Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 161-165

The group of people played in the open-air area until almost nine in the evening before returning to their rooms to rest.

At the beginning, Jing Ling and Xu Shaohuai were busy on the side while Bai Ningxi and the others enjoyed the food already prepared. Once everyone had nearly finished eating and the grill was no longer in use, the two of them joined in the game. Before that, Yang Xinyao had maintained a slight lead—whether she drew the landlord card or played as a peasant, she won most of the time. As a result, the ones who drank the most were naturally Song Xiuyuan and Bai Ningxi. Although she herself drank a little, it wasn’t much.

But after Jing Ling and Xu Shaohuai joined, it was obviously not suitable for five people to play Dou Dizhu, so they switched to playing blackjack. Perhaps the earlier good luck gave her confidence, as Yang Xinyao seemed eager and joked, “I’m really lucky today—you’d better watch out!”

Jing Ling smiled and nodded. “Alright.”

Hearing this, Bai Ningxi remarked, “His luck is obvious to all. I think, Starlight, you might be in for a tragedy.”

Yang Xinyao snorted at him. “How would I know if I didn’t try!”

Then… in less than an hour, Yang Xinyao and the others suffered a complete defeat. If it weren’t for the current special circumstances making it inappropriate to drink too much, the alcohol they owed from losing would have been enough to get them drunk several times over.

“We’ll settle the score later. Once we’re back, I’ll collect—my memory is excellent, I remember it all!” Jing Ling joked.

Yang Xinyao weakly waved her hand. “I really was too naive. I’m never playing luck-based games with you again!”

Song Xiuyuan and Bai Ningxi felt the same way. But Xu Shaohuai stared at Jing Ling’s hands for a long time and then asked, “Even if you’ve always been lucky, not losing a single round from beginning to end—isn’t that a bit much? Don’t tell me… you were cheating?!”

Jing Ling smiled without saying a word.

In gambling-style games like this, luck might get you temporary wins, but to last longer, skill is far more reliable than luck.

Perhaps because there was no longer any life-threatening danger, everyone slept well that night. When they woke up, the cruise ship was already preparing to return. Jing Ling unexpectedly woke up quite late, but no one minded—thinking back to the past two days, when everyone else was resting, he had been standing guard, going out to collect number cards, and gathering point tokens. Almost everything had been done by him alone. No matter how capable he was, he was still human—and all humans get tired. The conditions before didn’t allow rest, but now that he could finally relax, naturally he needed it.

The return trip on the cruise ship took two days. Once they reached the waters near where they had originally boarded, a small boat sent them back to shore.

It was already evening. It was early spring, and since it had just rained during the day, the weather was still a bit chilly. The sea breeze blew directly in their faces, carrying the ocean’s unique scent.

The outline of the port ahead grew clearer. Though it was just an ordinary building—something she had seen since childhood and never thought much of—at this moment, Yang Xinyao felt deeply nostalgic. Soon, the boat docked, and the group disembarked. When their feet finally stepped onto solid ground again, Yang Xinyao couldn’t help but sigh, “We’re finally back!” It had been just about a week, yet it felt like a very long time. All the bloodshed and evil had been buried in the vast ocean—aside from those who experienced it, no one else would ever know what had happened.

Although Bai Ningxi and Song Xiuyuan said nothing, their expressions showed the same feeling.

A sense of safety welled up from within.

“Hope I get to see you all again when the hunting grounds reopen!” said the person who had brought them back, smiling.

Xu Shaohuai nodded. “We will.”

“Then, goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Watching the small boat drift away and eventually disappear over the horizon, Xu Shaohuai finally withdrew his gaze—only to hear Jing Ling quietly say, “We won’t be seeing them again.”

He was stunned, not immediately grasping what he meant, and asked directly, “What do you mean?”

Jing Ling smiled and repeated, “At least not in the hunting grounds for a while. Even if you wanted to, it wouldn’t be possible.”

Xu Shaohuai’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Jing Ling. “What happened?!”

But Jing Ling didn’t answer. He simply turned around and walked ahead in long strides, sounding lazy as he said, “It’s not important. We’ll talk about it later.”

If it weren’t for the setting, Xu Shaohuai really wanted to charge over, grab Jing Ling by the shoulders, and shout: “What do you mean ‘not important?!’ There’s nothing more important than this!”

The hunting ground had always been a channel the higher-ups took very seriously. Many matters that couldn’t be openly handled were managed through it. And now, to suddenly hear something like that—vague and unexplained—if it were from anyone else, he might dismiss it. But it was Jing Ling. Jing Ling never joked, knew how to draw lines, and definitely wouldn’t joke about something like this.

Even more infuriating—he only said half and stopped there!

“To hell with ‘later!’ I want to know right now what happened! How am I supposed to report back otherwise?!”

“You’d better explain everything to me—what exactly happened, and what do you know?!” Xu Shaohuai quickly caught up, lowered his voice, and asked through gritted teeth.

But Jing Ling didn’t fall for it. When they reached the rendezvous point and met up with their contact, he climbed straight into the car, sat in the back seat, leaned against it, and closed his eyes to rest. No matter how much Xu Shaohuai questioned him, he said nothing.

He was clearly determined to say nothing. Xu Shaohuai had no choice. But just then, Bai Ningxi suddenly said, “He seems to be… injured.” The last few words sounded uncertain.

