Chapter 28#
Ten Days Left#
The owner of the breakfast shop downstairs was good-looking.
Fair-skinned, thin, and possessing a temperament that felt out of place in the dilapidated apartment building. His eyes were so beautiful that people felt awkward staring directly at them, only daring to take occasional glances at the red mole on his earlobe.
It looked like an ear piercing without a stud.
The ear cartilage was thin, soft, and translucent against the light, revealing the intricate network of capillaries.
In the damp white steam rising from the large pot, staring at such a pair of ears also felt like a sin.
“Would you like seaweed and dried shrimp in your small wontons?”
Yu Lanyin leaned over and placed the piping hot white porcelain bowl on the dining table. The folding table was covered with a layer of plastic matting, clean and neat. His half-old oversleeves were washed until they were pale, and any frayed threads had been carefully trimmed. Every part of him was orderly and tidy. “No limit, you can add more yourself. They’re all handmade and drizzled with sesame oil.”
He spoke in a low voice, gentle and slow, very amiable: “Hot, blow on it before eating.”
The breakfast street was bustling at this hour.
Yu Lanyin’s breakfast shop had a wide variety of items, so he was quite busy. This table wanted two deep-fried dough sticks, that table wanted a steamer of BBQ pork buns, and at the next table, someone had accidentally added too much sugar to their soy milk and needed a replacement.
Yu Lanyin pulled apart a pair of disposable chopsticks, scraped off the wooden splinters, and brought a plate of crisp and refreshing small pickles, a steamer of steamed dumplings, and a sesame ball.
Together with the delicious and enticing chicken soup with small wontons, they were placed neatly in front of the System.
“Busy right now,” he said with an apologetic expression. “Is after ten o’clock okay?”
The System sat on a red plastic stool next to the folding table.
“…”
The System ate wontons.
The wontons were handmade and not sloppy at all. The fresh meat filling was firm and chewy, the chicken soup was clear and fragrant, and even the chili was bright red, oily, and incredibly aromatic.
This made Yu Lanyin’s “Snowy Mountain Breakfast Shop” business quite good. Not only did people nearby come to eat every day, but it had also become the spiritual pillar for many office workers.
In a small shop like this, good business easily attracted attention. That’s how the scar under Yu Lanyin’s collar came about—thugs had produced an IOU from somewhere, thinking they could extort some money. They hadn’t expected him to be someone who neither took blackmail nor feared pain.
This story was widely circulated in this area, with slightly different versions, but without exception, everyone knew the result: the thugs were the ones who got scared first.
Seeing the beautiful young owner, covered in blood and amiably holding a kitchen knife without even a frown, more than a dozen people were so frightened that they dropped some harsh words and fled.
This kind of thing actually happened quite often.
Yu Lanyin came to this place at twenty-two, and this was already the third year.
Today was his last day running the breakfast shop.
Like a bolt from the blue, regular customers crowded the place inside and out, thinking that some blind thugs had come to cause trouble again, wishing they could join forces to form a breakfast guard team… It was only after repeated questioning that they found out.
The owner had made enough money.
The money was enough, and Yu Lanyin was going to travel, to the snowy mountains.
“Scared me to death.” An office worker who often came for wontons patted his chest and took a big bite of a fragrant and crispy dough stick. “Then just go! Travel! Relax! How wonderful.”
A little chubby boy next to him, gulping down a poached egg, was curious: “Is the snowy mountain fun?”
“That place is cold.” Older men and women, while stirring pickles into their wonton soup, worriedly advised, “Wear more layers, bring enough clothes, don’t freeze yourself…”
Everyone spoke to him, and the breakfast stall was very lively.
Yu Lanyin agreed one by one, his hands still packing food for a diner. He accidentally spilled a bit of soup, immediately wiped it clean, and added a thick plastic bag on the outside.
Someone teased kindly: “The young owner’s mind is set on traveling like an arrow; his hands aren’t as steady as before!”
Yu Lanyin smiled and wiped his hands with a white towel.
The shape of his hands was beautiful, but inevitably rough. After all, running a breakfast shop was physical labor, having to get up at two or three in the morning to prepare, washing in cold and hot water, and being exposed to the wind.
Even the most beautiful hands had no reason to withstand such tossing.
The early spring wind was still cool, and steaming hot chicken wonton soup was the best thing to soothe the stomach. Many regular customers came, and there were many things to say. They reluctantly ate and packed until the place was empty, and it really dragged on until about ten o’clock.
