C59 — Cai Sheng

There was only an almost blinding white light in front of Kou Dong. Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder—then just as quickly, it disappeared, as if something had jumped off. The smile on the lips of the young man in the wooden wheelchair vanished completely as he shouted, almost harshly, “How did you get out?”

A cacophony of system alerts and warning tones erupted at once. The entire game interface wavered, with faint red light seeping from the edges. Through the flickering screen, Kou Dong struggled to open his eyes and caught a glimpse of the figure standing in front of him.

The figure’s side profile was clean and refined, with deep-set brows and eyes. One hand was stretched out in a protective stance, shielding Kou Dong behind him in a typical defensive posture.

Somewhere deep inside, Kou Dong felt that this face was familiar. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall exactly how or why.

Where had he seen it before?

 

When had they met?

Before he could figure it out, the system’s notification boxes popped up one after another, filling his vision with large, blood-red words:

【Attention, player! The copy has encountered an unknown defect and is beginning self-repair!】

【Attention, player! The copy has encountered an unknown defect and is beginning self-repair!】

【Attention, player! The copy has encountered an unknown defect and is beginning self-repair!!!】

A deep sense of unease settled in Kou Dong’s mind. But his head felt heavy, clouded, and soon, the only thing in his sight was the overwhelming red text.

A moment later, a voice let out a low, mocking laugh.

“With just you? You think you can stop me?”

Before the words even finished, there was a loud crack!

The ground beneath Kou Dong trembled. He steadied himself as best as he could, realizing that even the system’s dialogue boxes were shaking as if they had just been punched apart.

A hand appeared in front of him.

It reached out from the cracks in the broken system frame. The fingers were long and well-proportioned—large, but not clumsy, exuding an air of elegance and composure.

Kou Dong hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and placed his own hand onto it.

Behind him, the boy let out a nearly heart-wrenching scream.

“AAAAAAHHH… AAAAAHHHHH!!”

Kou Dong didn’t look back. The hand pulled him forward, and he felt an undeniable force pushing him ahead.

“Go back,” the voice said to him, deep and warm. “It’s time to leave.”

——

When Kou Dong opened his eyes again, he was back in the familiar game interface.

He was sitting in his in-game home, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, as if he had just woken up.

The system icon in the upper right corner was calm and quiet, showing no trace of the madness from earlier. It was as if all those alarms and repairs had been nothing more than a dream.

Kou Dong rubbed his forehead. On instinct, he reached for his shoulder to call for his little one to help him piece things together—only to grasp at empty air.

He froze. His heart skipped a beat.

“…cub?”

No voice answered him. The room was eerily silent, with only the steady tick-tock of the bedside clock.

Panic surged in Kou Dong’s chest. He yanked open his collar, anxiously checking inside.

“Cub!”

What happened? His cub was so tiny—he couldn’t have fallen somewhere, could he?

If he really had…

Kou Dong shot up from the bed. He first shook out his clothes, then frantically searched the trash can.

By the time he had stripped down to his pants and was shaking the legs for any sign of the little cub, it finally occurred to him to check the bed.

He lifted the blanket—and there, beside the pillow, was his son.

Still palm-sized, he was sleeping soundly with his little hands tucked under his cheek, breathing softly.

Father Kou finally felt at ease when he saw his little one safe and sound. His heart, which had been on the verge of collapse, settled at last. He reached out and poked the tiny figure on the forehead.

“Seriously.”

He nearly scared his dad to death.

This was his one and only precious son.

Kou Dong dutifully pulled the small blanket back over Ye Yanzhi. When his hand touched the tiny body, he suddenly noticed that the character description had changed.

【Name: Ye Yanzhi.

Identity: Heir of the Ye Family.

Current Stage: Adulthood (In Transition)

Growth Method: Give him enough love! The more love he receives, the faster he will grow!

Abilities:

– Koi Luck (Unlocked, Level 2, can offset Player’s “Unlucky E” attribute)

– Strategic Planning.(Unlocked, Level 1)

– Combat (Unlocked, Level 1)

– Special Ability (Locked)

Current Intimacy Level: Level 1.】

Kou Dong’s gaze landed on the words “In Transition” after “Adulthood,” and his mind collapsed.

…?

What was going on?

He was still confused.

He hadn’t even properly enjoyed the joy of fatherhood yet, and now his kid was about to grow up already?!

Before he could process this, the system’s task rewards arrived. This time, Kou Dong earned 173 achievement points, putting him far ahead of the leaderboard.

