Xiao Han wanted to silence the ringtone, but the sound spread through the garage faster than he could move. Both Zhuo Fan and the man he was speaking with turned to look at him in unison as the familiar melody echoed through the still air.

Not only did the man’s back seem familiar—his face did too. Xiao Han ended the call abruptly, and though his steps appeared composed, they barely concealed the flicker of surprise and disappointment in his eyes.

“We haven’t seen each other in a while… Ah Han,” the man said, his voice laced with intimate familiarity. Yet his expression carried a trace of discomfort—his slightly arched brows and complicated gaze suggesting words left unsaid.

Xiao Han stopped before them. One hand in his pocket, he used the other to loosen the dark blue tie at his neck with practiced ease. He nodded slightly and replied in a firm, steady voice, “Yes, it’s been a while, Chenli.”

After navigating so many worlds and storylines, Xiao Han had mastered the art of concealing his emotions and grudges. Regardless of the plot, no matter how dramatic the confrontation, he could maintain an icy calm. In his mind, however, ironic commentary would bubble up automatically—sarcastic thoughts in wild fonts and vivid colors—yet never made their way to the surface.

In truth, it often took everything in him to suppress laughter, anger, tears, or mockery. But over time, he had grown used to it. He now believed his threshold for composure had reached a whole new level.

Just like now—Liang Chenli still looked like a tragic supporting role, the classic “cannon-fodder background” character. At least this time, he had leveled up slightly: he was introduced as Xiao Han’s ex-boyfriend. That was progress, considering that in the first world, he was merely a “good friend,” and in the third world, he had been reduced to a photography… a photography that had even been cut out.

Logically speaking, ex-boyfriends were typically meant to incite jealousy in the current love interest—to stir up tension, raise emotional stakes, and push the protagonists closer together. Shouldn’t love rivals be furiously jealous, confrontational, maybe even on the verge of a fight?

So why did these two—Zhuo Fan and Liang Chenli—look like they were catching up like old friends, whispering calmly in the corner?

Xiao Han thought back to his first encounter with Wen Muyan. He had nearly been prepared for a full-blown showdown. Wasn’t that how these stories were supposed to unfold?

“How do you know each other?” he asked, his deep gaze sweeping over their faces before resting on Liang Chenli.

If his ears hadn’t betrayed him, he had just heard Liang Chenli say to Zhuo Fan: “Xiao Han is heartless and ungrateful. The way he dumped me will be the way he dumps you. You should wake up.”

Was it really necessary to tarnish his name like that? What kind of grudge did Liang Chenli still hold?

“Oh, I met Zhuo Fan at a press conference earlier this year,” Liang Chenli replied naturally, his tone casual yet poised. He offered a final smile. “I heard you two are together now. I won’t intrude on your date any further. Goodbye.”

He gave Zhuo Fan a final, meaningful glance—one that lingered just a second longer than it should have—before turning to leave.

In truth, Xiao Han would have preferred Liang Chenli to stay a bit longer. It wasn’t that he harbored lingering feelings. It was just that being in the company of the other two felt far less exhausting than being alone with Zhuo Fan. Besides, Liang Chenli might’ve inadvertently revealed more useful information. But he left too quickly, offering no chance for Xiao Han to stop him.

Xiao Han stood silently, watching Zhuo Fan from the corner of his eye. The latter, his head slightly lowered, appeared deep in thought. There was something off about him—something that didn’t align with how he’d been in the other worlds. Xiao Han just couldn’t pinpoint what had changed.

Just as Xiao Han was about to fabricate an excuse and slip away, Zhuo Fan reached out and grabbed his arm, his expression disgruntled. “I came all this way to pick you up after work, and you’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s your problem?”

Xiao Han frowned subtly and slowly pulled his arm back, goosebumps prickling along his skin. “I’m not free tonight,” he replied coldly. “Go have dinner on your own.”

“Why aren’t you free?” Zhuo Fan pressed, clearly dissatisfied, his tone growing sharper. “In the past, no matter how busy you were, you’d always make time to eat with me. If not tonight, then what about tomorrow night?”

“I’m not available tomorrow either.”

“For what?”

Now that he’d regained his freedom, Xiao Han had every right not to answer such questions. But since he couldn’t predict what twists the script might throw next, he dared not be too reckless. So he casually tossed out a random excuse, keeping his expression unreadable.

“I always have a few days of discomfort every month.”

“…” Zhuo Fan’s lips twitched. He felt as though his intelligence had just been personally insulted.

Xiao Han turned to leave, but before he could get far, he heard Zhuo Fan mutter behind him in a gloomy tone, “If you won’t accompany me, I’ll just go find another friend to have dinner with.”

