"Ugh!!"

In the bathroom, Gu Chengjin hunched over the toilet, vomiting violently as if emptying his entire stomach.

Only after he was completely drained did he slowly crawl to the sink. He rinsed his mouth, splashed cold water on his face, and tidied himself up.

The icy water shocked his skin. With most alcohol purged, Gu Chengjin’s mind cleared slightly.

Damn it… He clenched his teeth, staring bitterly at his reflection in the mirror.

Undeniably, this test was his utter defeat.

Worse, he’d started the challenge—but Chen Yuzhe controlled every rhythm. In the game, in their talk, Gu Chengjin never held the upper hand. Not once.

This loss stung like a slap to his pride.

The Fifteen-Twenty game wasn’t complex—similar to rock-paper-scissors. Yet as a psychology major, Gu Chengjin knew why Chen Yuzhe chose it.

Round one was pure luck. But from round two onward, it became psychological warfare.

You read the opponent’s last move, their expressions, their twitches—then predicted their next choice.

For them, this clash wasn’t just a game.

It was a duel of minds.

The result? Total annihilation.

At first glance, he’d won four rounds straight against Chen Yuzhe. But only he knew the truth: he’d intentionally lost those.

Experts predict your next move based on past choices. Plant a suggestion early—make them believe they’ve cracked your pattern—and they’ll lock into your rhythm.

Letting them win a few rounds was the perfect trap.

They’d feel confident, stick to their strategy… unaware they’d already fallen into yours.

After two draws, Gu Chengjin deliberately chose a losing option in round three. He aimed to seed that suggestion in Chen Yuzhe.

But shockingly, he won.

Only one explanation existed.

Chen Yuzhe had guessed his plan—and reversed it.

Simply put: “I predicted your prediction.”

One win meant little. In round four, Gu Chengjin again chose the losing option.

He won again.

Only then did he realize: Chen Yuzhe had already planted his own suggestion. Gu Chengjin was trapped in his rhythm.

From that point, Chen Yuzhe gave no escape.

Even when opponents were cornered, luck might grant them a round or two. Yet Gu Chengjin lost all ten final rounds. Every feint, every shift—Chen Yuzhe read it perfectly. Like Sun Wukong under the Five-Finger Mountain, he couldn’t break free.

This proved Chen Yuzhe’s grasp of subtle psychology. Terrifyingly precise.

“Damn it… Why did I lose from the start? When was I manipulated?” Gu Chengjin closed his eyes, replaying the game.

Logically, round one should’ve been pure chance. How could Chen Yuzhe control it from the beginning—

A flash of realization hit him.

Han Cheng.

That demonstration round Chen Yuzhe played with Han Cheng right before him.

For Gu Chengjin, the real game began there. Chen Yuzhe’s choices in that demo had already seeped into his mind.

Impossible! He’d calculated such tiny details from the start? Shock flooded Gu Chengjin’s face.

Chen Yuzhe… was far scarier than imagined.

This wasn’t trained skill. It was raw, innate talent. Gu Chengjin had met such people abroad.

Some naturally sensed micro-expressions, thought exactly like others. A gift he could never replicate.

As an enemy? Extremely dangerous.

“I said, junior, why fight over petty pride?” Chen Yuzhe’s voice echoed.

His meaning had been clear then.

Mind your own business. Don’t meddle where you don’t belong.

Otherwise.

Tch. Gu Chengjin silently shut his eyes.