After making their promise, Zhang Yemiao felt utterly ashamed of his earlier behavior. Honestly, what was the difference between him back then and a real girl?

The masculine part of him was weeping inwardly. *Surely Wang Qi wouldn’t overthink it?* He’d blurted out that Wang Qi could "have fun" with him, but now, cooled down, he felt like a complete moron. How had he become so fragile?

He could barely face Wang Qi now—even though they saw each other daily. Awkwardness hung thick in the air, like right this moment, as Wang Qi finished his workout.

"W-W-W… Wang Qi." Zhang Yemiao finally stammered out the name after a long pause, feeling utterly pathetic.

"Hm?" Wang Qi turned. "What is it, Dorm Leader?"

Zhang Yemiao noticed the title. *Dorm Leader? He never called me that before—?! What am I even obsessing over?!*

Snapping back to reality, Zhang Yemiao’s face flushed crimson again—he’d been blushing far too often lately. "N-nothing! It’s just… now that we have the furnace, I thought I could forge some things myself. Daily tools, like axes. Selling them might earn money… especially with special effects."

Wang Qi nodded. "Handle it as you see fit, Dorm Leader. I built that furnace for you anyway."

Zhang Yemiao stared at him. "You’re serious?"

"Huh?"

"…"

They locked eyes until Zhang Yemiao surrendered, unable to bear Wang Qi’s clueless expression. "Aren’t you… going to help me?"

Wang Qi suddenly flashed a sly grin. "Heh. When asking for help, you know the drill, right?"

Zhang Yemiao’s jaw dropped. "Wang Qi! How could you be this scheming?! This Dorm Leader *honoring* you with a request is a privilege! I wouldn’t bother just anyone!"

"Oh?" Wang Qi drawled theatrically. "But I’m exhausted… After training my body so hard, making me smithy? That’s excessive."

"Mmph…" Zhang Yemiao actually felt a pang of guilt. Wang Qi had already done so much—was it fair to burden him with manual labor too?

In a flash, Wang Qi—enhanced by Physical Enhancement—appeared beside Zhang Yemiao. Zhang yelped and stumbled backward several steps.

Cornered against the wall, Zhang Yemiao watched helplessly as Wang Qi closed in until escape was impossible.

That wicked smile still played on Wang Qi’s lips. "Dorm Leader~ You know how it works. What do you say when you need a favor?"

Zhang Yemiao almost snapped back instinctively, but memories of the other night flooded in. Flustered, he turned his head away, cheeks burning. "P-please… help me."

Wang Qi froze. He’d only meant to tease Zhang Yemiao’s adorable flustered state—but such earnest pleading was impossible to refuse.

"*Damn. Becoming a golden-haired lolita really isn’t fair.*" He muttered something incomprehensible.

Zhang Yemiao looked up, confused. That rabbit-like expression made Wang Qi suck in a sharp breath and spin away before he lost himself.

Relief washed over Zhang Yemiao when Wang Qi agreed to help without hesitation.

He needed to forge items to level up his skills—but it required pure handcrafting. Even with pre-made iron blocks, he’d have to pour molten metal from the furnace, mold it, and hammer relentlessly.

His stamina wouldn’t hold up.

Zhang Yemiao estimated he could swing the hammer barely twenty times before collapsing—even with his innate talent negating the hammer’s weight.

Wang Qi’s help was essential… but if Wang Qi did the hammering, would it even count as *his* craftsmanship?

*No!* This was just temporary. Once his stamina stats improved after a few levels, he’d manage alone.

He could feel his stamina rising slightly with each level-up—a small but steady climb.

Still, physical training couldn’t be neglected…

*You need strong arms to wield the hammer.* Wang Qi could assist now, but relying on him forever wasn’t an option—he had his own duties… like farming.

Unlike Zhang Yemiao, who’d spent days clearing a tiny plot, Wang Qi had already cultivated a vast field brimming with crops.

As for the magic needed for farming? Scrolls sufficed.

Basic magic scrolls—spells even twelve-year-olds could cast—were dirt cheap. Since not everyone mastered all elemental magics, level-one scrolls cost next to nothing.

Wang Qi must have bought stacks of them with leftover coins after selling whatever he’d gathered on the plains and purchasing the furnace materials.

*I’m useless…*

"Wait," Wang Qi suddenly mused, "doesn’t smithing build strength? Like that ‘Rampage Hammer Technique’ or whatever?"

