Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 83

Chapter 83: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (32)

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The man was a head taller than him—more than enough to easily catch Prince Yuan in his arms as he stumbled forward.

 

Shui Que’s forehead accidentally bumped into the other person’s hard collarbone, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Hiss…”

 

So delicate—like a golden branch from a jade tree.

 

They had been standing this close, yet with just a gentle tug, he’d hit his forehead and already gone red.

 

He clutched his head.

 

“Your Highness…”

 

The assistant minister of the Court of Judicial Review, always commanding attention in front of the Emperor, now looked flustered like he had done something wrong. He lowered his head to carefully examine Shui Que’s forehead. “I was careless. Did I hurt you, Your Highness?”

 

“…It’s fine. I won’t shatter just from a bump.”

 

Shui Que wasn’t one to fuss over himself. He roughly rubbed his own forehead, messing up his hair in the process. Even his neatly bound coronet came slightly undone.

 

He moved so carelessly, but Qi Chaojin couldn’t bear to see him like that.

 

A cool breath brushed over the red spot on his forehead.

 

“…Your Highness.”

 

“…Your Highness.”

 

Qi Chaojin kept calling him in a soft voice.

 

Shui Que couldn’t stand the endless “Your Highness” this and “Your Highness” that. He looked up, puzzled: “What is it?”

 

Qi Chaojin’s official robes carried the scent of wine. Who knew how much he had drunk at the banquet while staring in Shui Que’s direction?

 

Shui Que suddenly had a bad feeling.

 

He remembered that Qi Chaojin had always had a low tolerance for alcohol. But he was a high-ranking official now—he must have improved, right?

 

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Shui Que asked hesitantly, holding up two fingers and waving them in front of Qi Chaojin’s face. “How many fingers?”

 

Qi Chaojin’s eyes, black as ink, were different from Shui Que’s light tea-colored ones. They were steady and focused—locked directly on Prince Yuan.

 

Suddenly, he raised his arm and grasped Shui Que’s restless, waving hand.

 

“…It’s Your Highness’s hand.”

 

Completely the wrong answer.

 

Shui Que was now certain—he was absolutely drunk.

 

Or maybe he himself was drunk too. After all, when he drank, his whole body burned. But Qi Chaojin’s hand was still cool to the touch.

 

So refreshingly cool—it felt wonderful.

 

Shui Que, annoyed by the heat and weight of his outer robe, tossed it over Qi Chaojin’s arm.

 

Still holding his wrist, Shui Que drowsily made Qi Chaojin hold his face in his palm.

 

In a soft, lazy voice, he murmured, “Qi Lang, your hands are so cool…”

 

His flushed cheeks, soft and warm, sank right into Qi Chaojin’s palm.

 

The golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the eaves of the palace, bathing everything in warmth and drowsiness.

 

Qi Chaojin, dazed, felt as if a fluffy little bird had nestled itself into his callused hand.

 

And now… he could no longer bring himself to let go.

 

Qi Chaojin’s eyes lowered halfway. “Your coronet is crooked. Why don’t we go to the back chamber—let me fix your hair.”

 

The side halls of the Lida Hall were narrow, filled with flutes, music, and laughter. But the back chamber of the palace was quiet and peaceful.

 

Most of the palace attendants had probably gone to the side halls for the banquet.

 

Inside the rear chamber, further in, was a private room meant for rest.

 

Shui Que sat in front of the mirror stand, propping up his head, letting Qi Chaojin remove the gold-threaded coronet from his head. His dark hair spilled down, and Qi Chaojin gently combed through it, strand by strand.

 

Even drunk, Qi Chaojin remained meticulous as he tied Shui Que’s hair back into place.

 

After a long silence, he suddenly called out, “Shui Que.”

 

It had been a long time since he’d called him by name.

 

Shui Que responded, “Hmm?”

 

Qi Chaojin stared at him for a long time.

 

He thought to himself—if Shui Que hadn’t run away from their engagement back then, would he have had the chance to fix his hair a few more times?