He deliberately emphasized the words: “another friend.”

That was all the confirmation Xiao Han needed. He stopped in his tracks, turned around with clear irritation, and asked flatly—

“What friend?”

Zhuo Fan, however, completely missed the implication and, with unshakable seriousness, responded according to his own unique logic: “Since you’re so upset about me being close to others, why don’t you just keep a closer eye on me?”

“…”
Xiao Han had always believed his patience threshold was already abnormally high, but why did Zhuo Fan always manage to push it even further every time they spoke?

All he wanted was to confirm if the “friend” mentioned was Wen Muyan. Why couldn’t Zhuo Fan recognize the seriousness in his gaze—where even the subtle twitch of his nostrils screamed that he was on the verge of snapping?

Noticing Xiao Han’s unwavering stare, Zhuo Fan beamed with satisfaction, his expression full of smug delight. Still, he deliberately added, “Alright, I’m going to have dinner now. It’s up to you. I haven’t seen my friends in a long time—we’ll probably chat late into the night. I won’t be going home tonight.”

Something was clearly off. Based on Zhuo Fan’s characteristics in previous worlds, he would never have said something like this. This cat-and-mouse act—retreating in order to advance…
Was this the legendary arrogant bottom strategy?

But where did this sudden shift come from?
Was it possible that… he had transmigrated too?

Without realizing it, Xiao Han frowned slightly. Of course, in Zhuo Fan’s eyes, that subtle expression instantly read as jealousy. The corners of his mouth lifted into a discreet smile. He was already convinced that Xiao Han was about to give in, forbid him from seeing his friends, insist on personally watching over him, or even offer one of those characteristically dominant, possessive kisses.

However, after waiting for quite some time, Zhuo Fan realized—Xiao Han wasn’t doing anything.

Zhuo Fan, who had been mentally preparing for a dramatic confrontation, suddenly found himself thrown off balance.
Why wasn’t Xiao Han reacting?

He thought hard, trying to understand the unexpected silence, but no answer came. With no plan B, Zhuo Fan had no choice but to continue moving forward—step by uncertain step.

But Xiao Han wasn’t planning to follow any script. He simply nodded indifferently and replied in a casual tone, “Oh.”

“…”

Watching Xiao Han turn and walk away, Zhuo Fan stood rooted in place, stunned. He gritted his teeth so hard he nearly cracked them.
Impossible!

Then, as he thought back to Xiao Han’s cold and domineering behavior, it suddenly clicked—an epiphany:
Xiao Han must be pretending to be indifferent because he couldn’t swallow his pride.
On the surface, he looked unaffected, but in reality, he was probably fuming inside.
He would definitely follow him later—secretly.

The more Zhuo Fan convinced himself, the more triumphant his expression became. Grabbing his phone, he opened his contact list and scrolled until he found the names of Cannon Fodder Top 1, 2, and 3. With a few taps, he sent each of them a message. Suppressing his glee, he assumed the air of someone about to reunite with dear old friends and strolled out slowly, every step full of self-satisfaction.

If Xiao Han could read minds—if he had even the slightest idea of what Zhuo Fan was imagining at that moment—he would have been absolutely speechless.
And if he still managed to hold himself together, his composure index would’ve undoubtedly hit a new all-time high.

Unfortunately, Xiao Han couldn’t read minds. Even worse—he actually made the exact mistake Zhuo Fan had predicted:
He started following him in secret.

What was even more unfortunate was that while Xiao Han was a master at concealing emotions, his tracking skills were… mediocre at best. Zhuo Fan, who had been deliberately observant, noticed almost immediately—and was so proud of himself that he nearly burst out laughing on the spot.

Of course, Xiao Han wasn’t tailing Zhuo Fan to "keep his lover in check." His target was none other than Wen Muyan.

Zhuo Fan deliberately slowed his pace and chose a nearby restaurant. It was a peculiar place—there was a central stage where customers could perform songs if they wanted. Xiao Han spotted the venue without much effort, but entering directly would be too obvious. If Zhuo Fan noticed, it would be too embarrassing.

He scanned his surroundings, then slipped into a nearby clothing store to disguise himself. A short while later, now dressed in a trench coat, sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat—the perfect cliché detective outfit—he grabbed a newspaper and quietly entered the restaurant through a side entrance.

Fortunately, Zhuo Fan (unknowingly aiding him) had chosen a table right by the window. Considering it a stroke of good luck, Xiao Han picked a dim corner, ordered a bottomless coffee, and pretended to be absorbed in his newspaper.

Before long, Zhuo Fan’s first “friend” arrived.