“How could that be!” Xu Shaohuai blurted out. Aside from the split during the second game round and a few times when people went out alone, they had mostly stuck together. The only injury Jing Ling had received was to his arm at the movie theater—it wasn’t serious. If anything else had happened afterward, he would have known.

But he quickly remembered something—before the cruise ship returned, Jing Ling had mentioned the reason for the game being canceled. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it and believed Jing Ling’s claim of “just being curious.” But in light of the current situation, was it really just curiosity?

If something did happen, it must have been the night before the return trip. Xu Shaohuai couldn’t help but wonder—had Jing Ling overheard something? Or… had he gotten involved himself?

But given what he knew about the game organizers, anything that sensitive would never be casually discussed. It would happen in isolated rooms, away from all devices, heavily guarded outside. As for the second possibility, that was even less likely—only the most trusted individuals would be allowed to handle such matters. Jing Ling wouldn’t be involved. And on a cruise ship, there shouldn’t have been any chance for him to sneak to the island unnoticed.

But once those two options were ruled out, Xu Shaohuai could think of no other explanations.

This was probably the most unsettled he had ever been—restless and desperate to know what had happened. Yet the only person who knew was that little bastard, and he had no way to get it out of him!

So he stayed frustrated all the way back to the base. He watched Jing Ling shower, change into pajamas, and then call his girlfriend, sister, and agent in that order. The call lengths also matched the order. He told the first two the job ended early and shared some “funny moments” from the trip. To the last one, he said he’d “saved the world.”

All of it nonsense—completely fabricated—yet his face remained calm and his breath steady. Xu Shaohuai was so stunned he almost forgot what he was going to ask. Just as he was about to question him, Jing Ling returned to his room and shut the door to sleep!

Xu Shaohuai: “…”

By noon the next day, on the verge of exploding, Xu Shaohuai finally got the truth—Jing Ling seemed to sense it was time.

“You know… curiosity is something we all have. I’m no exception…”

It all started with that damned curiosity. Jing Ling overheard something about a virus leak on the deck and couldn’t let it go. He began observing the cruise’s environment and the behavior of the organizers. He didn’t find an opportunity during the first batch’s island landing but didn’t give up. When the second batch went out, he found a way to sneak in—helped a lot by his VIP room privileges.

Once on the island, the darkness became his perfect cover. Normal animals became his eyes and ears, and with the unexpected chaos in the lab, he navigated the island with ease.

He landed with the group, and returned with them too. The whole process took seven hours. When he came back, he even brought a copy of some lab files.

“Just grabbed it randomly—don’t know if it’s useful. You take it and find someone to look at it,” Jing Ling said. Xu Shaohuai, overwhelmed by shock, didn’t question further.

“What was the island really like?” Xu Shaohuai pressed—this was what he cared most about. Just like Jing Ling said, everyone has curiosity. He was no exception—it’s just that very little ever managed to stir his.

“The island, huh…” Jing Ling seemed momentarily dazed, but his eyes were cold.

The normal animals were his informants—so naturally, there were abnormal ones too. Mutated appearances, unrecognizable as any known species, yet with vaguely familiar parts. And not just animals—people too. In doomsday fiction, mutated or undead still look at least somewhat human. But the ones he saw… even calling them “human” was a stretch.

“That place was hell on earth. They couldn’t control it—so they had to shut it down, at least temporarily.”

Which meant that for the time being, the hunting grounds wouldn’t reopen. And they… wouldn’t see each other there again.

Chapter 162

Jing Ling ultimately never said exactly what he saw on the island that night, but from his descriptions, Xu Shaohuai could be sure—it definitely wasn’t anything good. Because when someone who can face bloody slaughter without a change in expression and execute with steady, precise ruthlessness describes something as a living hell, it must be very different—and far more terrifying and brutal—than what ordinary people imagine a living hell to be.

However, Jing Ling had brought back some data from the island. Although he claimed he had just casually copied it, in such circumstances, whether or not anything useful could be found depended entirely on luck. And Jing Ling’s luck was something everyone had witnessed. So Xu Shaohuai had high hopes that the information might reveal what had gone wrong at the hunting ground.

All the necessary questions had been asked, and Jing Ling had said everything he could. Anything beyond that would be a fruitless struggle. Xu Shaohuai understood this very well, so he didn’t dwell on it. He took the data and went straight to find someone to analyze it.

After he left, only the four of them were left at the base. Though theoretically they could stay as long as they wanted—no one would say anything—they still hadn’t spent enough time there to get used to it. So that afternoon, they left the base and each returned home.

Before heading to the hunting ground, Jing Ling had already taken care of his personal matters.

He had requested leave from school. Although he had probably sat in fewer classes in an entire semester than most students skipped, he had never failed to take first place in the end-of-term exams since enrolling. And it wasn’t just first in his class—it was first in his entire year. This had led his counselor to fantasize about him being the model student who, while filming dramas, never forgot to study hard. A non-acting major producing a celebrity—especially one with such a positive image and no scandals—didn’t damage the university’s reputation; in fact, it helped boost its prestige. So, his leave slip was approved smoothly without Xu Shaohuai even needing to step in.

As for work, Ode to the Rivers and Mountains had already wrapped filming and was now in post-production, so there was nothing for him to do at the moment. All his other scheduled work had also been completed ahead of time. Shen Ze was a man of his word. While he might secretly wish to squeeze more out of his artists, he always restrained himself. He only accepted jobs based on Jing Ling’s preferences. They had originally expected the trip to last more than half a month, but because of an unexpected incident, they returned in just one week—something even Yang Xinyao hadn’t predicted, so Shen Ze naturally couldn’t have known. As per their original plan, they hadn’t taken on any new work for the time being.

