Straight Man Gets Reincarnated into an ABO Novel and Ends Up with His Rival - Chapter 23

Shi Yi’s brother sold her game account, the one called [Strawberry Teddy Biscuit], in exchange for another max-level account and a limited-edition designer bag.

She didn’t know what he needed her half-leveled, skinless account for, but hey she came out winning, so who cared.

The duo queue mode in that game wasn’t as competitive as the others. Most people who played it were couples or besties looking to have fun, so it was relatively easy.

It wasn’t all gunfights and strategy for Wang Bu Po, duo mode basically meant see enemy, shoot enemy. No skill, all instinct.

Of course, those who loved gunfights usually gathered at a few popular locations on the map. But some players preferred taking it slow scavenging supplies, sightseeing, enjoying the in-game scenery, even creating their own little virtual romance.

This time, Little Teddy Biscuit wasn’t obsessed with ranking up. Instead, she dragged him all over the map to “check in” at different spots, changing outfits every time they reached a new area.

It was supposed to be a battle royale but somehow, she turned it into a fashion show.

When he used to spend money on the game, Wang Bu Po also liked dressing up his characters in fancy skins. But now that he was broke, he could only live vicariously by picking up outfits others dropped in matches.

He didn’t expect her to suddenly gift him an entire premium skin set worth several thousand yuan he only noticed it when he opened his in-game mailbox.

The gift couldn’t be returned, so he had no choice but to accept it.

Now, his avatar, a black-skinned gorilla-headed character named Raging Unlucky Ape was wearing a frilly pink princess dress while carrying a massive Gatling gun. He fired three celebratory rounds into the air beside Strawberry Teddy Biscuit to show his appreciation.

[Thanks. But next time, you really don’t have to send me anything.] he typed in the chat box.

[You don’t like it?] she asked.

[I do. But it’s not right for a girl to spend money on me. Keep it buy yourself something nice instead. If I want skins, I can get them myself.]

[It’s fine. As long as you like it. Can I add you somewhere else? Like your contact info?]

Wang Bu Po hesitated. He could tell the “girl” on the other side sounded sincere, probably not a scammer.

But this was heading into online romance territory and though he’d carried plenty of girls in games before, he never gave anyone his contact. For him, everything stayed strictly inside the game.

So he politely declined.

[Sorry.]

[Then can I still play with you next time you’re on?]

[Of course. As long as I’m online, you can always find me.]

[Okay. Goodnight.]

[Goodnight.]

—

Ever since the “one-meter distance” experiment that night, it had been a full week without any symptoms. Wang Bu Po hadn’t had another attack, and Fu Jing hadn’t lost control at night since then either.

On Tuesday, his day off from the club, Wang Bu Po slept until noon before realizing something was wrong.

He grabbed one of Fu Jing’s jackets from his room something they’d agreed on beforehand. The faint trace of Fu Jing’s pheromone on the fabric helped calm his nerves. After sending Fu Jing a quick message, he hurried off to A University.

[Bu’er Bu’er]: Calling Vice-Captain. Prepare to collect my corpse.

The reply came quickly.

[Jing]: …Dead?

[Bu’er Bu’er]: Almost. There’s a zombie on its way to you.

[Jing]: West gate.

[Bu’er Bu’er]: [I’m on my way.jpg]

After sending that last message, Wang Bu Po leaned back against the taxi seat. His breath came out hot, his throat dry, and a dull ache started behind his eyes.

The early stage of dependency always hit like this a bit of discomfort, some heat rising through his body, and a slow, unignorable craving for grapefruit juice.

By the time he reached the west gate of A University, Fu Jing was already there, standing under a tree just inside the entrance.

He wore a black hoodie and military-green cargo pants, his tousled hair framing those cool, ink-dark eyes. His jawline was sharp, his lips neither too thin nor too full, pressed in that faintly aloof way of his.

He looked detached indifferent to the world until that tall, slightly awkward dog-like man in a long black coat appeared. Only then did a flicker of emotion cross his eyes.

The dog-like man  Wang Bu Po glanced around nervously before watching how another student swiped a card at the gate scanner. He fumbled a blue card from his pocket, kept his head low, and, after glancing both ways, imitated the motion with forced calm.

When the gate clicked open, he exhaled in relief, his shoulders straightening immediately.

“You’re done with class?” he asked, closing the distance in a few long strides.

“Ended at eleven,” Fu Jing said simply. Then, after a pause, I added, “No classes this afternoon.”

Wang Bu Po nodded, muttering under his breath, “I thought your schedule was packed.”
Fu Jing’s life was so disciplined it made nine-to-fivers look lazy.

The west gate was a quiet one, near the old faculty dorms, few students passed through, mostly professors or older staff.

Without needing to say anything, both of them turned toward the nearby grove. They stayed there for quite some time before emerging again.

Wang Bu Po rubbed the back of his neck. His skin must be made of iron, he thought bitten so many times, yet it never festered. A little bleeding, a few days later, smooth as ever.

The heaviness in his limbs faded the temporary mark working its effect and soon his droopy “puppy eyes” were bright again.

“So what do you usually do on campus when you’re not in class? The national champion of Gun God is here, offering free half-day companionship.”

“Study.”

“Besides studying.”

“Eat.”

“Besides eating.” He rolled his eyes.

“Run.”

“No clubs? You don’t join any clubs?”

“No interest.”

“No activities? No events?”

“Don’t like them.”

Wang Bu Po sighed. “Man, your college life sounds depressing.”

Fu Jing, who had lived twenty years of elite perfection top of every class, fluent in multiple fields, a financial prodigy who became a PhD at eighteen and won the Oscar Prize in Economics at twenty, stayed silent.

“Have you had lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go. I wanna try your school cafeteria. I’m starving.” Wang Bu Po had only nibbled on a few biscuits after waking up, his stomach was empty.

The two walked out from the faculty area and strolled down the tree-lined avenue together.

Fu Jing walked straight ahead, eyes fixed forward; Wang Bu Po followed behind, glancing around curiously at everything.

Neither of them realized that, at that very moment, the A University student forum was exploding.