The System put down the empty bowl and plate and stood up.
Yu Lanyin sat on a plastic stool, his head slightly lowered, staring blankly at his hands.
Hearing footsteps, his cat-like beautiful eyes lifted, and he smiled.
The System asked: “Can you stand up?”
Yu Lanyin seemed to daze for a moment at this question, then regained his expression—that quite standard, flawless amiability—and shook his head.
“From here, to here.” His left hand was still moving freely, and he gestured on his body, from his right shoulder all the way to his knee.
“Sorry.”
He blushed slightly, a bit embarrassed: “Something went wrong.”
According to Article 376 of the Reform Manual, Yu Lanyin should now stand up and pour a cup of hot tea for the guest.
The System was also a guest. The System was the “Villain Redemption System,” Yu Lanyin’s new system—he had just unbound from the previous “Scumbag Reform System.”
He heard that the new system was fully upgraded and could be customized into a human form, so Yu Lanyin boldly asked for a 1.9-meter tough guy with eight-pack abs. This way, he could help carry the folding tables, plastic stools, steamers, and large iron pots to the second-hand market to be sold.
This was an important physical task.
Roughly estimated, they could be sold for about a thousand yuan.
It wasn’t a small amount of money; if he found the right time for a discount special, he could even book a five-star hotel.
“Why the sudden notice for a full upgrade?” Yu Lanyin followed the standard, leaning forward slightly, engaging in polite conversation with the new System. “Are there any changes in the rules?”
System: “…No.”
It was said from above that a Villain Redemption System that didn’t upgrade would be tricked by humans into resigning and staying to become a mushroom.
The System didn’t know the details, but humans—especially villainous humans—were said to be cunning, treacherous, and full of tricks, easily deceiving others. One must be vigilant.
The System knew Yu Lanyin was a villain.
These diners were all deceived by Yu Lanyin; the past Yu Lanyin was not like this at all.
The past Yu Lanyin was arrogant, beautiful, incomparably smart, prickly and hurtful, and haughty to the point of being pampered. Later, after entering the family business, he became even more lawless.
It was just that a villain was, after all, a villain, and a villain had to face retribution. Now Yu Lanyin had fallen on hard times, lost his capital for pride, and had been completely remodeled by the previous system. That’s why he became like this, seemingly down-to-earth, hardworking, and amiable… At least that’s what the file the System received said.
“The rules haven’t changed.” The System spoke mechanically. “Congratulations, Yu Lanyin.”
“You’ve performed very well, and the remodeling is very successful.”
“I am here to redeem you.”
Yu Lanyin leaned quietly against the edge of the table without speaking.
His eyes were slightly lowered.
The System said: “I don’t recommend you sell the breakfast shop, nor do I recommend you go to the snowy mountains. According to the plot, your condition will rapidly worsen. In ten days, you will completely collapse and be fully paralyzed. Song Baoxiao will take you to his home. Because of this, you will open your hearts to each other, and finally have a Happy Ending (HE).”
Yu Lanyin: “HE.”
“It means Happy Ending,” the System explained. “A good ending, happy, joyful, everyone is satisfied.”
Yu Lanyin knew. He nodded and was about to speak when the sound of a car engine suddenly came.
Song Baoxiao’s car.
Originally, Song Baoxiao was a senior one year above Yu Lanyin, and also an impoverished student Yu Lanyin had sponsored on a whim. The two of them dated for three years, and their breakup from their first love was earth-shattering.
The “Scumbag Reform System” had been bound to Yu Lanyin for a total of three years, and Yu Lanyin had also thoroughly compensated Song Baoxiao for three years as required—delivering breakfast, showing concern, providing companionship, and being available whenever called. He had also faced much retribution and atonement for the “harm caused by his youthful arrogance.”
Now the luxury car stopped by the roadside.
Song Baoxiao got out of the car, walked up to Yu Lanyin, and looked down at him with a cold, distant, and hurtful expression.
Yu Lanyin acted as if he didn’t see it. He picked up an exquisitely packed bento box with his left hand, looked up, and smiled: “Hungry? I saved this for you, your favorite BBQ pork buns.”
Yu Lanyin said: “It’s still warm.”
He had been busy all morning, and in fact, even lifting his left hand was exceptionally difficult and a bit shaky.
The System saw the remaining monitoring module of the “Reform System.” A green light appeared on the virtual screen.
A green light meant the assessment passed.
