Reborn, I Became a Male God - Chapter 81-85

The subtle post Yu Leyang made on Weibo was deleted in less than ten minutes, and shortly after, he replaced it with a new one.

 

Samuel_Yu LeyangV: Just spending some time memorizing a script, and someone hijacked my account? Are you bullying me because my password is too simple? This is too much. Believe it or not, I’ll change it to something even I can’t remember! [Hmph][Hmph]

 

This post quickly racked up over a thousand comments.

 

FishFishFish: Pat pat, Big Fish, hurry up and change your password [kiss]

 

WindFlowerSnowMoon: @卧黑子 Open your dog eyes and look carefully, Big Fish got hacked!

 

Vyvyan: Hahaha I knew this would be the result. The idiot persona remains intact. You clearly know it’s a sensitive period now, your mood’s a mess from losing so badly, you want to vent but can’t even be bothered to switch to a side account, get roasted and then use a hack as an excuse to explain it. Do you really think everyone in the world is as dumb and blind as you and your fans?

 

Wo: @WindFlowerSnowMoon I suggest you go check your brain and your eyes. I’m serious. 🙂 

 

On Weibo, fans, haters, and bystanders were tearing into each other like mad. At first, the fans were controlling the scene, and the comments looked relatively friendly. Yu Leyang switched to a side account and went through liking them one by one. But gradually, people from all sides got involved, and the tone of the comments changed. The affectionate words like “feeling sorry,” “pat pat,” and “muah” turned into insults packed with mockery like “idiot,” “brain-damaged,” and “brain full of sh1t.” Yu Leyang was so angry he practically exploded, cursing back at them alongside his fans, competing to see who could stoop lower.

 

Two fists can’t beat four hands, not to mention he was facing thousands upon thousands of netizens. It didn’t take long for his side to fall behind, collapsing entirely in the end, completely defeated.

 

Yu Leyang was practically driven mad with anger, cursing under his breath as he slammed the mouse onto the table. Two minutes later, he picked it back up, moved to the upper-right corner of the screen, clicked the X to close Weibo altogether, and out of sight, out of mind.

 

It’s often said that games are a good way to vent when you’re frustrated. He had been playing earlier, but had only just started when the Weibo incident distracted him. He clicked the taskbar icon to switch back to the game, ready to dominate the battlefield, only to find that the situation was completely messed up — they were about to lose so badly they wouldn’t even have their underwear left.

 

Without thinking, he started typing insults.

 

superstarYu Shao: Idiot elementary school kid, if you can’t play the game, go back and do your homework! Stop screwing other people over, will you! F** your mother!

 

This was a team-based competitive online game, requiring teamwork. With roughly equal skills on both sides, one person alone couldn’t carry the team to victory, but they sure as hell could drag the whole team down. At the start of the match, their team had a slight advantage, but Yu Leyang got distracted arguing on Weibo and left the game idle, causing their advantage to be quickly erased and then overturned. In the end, they were brutally crushed by the enemy’s unstoppable momentum.

 

The teammates were pretty tolerant, thinking he had some emergency and stepped away. Seeing that there was no chance of turning things around, they decided to lie flat and wait for the next round. But suddenly, the long-idle teammate moved, followed by a barrage of insults.

 

Teammate: exm??? (slang for “what the f**??”)*

 

There’s a saying: being friendly to an idiot is being cruel to yourself. In the online world, separated by screens, nobody knows who’s on the other side — could be a person, could be a dog — human malice is magnified infinitely here. Not to mention when kindness only earns you a stream of vicious curses, most people can’t tolerate it.

 

The teammates were ordinary people, so Yu Leyang was promptly besieged by the whole team.

 

Three Years and Another Three Years: You’re the idiot, your whole family’s full of idiots. You’re not just an idiot, you’re brain-dead, mentally retarded, and your face is as big as a washbasin. We didn’t even report you for going AFK, and you dare scold others for not knowing how to play? Who the hell gave you the nerve?

 

Li Mengiloveu: Take your own words and shove them back at yourself. Elementary school kid, hurry back and do your homework. Otherwise, careful your dad gives you a slap across the face!

 

Yue Yue Relaxed: My girlfriend was beside me, I didn’t want to curse at anyone, but I didn’t expect you to be such a f**ing idiot. Your dad should’ve just splattered you against the wall back then!

 

Online games have always been a disaster zone for all kinds of foul language. No matter how strong the filter system is, players will always find new ways to curse people out. This time, Yu Leyang had kicked a hornet’s nest. The flame war raged on until the match ended. Yu Leyang was scolded so badly he didn’t know which way was up. Staring at the giant “Defeat” on the screen, his eyes instantly turned red. He slammed the mouse hard, flipped the keyboard, still not satisfied, grabbed the computer monitor and hurled it against the wall.

 

Not just the computer — everything else in the room quickly fell victim as well. The sound of things smashing rang out nonstop. The manager had just stepped out to make a phone call. While instructing the team to control public opinion and contacting marketing accounts to steer the narrative, his head was practically throbbing. After finally finishing everything, he pushed the door open — only to be greeted by a pillow flying straight at his face, too late to dodge, it smacked him directly.

 

It didn’t hurt, but it inevitably startled him. After the pillow fell to the ground, the manager quickly swept his eyes around the room. The place was an absolute mess, stuff scattered everywhere — worse than a burglary. He instantly felt utterly exhausted. “I say, Leyang, what the hell is it this time?”

 

Yu Leyang slumped onto the bed. “I’m in a bad mood.”

 

The manager’s heart jumped to his throat. “You didn’t touch Weibo, did you?!” As he spoke, he hurriedly checked his phone. Thankfully, the latest post was still the explanation he’d helped post about the account being hacked. That allowed him to barely breathe a sigh of relief.

