In fact, it all started with a sad story.

At that time, the former Zhuo Fan seemed to suffer from a strange defect—an overactive and uncontrollable imagination. His ability to fantasize was boundless, and poor little Zhuo Fan was afflicted with an incurable condition known as chuunibyou. Over time, this condition worsened dramatically and morphed into a terminal stage: the prince's disease.

(NT: Chuunibyou—literally "second year middle school illness" in Japanese. A term used to mock someone who acts eccentrically, often believing they possess special powers or destinies.)

The first time Zhuo Fan met Xiao Han was in high school. Living in the dorms, he rarely ventured off campus and ordered nearly everything online.

Then one day, beautiful bouquets of flowers began appearing outside his dormitory door every Saturday morning—carefully wrapped, fragrant, and mysterious. Though he outwardly acted indifferent and even made a show of throwing them into the trash, he was secretly thrilled. After all, it was flattering to have a secret admirer. Before long, he started looking forward to Saturdays with a sense of shy anticipation.

One particular Saturday, he woke up unusually early. Ignoring the groans of his dorm mates, who grumbled about their interrupted sleep, he picked up a basket of dirty laundry—which he should have washed the night before—and pretended to head toward the bathroom. In truth, he deliberately left the door slightly ajar, crouching behind it to spy through the narrow crack.

At around eight o'clock, a tall and slender figure appeared, moving swiftly down the hall. The person paused, bent down, and gently placed a bouquet by the door. Just as they turned to leave—

The door suddenly swung open.

Leaning against the doorframe, Zhuo Fan did his best to look cold and aloof. He tilted his chin up and tried to meet the other’s gaze with disdain, but the moment he saw the handsome man—taller, composed, effortlessly good-looking—his confidence collapsed. His carefully prepared lines evaporated.

Xiao Han looked slightly startled and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Zhuo Fan panicked and slammed the door shut.

Bewildered, Xiao Han scratched his head, shrugged, and walked away.

This scene played out again. And again. And again—for over a month.

Every Saturday, Zhuo Fan devised elaborate tactics to “accidentally” run into Xiao Han during the flower drop-off. In his heart, he wondered constantly: when would Xiao Han finally confess? In the vast stage of his imagination, the moment was always magical. It would happen on a sunny morning after rain, with a rainbow arching across the sky. Xiao Han would knock gently on his door, holding a massive bouquet of roses. With a soft and affectionate smile, he would whisper, “Zhuo Xiao Fan, I love you.”

Zhuo Fan imagined this scene every day. He clung to it. Longed for it.

But Xiao Han? He just kept dropping off the flowers and leaving without a word, like it was some kind of routine delivery.

Finally, one Saturday, Zhuo Fan couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped Xiao Han just as he was turning to leave.

With an icy voice, he asked, “Hey. What do you mean by these flowers you leave every week? Do you realize they cause me a lot of trouble?”

Xiao Han looked at him, one eyebrow arching in confusion. “…What?”

Zhuo Fan's frustration spiked. Was he really going to pretend like this? He pointed at the bouquet, flinging the words out with irritation: “Take them back! I don’t want them!”

He shoved the flowers into Xiao Han’s arms and turned dramatically, dashing toward the end of the corridor.

…Well, not all the way. He didn’t go too far—just far enough to hide. He feared that if Xiao Han chased after him, he wouldn’t be able to find him otherwise. Tucked around the corner, he strained to hear footsteps.
Like a true tsundere, he thought, If he comes running and confesses now, I’ll forgive him… grudgingly.

But the corridor remained quiet. Too quiet.

Curious and disappointed, Zhuo Fan peeked out from his hiding spot.

Xiao Han was still standing there. But just then, the dorm door opened again.

Wu Gu, one of Zhuo Fan’s classmates, stepped out, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Huh? What’s this?” he asked, blinking sleepily.

Xiao Han turned to him, unfazed. “Excuse me, are you Wu Gu?”

“Yeah? Why?” Wu Gu asked, confused.

Without ceremony, Xiao Han handed him the bouquet, his tone flat: “I’m from a delivery service. Someone sent you flowers. An idiot damaged them. Apologies.”

Wu Gu stood frozen.

Zhuo Fan felt his soul leave his body.

He watched, stunned, as Xiao Han turned and walked away. Moments later, he was already speeding down the road on a small electric bike, off to make his next delivery. Not even a backward glance. Just another part-time job. After all, he had university classes in the afternoon.