Zhang Yemiao shot him a withering glare. "Others have innate hammers. Do *you*?"

"You do."

"…"

Fair point. Zhang Yemiao carefully poured molten iron from the furnace into a pre-made mold.

This world had its perks—magic made the impossible effortless.

Even the cheapest wind magic scroll could create a delicate air gap, preventing the molten iron from fusing completely with the mold.

(Though total fusion was impossible anyway.)

As the iron cooled to a glowing orange, Zhang Yemiao clamped it with tongs onto the anvil. His hammer materialized in his other hand—he struck hard.

*Clang!*

The crisp ring echoed. Zhang Yemiao braced for arm-numbing vibrations, but none came—the shock vanished upon contact with the hammer.

"*System perks, huh.*"

But his strength was pitiful. The dent he made was barely noticeable.

He shot Wang Qi a dejected look.

Wang Qi chuckled knowingly, grabbed a spare hammer, and swung.

The iron visibly flattened under a single blow.

"Is that *fair*?!" Zhang Yemiao gaped. "Look at that—is that reasonable?!"

"Seems reasonable to me."

Ignoring him, Zhang Yemiao pointed. "Hit *here*." Wang Qi obeyed. "Now *here*… yes, that spot. Flip it over… wait, let me stoke the fire." He guided Wang Qi’s strikes. For a moment, harmony reigned.

The final product? Utterly useless.

They’d attempted an iron hoe, but the result was a twisted, lopsided mess with uneven thickness.

Zhang Yemiao stared at it silently. "Can we even sell this?"

"Doubt it."

"Can’t we fix it somehow?"

"You might need to hit the books. Tomorrow, I’ll grab forging manuals from Yinai City. Our process is flawed. Doesn’t your skill upgrade tell you how to hammer?"

"It just auto-crafts. What can I do?"

"…Fine. I’ll get books. We’ll study properly."

---

The next day, Wang Qi left. He returned the day after.

"Come on, let’s study these."

Zhang Yemiao leaned in—then froze. He couldn’t read a single character. Wang Qi wore a smug "I knew it" expression, waiting expectantly.

*He’s up to something.*

Zhang Yemiao glared. "Spit it out! Got some ‘translation konjac’ or something? Hand it over!"

Wang Qi deadpanned. "Do I look like a certain robotic cat? Nothing that convenient exists."

Zhang Yemiao’s eyes narrowed. "Then you must *want* to die. Buying unreadable books is useless!"

"Same rule applies," Wang Qi smirked. "Know how to ask nicely?"

*Using that trick again!* Zhang Yemiao gritted his teeth. Wang Qi always teased him like this—just because his Physical Enhancement made him stronger now.

*If I had Physical Enhancement, I’d punch him to his knees and make him sing ‘I Surrender’!*

But… well… since he insisted… maybe some things *could* be arranged…

A sly, fox-like smile spread across Zhang Yemiao’s face as he schemed.

Wang Qi instinctively stepped back. "What are you planning?"

Zhang Yemiao let his arms hang loosely and drifted closer.

Wang Qi’s unease grew. *He’s plotting something.*

Zhang Yemiao’s fingers gently pinched the hem of his self-cleaning skirt—the one he’d arrived with—and lifted it slightly.

The simple motion snagged Wang Qi’s gaze.

Softly, sweetly as honey, Zhang Yemiao murmured, "Lifting your skirt when apologizing… isn’t that common sense?"

The words sent Wang Qi’s mind spiraling back to that night when Zhang Yemiao had promised to "solve his problem."

"Well? Brother Qi~" His hands lifted higher. Wang Qi tried to look away, but those legs were hypnotic.

*Just a little higher…*

Wang Qi coughed sharply. "Ahem! Forget that nonsense." He produced a pair of glasses from nowhere. "These auto-translate. They convert text into Mental Power signals for direct comprehension."

Zhang Yemiao dropped the skirt and snatched the glasses. "This good?"

"Affordable, but limited. They only work for pre-registered regional scripts and frequencies. I wouldn’t have known about them if I hadn’t run into Ping Tian in the city."

Wang Qi trailed off, sensing danger. Zhang Yemiao was staring at him intently.

"You met *Li Pingtian*?"

"Uh… yeah. She was preaching in the city. I asked her about this."

"…Fine." Zhang Yemiao snatched the books and glasses and stormed off.

Wang Qi scratched his head, utterly bewildered.