 

Truth be told, he had already gone to bed, but then his phone suddenly rang — a call from a team member saying that Yu Leyang had posted nonsense on Weibo again. Yes, again. It wasn’t the first time Yu Leyang had done this. The manager instantly lost all sleepiness and scrambled to clean up his mess.

 

Moments like this always made him want to slap his past self. What the hell were you thinking back then, choosing this guy? Not only is he a disaster, he’s disobedient too. If he keeps this up, sooner or later he’ll destroy himself.

 

Strangely enough, thinking of this, the manager actually found it wasn’t so hard to accept anymore. So when he spoke again, his tone inevitably soured. “They won fair and square. What’s there to be angry about? Besides, other people lost too — they’re all fine, aren’t they?”

 

Yu Leyang’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with undisguised fury. He cursed without restraint, “Chen, who the hell’s manager are you? Taking my money and turning around to defend others? A sissy, came in as the male lead from his debut, then landed Director Gu’s film as male third. Who knows how many times he slept his way there? What makes you think I’ll be convinced?!”

 

The manager was only angry for a brief moment. It was as if he’d long expected this day and was mentally prepared. When the hypothetical turned into reality, he accepted it quickly, thinking to himself, As expected. He looked at Yu Leyang with unprecedented coldness, his voice equally detached.

 

“Yu Leyang, whether Jing Ling got into this industry by sleeping around, I don’t know. But I can tell you this responsibly: that face of his definitely fits the vast majority’s aesthetic preferences, nothing sissy about it. As for his acting, it’s clear for all to see. Director Gu personally vouched for it. Director Gu isn’t one of those third-rate nobodies out there — he doesn’t hand out praise lightly, let alone to a newcomer.”

 

“And when you say all this, you really ought to take a good look in the mirror and search your conscience. After all, you should be more aware than anyone how you landed your role in ‘Island’.”

 

“I’ve cleaned up your mess this time. But if it happens again, you’ll be on your own.” With that, the manager turned and walked out of the room without waiting for Yu Leyang’s reply. He passed through the living room, arrived at the entrance, changed his shoes, opened the door, and left. He still maintained his good upbringing, gently closing the door behind him.

 

The netizens, never missing a chance to stir the pot, took screenshots of Yu Leyang’s subtle Weibo post and plastered them all over Jing Ling’s comment section. One after another, they liked the posts, quickly pushing them to the top.

 

Though Jing Ling didn’t check Weibo himself, Shen Ze had been keeping an eye on things. Upon seeing it, he immediately contacted Jing Ling, repeatedly warning him not to act impulsively. He even used an analogy: “I’m telling you, impulsiveness is the devil. And if a dog bites you, you can’t just bite it back, can you? That’d just drag your own level down!”

 

Jing Ling replied absentmindedly, “Mm, I know. If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up now.”

 

“Wait!” Shen Ze quickly stopped him, but then stammered awkwardly, “Uh, well… even though you’re already an adult, and certain things happening is normal, but… I think relationships should focus more on the spiritual connection…”

 

Jing Ling instantly guessed what he meant — because Yunshu was staying over tonight, that bastard Shen Ze was letting his mind run wild. Jing Ling immediately felt terrible. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. But please, shut up, alright? Goodbye!” With that, he hung up the phone and slumped onto the sofa, zoning out.

 

Yunshu had already graduated. Originally, she’d applied for a top-tier foreign university for graduate studies — not only was she accepted, but she’d also received a full scholarship. But at the last moment, she gave it all up. “You gave me the courage to stay,” she had told Jing Ling.

 

Without grad school, she could’ve chosen to work. As an outstanding graduate of Imperial Capital University, with her exceptional looks, it would’ve been easy for Yunshu to land a high-paying job — countless companies had already sent offers while she was still in school. But she declined them all.

 

“My job’s settled — with the government in Lianhu County, Southern Administrative District.” When she said this, for once, there was a rare hint of nervousness.

 

We often lament fate’s unfairness, but most people only complain — few have the courage to fight against it.

 

Long ago, Jing Ling had once entertained similar thoughts, wanting to change something — but in the end, he bowed to reality. He didn’t even get the chance to act before fleeing abroad in disgrace. Yet, he still failed to escape misfortune.

 

“Yunshu, do what you want to do. Whatever it is, don’t be afraid. I’ll always be here.”

 

 

Chapter 82

 

 

Why would someone give up the opportunity to study abroad and a high-paying, respectable job to choose a government position in a remote county? The poverty and backwardness of the general environment, whether it’s transportation or daily life, can hardly be called convenient. The repetitive and monotonous work—there’s practically nothing satisfying about it. Humans are highly purpose-driven creatures. When doing something, there’s usually a goal to achieve. Even if it’s just for fun, that’s still a reason.

 

“Jing Ling, let me tell you a story.” Yunshu sat down beside him, reaching out to wrap her arms around his waist, her whole body snuggling into his embrace.

 

There was a faint fragrance on the girl’s body—not the popular perfume that most girls liked to use, but a natural scent of plants and trees. Yunshu liked growing plants. Whenever she had to stay in one place for an extended period, her room would quickly turn into a small indoor garden, filled with easy-to-care-for plants. Over time, she naturally carried a breath of nature on her.

 

Jing Ling originally got along with Yunshu very naturally, but tonight, after that gossiping Shen Ze stirred things up, he felt a little awkward facing her closeness. Fortunately, he didn’t show it too obviously. Yunshu was lost in her own thoughts and didn’t notice. He quickly adjusted his mindset, relaxed his body, and gently stroked her long hair, his fingers passing through the smooth strands.

 

“Mm, I’m listening.”

