After that initial chat, Yin Sangyu treated it like a task to check off, contacting Xiao Muyi daily at fixed times.
He portrayed himself as innocent and vibrant, like a little sun that never dims, hoping his cheerful optimism would influence the gloomy villain.
Unfortunately, Xiao Muyi was like a stone—his heart cold and hard.
The panic after his misstep that day was like a fleeting glimpse, never reappearing. Even artificial intelligence, upon hearing someone say, “I’m so upset,” would immediately offer comfort, but Xiao Muyi only responded with a cold “hm.”
From this, Yin Sangyu concluded that Xiao Muyi was less responsive than artificial intelligence.
A week passed quickly, and Xiao Muyi’s redemption value remained at zero, while Yin Sangyu’s head hadn’t had a single day of relief.
He couldn’t fathom how a student diligently studying at school managed to commit a misdeed every day without fail. Even more baffling, the retribution all fell on Yin Sangyu, while Xiao Muyi remained unscathed.
If the system could measure Yin Sangyu’s favorability toward Xiao Muyi, it would undoubtedly be negative one hundred, no negotiation.
The system, most anxious about Yin Sangyu’s failure to meet Xiao Muyi in person, urged: [Host, this approach won’t work on the villain. You should honestly do the tasks.]
[First meeting with Xiao Muyi: 1000 points]
“Not going.” Yin Sangyu’s face darkened. A week of pasting his warm face to Xiao Muyi’s cold backside had ignited his competitive spirit. He refused to believe he couldn’t hook a college student.
Reflecting deeply, Yin Sangyu realized his strategy was flawed.
He had thought that someone with a dark heart like Xiao Muyi would yearn for beautiful things and lower their guard toward the weak.
But now, it seemed he’d misjudged. Yearning for beauty implied a heart with hope and kindness, but Xiao Muyi, in the original novel, walked a path of unrelenting darkness. The protagonist’s countless attempts to guide him back were futile. How could online dating easily sway him?
Perhaps what Xiao Muyi wanted wasn’t redemption but an accomplice…
But if he became Xiao Muyi’s accomplice, how could he talk of redemption?
Yin Sangyu stared at Xiao Muyi’s social media profile—a pitch-black avatar and a personal space still closed to him—his expression gradually twisting.
It was time for his ultimate move.
For men, if attacking the heart failed, attack the body—commonly known as… seduction.
Xiao Muyi’s obvious indifference yet failure to block him suggested only one thing: he was indeed interested in the rare, unattainable omega.
If Yin Sangyu exploited this, even a stone could be pried open.
With the discerning eye of someone who’d seen countless beauties, Yin Sangyu scoured the internet for a plethora of photos of various beautiful women. After meticulous screening, he finally found a pair of near-perfect legs.
Sleek lines, long and shapely, with lustrous white skin that looked utterly healthy.
Yin Sangyu slightly edited the legs, adding an obtrusive bruise, and his work was complete. He opened Xiao Muyi’s chat window.
Flying Little Rabbit: Sob sob sob, it hurts so much. I accidentally bumped into a table [photo].
After sending, Yin Sangyu waited over half an hour before Xiao Muyi responded belatedly.
Lately, the guy had grown even lazier about replying.
Black: It’s not serious. Apply some ointment, and it’ll heal.
Yin Sangyu’s eyes lit up. This was promising—Xiao Muyi didn’t just say “hm” but showed concern. Pressing forward, he continued.
Flying Little Rabbit: But it hurts so much. I’m scared to touch it. If only you were here.
A fierce alpha acting coy was deadly. The system emitted six dots.
Black: Why would it be better if I were there?
Yin Sangyu thought for a moment, his expression tinged with disdain as he sent a cloyingly sweet message that even he found nauseating: If you were here, you could blow on it, and it wouldn’t hurt anymore.
Either Xiao Muyi was repulsed or he ate it up, as he suddenly went silent.
Yin Sangyu wavered, wondering if he’d overdone it and scared Xiao Muyi off, when—
Xiao Muyi, unprecedentedly, sent a voice message.
Puzzled, Yin Sangyu played it, hearing soft blowing sounds—gentle, wispy puffs—followed by a warm, youthful voice, cautious and tentative: I… blew on it. Does it still hurt?
…?
Yin Sangyu froze, cursing inwardly.
Thanks to advanced technology, the voice came through crystal clear, as if warm air truly brushed his earlobe, making his ears flush red instantly.