After returning, when they spoke over the phone, Yunshu was out on an inspection trip. She was not only far away but also very busy with work. Jing Ling had wanted to surprise her, but Yunshu guessed it and laughed, telling him not to bother—she’d be back soon anyway.

So Jing Ling gave up the idea.

All of a sudden, he found himself with nothing to do. So, he stayed at school and seriously played the role of a good student for two days. He stuck to a routine of early morning exercise, then attended classes one by one according to the timetable. The first morning went smoothly. No one knew he was back on campus, and everything proceeded as usual. But after the first class, his classmates swarmed him for photos and autographs. Jing Ling maintained a polite smile throughout, and once he had signed enough, he slipped away before the next wave of fans arrived.

Fans who got photos and autographs uploaded them to Weibo, their Moments, and other social media platforms. Word spread fast. Before the lunch break was over, the news that Jing Ling was attending classes at school had already reached many people. Getting a copy of the software programming course schedule wasn’t hard, and once they had it, people started waiting in ambush.

The first large class in the afternoon was a compulsory general education course in Standard Mandarin. The teacher was a middle-aged woman named Song Qingfang, who wore ordinary black-rimmed glasses and never parted with her briefcase. As usual, she arrived in the classroom ten minutes before the start of class, turned on the computer and projector, copied over the courseware, and checked the attendance. As long as the number wasn’t too low, she didn’t bother calling roll. But if it was obviously sparse, she would call out names and wait for students to sheepishly show up and report in. It wasn’t about anger or responsibility—it was just a habit. College wasn’t like high school; professors didn’t force students to learn. Everything here was based on personal initiative.

But today was different.

Before Song Qingfang even reached the classroom—while still in the corridor—she heard a commotion ahead. People were walking by, looking around as if searching for something, occasionally asking for directions. Coincidentally, the place they were asking about was her classroom. At first, she thought it was students covering someone else’s class and just getting lost. But after encountering the same situation multiple times in a short span, she realized something was off.

She soon reached Room 502T on the fifth floor. The noise she had heard was coming from this very classroom. The door was wide open, and from outside she could see it was completely packed—“crowded” would be an understatement. And not just inside—even outside there were many people peeking in, clearly looking for something.

Song Qingfang frowned slightly. She couldn’t recall anything special about today that would explain such a crowd. Attendance was definitely over 100%, something even finals couldn’t achieve when people came to hear exam tips.

She walked into the classroom with her briefcase. Most students were still craning their necks to look outside, as if unaware of her presence. She turned on the computer and projector, opened the courseware—everything was ready. Only six minutes remained until class started.

“Why isn’t he here yet?”

“Is he not coming? No way—I ditched Madame Exterminator’s class for this!”

“Only five minutes left. Doesn’t look promising!”

Song Qingfang sat expressionlessly, waiting to see what was going on. Who exactly was this “big name” that drew in not just students from her class, but possibly other departments too?

About a minute later, a stir erupted outside the classroom.

“He’s here!”

“He’s here, he’s here!”

“Finally! I’m so glad I didn’t give up!”

Following the students’ gaze, Song Qingfang looked toward the door. She was born in a time before the entertainment era. Back then, even owning a black-and-white TV was a luxury, and chasing stars was out of the question. Though her family had decent means, that world had never been hers. The societal shift mainly affected the younger generation, not middle-aged folks like her.

But aesthetic standards in China had remained fairly consistent throughout history.

Looking at the boy walking into the room—tall, slender, with flawless features—and calmly composed despite all eyes on him, Song Qingfang, with her limited vocabulary, could only come up with one word: handsome.

“Oh my god, the male god really came to class!”

“Never thought I’d share the same room with my idol in this lifetime!”

“Who says celebrities don’t look as good in real life as they do under the spotlight?! He looks even better than on TV! My heart is racing!”

From these reactions, Song Qingfang gathered one thing—this boy was a celebrity. Because he often took leave, his name had been removed from the attendance sheet to avoid constantly marking him absent. Song Qingfang was a new teacher for this class, covering for the regular one on maternity leave, so she hadn’t known there was such a person in her class. But she did know the name Jing Ling. He rarely attended, yet always scored first in exams. There were always voices questioning this, but she trusted the school’s integrity—surely they wouldn’t fake something like this.

While her thoughts drifted, her eyes remained fixed on the boy as he walked down the aisle with a book in hand. Students on either side were snapping pictures, calling for him to sit next to them. But the place was already packed—there was nowhere to sit. Flashbulbs kept going off, giving the illusion of being at a live event.

Finally, he found a spot and squeezed in with a few male students, sitting down in the middle.

The class bell rang, but the classroom was still noisy, with students outside continuing to peek in. Song Qingfang could barely hear the bell. Though she knew that a student coming to class was perfectly normal, and this chaos was entirely due to the students themselves, she couldn’t help but feel her initial amazement turn into irritation. She was about to speak into the mic to restore order when the boy suddenly stood up.

His voice wasn’t loud, but the moment he spoke, everyone instinctively quieted down.

“This is class time. I hope everyone can be quiet. Otherwise, it’ll disrupt the teacher. Please.”

After a few scattered responses, the room really did quiet down. Although many still glanced his way, Song Qingfang was already quite satisfied with the result. She clicked open the courseware and began the lesson.

