"What??"

"Oh, my boy, what are you saying?"

Yun Mingxin’s few words clearly left Yun Renkun utterly thunderstruck.

What did he mean, liking older ones? Damn it, I like them too!

"Get lost. Stop taking advantage of your dad. I said I like older ones, not same-age ones—too immature."

"For younger ones, I only accept someone like Yuzuru. Got it?"

"You know registration closes tomorrow. Aren’t you good at writing? Hurry up and join."

"The reward is seriously amazing."

Yun Renkun’s nagging added a trace of surprise to Yun Mingxin.

What reward could possibly justify this constant pushing?

Still, his resolve wouldn’t waver. He started tapping rapidly on his phone.

"No way. Stop pestering me—it’s annoying. I’d rather buy you some oranges with this time."

"Damn it, you’ll regret this."

"Heh."

Yun Mingxin snorted coldly. What a joke. He’d set his flag today: if he regretted it, he’d add an extra chapter to his writing.

That would be pure agony—four thousand words were set in stone.

Adding a chapter meant breaking his rule. Those blade-wielding fans would chase him for more updates.

It might even shatter his years of credibility.

"I will never regret it."

After typing this, Yun Mingxin ignored Yun Renkun and went about his own business.

He watched anime until dawn, checked his schedule—no classes tomorrow. Perfect.

That meant he could stay up all night with his wives.

Enthusiastically, Yun Mingxin opened Arknights.

He’d clear the event on low-spec and record a video.

Wasn’t this kind of thing always done at night?

He was a famous low-spec guide maker. Fans had even written a viral comment praising him and others like him.

It earned unanimous love from the meme-loving community.

To not let down those silly Doctors, he couldn’t ghost them.

"Xinhua, allow access."

"Kato Megumi, Kal'tsit, Red my wives—lend me your strength."

A few slightly awkward words slipped out.

Yun Mingxin often muttered to himself—no one could hear anyway.

As long as others didn’t know, the awkwardness couldn’t catch him.

With his wives’ encouragement and the silly buff, tonight was perfect for an all-nighter.

The event was unexpectedly tough. By the time Yun Mingxin finished grinding, it was 5 AM.

His eyes felt swollen, his head fuzzy.

He’d felt this since 2 or 3 AM, making constant mistakes.

But he pushed on—he still had editing to do. If he didn’t finish tonight, who knew when he’d ghost them?

He couldn’t go on; his steps were faltering.

Some people grew more energetic the longer they stayed up, losing hair and feelings.

Others bounced back briefly the next day, then turned into exhausted princes.

The last type crashed fast, their judgment foggy.

Yun Mingxin belonged to the last type.

The handsomer he looked in videos, the more disheveled he was after filming.

He didn’t shower or care about his appearance—just collapsed onto the bed.

Yun Mingxin slept spread-eagled.

When he woke groggily the next day, the sun was high overhead.

After washing up, he stuffed some random food in his mouth and prepared to write.

But before writing, he always watched romance anime to recharge his inspiration and fullness level.

Opening his phone again, he froze in shock.

His phone was bombarded with messages.

All from one person.

Bai Ziyi.

At 8 AM:

"Xinhua, are you there?"

"Big shot Xinhua??"

"??"

...

She sent a new message almost every minute.

Pokes, shakes—every trick used relentlessly.

If this chat window were real, even titanium alloy would crack at this rate.

This girl had terrifying willpower.

No ordinary white-haired girl.

Though he’d never met another anyway.

"What’s wrong?"

The moment Yun Mingxin sent his reply, hers flashed back instantly.

Was she glued to 5G waiting?

"Xinhua, you finally replied! I was frantic—I almost reported you missing."

"That’s overkill! Way too dramatic!"

"Whatever. Forget that. Do you know about the writing contest?"

Yun Mingxin frowned. Why was she pushing this too? What’s the big deal about a novel?

Seeing no reply, she cut to the chase.

"Skip the rules. Do you know the reward?"

"What is it?"

Yun Mingxin was genuinely curious. Usually, contests offered certificates, small cash, or trophies—one or two at best.

Was it really worth all this fuss?

"The champion gets a figurine—pick one from their list."

"The rarest is a limited swimsuit Mudrock figurine. Crafted by a top female master. Only one exists worldwide. White hair, red eyes—stunningly detailed. Best part? She’s fully poseable!"

"Even her regular works sell for tens of thousands. This limited piece? Priceless to a true fan. No one knows its real value."

!!!

Yun Mingxin fell silent.

His fingers trembled slightly as he typed:

"Seriously?"

"Of course it’s true! If I’m lying, yank my white ponytail all you want."

Whether from losing contact or his doubt after her pleading, Bai Ziyi’s tone had sharpened—nothing like her usual gentle self.

Yun Mingxin didn’t mind; he figured she was just in a mood.

"Hurry and register—it closes this afternoon! If some clueless guy wins and sells it, I’ll want to punch him."

Yun Mingxin snapped awake.

Right—if he didn’t act now, he’d miss out.

As an expert, the championship was his for the taking.

What about yesterday’s flag?

Sorry—who could prove it?

Resolutions were meant to be broken.

He’d claim that figurine himself.

It must never be sold.

Letting capitalists’ dirty hands pollute his preferences was unthinkable.