Frankly, Chuyun was a bit dumbfounded. Why had Sister Waner suddenly taken his hand? He’d wanted to be fair—holding neither of their hands.

This situation was a path he hadn’t anticipated, leaving him unsure what to do.

.....

....

...

Shengming High School.

Seeing the school gate, Chuyun finally let out a sigh of relief. The indescribable atmosphere on the walk had really been too much for him to handle.

Chuyun glanced at Han Youwei, who was still lowering her little head for some reason, then said to Lin Waner, “Sister Waner, I’ll take Han Youwei back to class first. See you at the cafeteria at noon.”

“Mm-hmm, Xiao Yun, and junior Han Youwei, see you then,” Lin Waner replied.

“Han Youwei, let’s go. Back to class,” Chuyun called.

“Oh.....”

Lin Waner watched Chuyun and Han Youwei walk away. A rather eerie smile curved on her delicate, rosy lips. “Han Youwei, you can’t be a cat stealing cream. Consider this your warning shot.”

Meanwhile, Chuyun led Han Youwei toward their classroom. Seeing her keep her head down, he couldn’t help but say gently, “Han Youwei, don’t walk with your head down—it’s dangerous.”

At his words, Han Youwei lifted her pitifully adorable little face to him.

Her mood that morning had swung like waves—soaring when she joyfully learned he lived in her neighborhood, then plunging when she saw Lin Waner holding Chuyun’s hand. It felt like someone snatching her favorite dish at dinner.

Seeing her expression, Chuyun knew it was about Sister Waner holding his hand. He sighed inwardly—what to do with her?

He gazed at her affectionately, patted her little head, then took her fair, tender hand. “Cheer up, Han Youwei. I’ll let you hold my hand.”

“Hehe...”

Han Youwei’s gloom vanished instantly. No one loved Chuyun’s hand-holding and head-pats more than her. Someday, she’d get hugs, cuddles, licks, kisses, and... well, other things....

When they reached the floor of Class 443, Grade 10, Chuyun said softly, “Han Youwei, we’re almost at class. We can’t hold hands anymore.”

“Mm-hmm...”

“Alright, let’s head back.”

Just as Chuyun turned, Su Minghao’s voice cut in—unusually humiliated. He rushed over, wailing, “Xiao Yun! Why didn’t you come yesterday? Because you bailed, they beat me like a punching bag! My Crimson Flame Armor’s durability’s almost gone—I spent all my savings on it!!”

“My Crimson Flame Armor... no, my family! It died so tragically!!”

Chuyun was speechless. True, but this victim act was over the top. Still, picturing Su Minghao as their punching bag, he felt a pang of sympathy.

He did owe the guy—he’d stood him up first. Guiltily, Chuyun offered, “How about this: if good gear drops tonight, you pick first. I won’t roll.”

“Really? Deal! If a Mythic-grade piece drops, you can’t back out!” Su Minghao beamed, all traces of misery gone. He’d truly been beaten raw yesterday—even his prized armor was near-ruined. That’s why he’d played the victim today. An S-rank dungeon in Tianming could drop anything better than his junk gear, maybe even top-tier Mythic loot. Just thinking about it made his mouth water.

Chuyun shot him an exasperated look. “Why lie? I’ve got plenty of gear.” He added, “Han Youwei plays Tianming too. I’ll bring her tonight.”

“She plays?” Su Minghao stared in shock at Han Youwei hiding behind Chuyun. This anime-pretty girl played hardcore games?

“Yeah.” Chuyun pulled the shy girl forward. “Han Youwei, say something. Don’t hide—you need to interact. Or no hand-holding and head-pats for you.”

This silly girl was fine alone with him but vanished behind him around others. He couldn’t let that continue—not if he wanted to complete his main quest. His plan: use Tianming to ease her into socializing with his friends daily. Once she was less shy, step two would begin. Threatening her favorite comforts worked wonders.

“I... I play too... I’m a healer...” Blushing fiercely, Han Youwei stammered the words out, then darted back behind Chuyun like a startled kitten.

Chuyun was pleased. One sentence was a start—he wouldn’t push too hard. Next time, two sentences. Three. Four. Slowly, like warming a frog in water, he’d train her. With shared gaming time, common topics would help. If she stayed this shy after a few days? He’d eat his keyboard.

Just a little Han Youwei—how could she stand against Zhuge Yun himself?