Interacting with people was painful—that’s what Bai Ming had always believed.
Put another way, talking to those who didn’t take you seriously was like dining with the captain in the Titanic’s grandest restaurant. Your mind wouldn’t be on the meal. You’d only wonder when the ship would sink, when panic would erupt.
…
“Phew… seriously… this is torture…”
Fresh out of the restroom, Bai Ming exhaled deeply, as if squeezing years of pent-up frustration from his lungs. Honestly, the human body was miraculous. It automatically expelled unwanted substances—not just for unseen biological cycles, but to ease the mind too.
Bai Ming’s steps turned light, overnight fatigue vanishing like mist. A wordless relief glowed on his face. “A weight off one’s shoulders” couldn’t capture it. Only “reborn” came close.
Finally feeling human again, Bai Ming could face the day normally. At least, that lingering nausea had faded.
“Well… I’ll check the bookstore first…”
He sighed, resigned, and stepped inside.
Unlike typical bookstores, this one bore the name “Yunshang Bookstore” carved in ancient script—a costly touch. Inside, rustic retro decor met rosewood floors, an oddly placed European chandelier, shelves crammed with books, and…
…
…a corner draped with a cover marked “18+”. Undeniably, it stole the spotlight.
“Yo! Bai Ming!”
A booming, cheerful voice hit him as he neared the counter.
“Ah… Manager Xu. Long time.”
Bai Ming turned. A youngish middle-aged man waved flamboyantly—Xu Ping, the owner.
Dressed in a baggy trench coat unfit for a bookstore, blue track pants, and overly formal black shoes, he was frozen in pure “chuunibyou” energy.
“Long time… three years?”
“Yeah… about that.”
Bai Ming replied flatly, a faint smile touching his lips. In bustling City A, only this tiny shop let him breathe.
“How’d you know I was here?”
Bai Ming strolled to a shelf, flipping through a magazine.
“Hmph! What do you take me for? That rich scent clinging to you—any man with a working nose could smell it! I caught it meters away in the crowd, then…”
“Okay… stop. Please. Just stop…”
Bai Ming’s head throbbed again. He couldn’t stand being treated like a girl. Eyes closing slowly, he massaged his forehead. His brows knotted tight. Words formed, then died unspoken.
“What’s wrong? You seem extra off today… though you’re always like this.”
“Ah… just a bit…”
To Manager Xu, this was oddly calm. Normally, Bai Ming would’ve punched him by now.
“Sigh…”
Bai Ming exhaled again, long and heavy.
“Who are you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re not Bai Ming! The real Bai Ming would’ve hit me!”
“Freak!”
Before Bai Ming moved, a female customer lunged forward. Her fist slammed Xu Ping to the floor. Applause erupted. Every patron dropped their books, clapping solemnly.
“Can’t you see Bai Ming’s unwell? Still yapping! Yapping! Yapping!”
The woman in five-centimeter heels stomped on the owner, scolding loudly. Xu Ping groaned under the kicks, his cries chilling the room like heavenly bliss.
…
“Ahem… so Bai Ming, what brings you today?”
Minutes later, peace returned. Xu Ping smoothed his already messy hair, coughed twice, and changed the subject.
“Oh… I heard the latest artbook for *Her Diary* just dropped…”
“Got it!”
Before he finished, a thick artbook appeared in Xu Ping’s hands. No one noticed—he had the power of telekinesis.
“Ah… thanks. How much?”
“Freebie from the publisher. You look down today. Take it.”
Patting Bai Ming’s head like a father, Xu Ping pressed the book into his hands.
“Ah… thanks!”
Bai Ming beamed. This joy dwarfed his gratitude to that fox-eared girl on the subway.
“So… what’s got you so upset?”
Xu Ping had held this question, watching Bai Ming’s troubled face. In his memory, “worry” didn’t exist in Bai Ming’s dictionary.
“Hah… don’t ask. Slept zero hours. Scarfed breakfast in a rush. Ruoshui barked orders again… Then on the subway, some punk insulted me. A kid calling himself a ‘Hero’ ‘saved’ me… Worst part? He looked so proud. Ugh…”
Bai Ming rambled on.
“Pfft… still hung up on that? Get used to it, Bai Ming.”
“Our positions differ, Manager Xu… ‘Hero’ is just a tool for elites to trade favors. The joke? They don’t even know who they serve.”
“Whoa, stop.” Xu Ping raised both hands. “I won’t argue. Pointless. Besides, I’ve never won this debate with you.”
Knowing when to retreat, Xu Ping cut it off. No need to sour the mood.
“What’s next?”
“Next… let me see…”
Bai Ming fished a neatly folded note from his coat pocket.
“Shopping downtown. Ruoshui needs stuff today…”
“Downtown, huh…”
At “downtown,” Xu Ping stroked his chin. The word jolted him awake.
“Be careful there.”
“Huh? Careful how?”
To Bai Ming, “safety” was overused—government buzzwords plastered on TV and papers. That’s why the Hero Association existed. Why kids like that fox-eared girl became professional “Heroes.”
None of it touched him. Hearing “be careful” shocked him.
“No, no—not your safety. Others’.”
Xu Ping’s eyes narrowed, a sly grin spreading.
“That area’s unstable. Threats keep flooding the Hero Association. Anyway… good luck.”
“Explain. What’s happening downtown?”
Bai Ming wasn’t oblivious to major news. But Xu Ping hinted at hidden details.
“Go downtown. Might change your view of Heroes.”
Xu Ping spun away dramatically, collar flipped up. He strutted deeper into the store, leaving Bai Ming staring at the flimsy note, suspicion burning in his eyes.
