Brother Li stood frozen in pce, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and social embarrassment, as Liu Yi quickly opened the car door and dashed toward the bus stop, leaving him behind in the dust.

  Liu Yi stood at the bus stop for a while, the chill of the morning air making him shiver. He gnced at his watch, but the bus was taking its sweet time. It wasn’t long before he turned the corner and found himself walking toward the small breakfast shop he’d frequented for years.

  This wasn’t just any breakfast shop. It was the kind of pce that felt like home. If he missed a day, it felt like something was off, like part of his morning routine had been stolen from him.

  Regurs sat hunched over steaming bowls of soy milk and ptes of golden, crispy fried dough sticks, all deep in conversation or quiet thought.

  Amid the hum of chatter and the cttering of dishes, Liu Yi suddenly caught a sweet, girlish voice cutting through the noise:

  “This one’s too short, that one’s too thin. I want one that’s big and thick, something hard and sturdy...”

  Liu Yi’s eyes flicked toward the source of the voice. He spotted a petite girl in the crowd, her hair tied up in a neat bun. The weather was still sweltering despite it being early September, and her face was flushed with the heat. She was small, but the confidence in her voice made her stand out.

  She wore a printed T-shirt with a cartoon bear stretched slightly out of shape across her chest, and pink sneakers that seemed just a little too bright for the morning fog of Shanghai. Her cheeks were marked with two prominent dimples that deepened every time she smiled or spoke, giving her a pyful, innocent charm that seemed to contrast sharply with her bold words.

  Liu Yi couldn’t help but watch as she fussed over the fried dough sticks, moving her fingers like a chef selecting the perfect ingredients for a recipe.

  Oh, this girl was picking out fried dough sticks at the oil pan.

  She pointed at one, and the shopkeeper, already accustomed to such requests, promptly fished out a golden, crispy fried dough stick nearly as thick and long as a small calf from the bubbling oil.

  The girl bit off a piece of the fried dough stick right there, her eyes lighting up as she tasted the crispy, golden treat. It was fresh out of the fryer and scalding hot, so she let out little hissing breaths between each bite, fanning her mouth with her hand in an attempt to cool it down.

  She was so caught up in the moment that when she turned around, she found the entire shop staring at her, their faces a mix of surprise and awkward amusement. For a second, everything seemed to freeze. Then, her face turned crimson, the heat of embarrassment matching the heat from the dough stick. Without saying a word, she quickly turned and ran away, her small steps quick and light, as though she was trying to escape her death.

  [Ding! Social Death value from Li Tiantian: +666]

  Liu Yi watched her retreating figure with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head and couldn’t help but ugh.

  “She’s so pretty, but why is she such a silly foodie?” he mused aloud.

  “Still, she lives up to her name—her face and voice are both super sweet, like milk and sugar,” a voice beside him commented, and Liu Yi turned to see the shopkeeper shaking his head with a chuckle.

  The little incident passed quickly, and the breakfast stand returned to its lively routine.

  Liu Yi grabbed two of Shanghai’s signature scallion pancakes. The pancake’s crust was always crispy and fky, with the unmistakable fragrance of fresh scallions that seemed to greet him every morning. It was his absolute favorite, perfect for eating on the go.

  Turning back toward the bus stop, he took a deep breath and stretched his arms, enjoying the brief moment of calm before the usual bustle of the morning rush.

  His home wasn’t far from the school, and the bus ride only took about half an hour. But now, with the streets crowded during rush hour, he knew it would be a bit of a wait. The area around Harmony Community was packed with commuters, and the bus to the school only came once every 20 minutes, making it a constant battle for a seat. As always, it would be jam-packed and chaotic.

  “Sigh, even with a system, I still have to squeeze onto a bus. Aren't I the most pitiful system host ever?”

  Liu Yi muttered under his breath, his shoulders slumping as he stood at the bus stop, watching the other commuters shuffle around, each person looking more impatient than the st.

  [Social Death value: 2,664/10,000]

  “I’ve racked up over 2,000 points in such a short time!” Liu Yi couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

  “At a one-to-one conversion, that’s over 2,000 yuan! My monthly allowance, including meal money, is only 1,200.”

  Just as he was lost in thought, the number 404 bus slowly pulled into the station, its brakes squealing slightly as it came to a stop.

  He snapped out of his reverie, but it was too te. The crowd ahead of him surged forward, eager to cim the limited space inside. Liu Yi could only watch as people jostled past him, squeezing through the doors with practiced ease. He cursed under his breath but made his way toward the back of the line, trying to move as quickly as possible.

  By the time he made it to the front, the door was nearly closing. He barely managed to slip in, but there was no room to move. The bus was packed—people stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces grim, holding onto the handrails for dear life. Liu Yi found himself awkwardly pressed against the door, clutching the metal frame with one hand.

  “The door can’t close, get off a few people, or I can’t drive!” The driver’s voice rang out, sharp and irritated.

  Liu Yi gnced up, his heart sinking. Dozens of eyes were fixed on him, some annoyed, others just resigned to the situation.

  He let out a frustrated sigh, realizing there was no way around it. His feet shuffled back as he reluctantly stepped off the bus. “Damn it,” he muttered, stepping aside. “Great. Now I’m definitely going to be te.”

  Because there were too many people on the bus, even after Liu Yi stepped off, he couldn’t find his footing. The crowd had pushed him out, and he stumbled, his foot catching on the uneven pavement. His body lurched forward and he found himself leaning against the door for support.

  Then, just as he was about to steady himself, his backpack strap got caught in the door.

  "Doors closing!" the driver’s voice boomed over the commotion, the sound sharp and commanding. The doors clicked shut with a metallic cnk, and the bus jerked forward, starting its slow crawl down the street.