 

Before her younger brother was born, Yunshu’s life could be considered relatively normal. Her father always had a serious expression, never smiling. Her mother was busy every day playing mahjong with other housewives, frequenting beauty salons, and constantly looking for and trying all kinds of folk remedies to have a son. During her limited childhood years, the two of them were always like this, to the point where she thought that was simply their nature. Until Tan Yunzhong was born. She stood outside the delivery room with her father, waiting. When the nurse came out and congratulated him, saying it was a boy, that perpetually stern face instantly blossomed with a smile.

 

And inside the delivery room, her mother, for once, smiled at Yunshu so gently, beckoning her over, “Come quickly and see your little brother. He’s so cute. As his older sister, you must take good care of him in the future.” At that time, Yunshu was still young. She didn’t know what that meant. Obediently, she walked over and saw the wrinkled newborn in the swaddling clothes, instinctively frowning, “So ugly!”

 

Caught off guard, a slap landed on her face.

 

“How can you talk like that! Who taught you that!” Her mother’s expression suddenly changed.

 

Her face stung with heat. Yunshu instinctively raised her hand to cover it, her eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment. Relatives who rushed over upon hearing the news were all eager to see the newborn and didn’t notice the little one standing by the bed. In the commotion, she was pushed down to the ground. Looking up, all she saw were tall backs. No one helped her. She just sat on the ground for a long time, watching them laugh joyfully, listening to them take turns praising how cute the newborn was.

 

For a long time afterward, every time Yunshu recalled that afternoon, those scenes replayed in her mind, and her heart would throb with a faint, dull ache.

 

Tan Yunzhong wasn’t exactly stupid. He was simply spoiled beyond measure. Whatever he wanted, someone would quickly deliver it to him. When one could effortlessly get whatever they desired without the slightest effort, striving lost all meaning.

 

The two of them were three years apart. Naturally, they attended the same primary school. Tan Yunzhong’s daily concerns were all about good food and fun, while Yunshu naively thought that as long as she got good grades, she could win her parents’ attention. After all, that was how it worked for other kids.

 

And what was the result?

 

The teachers, knowing Tan Yunzhong’s family background, didn’t say much openly, but privately, they inevitably compared the siblings. After Tan Yunzhong accidentally overheard this, driven by his ridiculous sense of pride, he confronted Yunshu, warning her not to take first place again. Yunshu ignored him, so he ran to their mother to complain.

 

Soon, Yunshu was scolded by their mother, “I’ve taught you since you were young. Yunzhong is still a child. As his older sister, you should know how to give way to him. You’re a girl; one day, you’ll get married. But Yunzhong is different. He’s a boy. In the future, he’ll inherit the family business. He’ll be your and Yun Jin’s support…”

 

Yunshu liked the word “first.” She liked seeing her name at the top of the honor roll. So she refused to obey. The consequence was that in her second year of middle school, she was transferred to an ordinary school in a remote county, boarding there, only allowed to return home once every two weeks.

 

“You can come back whenever you realize your mistake.”

 

The living conditions in the county couldn’t compare to the city. At first, she struggled to adapt but never once thought of admitting fault. There, she met a very good friend. The girl’s name was Li Zhaodi, her deskmate and roommate. She called her A Zhao.

 

A Zhao’s family lived in a remote village within the county’s jurisdiction. The school was far from home. She had to head to school before dawn, carrying a torch, and returned home at dusk. There were many children like her. Her family’s conditions were considered decent for the village. She was admitted to the county’s middle school after primary school and came here to study.

 

She worked hard, listened attentively in class, and used every spare moment to ask teachers or classmates for help with things she didn’t understand. Even in the best middle school in the city, Yunshu could easily hold the top spot—not only because she was smart but also because of her efforts. After she transferred, whenever A Zhao encountered difficulties, she would discuss them with her. In return, A Zhao took care of Yunshu’s daily life as much as possible.

 

The two of them were once very close, until later, something happened.

 

It was in the second half of the third year of middle school, close to the high school entrance exams. A Zhao’s grades ranked among the top in the school, and getting into the county’s key high school was practically guaranteed. The teachers loved to tell students about life in university, and A Zhao had always longed for that. She and Yunshu agreed to go to County No.1 High School together, then work hard to get into the same university so they could visit each other often.

 

However, one weekend, after returning home, A Zhao’s mood was visibly off when she came back. After Yunshu repeatedly pressed her, she finally cried and told Yunshu what had happened.

 

A Zhao had a younger brother, three years her junior. That year, he had just finished primary school and was preparing for middle school. His grades weren’t good, and he couldn’t get into the county’s middle school. But their parents were unwilling to let him stay at the village school, so they gritted their teeth, pulled some strings, and paid an exorbitant “school selection fee” to force him into the county’s middle school. A Zhao’s family was considered well-off compared to other villagers, but at most, they could barely afford to send two children to school in the county—that was already their limit. But the fee for her brother’s admission had nearly drained all their savings. They could only afford to keep one child in school now.

 

The choice of who to keep and who to abandon was self-evident.

 

That night, Yunshu clutched her bank card, where she’d secretly saved a little money, unable to sleep. She tossed and turned until dawn, finally drifting off. Before falling asleep, she thought that when morning came, she’d tell A Zhao not to worry—that she’d lend her the money to stay in school, get through this tough time, and deal with the future later.

 

But when she woke up, there was no chance to say that anymore.

 

Before dawn, A Zhao jumped from the window in the corridor of their sixth-floor dormitory building. The dormitory supervisor, awakened by the noise, opened the door to find someone lying on the ground, bl00d spreading across the floor like a crimson flower. Many light sleepers were also awakened. They opened their windows and looked down, their screams echoing across the campus.

 

Suicide by jumping is always horrifying. But when Yunshu saw A Zhao’s body from afar, she didn’t feel afraid, only heartache. That was the first time she truly realized the fragility of life. She grieved for A Zhao, but wasn’t she also pitying herself? They shared similar fates, both in unfortunate circumstances. But at the same time, there were differences. Compared to A Zhao, her situation was still much better.

