy continued to be shaken steadily—not too hard, not too soft. Words were just words; the force still had to be controlled. If he went too far and caused discomfort, it might trigger something uncontrollable. So learn to hold back—even in play, if you hurt someone, they’ll get mad.

“Alright, step aside. I thought you were good at studies, so you’d understand things better. Guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

Mingyang impatiently shoved him aside and decided to take over. Shaking wasn’t working—time for other tactics. He’d wake Yi Zhen up, no matter what.

He couldn’t just spoon-feed him. Beyond that, there was little they could do to help.

So whatever needed doing, he’d do it right. After all, as the youngest, he had certain privileges—like being showered with care. Not much, but enough to feel cherished.

Mingyang, as dorm leader, knew this hobby inside out.

“What’s going on, Mingyang? You’ve got some secret and you’re not telling me? Fine, next time I’m not taking you to Ice Valley.”

The boy pulled aside had understood Mingyang’s plan—he was using a secret to trigger Yi Zhen’s awakening. But from Mingyang’s sly, curled lips, he knew it was something he’d never heard before. Seeing this, he grew more anxious and immediately threatened to stop gaming with him. His intent was clear.

“Whoa, Zhen Lin, that’s low. How can you tie the value of secrets to winning or losing games? Let’s talk reasonably. First, wake Yi Zhen up. We’ll deal with the rest later. You don’t want him lying there like a corpse, do you? It’s creepy.”

Mingyang had no better idea—he could only buy time with a temporary excuse. As for revealing the secret, he’d wait until he spoke with Yi Zhen and got his consent. He wouldn’t risk a friendship over a game. What’s the difference between that and being a beast?

Character must be built over time. If you betray someone’s private trust for a small gain, you’re not fit to be a friend. Compared to traitors who sell out their country, you’d be even more despised. As a dorm leader with ideals and ambition, he’d face temptation often—but overcoming it was what truly mattered.