Song Qingfang had a habit of teaching by asking questions. For this major, Software Programming, although Standard Mandarin was required, the level needed wasn’t high, so students usually weren’t very motivated. Most of the time, she had to ask and answer the questions herself.

But today was different. Every time she posed a question—whether hard or easy—someone answered. And even though she’d only heard him speak once earlier, there was no mistaking the voice behind the answers: Jing Ling. It was unique and pleasant—unforgettable after just one hearing.

Due to the consistent difficulty of final exams at the school, she knew Jing Ling was a top student, but hadn’t realized how high his ceiling was. Now, she suddenly wanted to test it. So throughout the lesson, she kept increasing the difficulty of her questions. At first, she mixed in some Mandarin, but later she used only Standardized Language. Jing Ling answered them all flawlessly.

And perhaps because of his influence—or maybe out of competitive spirit—others in the class also became more enthusiastic, and more and more students began responding.

Chapter 163

Song Qingfang could be said to be quite satisfied—until class ended.

“Male god! Male god! Autograph, please! Can we take a photo together?”

“Male god, I want to have your babies!”

“Male god, how long will you be staying on campus this time?”

The moment the class bell rang, the entire classroom exploded into excitement. Male god, male god, male god—that word filled her ears! Song Qingfang expressionlessly stared at the middle seat, at the boy surrounded like the moon by stars. He was completely encircled by people, busy signing various notebooks with movements as smooth as flowing water, as if he had practiced it countless times. Unexpectedly, he seemed to sense her gaze, suddenly looked up at her, flashed a slightly apologetic smile, and gave her a nod.

Hmm… such a considerate, well-mannered student.

The displeasure that had just risen in Song Qingfang vanished instantly without a trace.

More people were coming into the classroom from outside. She packed up her things and, before leaving, looked back one last time, a sudden emotion rising in her heart.

Youth really is wonderful!

After signing a certain number of autographs, Jing Ling started looking for a way to slip away.

Even though he had stayed for quite a while, there were still latecomer girls who didn’t make it in time—most of them had seen the news halfway through class but didn’t dare skip out because they were timid. They had to wait anxiously until class ended before rushing over, but because the academic buildings were far apart, they arrived too late. Seeing the now-empty classroom, one by one they all drooped with disappointment, as if the words “no will to live” were written on their faces.

Inside the classroom, two girls who hadn’t left yet were still glowing with happiness, forming a sharp contrast with the disheartened newcomers. Perhaps there’s a natural camaraderie among fans—on their way out the door, the two girls comforted them: “Don’t worry, just come earlier tomorrow. The male god said he’ll be on campus for the next couple of days.”

The later girls were instantly healed by those words.

Jing Ling found a quiet corner and gave Yunshu a call. Coincidentally, she was also free at that time. The two of them chatted for almost half an hour, and only hung up because Yunshu had something to do.

Qincheng had been enjoying clear and pleasant weather for almost a week now. Jing Ling stepped out from his corner and walked through the basketball court, planning to leave campus from the north gate. There happened to be a game going on, and a group of people had gathered outside the court to cheer. Since he had nothing else to do, he went over to take a look. Everyone was focused on the game, so no one noticed him at first.

He was tall, and the spot he stood in gave him a clear view of the scoreboard. The first thing he saw was the score: 15 to 8. The former belonged to Class 7 of the Programming Department; the latter, Class 2—his class. He glanced at the court and immediately recognized a few familiar faces—some of the boys who had kindly made room for him in class earlier, squeezing together so he could sit down.

Jing Ling knew his voice was highly recognizable, so he didn’t dare shout out cheers. Even the spot he chose was deliberate. He quietly observed for a few minutes. By the end of the first half, the point gap not only hadn’t narrowed, it had widened. Class 7 scored another three-pointer in the final minute, bringing it to 18 to 8.

During halftime, girls handed out water and towels along with words of encouragement. But things didn’t look good—Jing Ling noticed one player looking pale, and the person next to him seemed worried. Even from a short distance, Jing Ling could pick out what he wanted to hear amid the noise.

“Ah Yuan, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I can hold out for the second half.”

“Like hell you can! Look at your foot, it’s all swollen!”

“Hiss—be gentle!”

“Seriously, just forget it. Let someone else play the second half. At this rate, even tying the score is going to be hard, let alone winning. Doesn’t matter who goes up.”

Jing Ling thought for a moment and recalled that every spring, the school held a basketball tournament among professional classes, with winners progressing through elimination rounds to a final school championship. There was a cash prize for the winner—not much, but most people joined for the love of the game, and for the attention and honor that came with it. After all, college was a time when everyone wanted to shine. Whether boys or girls, if given the chance, few would turn down the chance to be a campus star.

The conversation continued. Ah Yuan’s injury was clearly serious. He had gritted his teeth through the first half. Although he insisted he could keep going, his teammates disagreed. If there was a chance of winning, maybe it would be worth it—but now, the odds looked grim. Why not sub in someone else? Simply put: they didn’t have anyone.

Jing Ling’s class had 30 people total. Twenty were girls. After removing the five already on the court and Jing Ling himself, the remaining four were two chubby guys and two who never left their dorms—basically useless for basketball. Putting any of them in would be worse than playing with just four. So in the end, that’s exactly what they decided to do.

Jing Ling hesitated briefly, then stepped forward. Though he didn’t interact much with his classmates and didn’t feel any sense of class pride, in a situation like this—where they literally had no one—he couldn’t just stand by.

