"Your Highness, what is this for?"

A sleek black sedan glided down the road. Up front, the attendant tilted his head slightly, voice laced with confusion as he addressed Sisha in the backseat.

Sisha wore no practical uniform today. Instead, an elegant white gown draped her frame. Silver hair flowed straight down her back; blood-red diamond earrings glinted at her ears. Her makeup was carefully done—not coquettish, but sharpening her natural beauty.

"Required for the mission," Sisha replied, tone icy as ever.

"Yes, ma'am." The attendant dared not press further and turned back to drive.

Yesterday, a spy embedded in the Hero Association received an urgent bulletin from Shen Zhan, president of the Nanzhou Heroic Guild: the small clinic Sisha had visited was now marked a Black Alert Zone.

Green meant safe. Yellow signaled lurking danger but normal operations. Red denoted yaoguai strongholds. Black—the highest tier—meant yaoguai infestation led by a formidable entity.

Nanzhou swarmed with underground factions; most areas were yellow zones. A single black speck amid them sent ripples of alarm.

Still, President Shen showed sense. After the warning, he added three clear lines: "Do not engage with force."

Sisha’s purpose here? Simply to see if the clinic’s owner still cared for matters of the heart…

*After all, I’m quite beautiful too…*

Gazing out the window, she lightly pressed a hand to her chest. Scenery blurred past. Her pulse quickened.

If he’d truly transcended worldly desires, her bold move might earn his disdain. This was a gamble—her future hung in the balance.

The sedan halted silently before the clinic, engine hushed to avoid disturbance. Passersby glanced over; even without recognizing the brand, the car’s low-slung elegance screamed luxury.

Sisha took a breath, stepped out. White heels clicked softly. Beneath the gown’s hem, slender calves gleamed like fresh lotus roots.

But the clinic was closed. A sign hung on the door: "Out for half a day. Temporarily closed."

She asked a neighbor.

"Oh, Lu Feng?" Auntie Zhang chirped after hearing Sisha’s query. "Auntie Li’s distant niece came back recently—said to be decent-looking. Auntie Li’s setting up a blind date for him."

A blind date? Sisha froze.

So even the God of Medicine has… needs?

Hope flickered, then urgency. What if he succeeded?

"Where is the blind date happening?" Sisha grasped the woman’s hands, voice tight with worry.

"Ah, sure." Auntie Zhang blinked, pulled out her phone, opened a map, and pointed.

"Thank you." Sisha rushed back into the car. "Hurry—follow the map."

…

Inside an upscale restaurant, soft apricot lighting glowed. The floor gleamed, nearly slippery. A violinist in a tailcoat played in the corner.

Lu Feng shifted uneasily. *Dude, when will you finally saw that piece of wood in half?*

Across from him, a heavily made-up woman sat eyes closed, "enchanted" by the music. Designer handbag on her shoulder, branded clothes, faint charm beneath thick makeup. Lu Feng frowned. Zero attraction.

*How could any real woman beat a 2D waifu? Reality’s so bleak. Next life, reborn into the 2D world.*

That morning, Auntie Li had dropped by again, thrilled to introduce her "niece." Owing her past kindness, Lu Feng reluctantly dressed up.

The restaurant was *her* pick. One glance at the decor, and his wallet seemed to whimper.

*Old man to support at home. Catgirl to feed. How am I affording this?*

"Name?" the woman asked after the music, lazily scanning the menu.

"Lu Feng."

"Age?"

"Twenty-two."

"Height?"

"One seventy-two."

"Occupation?"

"Clinic doctor."

Silence followed the interrogation. She summoned the waiter, jabbing the menu repeatedly. Lu Feng’s stomach tightened.

*Good grief. Dishes start at thirty. How many is she ordering?*

"Let’s go Dutch," Lu Feng said the moment the waiter left.

"Huh?"

He repeated it.

"You want *me* to split the bill on a date?!" Her eyes widened in disbelief.

*Don’t you have hands to feed yourself?* He swallowed the words for Auntie Li’s sake.

"I believe in gender equality," Lu Feng stated calmly.

"Monthly income?"

"Five hundred."

"How do you live on that?"

"Government subsidies."

"Tch. A man with no ambition." She dropped the menu, lip curling. "Why does the state fund parasites like you? No drive to work at a real hospital? Content rotting in a tiny clinic?"

Lu Feng’s throat tightened.

Who *likes* grinding? Given "live comfortably" or "struggle," who picks struggle? Only the desperate.

"If you earned real money," he murmured, "you wouldn’t care about mine."

"Earning is a man’s duty! Can’t support a woman—why date at all?" She stared, baffled.

*It’s not like I wanted this,* he thought—but she kept ranting.

"If Auntie Li hadn’t praised you endlessly, why would I waste time on trash like you?" She slammed the table, stood. "Your shabby clothes—I should’ve left immediately. Not one branded item."

"Only for Auntie Li’s sake did I meet someone poor, plain, and clueless about women. Stay single forever."

"Mm. You’re right." Lu Feng leaned back, hand gesturing politely. "So please settle the bill."

"Heh. All a broke man cares about is the check." She slung her bag, voice sharp. "Ugly, penniless, socially awkward—you deserve solitude."

Lu Feng’s temper flared.

*What’s wrong with being straightforward? Did my straightforwardness eat your rice? I eat rice—I eat food. But my favorite meal? Living off a woman.*

Just then—engine roar.

A black luxury sedan screeched to a halt outside the restaurant. Every head in the room snapped toward the door.