 

That was the age when her thirst for knowledge was at its peak, and also the time when her self-awareness truly awakened. Unlike most around her, who looked forward to the future, Yunshu was searching—searching for what it was that caused girls like her and A Zhao, and many others like them, to encounter such misfortune.

 

“Compared to studying abroad for graduate school or accepting a high-paying job, a government job is truly the worst possible choice. It will continually drag down my quality of life. But it’s the best way to fulfill my wish. I hope that one day, I can have a real say, and do my best to ensure that girls like A Zhao can stay far away from everything she once suffered.”

 

“I once wavered too. Applying to foreign universities for graduate school was nothing but cowardice—a desire to escape, to leave it all behind, never to return.”

 

“Thank you… for giving me the courage to stay.”

 

By the end, Yunshu’s voice was choked with sobs. Her face was buried in Jing Ling’s chest, her burning tears soaking through the thin summer T-shirt, as if scorching his heart like fire.

 

“Don’t be sad. I’ll always be here with you.” He softly comforted her. “You report there in early September, right? I’ll be going to Jiangcheng at the end of August to film a show. I can’t accompany you when you report in, but I can take some time now to go with you first, help you find a place to live, buy furniture, and set up your little garden. When I come back from Jiangcheng, I’ll get you a little pet.”

 

“Okay!” Yunshu responded, her voice muffled.

 

“It’s already very late. Go to sleep.”

 

It was a long while before Yunshu left his embrace. Her eyes were slightly swollen, the rims of her eyes and the tip of her nose faintly red. She stood up, wearing their matching slippers, walked to the door, then turned back, “I’m going to sleep now.”

 

Jing Ling pretended not to understand the look in her eyes. “Good night.”

 

Yunshu paused for a moment, then replied, “Good night.”

 

Once the door closed, Jing Ling sat back down on the sofa, narrowed his eyes slightly, and fell into deep thought. He had once been part of the public security system and had also worked in the government. Compared to men, women were naturally at a disadvantage. Wanting to climb the ladder in such places was harder than anywhere else. But since Yunshu wanted to, he would do everything in his power to clear the obstacles for her.

 

Originally, the Tan family’s status should’ve been an excellent advantage and a strong starting point for Yunshu. But in reality, it was the exact opposite. It could be said the Tan family themselves had pushed her onto this path. She chose the South Administrative District instead of the West Administrative District precisely to prevent the Tan family from interfering.

 

But now, it didn’t matter anymore. With him around, the Tan family shouldn’t even dream of reaching over this time! The favor he’d been keeping with Xu Shaohuai—it was finally time to put it to use.

 

Chapter 83

 

 

Xu Shaohuai probably paid more attention to Jing Ling, so when he called over, he had already guessed Jing Ling’s intentions with almost complete accuracy. He was a man of his word; once he promised a favor, he would fulfill it. No matter when you wanted to use it, you could. But how to use this favor was the real question.

 

“Your little girlfriend is pretty lucky. She chose the right place. Previously, you caught a demon in the Changchu Mountain Range, and in the end, handed it over to the Qin City police. The credit for the case also went to them. Chen Xuansong, the head of the Qin City Public Security Bureau, was commended by the higher-ups and was transferred to be the Deputy Director of the Songzhou Public Security Department. Lianhu County happens to be under Songzhou, in Lianshan City. Good steel needs to be used on the blade. I don’t need to explain this to you, do I? If you use this favor well, it might yield some unexpected good results.”

 

“Thank you for the reminder, Officer Xu.” Jing Ling was not just being polite with these words. Xu Shaohuai saying this sincerely meant he was genuinely trying to guide him. A favor wasn’t like the balance in a bank account; you couldn’t withdraw it in countless small, scattered amounts whenever you wanted, with the rest always there. If you kept bothering people over trivial matters, even the biggest favor wouldn’t hold up after a few times.

 

“I’ve seen many young people like you. Plenty are smart and talented, but not many are sensible. Uncle Li taught you well.” Xu Shaohuai suddenly sighed. “I’m a few years older than you. If you don’t mind, just call me Brother Xu from now on.”

 

“My honor.” Jing Ling replied honestly, then immediately started teasing, “But seriously, Brother Xu, you’re not just a few years older than me, more like over ten years, okay?”

 

“…Get lost, you cheeky little brat!”

 

After exchanging pleasantries with Xu Shaohuai, Jing Ling temporarily put the matter aside and focused on Yunshu’s situation. Qin City was a bit far from Lianshan, about a three-hour flight. Jing Ling booked an early morning flight for the next day, landed around noon, picked a convenient place for lunch, then took a taxi straight to the bus station and caught a coach to Lianhu.

 

Lianshan City was true to its name. Over eighty percent of the area was covered with continuous, undulating mountains, a genuine mountain city. Due to the geographical conditions, road and transportation development was hindered, which in turn slowed down the overall economic development. Lianhu, being one of the most remote counties under Lianshan City, similarly bore the bold, capitalized label of “poor,” overall not even comparable to some developed towns.

 

For safety reasons, Jing Ling decided to rent a place for Yunshu right next to the Public Security Sub-bureau. Their luck wasn’t bad; after walking around a bit, they found a suitable place right behind the bureau—a two-bedroom, one-living room, one-kitchen, one-bathroom apartment on the third floor facing the sun, with a small balcony of several square meters. After checking the condition of the apartment and confirming there were no issues, they signed the rental agreement on the spot.

 

The furniture was neither new nor old—it could definitely be used—but Jing Ling disliked settling. Conveniently, there was an extra room, which he directly used to store these old things. He spent the entire afternoon moving everything out of the apartment. In the evening, they went out for dinner, then headed to the furniture plaza and picked out almost everything they needed in one go, paying the deposit on the spot.