  Liu Yi’s heart skipped a beat as he felt a sudden pull, a force dragging him forward. Panic surged through him.

  “Ah, ah, ah...” he cried out, his voice muffled by the noise of the busy morning rush.

  It was early in the morning, and the streets were already buzzing with activity. Commuters hustled past, oblivious to his predicament, too wrapped up in their own routines to notice his filing struggle. The bus roared down the road, its engine humming as it picked up speed.

  Liu Yi had no choice but to start sprinting, his legs pumping as fast as they could. His shoes spped the pavement in a frantic rhythm, but it was no use. There was no way he could keep up with a bus.

  As the bus picked up speed, the weight of his backpack and the tug on his strap grew stronger. He could feel himself being pulled closer to the ground, his feet skidding against the asphalt. Desperation took over. He pushed himself harder, a few more quick steps, then—he jumped!

  Finally, he managed to hang onto the outside of the door.

  So, the pedestrians on the road that day witnessed an unusual sight: a bus speeding down the street with a person hanging on to the door, desperately clinging to the metal frame

  The elderly people walking by immediately began discussing the strange scene, their voices rising in shock and curiosity.

  "Hey, this kid is crazy! He's hanging onto the door to avoid paying the fare, doesn't he care about his life?" one of them said, shaking his head.

  "This guy must be an Indian," another voice piped up, her eyes squinting at the figure. "I heard they do this over there. They love to cling to the doors."

  "Yes, yes, yes! He’s definitely an Indian who just arrived in China. He probably hasn’t figured out how to take the bus yet," an older man added, nodding sagely.

  "Yo, yo, yo! Look at that, look at that! Whoa, whoa, good heavens, what’s he doing? He’s pying with his life! So bold, so reckless!" another woman gasped, her hands thrown up in disbelief.

  Meanwhile, Liu Yi, holding on for dear life, felt the wind whipping past him like a gale, his hair and clothes fpping wildly. The cold air cut through his skin as he gripped the door with all his strength, but the words of the crowd reached his ears, making him flush with embarrassment.

  [Ding! Social Death value from the host: +188!]

  [Ding! Social Death value from the host: +333!]

  [Ding! Social Death value from the host: +666!]

  …

  Finally, the bus approached the next stop. The driver slowed down, and the vehicle came to a stop with a loud screech of the brakes.

  The moment the bus halted, Liu Yi’s feet barely touched the ground. He felt his grip loosen as the door opened, and the eyes of everyone—both the passengers on the bus and the people waiting at the station—turned to him in unison, wide-eyed and astonished.

  Liu Yi yanked at the backpack strap, his fingers trembling as he tried to pull it free from the door. After a few desperate tugs, he managed to dislodge it, and in one swift motion, he threw the backpack off his shoulders, blocking his face with it. Without a second thought, he turned and ran, his shoes spping against the pavement.

  Riding the bus again? Never. Not in this lifetime. He made a mental vow that from now on, taxis and subways were his only options.

  Thirty minutes ter, a ride-hailing car pulled up to the entrance of Shanghai Art University, its engine purring softly as it stopped.

  Paying the fare via his phone, Liu Yi tested the system’s cash conversion function.

  [Ding! Cash conversion activated. All converted funds will be transferred to the commercial bank account ending in xxxxxxx.]

  The system’s cold, digital tone echoed in his mind, and Liu Yi smiled to himself. He exchanged 50 yuan—just enough to cover the fare.

  “This is pretty convenient. I can cash out whenever I need money.”

  "But now the system is the youth version, I wonder if the formal version of the system will increase the exchange ratio."

  He shook his head, pushing the thought aside as he focused on getting to css.

  This sleek six-story buildings that stood out with their modern, streamlined architecture. The exterior was covered in rough red bricks, giving the pce a solid, almost industrial look, while still feeling very contemporary. This was the building of the Art Department.

  Liu Yi rushed into the cssroom just as the bell rang, the door swinging shut behind him. The room was already full of students, their heads bent over sketchbooks and papers, some chatting quietly while others were already deep into their work.

  He quickly spotted an empty seat near the back, grabbed his easel and drawing board, and set them down on the desk. His fingers fumbled with the supplies, trying to prepare as quickly as possible.

  Just as he settled into his seat, the instructor walked in, carrying a mug of tea. The students immediately fell silent, and the instructor’s voice cut through the stillness as he began roll call.

  “Liu Yi!”

  “Here!” Liu Yi called out, his voice loud enough to break the silence.

  “Zhang Bailin! Zhang Bailin?” The teacher looked up, scanning the room as if expecting him to pop up from behind a desk.

  Liu Yi looked back and saw that the silly guy who was in the same css and dormitory as him was te.

  “It's only the first week of professional csses and he dares to be te, he doesn't take me, Zhang Qiang, seriously.”

  The instructor sighed in frustration, closing the roll book with a snap and muttering something about needing a break. He took his teacup and walked out of the room, clearly irritated.

  After a few minutes, a rough male voice came from behind him.

  “Has the teacher come back yet?” The voice was unmistakable—it belonged to Zhang Bailin.

  “Yeah, roll call’s done.” Liu Yi turned slightly, offering a quick gnce toward the back of the room.

  “Great. Baldy Zhang’s going to give me hell for being te,” Zhang Bailin grumbled, slumping into the seat next to him. Liu Yi couldn’t help but smirk at the nickname.

  Since Professor Zhang was bald and his name included “Qiang,” Zhang Bailin had taken to calling him “Bald Qiang,” partly out of convenience, but mostly for fun.

  “Hey, Liu Yi, did you have breakfast?” Zhang Bailin asked, rummaging through his bag. “I bought some bean paste buns. Want one?”