If it were a red light, Yu Lanyin would be punished. More than ten red lights would mean the villain was stubborn, and an external consciousness would travel over to take over the body.
…
So Yu Lanyin always maintained a quite standard smile, holding that bento box. His face was naturally affectionate; as long as he curved his eyes, he looked sincere and deeply in love.
Song Baoxiao frowned: “I told you I won’t eat it.”
He placed a bag of medicine for spinal nerve nutrition on the table.
These medicines were expensive and often sold out, making them difficult to buy.
The tables had turned. Song Baoxiao’s high-end suit was expensive, and his leather shoes were polished to a shine. Everything was already different from before—Yu Lanyin had fallen to this point, while Song Baoxiao, through his hard work, had moved step by step to become the head of the R&D department of a top pharmaceutical company.
“Thank you,” Yu Lanyin said softly. “It must have been hard for you. Have a taste.”
Yu Lanyin put the bento box on the table, opened the lid, and picked up a BBQ pork bun with chopsticks: “Made it specifically for you. No green onion or ginger water was added. Didn’t you find the local ones unpalatable…”
Before he could finish, the plump white BBQ pork bun at the tip of the chopsticks was knocked away. It bounced twice on the table, leaving a few oil stains, then fell to the ground and rolled in the dirty dust.
A rebellious young man with a head full of yellow hair appeared from the side, staring at Yu Lanyin with eyes full of hostility, looking him up and down: “You with the surname Yu, is this endless act interesting?”
“Xiao Chen.” Song Baoxiao frowned. “What are you doing?”
The rebellious youth ducked his head, scratched his hair carelessly, put his hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened, and sauntered away.
Song Baoxiao looked at the BBQ pork bun on the ground.
He looked at Yu Lanyin: “Sorry, Xiao Chen didn’t mean any harm; he’s just more protective of me.”
“Xiao Chen’s” full name was Song Chen, a cousin from Song Baoxiao’s hometown.
Also a thug.
Yu Lanyin smiled amiably: “Want a taste?”
There were still five BBQ pork buns in the lunch box, all very exquisitely made. Song Baoxiao was not a local; he preferred sweeter flavors and disliked green onion and ginger. Yu Lanyin made them very authentically, with the familiar fragrance of the tea houses in his hometown.
But Song Baoxiao just shook his head, his expression and tone very light: “Eat it yourself.”
He was only there to deliver medicine to Yu Lanyin. After all, Yu Lanyin had developed this disease partly because he had been in a car accident while protecting him. Although he loathed Yu Lanyin’s so-called “compensation” that felt suffocatingly clingy, he wouldn’t shirk his responsibility.
Song Baoxiao didn’t think Yu Lanyin’s illness was very serious. He still thought Yu Lanyin had that arrogant and pampered temper, and was merely using a report sheet to sell misery.
“Yu Lanyin.” Song Baoxiao was silent for a moment, deciding to speak clearly to avoid any unnecessary misunderstanding. “We—”
His words had only just begun when they were interrupted by the crisp sound of a porcelain bowl being smashed.
The yellow-haired Song Chen was “ptui-ing” and spitting out chicken soup while shouting quite exaggeratedly: “What kind of crappy taste is this?!”
He had helped himself to a bowl of cold soup, taken a fake sip, and then smashed it on the ground: “It’s made with MSG, isn’t it? This is clearly pre-prepared food, man. Is this how you do business?”
Song Baoxiao’s expression darkened slightly: “Xiao Chen.”
“I’m not wronging him! Brother, these BBQ pork buns might also be sourced from some small, crappy workshop. You with the surname Yu, do you have a food health permit?”
Song Chen was there today to vent for Song Baoxiao, so he naturally used all his strength to find fault. He also pushed away Song Baoxiao, who was trying to stop him: “Brother, have you forgotten that when you brought him our local specialty back then, he threw it all away? You’re soft-hearted now, but what did he say when he was trashing your feelings?”
Song Baoxiao frowned, his expression a bit complex, and he remained silent.
Song Chen was exultant and rolled up his sleeves, about to smash that lunch box of BBQ pork buns onto the ground as well.
The hand that hadn’t touched the lunch box was grabbed by the System.
The System frowned.
It looked at the terrified Song Chen, then at the bewildered Song Baoxiao.
“Yu Lanyin,” the System turned back and said, “Wait a moment.”
“I suspect I bound the wrong person.”
The System said: “I’m going to check who the villain is.”