"Affection points have already increased by fifteen."
"So how many did Su Peng originally have for me? After the task, it won’t exceed eighty, right?"
An Han sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, muttering softly.
The system offered little explanation about affection points—only a warning: don’t let them hit eighty, and absolutely not one hundred. The problem? An Han had no idea what the numbers meant.
In most games, affection stages came with labels like "Stranger," "Friend," or "Like."
This system gave none.
"I just hope I resolve Brother Long’s affection issue before Su Peng ends up liking me again."
An Han shuddered. The thought of being liked by a man made his scalp prickle.
Still, replaying yesterday’s interactions with Su Peng—he hadn’t deliberately used his looks. Not consciously, at least.
Should be fine?
Anyway, he could check Su Peng’s points after the task and handle it then.
He glanced at his phone. 4 p.m.
Stretching with a yawn, he freshened up and hurried to the next-door dorm.
"Su Peng? Su Peng! Wanna game together?"
Only five points left. He’d tried gaming, drinking, showing concern. As long as he stayed near Su Peng without annoying him, time together should naturally raise affection. That’s how it worked.
"Su Peng!" An Han knocked eagerly in the hallway. "Dinner tonight?"
"Movie? Or window-shopping?"
"No one’s in?"
No reply. He jiggled the doorknob—locked.
Ugh. So close to finishing, and Su Peng vanished?
Mind fixated on wrapping this up, even gaming felt dull. After pacing a few minutes, he headed to the cafeteria—maybe get lucky.
He’d eaten steamed buns and soy milk that morning, but after ten hours asleep, his stomach growled loudly.
Rain had stopped; sun blazed. Humid post-storm air spiked the heat. Still in his jacket, An Han was drenched in sweat within ten minutes. Unbearable.
"Gotta figure something out."
This was the southern coast—elsewhere, October meant autumn, even winter. Here, autumn wouldn’t show till November.
Just thinking about another month of scorching heat made his expression sink into despair.
Truly, no such thing as a free lunch.
Dreaming the system would skyrocket him to success and financial freedom… only to trap himself with zero payoff.
He ambled into the quiet cafeteria, ordered stir-fried noodles, and sat under a whirring fan, spacing out.
"Just five affection points left…"
"An Han."
He jumped, worried his muttering was overheard. Turning, he saw a man seated beside him.
"Counselor?" He froze. Never expected to run into Ren Chi during National Day break.
"Eating dinner this early?"
Wait—yesterday Su Peng said Ren Chi needed him. An Han thought it was an excuse. Now it seemed real.
"Skipped lunch. Hungry."
The words left his mouth—and instantly, he recalled his messy bed the day before National Day. Ren Chi led the dorm inspection. Almost certainly, Ren Chi was the one who lifted the quilt… and saw the women’s clothing.
His ears and cheeks flushed slightly. Just imagining this counselor—whom he’d met only once—knowing his biggest secret made his face burn.
"Running a fever again?"
"N-no." An Han ducked his head, flustered.
Ren Chi’s expression stayed neutral.
An Han stole a furtive glance. If Ren Chi saw the women’s clothing hidden under his quilt, wouldn’t a counselor at least ask? Or… did Ren Chi not think cross-dressing was a big deal?
Though their first meeting was awkward, Ren Chi somehow held a favorable impression of him. Noting An Han’s sidelong look, he said nothing, simply waiting for their food.
"Um… don’t you have holiday break?" An Han broke the silence.
"I live on campus."
(The school provided dorms for some young single teachers—rumor said conditions were good—but most faculty lived off-campus.)
"Did Su Peng go see you?" An Han asked hopefully. "Where is he?"
"Why would he? It’s break." Ren Chi stood, fetched a bowl of beef noodles.
"Oh…"
An Han froze. Realization dawned: Su Peng was avoiding him. Yesterday’s typhoon trapped him; today’s clear skies let him vanish.
But… affection points were rising.
Could Su Peng’s starting score have been so low that +15 changed nothing?
Relief washed over him. At least he wouldn’t worry about Su Peng liking him again.
He peeked at Ren Chi’s noodles—thick slices of beef floated generously. Enviously, he muttered, "When I buy from there, the meat’s so pitifully scarce."
"I added twenty yuan’s worth."
"…Never mind."
Financial freedom really was nice. An Han usually only splurged on an extra egg. His monthly allowance was two thousand yuan—never stingy, but it was family money. Indulging like this felt excessive.
His stir-fried noodles arrived. He carried them back, stealing a cautious glance at Ren Chi.
He needed to ask: was Ren Chi the one who lifted the quilt? At least the counselor would know who touched his bed.
After a pause, head lowered, he whispered, "About the dorm inspection before break…"
"Was it you who lifted my quilt?"
Ren Chi glanced at An Han’s deepening blush. "School rules require neatly folded quilts. Yours wasn’t."
He’d meant to fold it gently as a reminder. But lifting it revealed the full set of women’s clothing. Student union members were present—Ren Chi’s embarrassment was indescribable. He’d calmly tucked everything back under the quilt, pretending nothing happened.
An Han guiltily looked away, avoiding the topic.
"I see… I just… don’t like others touching my bed, that’s all."