 

Or maybe, if when he met Shui Que, he hadn’t been a poor, struggling scholar from Changzhou…

 

If, when they first met, he had already been riding high, galloping on horseback in springtime—and had laid eyes on that Prince Yuan who had snuck out of the palace and loved cherry pastries.

 

Could it be better than now?


“Shui Que.” Qi Chaojin, flushed with intoxication, cupped the soft, delicate face in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”


Like before.

 

Shui Que felt dizzy from the heat. It took several spins in his mind before he processed what had just been said.


His little face tensed up, and he seriously pressed his palm against Qi Chaojin’s lips. “No.”


“A subject mustn’t kiss a prince.”


“You have to be careful. If my Imperial Brother gets angry, your head might roll.”

 

He said it with utter seriousness—only for a small, muffled hiccup to sneak out the moment his words landed. Whatever imposing air Prince Yuan had just mustered evaporated completely.

 

Flustered, Shui Que covered his mouth with both hands.

 

Qi Chaojin still retained a bit of clarity and sensed something was off. “Why is your body so hot?”

 

Shui Que lifted his hand to touch his forehead. But his palm felt just as warm, making it impossible to tell.

 

The Overseer’s cold voice echoed in his head: [There’s something wrong with the wine. That palace servant who just poured it.]


[Baby, you really are a sweet treat. So many in the hall are trying to latch onto Prince Yuan’s high branch.]

 

Shui Que could no longer understand the twists and turns of these words.

 

His eyes were misty. He murmured, echoing the Overseer, “The wine… there’s something wrong with it.”

 

Qi Chaojin’s expression immediately darkened.

 

Shui Que wasn’t finished. He tried to recall what the Overseer had just said two seconds ago. Stammering, he continued, “I-I’m sweet…”


Was that what 01 meant?

 

He nodded earnestly to himself, accepting 01’s comment. “I’m sweet.”

 

Assistant Minister Qi had already drunk who knows how much, and now with his beloved Prince Yuan saying such things, he was utterly intoxicated—dazed and delirious.

 

What happened afterward, Shui Que couldn’t really remember clearly.

 

Qi Chaojin had said, “I’m relieving Your Highness’s worries.”

 

Clothing became disheveled, the hair crown undone.

 

The heavy canopy, the thick brocade quilt—Prince Yuan’s entire being was surrounded by the scent of wine and a faint, clinging fragrance. His fair skin took on a decadent blush.

 

Tiny beads swelled slightly from the subtle curves, marked with bite traces and shimmering wetness, trembling in the cold air.

 

As Qi Chaojin’s Adam’s apple moved, Shui Que’s eyes brimmed with tears. He couldn’t help but fall apart inside.

 

From now on, he would never let Assistant Minister Qi kiss his mouth again.

 

………

 

The feast at the Lida Hall stretched from noon all the way into the night.

 

Prince Yuan barely ate or drank before leaving his seat. Not long after, Assistant Minister Qi, who had also disappeared for quite some time, returned just a few steps behind him.

 

Both sat back down, cheeks flushed red.

 

Countless eyes in the hall followed the Prince’s every move.

 

Everyone was dazed.

 

How could it be that Prince Yuan had only left for an hour or two—


But came back looking as if…

 

He had been thoroughly… ripened.

 

After the drug wore off, Shui Que refused to let Qi Chaojin kiss him again.

 

His lips, of course, were still intact—nothing out of place.

 

The little lip bead sat just where it should, nestled at the center of his upper lip.

 

But beneath the red silk robes, the base of his thighs trembled slightly. Even sitting at the banquet, he had to squeeze his legs together to suppress the twitching muscles.

 

Wei Yan looked at him suspiciously. “What took you so long just to relieve yourself? I thought you went back to the Eastern Palace to change.”

 

Yet his intricate, ornate robe was clearly the same one he had on when he left.

 

Without any official title, Wei Yan now looked like a jealous husband catching his little lover in a lie. “And why did you come back right after that surnamed Qi?”

 

Shui Que didn’t dare drink the wine before him anymore. He asked Wei Yan to pour him tea from his side instead.