So this is the kind of villain you are? How does it feel like you’re better at this than me?
Yin Sangyu rubbed his ears, maintaining a composed expression, forcing himself to stay calm and warning himself not to waver.
This was a perverse villain who’d castrate alphas. His current behavior was either a fixation on omega legs or a hidden agenda. Yin Sangyu couldn’t fall for it.
Despite these thoughts, the Flying Little Rabbit account replied honestly: Much better, but it still hurts. Blow again, please, I want more.
Black: …I already blew.
Flying Little Rabbit: Your voice is so nice. One more time, please, I want to hear it again.
Hiding behind an omega identity, Yin Sangyu was utterly shameless, throwing a tantrum to demand Xiao Muyi send more voice messages of blowing and talking.
He finally relented only when Xiao Muyi said he had to go to class and couldn’t send more voice messages.
Yin Sangyu replayed the few voice messages several times, still feeling unsatisfied. Just hearing that voice, anyone might think Xiao Muyi was a shy, introverted college student.
This inexplicably hit a nerve with Yin Sangyu, who mused, “Suddenly, online dating Xiao Muyi doesn’t feel so bad. Of course, only online dating.”
The system, unimpressed by his tough talk contradicted by his actions, reminded: [Your compatibility with him is 100%.]
Yin Sangyu was certain he wasn’t interested in a beta like Xiao Muyi and had never taken the system’s constant talk of compatibility seriously, dismissing it: “Compatibility is just reference data. So what if it’s high?”
With that, he tossed his phone aside.
On the other side, due to health issues, Xiao Muyi couldn’t live in a dormitory, so he rented a small room near the school, where he stayed when free.
Now, lying on his bed, he expressionlessly saved the photo Flying Little Rabbit sent, uploaded it online, and used a similar-image search function.
Almost instantly, his phone screen filled with countless leg photos, each nearly identical, easily overwhelming. Undeterred, he meticulously compared them one by one.
After reviewing nearly a thousand photos, he found it—a famous beta female model’s legs.
Identical to Flying Little Rabbit’s photo, except for the bruise.
Xiao Muyi’s brow furrowed slightly, his dark eyes like a bottomless vortex, swirling with black mist and dust, ready to devour everything.
Why target me?
For amusement, or did they discover something?
The thought that someone might be watching him from an unseen place triggered uncontrollable tension, anxiety, and even anger.
He believed all deliberate approaches stemmed from malice.
Over the past week, he’d scoured every post in Flying Little Rabbit’s personal space, memorizing every line, so he was certain the account’s original owner was a lively, cheerful female omega. But the current user wasn’t.
Despite Flying Little Rabbit’s earnest act, traces of an alpha’s distinct pride seeped through—something betas and omegas couldn’t mimic—and it was highly likely a male.
Accessing an omega’s social media account suggested this alpha was either wealthy or powerful.
Being targeted meant they’d likely met at least once.
And Flying Little Rabbit contacted him the day after “Father” held a banquet.
Xiao Muyi was nominally the adopted son of Li Huaien, a wealthy merchant who, on a whim, took him from an orphanage.
But that was a lie. Li Huaien treated Xiao Muyi as if forced to raise an unwanted, filthy thing, showing utter disdain.
Not only did he never show kindness, but he often beat and scolded him.
Thus, despite the title of young master, Xiao Muyi lived worse than a servant.
Banquets were no place for him, but that day, passing by, a lazy servant unwilling to work ordered him to carry trays in the hall.
Li’s servants were accustomed to bossing Xiao Muyi around, as the gloomy, “mute” boy never refused.
For other tasks, Xiao Muyi, needing to stay quietly in the household, usually complied, but he hated exposing himself to so many eyes. So he deliberately lingered near Li Huaien.
Sure enough, within minutes, Li Huaien spotted him, face darkening, and sent him away. The servant was later fired.
Yet, in that brief moment, someone had noticed him.
Fortunately, the banquet had few guests, mostly older, and Xiao Muyi knew the few young alphas present, making it easy to narrow down suspects.
He had to confirm who it was quickly…
Xiao Muyi relieved anxiety and stress by biting his nails, leaving them jagged. Now, as he gnawed, making clicking sounds, his gaze grew increasingly sinister.
A week had accumulated enough negative emotions. Whoever this alpha was, whatever their purpose, Xiao Muyi had decided they would die in agony.