 

That night, the two stayed in a hotel. Jing Ling calmly booked two rooms with his ID under the waiter’s slightly odd look.

 

The next morning, the people from the furniture market delivered and installed everything as agreed. Jing Ling moved a double-seater sofa onto the balcony with Yunshu. In front of them was a small round leisure table, a sketchbook, and a pencil. The two discussed how to design the small garden. Occasionally, the installation workers would ask for their opinion, and they would get up to take a look.

 

Before evening, everything was installed. By then, it had been less than two days since they rented the place. It was exactly like the saying—when you have money, many things are not a problem.

 

After that, Jing Ling stayed in Lianhu for another two days, waiting for the custom-made flower racks to arrive and helped install and arrange them. It was already late August by then. There were only a few days left before Yunshu had to report to her new position, and the crew for the variety show Wilderness Adventure that Jing Ling was supposed to film had already headed to the location a few days prior. After the preliminary preparations, filming was scheduled to start in early September. In other words, Jing Ling had already delayed joining the crew for a few days. Although he really wanted to accompany Yunshu when she reported in, the crew had already been very understanding. He couldn’t let them down.

 

The day Jing Ling left, Yunshu accompanied him to the county bus station. Just before the coach was about to leave, she suddenly stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down, and planted a kiss on his lips.

 

In an instant, there were whistles and teasing sounds from the surroundings.

 

Her soft lips brushed against his and quickly retreated. Yunshu stood there with a slight smile, her cheeks a little flushed, reminding him, “Be careful when you’re working.”

 

Having learned from last time, Jing Ling didn’t freeze up this time. He reached out to brush the stray hairs from her forehead behind her ear and nodded, “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. I probably won’t have signal over there. If anything happens, call Brother Xu. I saved his number for you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The coach engine roared to life, the automatic doors closed, and the bus drove out of the station. Originally, this would’ve been just another ordinary trip, with strangers barely exchanging a word beyond “excuse me” and “thank you.” But because of Yunshu’s earlier kiss, a few young men sitting nearby leaned over to chat with Jing Ling, looking envious. They meant no harm and spoke with proper boundaries, so Jing Ling casually chatted with them in low voices. The nearly two-hour ride from Lianhu County to Lianshan City passed quickly.

 

By the time Jing Ling arrived in Jiangcheng, it was already evening. He called Yunshu to let her know he was safe. After chatting briefly, another incoming call popped up. He glanced at the screen—it was Shen Ze, as expected. After reminding Yunshu to lock the doors and windows at night, he hung up and answered Shen Ze’s call.

 

“Ah Ze.”

 

“I’m waiting for you outside the airport.”

 

Shen Ze had come to pick him up. The two left by taxi, stayed at a hotel for the night, and early the next morning, they took a boat to Coconut Island to meet up with the production crew. On the way, Shen Ze mentioned, “One of the originally scheduled guests couldn’t make it last minute. The show replaced them with someone else. Guess who came knocking—Yu Leyang.”

 

The two fanbases had just torn into each other viciously not long ago. Yu Leyang himself had even posted vague insults about Jing Ling on Weibo. Now the two had to collaborate again—the amount of buzz this could stir up was practically guaranteed. The production team was obviously thrilled about this.

 

“He wants to reclaim his dignity?” Jing Ling asked.

 

“Probably.” Shen Ze nodded.

 

“A brain is a wonderful thing. Shame he doesn’t have one.” Jing Ling shook his head, sighing.

 

Yu Leyang really was dead set on making a comeback. Back when they filmed A Day with Your Idol, he completely lost face during the haunted house challenge and got ruthlessly mocked online. Even his manager joined in with the outsiders to laugh at him. Yu Leyang was a petty person by nature, couldn’t stand seeing others do well, and there was no way he’d swallow this humiliation. As the saying goes, wherever you fall, that’s where you get back up. Though Jing Ling wouldn’t be appearing on A Day with Your Idol again anytime soon, there was still Wilderness Adventure. One of the scheduled guests wasn’t very famous. After pulling some strings for two days, Yu Leyang got someone to take care of it for him. Thus, the low-profile guest got “injured” and regrettably withdrew, making way for the popular young idol Yu Leyang’s grand entrance.

 

Yu Leyang knew his biggest assets were his face and height. Because of this, besides rigorously protecting his face, he frequently hit the gym, building up a set of eight-pack abs. Every now and then, he’d post a photo on Weibo, instantly flooding the comments with drooling fangirls begging for a one-night stand.

 

He had paid attention to Wilderness Adventure before. The show was based on the wildly popular foreign wilderness survival documentary Survival Guide, but with some modifications for the domestic version. After all, it was a variety show with celebrities—there was no way they could endure the harsh conditions of the original. It wouldn’t be entertaining, and the stars wouldn’t last. Forget long-term filming; they’d probably tap out in a day.

 

But compared to other variety shows, Wilderness Adventure was still notoriously unfriendly. Participants were only given minimal supplies and had to survive in the wild for a period of time. In the first season, none of the stars were popular, but after the show aired, two of them became overnight sensations.

 

Before joining the crew, Yu Leyang rewatched the previous season. The viewer comments were filled with “666666” (slang for “awesome”), but he didn’t think it was that big of a deal. With the limited supplies plus whatever natural resources the wild provided, surviving didn’t seem that hard.

 

What he really needed to figure out was how to drag Jing Ling down.

 

On the third day after Jing Ling joined the crew, filming officially began.

 

A helicopter carried the participants away from the developed area of Coconut Island, flew over the primeval jungle, and headed to the other side of the island. But it didn’t land—it continued flying over the sea, arriving at a group of uninhabited islets affiliated with Coconut Island.