Most of the halftime break had passed. Class 2’s team gave each other some encouragement and got ready to return to the court.

Suddenly, a voice called out: “I’ll go in as a sub. That’s fine, right?”

There was a moment of silence.

Because that voice was just too recognizable! They’d spent an entire class period listening to it earlier! But maybe that was exactly why it was so hard to believe. No one expected him to participate in a basketball game.

Everyone turned their heads to find the source of the voice. Some people are born to shine—no matter how crowded the surroundings, they stand out instantly. Clean short hair, perfect features, tall and lean physique—he stood there like the star of the show, everything around him just background.

“Ahhhh! It’s the male god!”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe he plays basketball too!”

“So handsome I can’t even breathe!”

After Class 2 exploded into excitement, the energy quickly spread to Class 7. The girls cheering and handling logistics on the sidelines screamed and rushed over, soon forming a tight circle around Jing Ling. Passersby who heard the commotion also came over. What had started as a routine class-level basketball game now had the court surrounded three-deep. Phone flashes lit up nonstop, and even someone with professional recording gear pushed through the crowd.

“Campus News Agency! Please make way!”

Of course, no one moved. But the guy was determined and fought his way to the front, equipment in hand, adjusting it for filming.

The players from Class 2 looked at Jing Ling, now completely surrounded, and wondered if he could even get on the court. Getting through that crowd would be a mission. But that was just idle commentary—he’d definitely make it. Whether he could play or not, whether they won or lost, the attention this game had drawn was unprecedented. Even winning the school championship might not top this moment!

Heck, they might even make the news!

With Jing Ling suddenly thrown into the spotlight, all eyes turned to him, and the previously dominant Class 7 was now ignored. Even their own girls had defected. Class 7’s players were clearly annoyed. Seeing that the break was almost over and the other side still didn’t seem ready, they shouted, “Hey! Class 2! Are you coming or not?!”

Class 2 snapped back, “What’s the rush? Coming right now!”

Then someone turned to Jing Ling and said, “Get ready, second half’s starting!”

Jing Ling nodded. “Okay!” Then smiled at the girls surrounding him and said, “Please let me through. It’s time for me to play.”

For fangirls, the male god’s words were law. Though reluctant, they were even more eager to see him play basketball, so they quickly parted to make a path.

Jing Ling thanked them, then walked over to join his teammates. Since he was a last-minute substitute, of course he didn’t have a uniform. But the dress code wasn’t strict for this kind of game. He happened to be dressed in athletic-style clothes that day. Once he took off his jacket, he could manage. Underneath was a snug-fitting T-shirt that faintly outlined his slim waist and abs. The phrase “slim in clothes, ripped without” had never been more accurate.

Sure enough, another round of screaming erupted.

His teammates could only sigh. Faced with someone who shone this brightly, there was no room for envy—only admiration.

Soon, the second half began.

Campus games weren’t strict with positions—especially at the class level, it was just man-to-man defense and trying to score. Jing Ling was subbing in for Ah Yuan, who had been their main shooter. He had decent skills, but the injury had held him back, which was why they’d fallen so far behind.

The rest of the team didn’t know much about Jing Ling, but asked briefly before starting. He assured them he could take Ah Yuan’s spot. So the referee tossed the ball, and Jing Ling went to grab it.

His physical stats were practically superhuman—far beyond the average college student. Even after dialing it back, with his height advantage alone, he leapt up and easily took the ball while his opponent was just reacting.

It was a dominant start. And from then on, it became Jing Ling’s one-man show—he scored a three-pointer almost every two minutes, with zero misses. In less than ten minutes, not only had they closed the point gap, but Class 2 had pulled ahead by seven points.

Cheers and screams blended together, echoing through the basketball court.

Chapter 164

“Get to the basketball court right now!!!” In the WeChat group named “Dorm 311 of Building 18,” a message suddenly popped up, followed by seven or eight similar ones in a row.

At Yizhou Transportation University, girls’ dorms housed four people per room, so there were only four members in Group 311. The third floor of Building 18 was entirely occupied by students in the Basic Programming major, and the girls in Room 311 were all from Programming Class 7.

The girl who sent the messages was named Shen Jing, though her personality didn’t match the “Jing” (quiet) in her name at all. She had a fiery temper, like a firecracker—explosive at the slightest spark. She had a boyfriend who was one of the main players on the Class 7 basketball team. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he was tall, had a good build, a great personality, and was part of a “no resources wasted on outsiders” internal relationship. As a result, the couple received a lot of attention in their class. Meanwhile, the other three girls in her dorm were all still single. Given that today was a basketball game between Class 7 and Class 2, and Shen Jing was urging them to go watch it, the other three immediately took it the wrong way.

“Get lost! I just ate and don’t feel like eating dog food!”

“Caring for animals is everyone’s responsibility, don’t you know?!”

“Keep nagging and we’ll lock the door tonight—go get a room with Zhou Kai yourself!”

A reply came back quickly: “If you don’t come, you’ll regret it—I’m telling you!!!”

The three girls were currently waiting for a dungeon group in-game and didn’t take the messages seriously at all. Never mind that it was someone else’s boyfriend—nothing would make them regret it, even if it were their own. Gaming was the top priority!

“Really?”

“Okay.”

“Like there’s ever been a day I didn’t regret something ┑(￣Д ￣)┍”

There was a moment of silence from Shen Jing’s end, while on the other side, their dungeon group was almost full. The party leader had already started calling everyone on YY to get ready. Before entering, the three girls followed their usual routine of praying at the main city altar for weapon drops. Just then, another message popped up.

