“God of War! God of War!”
Song Yang was walking alone along the path outside the school cafeteria when he heard shouts behind him. He pulled his jacket tighter, lowering his head and pretending not to hear.
A moment later, someone tapped him on the shoulder. “God of War, is that you?”
Song Yang glanced sideways at the stranger, his expression less than friendly. “I suggest you speak properly.”
The stranger smiled. “Right, sorry. Are you Song Yang from the School of Journalism and Communication? I have a request. Do you take on cursing business?”
“Huh?” Song Yang blinked. “Not a brother, but who are you?”
He replied, “I am from Journalism too. It is like this: I have heard of your exploits, and I want to hire you to argue for me. I was wondering if you take on this niche business and what your rates are per order?”
“It is not niche; it could be called wicked.” Song Yang intended to brush the guy off, but a thought suddenly struck him. He was short on cash lately. Wasn’t this a new way to make money?
His eyes darted around, and he tried to suppress his laughter. “Ahem, does this include personal injury insurance?”
Ji Ting unpacked his new paints, filling the empty spaces on his palette. He dipped his brush in a touch of vermilion and blended it onto the palette, trying to restore the colors from his memory.
Beige, vermilion, and spring green. It seems a bit too thick.
The art studio door opened, and Ji Ting heard his roommate, Ruan Yuan, say, “Cheng Ran moved out of the dorm. He acted pretty fast.”
“I know,” Ji Ting said.
“You saw him?”
“He packed his stuff last night.”
Ruan Yuan sat down in a nearby seat and began tidying up the art supplies scattered on the floor. “Why does our school keep putting out news like this? It ruins our reputation. Good riddance; out of sight, out of mind.”
After saying this, Ruan Yuan received no response from Ji Ting. He subconsciously turned his head to look at him, seeing him fiddling with the palette. “You are painting with gouache? Should you not be practicing your sketching more? Is your final competition not next month?”
“I want to withdraw.”
Ji Ting’s voice was calm, so calm that Ruan Yuan almost suspected he had misheard.
He widened his eyes. “No way. Why?”
Ji Ting lowered his eyelids and added a touch of lilac to the palette. “I have discovered that I have been too eager for success all this time. I want to be quiet for a while and think carefully about what I really want.”
His gaze flickered. A white sheer curtain drifted in the breeze, and a wind chime at the top of the window gave a crisp ring.
“This competition is just a tool for me. Once a hobby becomes a tool, the enjoyment is no longer pure. That is not the result I want.”
“Alright then,” Ruan Yuan replied with a look that said he did not understand, but respected and blessed him. He buried his head back into tidying up the art supplies.
A while later, he chatted idly, “I heard you got involved last night. Do you know Cheng Ran’s little ex-boyfriend?”
Ji Ting paused for a moment, realizing he was talking about Song Yang, and gave a low hum. “A newcomer in the Student Union.”
“No wonder. Do you know he has become a hit online? Those jokers nicknamed him God of War of C*ck.”
“Heh.” Ji Ting chuckled softly. He finally mixed the perfect dark pink shade, dipped his brush evenly, and applied it to the sketch.
The pink eyeshadow appeared like a revived withered rose under his brush. The moonlight seemed to flow along the curly lashes and drop onto the mole on the nose. He then switched to pure white to highlight the glass-like lip makeup.
Ji Ting pulled back from the easel, looked at it for a long time, and whispered, “Indeed, it makes him look young.”
The makeup suited his appearance perfectly, though the little stick of dynamite had not realized it himself.
Ruan Yuan did not hear him clearly. “Huh?”
Ji Ting picked up his brush to refine the details and answered slowly, “I said his little ex-boyfriend is quite cute.”
Ruan Yuan’s expression flashed with astonishment. His brain went into overdrive for a long time, and as if he had guessed something, his eyebrows arched high as he let out a drawn-out “Oh!”
On his way home, Song Yang was humming a tune as he left the subway station. His phone received a notification: “Alipay balance increased by 500 yuan.” He tapped it to check, so excited he could have performed a rocket launch on the spot.
He immediately sent a voice message to his employer: “Received, boss. If you are satisfied, remember to recommend me to your friends. I take orders online and am available on call.”
The reply came back quickly: “OK, God of War. That guy was scolded to pieces today. So satisfying! I am going to post on my Moments to promote you right now.”
Song Yang thought to himself that having many skills really did not weigh one down; it was hard to survive in the world without a few tricks up your sleeve.
When he got home and finished washing up, he walked out of the bathroom drying his damp hair when his phone chimed again.
Lis: I want to hear you call me Big Brother.
Song Yang was full of question marks. Are you having a breakdown?
He furrowed his brows and typed in the input box: I want to hear you call me Dad.
Just as he was about to delete it and find a reason to politely refuse, he accidentally hit Send.
“Grass!” Song Yang’s hand shook in terror. The phone flipped several times in the air and hit the floor with a clatter.
Damn my cheap hand. Recall, recall!
He frantically picked it up, trying to recall the message, but a new one popped up first.
Lis: [Image]
His attention was immediately captured by the image. He paused for a moment and clicked to enlarge it. An exquisite full-body illustration appeared before his eyes.