Just as he accepted the rewards, the “Team” icon started flashing.

When he clicked on it, he saw a message from Song Hong.

[You made it out???]

Kou Dong replied: [Yeah, I did. Why?]

Song Hong sent a flurry of exclamation marks, clearly in disbelief. Then he explained:

[Earlier, the system announced that we failed the mission.]

Kou Dong thought about it. He had been trapped by an NPC’s spell and hadn’t escaped the dungeon with the others, so naturally, their mission wasn’t considered a success.

Song Hong: [Just now, the system suddenly announced that we actually succeeded. I figured it must be because you got out. Are you okay?]

Kou Dong: [I’m fine.]

Kou Dong: [Seems like I got saved by an NPC.]

Song Hong sent a dancing lemon emoji in a circle:

[Unbelievable, you actually got saved by an NPC again.]

Why was it that they were all players, yet only Kou Dong could pull off this kind of feat? Meanwhile, the rest of them could only sit under the lemon tree, looking up with envy?

Kou Dong replied with a grinning emoji:

[Yeah, not only did they save me, but they also love me so much they didn’t even want me to leave. They were desperate to keep me there. —Jealous?]

Song Hong: […]

Song Hong: [No thanks.]

Song Hong: [We’re people, not just strings of data stored in the system’s database.]

Kou Dong didn’t reply.

Instead, he opened the Dating Interface, and as expected, he saw Ye Yan’s face. He looked slightly more mature than when Kou Dong had left, his brows furrowed as if lost in thought.

As if sensing Kou Dong’s arrival, Ye Yanzhi lifted his head in the frame and stared gloomily at him.

In his hand, he held a small wooden figure.

Kou Dong took a closer look—it was a carved version of himself.

Ye Yanzhi gripped the wooden figure tightly in his palm.

Then, he reached out a hand toward Kou Dong.

Kou Dong’s own hand hovered over the Exit option, but he didn’t press it immediately. He hesitated.

There were too many unanswered questions—

Who was the person who appeared at the end? How did they get there? Why did their presence put the system on such high alert?

And why did they seem so vaguely familiar?

Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even recall that person’s face—probably the system had done something to obscure it.

But the first instinctive thought that had flashed through his mind when he saw them still lingered.

—Pretty handsome.

If this were real life, there’d definitely be a crowd of little bottoms and fangirls screaming behind him, desperate to have his babies.

But the problem was—Kou Dong had no idea who the other person was.

And that answer could only be found within the “Cai Sheng” copy.

He glanced at his son again. Ye Yanzhi’s face was pressed against the bedsheet, showing no signs of waking up.

“Alright,” Kou Dong muttered under his breath, his gaze gradually firming. “Stay here and don’t move… Daddy’s just going out to buy you some oranges.”

He placed his hand in Ye Yanzhi’s palm.

The NPC’s eyes shone with joy, then—he suddenly pulled.

A dazzling white light filled Kou Dong’s vision, and he felt his feet lift off the carpet. A few seconds later, they landed on soft earth.

Something cold landed on his cheek. When he pressed his fingers against it, it melted instantly.

Looking up, he realized—

It was snowing.

The snowflakes drifted down like pulled cotton, thick and heavy, showing no signs of stopping.

He stood in a courtyard he didn’t recognize, staring at two red lanterns hanging at the entrance.

This small farmhouse—he had never seen it before.

Before he could turn around, a trembling voice called out behind him.

“Hey… Xiao Shuanzi…”

Hearing that name, Kou Dong’s whole body tensed.

He turned his head—

An elderly woman, her hair silver-white, was slowly walking out of the house with a wooden cane.

“Xiao Shuanzi,” she said, tapping her cane against the ground, “why are you just standing there? That Ye boy isn’t here yet, so you’re just going to wait outside? Aren’t you afraid of freezing?”

She nagged for a long time. When she saw her grandson still standing there in a daze, she simply grabbed him and pulled him forward.

Thankfully, although he looked stunned, he still reacted to the tug and obediently followed her to the porch.

“It won’t be long now,” the old woman said kindly, playfully tapping him on the forehead. “Look at you—after all these years, you’re still running after him.”

Kou Dong: “……”

She was definitely talking about Ye Yan.

His expression twisted.

So, in Ye Yan’s imagination, he had always been the one wagging his tail and chasing after him??

Before Kou Dong could process his emotions, a voice rang out.

“Grandma, I’m back!”

The wooden door creaked open.

A tall, well-built figure appeared at the entrance.