 

Only after moistening his throat did he manage to bluff: “It was just a coincidence… I went for a walk in the imperial garden. Just happened to bump into Assistant Minister Qi on the way back.”

 

Wei Yan remained half-convinced. “Oh… You were gone so long on a walk. Hungry now?”

 

Now that Shui Que was back, Wei Yan could finally keep busy again.

 

With something to do, and seeing Shui Que nod at the question, Wei Yan immediately began cutting lamb and preparing side dishes for him.

 

Shui Que had been gone so long that the dishes on the table had already been replaced.

 

He focused earnestly on eating his meat. Meanwhile, the banquet’s music and dance reached its lively climax.

 

Then, a tall figure stepped out from the crowd, bowed solemnly to the Emperor of Darong seated at the highest point, and announced: “Daxiang is willing to offer three thousand fine steeds and ten thousand taels of gold in exchange for marriage with Prince Yuan, to bind Darong and Daxiang in eternal unity and harmony.”

 

The prince from Daxiang wasn’t referring to horses bred in the northern border of Darong—these were elite tribute horses, every one of them comparable to jade-colored Flower Horses or Night-Illuminating Whites.

 

For Darong, which had long been in conflict with Shuo Dan, this offer was extremely tempting. What’s more, Daxiang was situated in the northwest—if allied through marriage, the two nations could surround Shuo Dan.

 

Within the next century, as long as Shuo Dan wasn’t ruled by a tyrant, it would never dream of invading Darong.

 

Shui Que stared blankly as he met the hawk-like eyes of the speaker.

 

The music and revelry of the banquet came to a crashing halt as Duan Zhang, seething with fury, slammed down his jade cup.

 

……..

 

After the feast, Shui Que still reported the matter about the palace servant and the spiked wine to Duan Zhang—conveniently leaving out the parts involving Qi Chaojin. He just said he drank very little and that the cool air had helped clear his head.

 

Duan Zhang’s face was terrifying.

 

Within just one hour, the palace servant and the envoy from Kang Kingdom who had given the orders were identified and arrested by the guards of the front hall.

 

The envoy from Kang Kingdom fell to his knees trembling, bawling that he had only wanted to offer a beauty to Prince Yuan to forge a connection, and absolutely had no intention of harming him.

 

As soon as the Emperor of Darong heard the words “forge a connection” with Prince Yuan, veins bulged on his temple. But since his imperial brother was present, he held himself back.

 

Shui Que gently advised him to calm down, reminded him to take his daily medicine, and then clapped his hands and returned to the Eastern Palace to rest.

 

He didn’t want to witness any blood being spilled right then and there.

 

All the foreign envoys who had come for the audience had been properly accommodated throughout the capital. Some stayed at the Duting Station, others at the Liben Courtyard. The Daxiang envoys, however, had been assigned especially far away, outside Liang Gate at the Tongwen Hall.

 

Shui Que accidentally overheard that the Daxiang envoys had submitted multiple requests to enter the palace—


All of which were blocked by his imperial brother.

 

The next few days were a long holiday. With no morning court, Shui Que didn’t need to attend classes either.

 

But strangely, the guards around the Eastern Palace suddenly increased in number. They guarded every entrance tightly, allowing no unidentified individuals to enter.

 

They feared that the only royal treasure within the palace might be stolen away.

 

His imperial brother had never allowed him to leave the palace freely in the first place, but now, with every little movement, he was asked again and again.

 

Shui Que’s ears were almost developing calluses from Duan Zhang’s nagging.

 

On the sixteenth day of the first lunar month, the Emperor ascended the Xuande Tower. On both sides of the Imperial Street, the archery troops stood in formation, keeping watch.

 

In front of the tower, two decorated pavilions faced each other. Below them were rows of colorful tents and marquees prepared for royal relatives, officials, and foreign envoys.

 

This was a Darong tradition—before the envoys took their leave, an archery banquet would be held. After the shooting, a feast would follow, and the next day the envoys would enter court to bid farewell.

 

Originally, Shui Que’s seat was in a tent directly facing the western pavilion.

 

But Duan Zhang had brought him up to the Xuande Tower.