 

It turned out the rules for this season had changed, with the difficulty level doubled. After the first season, some popular stars had wanted to join, but were scared off by the new rules. Yu Leyang, completely focused on reclaiming his pride, hadn’t paid attention to this at all. His manager noticed but couldn’t be bothered to warn him since they were on bad terms.

 

It was a beautiful, sunny day. The helicopter hovered over the sea, the rapidly spinning rotor blades kicking up huge sprays of water. When the crew reminded him it was time to jump, Yu Leyang stared at the vast, endless sea and the distant, deserted islands—and was utterly dumbfounded.

 

Wasn’t it agreed they’d be filming on Coconut Island? Why the hell weren’t they dropping him off there???

 

Chapter 84

 

 

This episode of Wilderness Adventure had a total of six guests participating in the recording, five men and one woman. They were not all from the entertainment industry. For example, the only girl in the team was the leading female streamer of a certain livestream platform, with each of her streams attracting millions of viewers. Another example was the thin and weak-looking guy wearing black-rimmed glasses. He was a top student from the Agricultural University, nicknamed the “Walking Encyclopedia of Biology.” Be it creatures that fly in the sky, run on land, or swim in the water, or various common plants, he could basically name them all off the top of his head.

 

The remaining four people were all from the entertainment industry, but apart from Jing Ling and Yu Leyang, who had some fame, the other two were true minor celebrities at the bottom of the industry ladder, only having played supporting roles in a few dramas and not a single lead role to their name.

 

That being said, for this episode, the production team changed the rules, dropping the guests from helicopters into the sea about several hundred meters from an uninhabited island, leaving them to find their own way to shore. The production team’s small helicopter could only carry two people at a time. Before departure, the six of them drew lots to decide the order. Yu Leyang had bad luck and drew first place, with his partner being the minor celebrity Liu Wei.

 

Compared to the completely dumbfounded Yu Leyang, Liu Wei was slightly better off. The sunny young man had a bitter smile on his face at this moment. “I’ll go first.”

 

The helicopter hovered about three meters above the water. Liu Wei took a deep breath, carrying his backpack, and directly jumped down. The sound of his entry into the water was drowned out by the roar of the helicopter’s rotor blades. Only a splash of water could be seen on the sea’s surface, then his body quickly floated up. After signaling an OK gesture to the production crew, he began swimming towards the distant island.

 

Yu Leyang looked at Liu Wei swimming in the sea and cursed silently. With this contrast, he obviously couldn’t keep clinging to the helicopter; otherwise, it was easy to imagine how he would be ridiculed after the episode aired. Fortunately, apart from working out at the gym, he also liked swimming. After taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, he jumped directly into the sea.

 

The helicopter returned to pick up the remaining people and soon disappeared from sight.

 

In the vast sea, for a moment, only the sound of the waves remained. Liu Wei had already swum a good distance ahead. He turned back and shouted, “Yu Leyang, hurry up! I’m worried there might be sharks here!” At that moment, a wave hit, splashing all over Yu Leyang’s face. He didn’t hear the whole sentence clearly, but the last two crucial words were not missed.

 

When there was a possibility of life-threatening danger, everything else could be put aside. They were close to shore, estimated to be about two hundred meters away, but two hundred meters in the sea and two hundred meters in a swimming pool were two completely different levels of difficulty. By the time the two of them reached the shore, they were both utterly exhausted.

 

Jing Ling was in the second group to set off, partnered with the only girl in the team, Qiao Qiao. As a girl, Qiao Qiao received a slight advantage—the production team prepared a life jacket for her. She had good mental composure; although very nervous, she still managed to joke with Jing Ling, “Male god, I’m entrusting my life to you!”

 

“Alright.” Jing Ling agreed, jumped into the sea first, surfaced, tilted his head back, and signaled to Qiao Qiao. The latter nodded, then with an exaggerated expression of heroic sacrifice, closed her eyes and screamed as she jumped down.

 

The sea breeze stirred the waves, constantly pushing the two of them away from the beach in the opposite direction. They struggled against the resistance, finally reaching the shallows, ending their floating state, and stood up to walk. Qiao Qiao lagged slightly behind. Earlier, Jing Ling had to look back at her every so often and occasionally pull her along. Now that they were almost ashore, he no longer had to constantly keep an eye on her.

 

The seawater was already below waist level. A few more steps and they would be on land. At that moment, Jing Ling heard Qiao Qiao exclaim in surprise and hurriedly turned his head.

 

Qiao Qiao bent over, her head close to the water. “Male god, come look quickly! Is this a jellyfish? It’s transparent and kinda pretty!” She turned her head to beckon Jing Ling over and pointed at something in the water, seemingly wanting to touch it.

 

“Don’t touch it. It might be poisonous!” Jing Ling quickly stopped her, then walked back to her side. When he got closer, he saw what she was talking about—it was just a small, ordinary jellyfish. It wasn’t poisonous, but luck was unpredictable. If it happened to be a poisonous one, that would be a disaster. So, he still gave her a reminder. “In the future, don’t randomly touch things you don’t recognize. If it’s poisonous, you’ll be in trouble.”

 

Upon hearing this, Qiao Qiao looked visibly scared and subconsciously patted her chest. “Thank goodness, thank goodness!” Then she nodded at Jing Ling, “Thanks for saving my life, male god!”

 

“Just call me by my name.” Jing Ling said helplessly. “We should get going. In these coastal areas, there could very well be sharks. Be careful of the coral underfoot, they’re sharp—don’t get cut.”

 

“Got it!” Qiao Qiao playfully stuck out her tongue and followed Jing Ling ashore.

 

The six guests were divided into three groups. Although they were all dropped near the same island, they landed at different locations. Their first goal after coming ashore was to regroup. That meant Jing Ling and Qiao Qiao were not in the same place as Yu Leyang and Liu Wei.