An eighteen or nineteen-year-old young man strode inside.

When he spotted Kou Dong, his brows furrowed slightly, and his steps quickened.

“Why are you out here freezing? Why didn’t you go inside?”

Kou Dong forced an awkward yet polite smile, thinking: How the hell would I know? Isn’t this all from your own imagination?!

He still wasn’t sure what exactly his role was supposed to be in Ye Yan’s fantasy setting.

But the old woman spoke up before he could figure it out.

“He wouldn’t go in even when I told him to,” she sighed. “He insisted on waiting at the door for you. If you hadn’t come back soon, he would’ve frozen himself stiff…”

Ye Yan’s brows furrowed even deeper.

He stepped forward and touched the back of Kou Dong’s hand.

It was ice-cold, completely devoid of warmth.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word—

He reached out.

Kou Dong blinked in confusion at the movement. Before he could react—

Ye Yan scooped him up.

One arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees—

A perfect, classic princess carry.

Kou Dong felt like exploding.

He was a grown man, okay?!

Sure, he had mentally prepared himself for some suffering, but—

Nowhere in that mental preparation did he include being PRINCESS CARRIED by an NPC!

Kou Dong immediately started kicking.

“Put me down! What the hell are you doing?!”

But the Ye Yan in the dating storyline had clearly eaten a bear’s heart and a leopard’s gall —his arms didn’t budge in the slightest.

Instead, he adjusted his grip lower on Kou Dong’s waist, his fingertips lightly rubbing against him.

Then, in a deep, warning tone—

“Don’t move.”

Kou Dong was furious. He nearly cursed out loud.

Perv-ert!

This was straight-up harassment!

His mind was filled with a thousand galloping grass mud horses. Meanwhile, Ye Yan lowered his voice even more and said—

“Don’t provoke me. Don’t think that just because Grandma is home, I won’t punish you.”

Kou Dong: “……”

What kind of pure love dialogue was this?!

You’re a horror game NPC!

Doesn’t saying this feel completely out of place??

Do you not feel any shame for switching genres like this?!

Ye Yan, clearly, felt no shame whatsoever.

 

Even his grandmother looked completely unbothered by their interaction. She hurried over and asked, “Ye boy, have you told your parents?”

“I have,” Ye Yan replied. His attitude toward her was remarkably warm, like a well-behaved grandson. “They already know I’m staying over tonight to keep Nannan company. I finished my work in the fields, so you don’t have to worry.”

The old woman trailed behind them and sighed in relief.

“That’s good,” she said.

Both of them looked like they fully understood something.

Kou Dong: “……?”

Good?

Good WHAT?!

What the hell was happening?!

Why were these two acting like they were having a completely different conversation?!

And what was this about staying over to keep someone company—

Holy f**k.

What kind of nonsense was this?!

He was a grown-ass man!

Why the hell did Ye Yan have to stay over to keep him company?!

And even more ridiculous—

Why did it sound like he was staying over to—

Kou Dong refused to accept this.

He tried to resist.

“I’m an adult now,” he declared firmly. “I don’t need him to keep me company!”

The old woman immediately scolded him.

She tapped his head, not too hard, not too soft —

“Talking nonsense again.”

Kou Dong: “……”

Wait.

Wait a damn second.

Your attitude isn’t right here—

A man just said he’s staying over to sleep with your grandson, and you’re happy about it?!

The old woman squinted as she reminisced.

“Back then, when Ye boy took you out of that trafficker’s den, didn’t we already agree?”

She smiled kindly, her voice warm.

“You were meant to be Ye boy’s little child bride.”

Kou Dong froze.

Then, suddenly, he understood.

“This was a life-saving kindness,” the old woman continued. “We have nothing else to repay him with… Over the years, we’ve depended on him to take care of us. He does most of the work at home.”

Ye Yan set Kou Dong down on a chair.

Then, he took Kou Dong’s hands in his own, gently rubbing warmth into them.

He smiled faintly.

“Grandma, what are you saying?” he murmured.

“We’re family.”

The old woman let out a long sigh and smiled so wide her eyes disappeared.

“Family, family,” she echoed.

Kou Dong was completely, utterly despairing about this dating storyline.

Ye Yan had really set himself up perfectly.

He dropped the ‘life-saving grace’ bomb”, and it completely silenced all his relatives.

The old woman asked, “Aren’t you calling your parents over to eat?”

Ye Yan replied, “No need.”

He rolled up his sleeves and smiled at Kou Dong.