And just like that—nothing happened.

Zhuo Fan, however, stood frozen in a storm of emotion. He had fallen in love before his first love even began. Shame and anger churned within him. He felt mocked, deceived, utterly humiliated. The whole universe, it seemed, had joined forces to laugh at him.

And that bastard who sent the flowers?! Why the hell were they for Wu Gu?!

They were supposed to be his!

The world reeked of betrayal.

Zhuo Fan needed an outlet. He needed revenge.

He wanted Xiao Han—and that clueless flower-sender—to bitterly regret what they’d done.

Sneering evilly, he returned to his room. In a casual tone, he asked his dorm mate, "Who sent you those flowers, anyway?"

“Oh, it’s my boyfriend, Wen Muyan,” Wu Gu mumbled, then rolled over and went back to sleep, completely unconcerned.

Zhuo Fan’s face twisted in silent fury. Without another word, he turned on his computer, already hatching a devious plan. He opened a folder titled “Plot Synopsis” and began frantically typing the names of the “top bastard” and the “top cannon fodder.”
But in his haste—and in the grip of his excitement—he failed to notice that he had misspelled “Wen Muyan” in the Sougou input interface...

(NT: The first is written 温暮言 and means “sweet words of twilight.” The second is 温慕言, which means “sweet words of love.” Though the “Mù” is pronounced the same, the characters are different.)

It is said that for every flower, there is a world—and for every complete script, a parallel universe is born.

Xiao Han and Wen Muyan soon found themselves sucked into one such universe, created by the bizarre workings of Zhuo Fan’s imagination. How they transmigrated, they probably never figured out. But that didn’t stop them from living in eternal happiness.

The only unusual side effect was that, for some reason, every time they brought it up, Wen Muyan would feel a sharp, inexplicable pain in his knee.

And so, it all started with a sad story.
Especially for Wen Muyan, who developed a profound and mysterious hatred for the Sougou input interface.

When Zhuo Fan “ascended” that day, no one was truly surprised. The world found rational explanations for this strange phenomenon, and life simply went on—as if he had never existed.

The priest remained on stage to continue the wedding ceremony. Friends and family kept applauding. Only one thing had changed: the groom.

Through this surreal incident, Wen Muyan and Xiao Han came out of the closet in the most dramatic way possible.

Naturally, critical voices rose from various corners of society. But as far as these two were concerned—why waste time on trivial opinions?

After the wedding, Xiao Han returned to his position as chairman of his entertainment company. Although his work kept him busy, he took full advantage of the “script” they had fallen into and relied on the capable, loyal Xian Fu. Together, they led the business into a new golden era.

As for Wen Muyan, he blazed a trail through the entertainment world. Aside from the media storm caused by his coming out, his acting skills spoke for themselves. Critics, even the harshest, had nothing to nitpick.
Still, every time someone praised him, Wen Muyan couldn’t help but feel a little helpless. After all, he had always been a man who had spent his life playing a role.

One evening, Xiao Han returned home from work and found the world-famous actor—allegedly “burned out”—lounging on the couch, slouched and absorbed in a video game.

“Are you on strike?” Xiao Han asked, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto the couch. He watched his partner, who was fully immersed in the game.

“My contract’s about to expire. I don’t want to renew it,” Wen Muyan replied, glancing up. He took off his headphones, set the mouse aside, then smiled and reached out, pulling Xiao Han into a kiss.

At that exact moment, a desperate voice screamed through the headphones: “Nurse! Heal me! Why aren’t you healing me?! I’m dying! Hurry up! Hey—are you even alive?!”

Xiao Han looked at the screen with amusement and gently reminded him, “Your teammate looks like he’s about to die.”

“That guy stole my equipment. I’m not healing him. Also—I’m a doctor, not a nurse.”
Wen Muyan casually looped his headphones around his neck and sniffled. He began healing himself and the other teammates, deliberately ignoring the ranting madman.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Xiao Han asked, curious.

Wen Muyan’s team cleared the instance. As soon as they exited the dungeon, the loudmouth player immediately quit the team and began insulting him in the chat.
Without a word, Wen Muyan changed his gear and charged straight at him.

Xiao Han sat down beside him on the sofa, wrapped an arm around his waist, and said calmly, “If you don’t want to renew your contract, then don’t. I’ll take care of you.”