 

After coming ashore, Jing Ling stood in place, scanning the island roughly with his eyes, quickly determining their first objective—find a high point to observe the island’s environment. With luck, they might spot the first group. At the very least, it would help plan their next route or search for food. Not far ahead was a high ground formed by piled-up reefs, the highest point within their line of sight.

 

“Let’s head over there.” Jing Ling pointed at the reef pile and spoke to Qiao Qiao. The latter nodded. The two of them walked along the coast. After advancing a few dozen meters, Jing Ling suddenly stopped.

 

“What’s wrong?” Qiao Qiao asked in confusion.

 

Jing Ling pointed at the water. “Look over there.”

 

Following the direction of his finger, Qiao Qiao looked over. In the shallow water, there was a huge shadow. Two brown, triangular-shaped objects were sticking out of the surface. It took her two seconds to realize what it was, and she immediately screamed in fright, “Ahhh—shark—!”

 

Yes, it was a shark, and not far from where the two of them had come ashore. If they hadn’t been lucky, they might have been bitten.

 

Jing Ling suddenly regretted letting Qiao Qiao see this, but there was no helping it. He could only comfort her first. But it wasn’t all bad—the terrified scream carried far with the sea breeze. With luck, maybe Yu Leyang and the others would hear it. He thought optimistically.

 

After walking along the long coastline, they reached the reef pile. From afar, it hadn’t seemed that tall, but standing at the base and looking up, it was roughly fifteen meters, nearly the height of a five-story building. After years of sea breeze erosion and waves crashing, the surface of the reef had been polished smooth, making it nearly impossible to climb with bare hands.

 

Jing Ling walked along the base for a while and finally found a spot that could be climbed—a crack in the rock face. Although still steep, at least there were footholds, and occasionally vines dangled from the rock crevices, which might provide some support.

 

This spot, which was already a bit challenging for him, was practically impossible for Qiao Qiao. She was petite, about 1.6 meters tall. Standing under the massive reef pile, she looked even smaller. She craned her neck to look up, and the height made her legs tremble. Swallowing hard, she asked, “Jing Ling, can we take a different route? It’s too high—I can’t do it!”

 

“It’s fine. I’ll pull you up after I go.” Jing Ling patted her shoulder. In his backpack were climbing ropes and a few practical survival tools, unlike the others who more or less carried some food. Considering Qiao Qiao’s limited upper-body strength as a girl, he tied the rope to her beforehand for simple safety.

 

The crevice was over ten meters high, with some loose rocks. As Jing Ling climbed upward, many rocks were dislodged. Although Qiao Qiao had been warned in advance to stand aside, every time the rocks tumbled down with a rumbling sound, her heart still quivered.

 

Time seemed to stretch endlessly at this moment. She felt like she had waited a long, long time before finally hearing Jing Ling’s voice from above, “All set!” She instinctively raised her hand to check her watch—only about twenty minutes had passed.

 

With Jing Ling’s help, Qiao Qiao half-climbed, half-pulled up to the top of the reef pile. Her clothes, which had dried under the sea breeze and blazing sun, were once again soaked with sweat. Standing atop the high ground, the sea breeze blew directly in her face, and there was a faint salty, fishy smell in the air. From up high, looking down, the coastline they had landed on earlier curved inward on both sides, resembling a crescent moon. The blue sky, white clouds, sandy beach, and green trees painted an unexpectedly pleasant scene.

 

Qiao Qiao was thrilled. She spread her arms and cheered on the spot, then turned to the production crew to take a few photos of her. She was determined to show off on Weibo when she got back.

 

Jing Ling had brought binoculars, which now came in handy. The island wasn’t large; through the binoculars, one could see the other end directly. Not long after they came ashore, the helicopter delivered the last group to another beach. That place was probably closer to Yu Leyang and the others. Coupled with some luck, the two groups quickly met up. Now, Jing Ling could see the other four people through the binoculars. Not only that, but within their line of sight was another island, much larger than this one.

 

Standing in place, he waved his arms and shouted in that direction. The sea breeze carried his voice over, allowing the other two groups to discover their location. Afterward, he led Qiao Qiao down the reef pile, through a patch of forest, and reunited with them.

 

By the time the three groups gathered, it was almost two in the afternoon. The scorching sun, clear blue skies, and cloudless weather might have been good news under other circumstances, but not for them. Under the intense sunlight, the human body quickly loses water. Without food, one could still survive for a long time, but without water, three days at most.

 

However, the others didn’t seem too anxious because they had water and food, enough to last a while.

 

Yu Leyang sat in the shade, holding a bottle of mineral water, and asked Jing Ling, “Want some?” His eyes were filled with undisguised pride. Being able to one-up Jing Ling from the start was a good omen for him.

 

Jing Ling shook his head.

 

Yu Leyang raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be shy, we’re teammates.”

 

Jing Ling declined again. “No need, thanks.” It wasn’t that his pride made him unable to accept, but that he had his own way of replenishing water.

 

Chapter 85

 

 

Jing Ling’s target was the few coconut trees not far away. As tropical sun-loving plants, coconuts were very common on these high-temperature, rainy, and sunny sea islands, bearing fruit all year round. Coconut water not only replenished hydration, but its nutritional value was also extremely high—completely incomparable to mineral water.

 

Following Jing Ling’s gaze, Yu Leyang easily realized his intention and showed a delighted expression. “I know coconuts are edible, but don’t you think the trees are too tall?”

 

Indeed, as he said, though the coconuts were good, getting them into their mouths was a bit difficult. The coconut trees were very tall, with straight trunks and no extra branches to assist climbing. When Jing Ling reunited with Qiao Qiao and Yu Leyang on the beach ahead, they had already noticed these coconut trees early on, but there was no way to get the coconuts down.

 

Jing Ling nodded. “It’s a bit difficult, but still doable.”