“Nannan, what do you want to eat? Handmade noodles?”

Before Kou Dong could even answer, Ye Yan had already stepped into the kitchen.

Naturally, he reached for a coat hanging on the wall and put it on.

Kou Dong followed behind him, watching as Ye Yan skillfully lit the firewood, washed his hands, kneaded the dough, and carefully added water to the bowl.

For a moment—

Kou Dong couldn’t connect this image to the dark, brooding boy who had once sat in a wheelchair.

So… Ye Yan originally had legs this long.

Straight, strong, well-proportioned.

As if sensing his gaze, Ye Yan turned to look at him.

His voice was soft.

“Are you hungry?”

His voice was soft and lingering, leaving Kou Dong momentarily dazed.

After a brief pause, he murmured in a low voice, “…No.”

Ye Yan assumed he was just being stubborn. Since his hands were covered in flour, he merely tapped Kou Dong’s forehead lightly with his arm.

“You can’t go hungry, my little Nannan. — Sit down for a bit and have some corn, hmm?”

Kou Dong felt a little awkward and muttered in protest, “Who’s yours?”

Despite his words, he still found a small stool and sat down, nibbling on the corn while watching the young man bustling around, preparing food for him. A small sense of loss unexpectedly welled up in his heart.

If the kidnappers had never taken Ye Yan, this should have been his life.

A warm and peaceful life, shared with the child he had raised with his own hands.

He lowered his head, suddenly finding that the corn in his mouth had lost its taste.

After a while, Ye Yan patted him, leading him up from the stool with a chuckle. “Why are you still holding on to this?”

Kou Dong glanced at his hand and realized the corn was still unfinished, bitten into uneven, ragged pieces that looked rather messy.

He was about to take another bite when Ye Yan had already taken it from him, indulgingly saying, “You can have a fresh one later.”

Carrying a bowl, he led Kou Dong inside.

The old woman, having lost most of her teeth, was eating a bowl of soft-cooked noodles specially prepared for her, savoring them contentedly. Seeing her grandson sitting still for so long, she tapped his bowl. “Be careful, it’ll get cold.”

Kou Dong responded and was about to pick up his chopsticks when Ye Yan suddenly said, “Almost forgot.”

He stood up and turned into the kitchen. When he returned, he held a bright red tomato, carefully peeled after being blanched, and cut into pieces.

One by one, the tomato slices fell into Kou Dong’s bowl, releasing wisps of white steam.

Kou Dong’s pupils shrank slightly.

“You like this, don’t you, Nannan?” Ye Yan said, handing him the chopsticks. “Eat up.”

“…”

The young man sat there, unmoving for a long moment.

This bowl of noodles reminded him of the hand-pulled noodles he used to eat most often in middle school.

It was one of the few memories he hadn’t lost.

Unlike other kids, he didn’t have anyone at home waiting to cook for him. When he occasionally felt hungry at night, he would head to a small street-side stall.

That stall had a tent, illuminated by a dim yellow light, and stayed open until three in the morning. The owner was a kind man, raising a child alone. The thing he made for Kou Dong the most was hand-pulled noodles.

And Kou Dong had very particular preferences, refusing anything that didn’t meet his standards. The noodles had to be hand-pulled, chewy, without ginger, garlic, or cilantro. Just a little chili, and—most importantly—small, blanched tomato pieces added on top after the dish was done.

—Exactly like the bowl in front of him.

Kou Dong traced his memories back and suddenly realized that since entering the game, he had never once eaten anything he disliked.

It was as if someone knew his tastes inside and out, deliberately ensuring he avoided everything he found unpleasant.

He had never thought about it before. But in this moment, a clear thought surfaced in his mind:

If this was real—

Then the person who created this game must be someone who knew him extremely well, someone who understood all his preferences and dislikes.

He stirred the noodles, and a plump, golden fried egg surfaced.

Earlier, in the kitchen, Ye Yan had mentioned that there was only one egg left in the house.

Now, it had been tucked into his bowl.

The old woman, noticing, exclaimed in surprise, “Ye boy, what’s with that corn in your hand? Oh my, you’ve eaten it like this…”

Kou Dong looked up and saw that the young man was silently chewing on the same ragged piece of corn that Kou Dong had left unfinished, without the slightest hint of disdain.

Sensing his gaze, Ye Yan curved his lips slightly, his expression carrying a trace of reassurance.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s sweet.”

---

TN:

◉⁠‿⁠◉ I- I’m fine, this chapter totally didn’t make me cry

(⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)