“You forced me! I’m going to use my ultimate move!” The message came with a photo attached, almost sent at the same time.

Shirtless abs? Something like that? Based on what they knew of Shen Jing, it was definitely going to be some eye candy—why not take a look? The three roommates, still half-distracted, casually glanced at it.

It was a candid photo. The background appeared to be the basketball court, but weren’t there a bit too many spectators? They’d been in school for a year, and even last year’s finals for the Computer Science Department hadn’t drawn such a crowd. Then they focused on the subject in the image. The photo was slightly blurry, and because it was taken from the side, the face wasn’t visible—but the figure was clear: broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs—everything about it screamed perfection!

“Who is this? We don’t have anyone like this in Class 7!”

“Class 2 doesn’t either!”

“No jersey—probably not a player. Someone from another department?”

“Oops, wrong photo! THIS ONE! Look at this one!” Another message followed with a second photo. Though also blurry and shot from the side, this one showed half the person’s side profile. The figure was captured mid-jump, shooting from beyond the three-point line. The angle emphasized their tall, upright posture, but most importantly—it showed enough of the face to recognize who it was!

“Holy crap—it’s the male god!”

“AAAAHHHHH it’s actually Meng Er!”

“Wait—I suddenly remembered something. I think I overheard someone at the cafeteria saying Meng Er had come back to school for classes. I thought they were joking!”

While chatting, the three girls had already logged into the YY channel. One of them didn’t mute her mic and was wearing headphones, so the entire channel—about twenty people—heard everything.

The party leader was about to gently remind them, when another burst of excited female voice rang out: “Quit the party and change! We’re going to the basketball court! I want to see the male god play! He’s so handsome I could cry!”

Then the party leader watched in shock as the nearly full team suddenly lost three players in a row—all DPS roles. He froze for a moment before screaming in anguish, “Damn it, don’t leave! What’s so great about a male god? What’s so great about basketball?! My group is super lucky—we’re definitely getting rare crystals tonight!”

But no one paid him any attention. A moment later, there was a loud bang—the sound of the dorm door slamming shut.

Silence fell on the YY channel, then everyone unmuted and started chatting.

“Hahahahahaha! Leader, don’t cry. At least they didn’t leave mid-dungeon—that’s already pretty decent!”

“Yeah, but now I’m curious how handsome their male god is. Personally, I think our school’s campus heartthrob is just average—nothing compared to celebrities!”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. I think most celebrities rely on Photoshop. Without filters and retouching, they’re painful to look at!”

“Weren’t we raiding? How did we get to talking about celebrities? But speaking of Photoshop and celebrities—my Meng Er would like to object! He looks amazing on TV and in photos, and is even hotter in real life!”

“Who’s Meng Er? Wait—I think the girls who quit just now mentioned that name too. Could it be the same person?! But they said their male god is still in school. They mentioned he came back to attend classes.”

“My male god’s also still in school! Must be the same one! Girls—are you from Yizhou Transportation University?!”

“Chuchu, they already left to see the male god play basketball!”

“Wuwuwu, I want to see the male god play basketball too!”

By the time Shen Jing’s three roommates got to the basketball court, the second half was nearly over. They could hear the cheers from far away. From a distance, they saw a thick crowd—layer after layer, so packed that even doubling the headcount wouldn’t capture it. The three girls looked at their petite builds and then at the human wall. Though unwilling, they had no choice but to bitterly call Shen Jing.

“We can’t get in! Filming duty is on you now! If you mess it up, bring your head to us!”

“I wouldn’t dream of using my potato-quality camera to disgrace the male god. I’ve already arranged with the journalism club to get a copy of the recording afterward—professional equipment, HD quality!”

The trio was about to hang up when a sudden wave of shrieking erupted—so loud it was almost frenzied.

“What happened?! Quick—tell us!”

Shen Jing had also screamed earlier, and it seemed she’d gone all out—her voice was suddenly hoarse. Even through the phone, they could hear her trembling with excitement. Her words came out in fragments, “Holy crap—holy crap—holy crap! The male god was too hot! Just now, right next to the basket, he stole the ball from the opponent, dribbled it all the way down the court, ran up, and slammed a one-handed dunk! A real dunk! The moment the ball went in—it was so hot I couldn’t breathe—I think I’ve fallen in love with this sport!”

Dunking isn’t hard for professional players in various leagues, and isn’t even that rare in games. But for ordinary people, it’s incredibly difficult—it requires both height and explosive jump power. Regulation hoops are 3.05 meters high. If you’re around 185 cm tall and lack vertical jump skills, you might only be able to touch the rim. And Yizhou Transportation University wasn’t a sports school. Most players were hobbyists. Even a few successful three-pointers could trigger waves of screams.

Of course, the real reason behind all this—was that Jing Ling was handsome. Like, dream-come-true levels of handsome. A face like that, with a great figure, a great personality, strong academics, and even amazing athletic ability—he was literally the human embodiment of “perfection” in bold font.

Girls care about looks. Guys care about skills. When someone has both, it’s effortless to ignite the whole atmosphere.

The screams and cheers lasted for a long time—just imagine how many people were shouting themselves hoarse.

Shen Jing’s three roommates looked utterly devastated. They deeply regretted their decision. If only they’d followed Shen Jing to support the class basketball team—they could have seen the entire game. Who cares about a game raid? The male god was what truly mattered!