“Who asked you to take care of me?” Wen Muyan shot back, glaring. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to poach me for your own company?”

“How could I?” Xiao Han replied with utmost seriousness. “As the saying goes—don’t shit where you eat. I’m a man of principle.”

…But later that evening, when Xiao Han saw they were having spinach for dinner, he couldn’t help feeling a deep and bitter sense of defeat.

After joining M Company, Xiao Han arranged an extremely relaxed schedule for Wen Muyan, inventing all sorts of excuses to justify his decision. They passed their days in apparent tranquility. During this time, however, Wen Muyan developed a consuming obsession—with League of Legends.
Every night, when Xiao Han returned home and opened the office door, he would find Wen Muyan completely absorbed in the game.

Xiao Han smiled mysteriously. The next day, he came home with a Samoyed.
He named her Lulu.

Each day, Xiao Han would parade around in front of Wen Muyan, cradling Lulu in his arms, cuddling and kissing her with exaggerated affection—while deliberately ignoring Wen Muyan.

Faced with this provocation, Wen Muyan was furious. Taking advantage of Xiao Han’s absence while he was at work, he shaved Lulu’s fluffy body and gave her a little kick to send her away. Then, ignoring Lulu’s pitiful whimpers from the corner, he pulled out a pair of fluffy ears and a matching tail—secretly purchased in advance—and put them on himself.

That evening, when Xiao Han returned home, the first thing he saw was Wen Muyan sprawled across the sofa, wearing the fluffy ears and tail.
Seeing him walk in, Wen Muyan let out a sweet, shy cry: “Wow!”

Xiao Han nearly peed himself in fright.

After Lulu arrived, Wen Muyan quickly lost interest in League of Legends.
Unfortunately, Xiao Han—now on leave and idle at home—became addicted to online games himself.

Even more tragically, despite being a genius in business, national governance, and even mafia operations, Xiao Han turned out to be a complete and utter idiot when it came to video games. His talent in this domain was as limited as his moral integrity.

One day, Xiao Han earnestly asked Wen Muyan to help train him and improve his gameplay.

“Hey, why is my DPS (NT: Damage Per Second) always the lowest?” he complained, frowning deeply at the statistics on the screen.

Wen Muyan rolled his eyes, then began patiently explaining the game mechanics.
Armed with this “invaluable” knowledge, Xiao Han thumped his chest with pride and declared:
“I got it!”

Minutes later, Xiao Han burst out laughing.
“Hahahaha! I’m above him now!” He gave Wen Muyan a smug look and typed gleefully into the group chat: “Your DPS is lower than mine!”

Surprised, Wen Muyan leaned over to check, then sighed helplessly.
“Brother… that’s the main tank.” (NT: A champion who specializes in absorbing damage.)

Still in denial, Xiao Han insisted, “Explain it again. I must’ve missed something—why is my DPS still low?”

At the end of his patience, Wen Muyan snapped: “If I have to explain it again, you idiot, I’m going to eat shit!”

Xiao Han stared at him silently for a long moment before murmuring in a wounded tone, “Doctor… I believe there’s still hope for my IQ…”

By the time they finally cleared the instance, Wen Muyan had metaphorically eaten an entire pile of shit.

And so, life went on, and the script continued to unfold. But now, Xiao Han and Wen Muyan's stories were entirely in their own hands.

As for Zhuo Fan… honestly, who cared anymore?

Lurking aboard a plane somewhere, he still brooded over revenge. Who would his next target be? With empty eyes and a heart turned to ashes, he stared into the void.
Suddenly, a twisted smile spread across his face.

END

 

--

Author’s Note:

Don’t doubt it—yes, the previous chapter was the end.
This extra is just a little bonus. Since this novel is written as a parody, of course it couldn’t end in any conventional way ╮(╯▽╰)╭.

Want a proper ending? Go ask Zhuo Fanfan. He’ll satisfy you!

As for Xiao Han (Top) and Wen Muyan (Bottom)—no, they haven’t transmigrated again.
And as for their past identities… well, that’s not really important anymore.

Oh, and someone asked what exactly the “script” was.
Actually, the scriptwriter… was Zhuo Fanfan himself.

Everyone, bear with me!
There’s really nothing more to say after this.
The couple will just go on living a happy life together.

 

Translator : DarNan