Intrigued, Xiao Han lowered his sunglasses slightly and poked two discreet holes in his newspaper. Through these makeshift spy windows, he observed the newcomer—and froze.

The man had a stern, square face, a stocky build, and wore an ill-fitting, cheap suit. His belly stuck out like an afterthought, amplifying his awkward presence.

Wasn’t this Shao Ze, from the second world? The one who’d secretly harbored feelings for Zhuo Fan Could this spare tire #2 actually have any status in this world?
Highly unlikely. Judging by his poor taste, unremarkable looks, and generally unimpressive aura, he stood no chance. And yet… this world felt like some bizarre reunion fair, bringing together all the past side characters in one chaotic, theatrical mess.

Xiao Han lowered his head and took a sip of coffee—only to nearly wince. It was bitter enough to make his brows knit together. He immediately added several sugar cubes.

Seeing that the person wasn’t Wen Muyan, Xiao Han lost all interest in the surveillance. Bored, he began to seriously read the newspaper instead.

In order to annoy Xiao Han, Zhuo Fan—who normally didn’t even bother to acknowledge Shao Ze—suddenly asked after his news with fake concern, even going so far as to make all sorts of deliberately ambiguous gestures. Shao Ze, completely overcome with emotion, was so moved he nearly broke down in tears.

Taking advantage of the temporary absence of the other love rivals, Shao Ze decided it was the perfect time to act. Glancing at the empty stage, he boldly declared that he wanted to sing a song for Zhuo Fan. Though his appearance was plain, his voice was unexpectedly beautiful. Hoping to awaken some latent affection in Zhuo Fan’s heart, Shao Ze chose an old song he had mastered perfectly: "The Sea" by Zhang Yusheng.

Just as Xiao Han, drained from boredom, was about to doze off over his diary, Shao Ze’s vibrant voice abruptly snapped him back to reality. The line "If the sea could wash away my sorrow" echoed in his ears.

If the sea could take away your ugliness and shortness, all you’d have left would be your poverty… he thought wryly.

Looking at the chubby, sentimental little dumpling on stage, Xiao Han couldn’t help but shed a tear—but it was a tear of pure sympathy.

Then, another familiar face appeared.

Xiao Han froze in shock as he recognized the newcomer. Wasn’t this Liang Chenli, the one who had walked away from them earlier?

It seemed his divine intuition hadn’t failed him. Judging from the scene, this was turning into some kind of chaotic reunion for cannon-fodder bottoms—each somehow now "friends" with the main bottom, accompanied by their respective cannon-fodder tops.

The moment Liang Chenli entered, Zhuo Fan immediately turned all his attention to him, leaving Shao Ze sad and sidelined at the table.

Xiao Han didn’t have time to feel sorry for the guy, because a third person entered. What troubled him most was that this newcomer had his back to him… but something about his figure looked uncomfortably similar to Wen Muyan. A wave of unease swept over him.

To confirm his suspicion, Xiao Han discreetly left the restaurant and repositioned himself outside, near the window, in hopes of getting a better look at the man’s face.

Zhuo Fan had chosen a table right by the window, and on the other side, half-height bushes offered the perfect hiding spot.

Still in his sunglasses and hat, Xiao Han crouched low, gently pushed aside the branches, and peered in.

By now, Shao Ze and Liang Chenli had gone to the bathroom. Zhuo Fan sat with his back to the window, chatting animatedly with the man in question—who, in the middle of smiling, turned his head just slightly.

Their eyes met.

“…”

The man’s smile froze as he locked eyes with Xiao Han—whose face was pressed against the glass like a stunned raccoon.

Wen Muyan slowly drew his head back, his face stiff with blank indifference.
I don’t know this idiot. I don’t know this idiot… he hummed internally.

Xiao Han, however, was left bewildered—and increasingly irritated by Wen Muyan’s deliberate nonchalance.

Moments later, Wen Muyan found an excuse, got up, and quickly exited the restaurant. Scanning his surroundings, he immediately spotted Xiao Han. His face darkened. He strode over, closed the distance in a few steps, and—without saying a word—grabbed the back of Xiao Han’s ridiculous trench coat and dragged him off unceremoniously.

Treated like a common sack of potatoes, Xiao Han was completely stunned. This wasn’t fair! What happened to his supposedly weak strength? When did he mutate into Astro Boy?! (NT: iconic robot boy from the Japanese manga and anime by Osamu Tezuka)

Wen Muyan, as if reading his thoughts, turned to flash a smug smile. “I ate spinach,” he said triumphantly.

“… …”

Xiao Han, who knew full well the truth, felt tears threatening to fall.

 

Translator : DarNan