That night at 8 PM, a new post appeared at the top of a gossip forum.

Title: Why didn’t I have a male god this handsome during my school days?!

A post like this—with no real buzz—would normally sink fast at this hour. But with a youth-themed movie trending and being overhyped lately, people had grown tired of these kinds of posts. Seeing “school days” in the title, most people assumed it was more PR for that movie. Sensible users knew not to engage, and most people did just that. But aside from regular users, there were marketing bots. Seeing the title, they mistook it for a friendly PR post and started spamming it with preset replies without even reading.

1F: “Fu Lingbai really fits the youth movie image—he totally has campus heartthrob vibes!”

2F: “Kind of looking forward to the movie now.”

3F: “I always thought he looked better playing students. Why always play CEO roles? Glad he’s finally coming around—looking forward to Our Time Together!”

–

Thanks to this, the post stayed at the top, until a passerby couldn’t help going in to flame the bots—only to end up laughing.

15F: “Uh… if I’m not mistaken, the person in the pic is Jing Ling? Why’s everyone talking about Fu Lingbai?”

16F: “A quick glance is enough to tell it’s not Fu Lingbai. His short, stubby build is only praised by delusional fans.”

–

36F: “Funniest thing today, hands down. The bots didn’t even look at the post content before spamming it. It’s obviously a dunking GIF of a teenager, yet they’re hyping a completely unrelated actor. Hilarious!”

37F: “Fu Lingbai’s got a built-in flop face. His fans need to stop dreaming about a breakout.”

–

109F: “Am I the only one who actually noticed the GIF itself? That kid’s dunk was amazing! THIS is what people dream of in their school days—perfection!”

110F: “@Yumao, source please—movie, drama, what is this? How come nothing about it leaked before?”

–

The tagged Yumao was confused too. Their male god wasn’t known for constant appearances. After finishing filming, he’d been quiet—just posting once a day on Weibo to keep fans going. Now, out of nowhere, this image appeared—even the diehard fans didn’t know the source. They flooded the thread begging the original poster for details.

Finally, after several pages of replies, the long-missing OP reappeared and dropped the info:

315F: “The GIF came from today’s Yizhou Transportation University campus basketball match—Computer Science Department’s advancement game. Jing Ling played as a substitute in the second half, and near the end, completed a running one-handed dunk!”

Chapter 165

The post quickly gained traction on the forum, growing into a high-rise thread—page one, two, three… by ten o’clock that evening, it had already reached page nine. The entertainment circle is always the fastest to react; soon, other forums also reposted the video and began discussing it on their own turf.

Real-life Slam Dunk!

Amazing, my underage god! That move’s out of this world!

Come see what a true campus heartthrob looks like!

Not just the major entertainment forums— even sports forums, dominated by straight men, joined in the discussion. But their focus wasn’t on the guy doing the dunk, but the dunking technique itself. After all, basketball is one of the most popular sports in the world, second only to soccer!

Thread Title: Come, come, come, check out this video—what level is this dunk?!

User “Life or Death Means Nothing”: Damn it, which star are you trying to diss this time?

User “Boundless Paths”: How many times are you gonna use the same lame trick, dumbass?

User “You May Run 39 Meters First”: Hook straight bait salty, scram!
(Note: This is likely nonsense trash talk, meant to mock the post’s clickbait nature.)

The same black-and-white fan wars that plague the entertainment industry also apply to any fandom-based circle. Sports is no exception. While basketball superstars might not be as numerous as celebrities, each one still has a significant fanbase. And to their fans, their idol is the best. But even money can’t make everyone like you—let alone a person. So it’s inevitable that fanbases clash.

Just yesterday, the sports forum had been in chaos over whether an active or retired pro player was better, and it ended inconclusively because the post got locked. Seeing today’s thread title, users instinctively assumed it was another round of the same drama. That pent-up anger from yesterday needed a place to go, so they clicked in and cursed first—then glanced at the content afterward.

Huh? Who’s this in the video? Not any known pro star! Did I flame the wrong guy?

Turns out—they had flamed the wrong guy. Unlike the gossip-focused entertainment forums, sports forums are where straight men talk about everything, mixing into every topic. Besides discussing professional league stars, many people here also exchange technical tips. This post seemed to be one of those.

User “Boundless Paths”: Sorry bro, the insults came too naturally! Not sure what you’re asking—hang on, lemme watch the video first.

Wang Song grabbed a beer next to his computer and clicked the video in the thread. He’d been a regular on the sports forum for years—an old hand. His ID was “Boundless Paths.”

The video buffered for a moment and started playing. As soon as the screen lit up, a chorus of screams erupted from the speakers.

“Ahhhhhh Go God!”

“God must win! Class 2 must win!”

“Meng Er I love you!”

What the hell? Wang Song frowned and kept watching.

The video showed an outdoor basketball court, packed with spectators. The video quality was high enough to clearly see the crowd’s faces—mostly girls—with expressions of uncontainable excitement. It was like… Wang Song racked his brain, then finally landed on a description—it was like those crazed celebrity fangirls! There was a girl in his neighbor’s house just like that: bought every product her idol endorsed, watched all his shows and movies, even went to concerts—obsessed to a scary degree!

Soon, the players entered the court. Amid the crowd, Wang Song’s attention was instantly drawn to one guy—not because he wore something different (he was in casual clothes, not a jersey), but because some people are just born to shine. They’re always the first person you notice in a crowd. This guy was a perfect example.