 

As the morning sun rose, light burst from the horizon, spilling gloriously across the land of Darong.

 

The nation was prosperous, the seas calm, the rivers serene.

 

The court attendants rolled up the curtains hanging from the Xuande Tower.

 

Under the pale morning light, anyone who glanced upward would see—


beside the imposing Emperor, stood a figure clad in snowy white.

 

Shui Que felt a bit sleepy. He wanted to yawn but forcefully held it back.

 

He was the dignified Prince Yuan.

 

The whole court was watching.

 

He must remain solemn—elegant.

 

Shui Que really didn’t want to listen to the ceremonial officer’s endless chatter anymore.

 

From among the Daxiang envoys, a tall figure stepped forward to participate in the archery banquet—it was none other than Wu Chun.

 

Shui Que cautiously glanced at Duan Zhang’s expression; sure enough, his brows furrowed.

 

Duan Zhang caught Shui Que’s movement from the corner of his eye and said sternly, “Xiao Yao, there’s no way I would ever marry you off to some Daxiang barbarian.”

 

Though the two nations had always maintained a front of diplomatic courtesy, the Emperor of Darong had no qualms about calling the heir of Daxiang a “barbarian” when this matter came up.

 

Cheers erupted from the military tents. Wei Yan, dressed in a dark, narrow-sleeved python-robe, strode forward with long, confident steps. He was the Darong official assigned to accompany Daxiang during the archery competition.

 

The two men exchanged glances—sharp eyes, keen brows.

 

“I’ve long looked forward to meeting you.”

 

“…Pleased to finally meet.”

 

Though their words were polite and they saluted each other with clasped fists, neither wore a friendly expression. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension, like sparks waiting to ignite.

 

One of Daxiang’s attendants stood up and handed Wu Chun a crossbow already loaded with an arrow.

 

His hawk-like eyes narrowed. He raised his hand, took aim, and released. It was as if thunder broke the sky when the bolt flew.

 

A hundred paces away, the arrow struck the bullseye dead center.

 

Wei Yan nocked his arrow and drew his bow. The tight python-robe stretched over the shifting muscles of his back.

 

He twisted his wrist, dropped his elbow, and loosed the arrow in one smooth motion.

 

His shot also hit the bullseye.

 

According to Darong tradition, those who performed well at the archery banquet were awarded with silver-saddled horses, fine bridles, and gold and silver treasures.

 

This time, the two nations tied.

 

It was all just a show of friendly exchange before the actual banquet, anyway.

 

Thunderous cheers erupted from the colored tents on either side.

 

Before Wei Yan stepped down, he said coldly: “Barbarians from the north don’t know their place and dare to dream beyond their station. Do they really think a prince of Darong is someone Daxiang could ever covet?”

 

Wu Chun frowned. He had faced countless rejections since coming to Darong—especially after his proposal was met with the Emperor’s coldness. His tone grew heavy: “If Prince Yuan doesn’t wish to marry far away, then I can marry into Darong instead.”

 

Not even as a live-in son-in-law!

 

Wei Yan was stunned by his shamelessness and brushed past him forcefully.

 

“Utter nonsense!”

 

The civil officials’ tents were gathered together nearby.

 

Cui Shixin raised a brow when he saw Wei Yan return to the military officers’ section.

 

He hadn’t expected Wei Yan to hold his own. He had already prepared a biting poem mocking Wei Yan for missing his shot.

 

Now that his target had passed, he looked for someone else to annoy. “I’ve already informed His Majesty about Assistant Minister Qi leaving the court meeting for an extended time back in the New Year. I wonder how His Majesty, with his sharp insight, viewed that matter.”

 

He was referring to the banquet where Qi Chaojin had been absent for nearly two hours, returning just shortly after Shui Que.

 

That day, he had been sitting near the Censorate and hadn’t paid much attention, but when he saw Prince Yuan return, he noticed at once how radiant and glowing he looked.

 

So soft and tender, it seemed he could be squeezed until water came out.

 

One glance and Cui Shixin immediately knew what had happened, nearly fainting from rage.