 

Yu Leyang suddenly recalled how, during the filming of Island on one of the Twelve Islands, Jing Ling had demonstrated his tree-climbing skills, directly impressing Director Gu, who allowed him to perform without a stunt double. At the time, he had moved through the tall branches like a monkey, shocking many people. An uneasy feeling immediately welled up in his heart—and sure enough, his premonition soon came true.

 

They watched as Jing Ling walked over to the coconut trees. Standing beneath them, he tilted his head back as if surveying the situation, then chose one that was relatively shorter and leaning slightly to one side. He tossed his backpack onto the ground, bent down to untie his shoelaces, took off his shoes, and began climbing the tree.

 

Yu Leyang estimated that the tree was nearly ten meters tall. Liu Wei, who had traveled with them earlier, had tried to climb it but couldn’t even make it two meters. Yet watching Jing Ling climb now, it seemed unexpectedly effortless. Before long, he had reached the top, straddling the coconut tree trunk with both legs, one hand gripping the leaves above, and the other hand reaching directly for the coconuts.

 

Though he said he was picking them, the coconuts were quite large and tightly attached to the tree. Jing Ling only had one hand free to exert force, so he could only twist them off. After a few twists, a green coconut fell from the tree, landing on the beach and kicking up a heap of soft, fine sand.

 

“Wow!” Qiao Qiao cheered from a safe distance. “Jing Ling, keep going, get more!”

 

After giving an “OK” hand gesture, Jing Ling continued wrestling with the coconuts. Not long after, nearly twenty coconuts had been twisted off the tree—enough to replenish the group’s water needs for a day of survival.

 

But there was a problem: climbing up was easy, getting down was hard. Especially for a man, it was practically cruel torture. Jing Ling had to stop and rest every few moves as he descended. After a few times, Yu Leyang figured out the issue and immediately burst into an unkind laugh. The others, affected by him, also started laughing. Those who didn’t laugh outright were suppressing it.

 

Take Qiao Qiao, for example. As an internet streamer, she knew plenty of things, but since they were filming a program, she had to maintain her composure. So she turned around to hide her laughter, her shoulders shaking slightly—if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was crying.

 

Jing Ling rolled his eyes at them. After struggling down from the tree, he sat on the sand, leaned against the trunk to rest for a bit, and then prepared to enjoy the fruits of his labor. The coconut shells were hard, but that was no obstacle for him. He had brought a knife—not provided by the production team, but his own gear. He had swiped it from Big Mouth during his last mission to Changchu Ridge. It was a genuine military product—quality guaranteed.

 

Out of gentlemanly courtesy, Jing Ling opened one for Qiao Qiao. As for the others, they had to fend for themselves.

 

After drinking the coconut water, the group sat together to discuss their plan. Jing Ling briefly described what he had seen from the high vantage point and sought everyone’s opinion.

 

“Our task is to survive on this island for a few days, waiting for a ‘passing rescue ship’ to bring us back to civilization. But the supplies you brought will only last for about two days. After that, you’ll have to rely on finding food to survive. This island is small. I didn’t see any water sources, and food is scarce. But there’s a larger island to the north, not too far from here. I think we can go take a look. What do you all think?”

 

What he said made sense, but just because it made sense didn’t mean others would agree. For example, Yu Leyang was the first to object.

 

“I saw that island too. It’s not far, but Liu Wei told me before that the currents between two islands like this are often areas where sharks appear frequently. Plus, Qiao Qiao confirmed that you guys saw sharks on the other side earlier. I don’t want to feed sharks. If you want to go, go by yourself.”

 

Humans have an innate fear of the ocean—the endless sea, never knowing when a storm might strike and towering waves rise. A single wave could knock a person unconscious. Not to mention the various poisonous or massive creatures lurking in the deep water, enough to terrify anyone.

 

The others agreed with Yu Leyang’s opinion. Especially Qiao Qiao—just thinking about that shark made her shiver.

 

Seeing how determined everyone was, Jing Ling temporarily gave up trying to persuade them, shelving the issue for now. It was still early, so he decided to explore the island. The production team had done preliminary preparation before dropping them here, which meant there had to be resources for survival—whether food or a chance to leave. He leaned more toward the latter, given the existence of the larger island nearby. There was no reason they wouldn’t place them in a more spacious area.

 

Earlier, he had only glanced down from above and hadn’t checked carefully. After he proposed exploring the island, the others became slightly interested and got up to set off.

 

After making a round, he indeed found something useful—bamboo.

 

What was bamboo good for? The answer: making a raft to cross the water to the other island. So when he brought up going to the other island again, the group didn’t reject him outright like before but appeared a little hesitant.

 

“Let’s build the raft first and then decide,” suggested Zhang Hengyi, one of the two people from Group Three.

 

“No problem.”

 

The group then divided the work. Two people cut bamboo, two carried it to the beach. As the only girl, Qiao Qiao didn’t have to do the heavy lifting—she just searched for soft vines or other materials suitable for binding. Jing Ling, as the one who proposed the plan, was responsible for constructing the raft.

 

The saying “many hands make light work” wasn’t just talk. With everyone’s cooperation, the raft was quickly built. Newly made things generally couldn’t be used right away—especially in this situation—it had to be tested first. They pushed the raft into the water together. The hollow, segmented bamboo had strong buoyancy, and the bound raft floated steadily on the water’s surface.

 

Jing Ling jumped on to test it, then added two more people—no problems.

 

One raft, one pole—they made three trips and successfully transported everyone to the larger island on the other side.

 

After they all crossed over, the production team finally told them that they had actually placed shark repellent on the island, stored in bottles of the program’s sponsor’s drink, not even hidden very well. Who would’ve thought they were so capable?

 

Jing Ling and the others exchanged glances, all speechless.