Because of the camera angle, only a side profile was visible, but he was definitely good-looking. Estimated height over 180cm, solid build—no wonder so many girls were smitten.

Wang Song felt a twinge of envy. But that thought vanished the moment the game began.

“Damn, that’s fast!” Wang Song couldn’t help exclaiming. Almost the instant the referee tossed the ball, the guy reacted and leapt. By the time he had the ball, his opponent had only just started to jump.

Overwhelming advantage!

Even more impressive—after snatching the ball, he spun and sprinted to the three-point line, then shot. The ball arced beautifully through the air and dropped cleanly into the hoop.

“Lucky shot!” Wang Song thought it was pure luck. But when the guy made a three-pointer every two minutes—each one clean—he realized it wasn’t luck. It was raw skill.

The match felt like a showcase just for him. Everyone else faded into the background. During the game, Wang Song finally got a full view of the guy’s face. Honestly, while he usually called this type of guy a “pretty boy,” he had to admit—he looked even better than the pop star his neighbor’s daughter was obsessed with.

“But where’s the dunk from the title?” Wang Song hadn’t forgotten why he clicked the video, and now the progress bar was almost at the end—still no dunk.

“Is it him?” he wondered, then shook his head.

“He’s maybe 185cm tops. Even with good hops, maybe he can touch the rim—but a dunk? No way!”

Just as he said that—bam, he got proven wrong. On screen, just as a shot was about to go in, the guy jumped up, stretched out his long arm, and scooped the ball out. Before the opponents could react, he dashed back across the court, gained momentum, and—slam dunk!

The ball dropped into the hoop—and the video ended.

“HOLY SHIT! How the hell did he do that?!” Wang Song leapt out of his chair in shock.

And on the forum—things had exploded.

User “Still Got Moves”: Holy hell, did he install springs in his legs? At most 185cm, but grabbing shots and dunking?!

User “Direction of Freedom”: I remember someone posted a few days ago asking whether it’s hard to dunk if you’re 180cm tall. This guy looks maybe 183, and it seemed easy for him.

User “High High Higher”: You guys don’t know basketball, huh? You can’t generalize from a rare case like this. If it were that easy, every pro player would be dunking all the time. It’s a skill that demands serious height and vertical leap. This guy is clearly an exception—not particularly tall, but his bounce is insane. Might even rival pros. And he looks young—still growing, probably. With that face, he’s a gold mine. Wonder if he’s signed to any team yet.

The thread started out about technique—but gradually went off-topic.

User “Masterpiece”: Maybe I’m off-track here, but doesn’t he look kinda familiar?

User “Sunlight at One Meter”: Now that you mention it… is he from some team?

User “World’s Biggest Troll”: I remember now! He was the villain in Island—the one who got eaten by a snake! Name was Jing something, I think. Good acting, though he looked pretty different in the movie—that’s why I didn’t recognize him at first!

User “Watermelon Not Knife”: I think I saw him on that reality show Wilderness Survival. He was kind of awesome on it, even if he didn’t have the best screen presence!

User “A Guang”: I think he’s one of those hot young idols. My cousin is obsessed with him. I thought he was just a pretty face, but damn—he’s the real deal!

User “Rain or Shine You’re Mine”: Forget the entertainment industry—just go play basketball already!

–

Jing Ling had no idea that this basketball video had earned him a batch of male fans on the sports forum. After finishing the game that day, he barely managed to break out of the crowd and quickly left campus.

He had no classes for the next two days, so he disguised himself and visited Jing Qiu at the neighboring school. On the third day, he had just one class in the afternoon: programming. It was a hands-on course held in a small classroom in the tech building. Since it was a small group class, the fans couldn’t sneak in like before—they had to wait outside. But since they were blocking passage, campus security eventually had to step in and disperse them.

Jing Ling sat in a corner near the wall, seriously wondering whether he should stop attending class altogether.

While he pondered, the teacher had already begun. The lecture combined theory with practice, and the class flew by. In the remaining time, the instructor assigned a small project as in-class work to count toward participation. Students who finished early could submit it and leave.

Jing Ling wasn’t planning to leave early—but then he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. It was a call from Shen Ze. He chose to reply via text: “Wait a sec.” Then he pulled out the keyboard and started typing rapidly according to the assignment requirements. His hands flew so fast across the keys, they left afterimages.

Everyone around him was stunned!

Even the teacher, noticing the commotion, came over—and was also shocked!

That hand speed was insane!

Soon, Jing Ling stopped typing, indicating the program was complete. He nodded at the teacher. “Teacher, I’m done. Want to take a look?”

Since there hadn’t been much time, the teacher had assumed most students wouldn’t finish before class ended, and planned to check assignments afterward. He hadn’t expected someone to finish already, so he nodded, curious.

As long as the program ran correctly, it would be considered complete—and Jing Ling’s program passed.

“All good.”

“Then I’ll head out. Goodbye, teacher!” Jing Ling grabbed his books and left.

Security had already cleared the earlier crowd, and though a few fans had snuck back, there were only a handful left. Jing Ling casually signed autographs and took some photos, then strolled around the tech building before ducking into the men’s restroom. There, he pulled out his phone and called Shen Ze back.

The call connected instantly. “Were you busy just now? Couldn’t take the call?”

Jing Ling replied, “I was in class. What’s up, A-Ze?”

“I just got a call from Zeng Qing’s agent—they want to talk to you about a project. Can you come over?”