 

Qi Chaojin’s lips pressed into a thin line. He refused to rise to the bait and replied coolly, “My conscience is clear.”

 

Laughter and chatter mixed with the sound of music at the archery banquet, echoing in the wind.

 

Up on the Xuande Tower, golden phoenix-shaped confetti fluttered down like dancing butterflies, and one piece landed right on Nie Xiuyuan’s knee.

 

Whichever person or tent the golden phoenix landed near would receive a reward from the Emperor.

 

He looked up.

 

Bathed in warm light, the beautiful Prince Yuan was standing atop the Xuande Tower, joyfully scattering handfuls of golden phoenix confetti.

 

The corners of his lips were turned up in a bright smile, like a cheerful little celestial spirit dispensing the Emperor’s fortune.

 

…

 

[World exit successful.]


[Soft Rice Point has reached its limit. Converting…]


[Plot Progress: 100% (includes 19% bonus from small world bug compensation)]


[Program Evaluation: Excellent staff member. The problem wasn’t the employee—it was the small world.]


[Evaluation by Overseer 01 as follows:]


[Character Consistency: S]


[Plot Flow: S]


[Narrative Logic: S]


[New Employee Potential: S]


[Overseer 01 Comment: Why can’t I give an S+?! S isn’t the limit—it’s just the system’s cap!]

 

Shui Que felt a little embarrassed from all the praise.

 

After finishing the evaluation, Overseer 01 had to organize the documentation and exited the channel.

 

System 77 squeezed in, finally able to speak.

 

[Host! 77 has found a new small-world character for you!]

 

Shui Que: [Then let’s head out?]

 

System 77 was surprised: [Host isn’t going to rest in the big world first?]

 

In truth, Shui Que had already rested enough in the small world. He replied: [I want to complete more worlds—maybe I’ll be selected as the Outstanding Rookie of the Year…]

 

He did, after all, have a little bit of ambition.

 

System 77 was motivated by this and introduced the new mission with full enthusiasm:

 

[In the next small world, Host will play a hidden character from the gacha-parenting game Divine Child!]

 

After a moment, System 77 asked in confusion: [Is this… a small world within a small world?]

 

It almost got itself tangled up.

 

Shui Que: “Hm?”

 

The system looked over the files carefully and explained: [This small world has a highly developed gaming industry. The male lead is a popular streamer who gained fame by reviewing all kinds of games. He accepted a sponsorship deal for Divine Child, received a beta account, and is going to live-stream a review to promote this Western fantasy-style parenting sim.]

 

[As for Host…]

 

System 77 hesitated a bit. [You’re the first character the male lead pulls—and also a hidden one.]

 

[Because of this character, the male lead edited together a one-hour video just to roast Divine Child for being a blatant money-grabbing scam.]

 

Shui Que had already begun getting into character: [What did I do?]

 

[You are the character in the game designed by the developers to be the ultimate money trap—your weapons require microtransactions, your outfits cost money, even your character’s mood and stamina all need to be purchased! On top of that, all your stats are ridiculously low. You’re basically a pretty but useless decorative vase.]

 

[The male lead is a major streamer in the gaming world. After playing the game, he gets so angry he makes a video calling out the developers. Because of that, the backlash becomes so intense that the developers indefinitely postpone the game’s official release.]

 

System 77 said seriously: [In short! Your job is to make players spend money!]

 

……

 

In an era where full-dive holographic role-playing games had become highly developed, a nurturing game like Divine Child was certainly an oddity. Despite its immersive, holographic perspective, players didn’t control a character themselves—they could only observe from a god’s point of view.

 

“Divine Child”—as the name suggested—referred to the character being raised by the player.

 

And the player? In the game, they were a minor, heretical deity with no followers. Through nurturing believers, who would eventually accomplish great things, their achievements would be converted into faith points for the player, gradually increasing the player’s divine power.

 

Logically, in the warlike, interstellar world, holographic combat games should have been the most popular genre.

 

A nurturing, make-believe game like Divine Child shouldn’t have made much of a splash.

 

But the developers were obscenely rich and launched an overwhelming promotional campaign. Even before the official release, the game was already shaping up to become a top-tier sensation across the interstellar net.

 

At 8 PM, livestream room 0311 went live right on time.

 

Viewers and streamers shared the same visual feed and could see the complete holographic gameplay.

 

The opening screen displayed the large, golden words “Divine Child” in ornate, ancient Chinese calligraphy.

 

Comments flew across the screen, quickly filling up the feed.

 

[No way, even He’er got an early access account for Divine Child?]


[All the streamers I follow are streaming this game lately, all grinding that sponsorship bonus lol.]

 

A low voice joked, “Can’t help it—they offered way too much.”

 

[Not using a webcam today?]

 

Guan He had only enabled visual sharing. The viewers couldn’t see his face.

 

He was a striking young man with wheat-colored skin, a tall nose bridge, and sharply defined brows.

 

“Mm,” Guan He replied to the chat. “Going to focus on actually playing the game today.”

 

Once the opening animation ended, the screen jumped straight to the character draw interface.

 

“The devs gave me a free ten-pull. Let’s draw first,” Guan He said.

 

A ten-pull guaranteed at least one character.

 

[He’er has the worst luck ever… I can’t bear to watch.]


[Streamer, skip the animations when drawing cards, please. Viewers’ time matters too.]

 

Guan He was always a bit of a rebel. His brow arched. “Nope. Watch closely. I washed my hands before this stream. I won’t be stuck with just the guaranteed this time.”

 

He activated the free ten-pull.

 

Clicking through several times, all he got at first were the lowest-tier stamina and energy potions.

 

Guan He: “…”

 

Finally, on the last draw, a golden scroll shimmered.

 

The scroll unfurled, revealing the character he had drawn.

 

In Divine Child, all characters appeared as adults in their dynamic scrolls at first, wearing the same simple white long robes.

 

A name floated into view.

 

“Shui Que?” Guan He was surprised. “Same Huashi bloodline from Bluestar as me?”

 

He called the character’s name.

 

The scroll spread open, glowing with brilliant light. The character stirred, slowly opening their eyes.

 

Light danced across soft platinum-blond hair that fell gently to the collarbone in the mild breeze.

 

His skin was snow-white, his eyelids thin and trembling slightly.

 

Guan He had never seen a boy with eyelashes so long.

 

They fanned out like dove feathers to the corners of his eyes. His eyes were round and slightly soft at the edges, taking the edge off his overwhelming beauty and lending him a bit of innocent charm.

 

[Now that’s a Divine Child…]


[He’er, you old dog, move aside—I’m raising this one! Your account belongs to me now!]


[Haven’t seen this character in anyone else’s stream. Not a base character? No way, did you pull a hidden baby?!]


[Wasn’t the nurturing supposed to start from age fourteen in the beta? Wonder if the full version will let us raise them from zero. I can’t even imagine—if I could raise this baby from scratch, I’d be the happiest mom alive.]

 

Guan He coughed lightly. “Told you—my luck’s not that bad.”

 

“So what’s next? I have a character now. That means I can start raising him, right?”

 

He proceeded to the next step. The scroll closed, and the game began. He selected a save location.

 

The screen went dark for a moment.

 

When light returned, dozens of cards appeared before him.

 

A message popped up: “Please draw your character’s starting identity.”

 

The game’s setting was a mild fantasy medieval world of swords and sorcery. But all characters were human, and the identities on the cards mainly determined their background and starting stats—buffs and debuffs on top of the character’s base values.

 

Guan He didn’t think too much about it and casually picked a card.

 

“Que · Louis, child of Count Louis of the Kingdom of Tuva and his first wife. After the first wife passed away, Count Louis remarried four years later. His new wife brought a vast fortune and a pair of twin sons from a previous marriage.”

 

“Because of this, Que went from being the eldest noble son to the youngest child, losing his right to inheritance.”

 

Guan He shrugged. “It’s fine. What’s the fun in inheriting wealth anyway? Nurturing games need a bit of difficulty to be interesting.”

 

[That backstory—isn’t this Snow White?]


[Feels more like Cinderella?]


[Count’s son… honestly, this is a great start. Streamer, your luck is incredible?!]


[Someone in the other stream got a third-generation farmer… Talk about rewriting fate.]

 

……

 

Count Louis’s grandfather had been one of the original twelve great nobles of the Kingdom of Tuva. Though the family had declined by his generation due to a lack of heirs—and couldn’t compare to other counts or even some barons favored by the king—they still retained a castle manor in Dockshire, along with two nearby villages.

 

The tower stood tall. A guard on duty saw clouds of dust rising from the dirt road across the lush green fields.

 

The drawbridge was lowered in time, allowing the four-wheeled carriage to pass through the gate.

 

Crossing the bridge, four well-dressed people entered the courtyard and walked to the castle’s grand hall.

 

Servants bustled about, bringing food from storage to the kitchen to prepare lunch, drawing water from the well to ready hot baths for the dusty newlywed count and his twin stepsons.

 

Count Louis asked, “Que hasn’t gotten up yet?”

 

A male servant replied respectfully, “No, my lord. Young Master Que said he needs more rest.”

 

At this time, the sunroom in the castle was already glowing brightly with daylight.

 

Count Louis frowned. “Garrick, go greet your younger brother.”

 

The one called was the younger of the twin brothers.

 

At sixteen, he scratched his head impatiently, messing up his golden hair.

 

“Last room on the second floor,” Count Louis said, urging him. “Hurry.”

 

The innermost room on the second floor was the largest and had the best lighting.

 

The door was unlocked. Garrick turned the ornate handle and pushed it open easily.

 

Inside was nearly pitch black, almost indistinguishable from night.

 

Layer after layer of thick velvet curtains blocked out every ray of sunlight.

 

Frowning, Garrick stepped forward and yanked the curtains open.

 

Light poured into the room.

 

His poor, crippled younger brother sat on the edge of the brocade-covered bed, a blue woven blanket draped over his legs.

 

From his god’s-eye view, Guan He suddenly realized something was wrong—he’d forgotten to check the starting identity’s stat sheet.

 

He pulled up the game info.

 

Clear, unmistakable text appeared.

 

[Positive Traits: None.]


[Negative Traits: 1. Unable to walk + 2. Frail and sickly (This status reduces health by 30, strength by 30, stamina by 3, mood by 4)]

 

Startled, Guan He double-checked the base stats that came with the character.

 

[Strength: 10 / No upper limit]


[Comment: Age 14—afraid of cracking walnuts]


[Intellect: 85 / No upper limit]

 

[Evaluation: Nothing special, just an ordinary person]

 

[Charm: ???]

 

[Evaluation: Reached the upper limit of the rating system]

 

[Health: 40/100]

 

[Evaluation: Beware the wind—and the pea beneath the goose-down comforter]

 

[Mood: -4/10]

 

[Evaluation: Time to soothe the baby]

 

[Action Power: 0/10]

 

[Evaluation: Without a hug, probably won’t even get out of bed]

 

[Character’s Basic Skill: Slap]

 

[Your raised character, Shui Que, lost 2 mood points due to his stepbrother’s rash intrusion]

 

[Current Mood: -6. Please monitor the character’s mental well-being.]

 

The room had finally brightened a bit. Shui Que sat on the bed, eyes lowered in silence, fingers tightly gripping the blue woven blanket.

 

Garrick was still awkwardly trying to speak with him. “What a hassle… fine. Whether you like it or not, from now on, little sir, I’ll be your older brother.”

 

The moment he finished speaking—

 

Fat drops of water, like broken strings of pearls, began falling one after another onto the blanket.

 

Garrick froze.

 

His little brother, dressed in a thin white robe, was trembling as he cried, his small shoulders quivering.

 

His lashes were damp and sticky.

 

But he didn’t make a sound while crying.

 

[Character mood is rapidly dropping. About to fall below -10. Would you like to spend 100 Interstellar Coins to purchase +15 Mood Points?]

 

[Yes / No]

 

Guan He was dumbfounded too.

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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