The style was gorgeous but not cluttered. The figure in the drawing had a faint smile, vivid eyes, and natural gradient hair color. The little flames circling the sides of the head were the finishing touch. The lifelike character seemed to jump off the screen.
Holy sht, it is beautiful!*
Compared to the draft, more details had been added. The design and rendering levels were exceptionally high; it looked like a very expensive piece of work.
Song Yang was stunned. The towel in his hand slipped away unnoticed. He wiped his eyes and admired it repeatedly, his heart surging with excitement, and he could not help but fall to his knees with a thump.
He excitedly pressed the voice button and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Big Brother, you are truly amazing! Please accept my kowtow!”
At the same time, in the C University male dorm, Ji Ting clicked on the voice message, his eardrum nearly shattered.
This full-bodied, robust voice was even more rugged and energetic than Zhang Fei calling Liu Bei and Guan Yu Big Brother.
He clicked his tongue helplessly, thinking to himself that this little stick of dynamite really had zero romantic sensibility.
Song Yang knelt on the floor, hurriedly recalling that crazy outburst.
Lis: Then I will start splitting the layers. song: Okay, thank you for your hard work.
Once the layers were split, he could find a modeler to complete the rig, and his second streaming career would officially be born. Song Yang felt nervous yet fiercely expectant.
Lis: Let us talk about the second payment.
Song Yang’s breath hitched.
song: Go ahead. This finished piece is worth me fulfilling any request.
The message had barely been sent when a voice call popped up on the screen. The sudden ringing startled Song Yang.
He cleared his throat and answered the phone: “Hello, Teacher…”
Lis: Alone at home?
“Yeah,” Song Yang probed. “What do you want me to do? Spit it out.”
Lis: Coax me to sleep.
“Huh?” Song Yang stammered, his eyes nearly popping out. “Are you a baby? I have to coax you to sleep?”
Lis: Yeah.
Yeah, your head!
The air remained silent for a few seconds. Song Yang choked for a long time before saying slowly, “Um, Teacher, I have been single since birth. I have never had a girlfriend, so I do not know how to do that kind of thing.”
Lis: Can you not use your imagination?
“Imagine what? A girlfriend? You? You are a grown man, how am I supposed to…”
Lis: Did you not say you would fulfill any request? It seems you do not really need this illustration.
“No, no, no.” Song Yang gritted his teeth and took the plunge. “Then tell me how you want me to coax you. Is reading a novel to you okay?”
Lis: That works. I am lying down.
“Wait a second, let me prepare.”
Song Yang had no choice. He had to get into bed and hurriedly download a novel app on his phone, randomly selecting a dog-blooded wealthy-family romance novel from the homepage.
“I am starting, Teacher.”
Lis: Hmm.
Song Yang pulled the quilt over himself to avoid getting goosebumps. After mentally preparing himself, he began to read slowly: “I have been reborn. Reborn on the day of our wedding.”
Ji Ting was lying on his side on his dormitory bed. Song Yang’s clear voice came through the headset. His tone was as calm as the sea under a moonlit night, making it comforting to listen to.
“He is the crown prince of the Beijing circle. Everyone knows I loved this man to death, but he had always had a white moonlight in his heart…”
Ji Ting paid no attention to the story itself, only realizing that Song Yang’s voice was very close. The warm low frequency made his heart itch, as if he were whispering intimately. He could even feel the warm, damp breath he was exhaling; mist began to permeate his ears, gradually becoming humid.
His fingers twitched, and he gripped his phone tighter. Beneath his heart, it felt like dense, bubbly soda, with something secretively rippling through.
How is anyone supposed to sleep like this?
After listening quietly for about twenty minutes, the voice on the other end grew softer and softer. The speaking speed slowed until it became a weak, breathy whisper, finally turning into silence, with only the intermittent sound of breathing lingering by his ears.
Lis: ?
On the other end of the line, Song Yang’s phone vibrated, but he had already lost consciousness. He lay peacefully on his pillow, his half-damp hair soaking a shadow into the pillowcase.
The screen was still lit. In a place Song Yang could not see, Lis’s muted icon disappeared.
“Song Yang.”
Ji Ting called him softly. The current made the voice slightly distorted. Shedding the cold arrogance he usually had when scolding others, it sounded like a clear spring—calm and gentle.
Song Yang’s chest rose and fell steadily. He smacked his lips slightly, holding the phone to his chest, and drifted into a sweet dream.
Seeing Song Yang did not respond, the person on the other end seemed to grow bolder.
“Yangyang.”
Song Yang’s drooping lashes fluttered, and he muttered as he turned over, spreading his limbs like a crab to sleep face-down. The phone slid from his chest and landed beneath him.
Ji Ting cursed softly, “Sleeping like a pig.”
When he woke up, it was already daylight. Song Yang lifted the quilt, sat up, rubbed his eyes, and subconsciously picked up his phone.
The lock screen was still on the chat interface with Lis. The call duration was only half an hour.
Song Yang’s eyes widened. He performed a carp-like leap from the bed, only then remembering that he had actually fallen asleep first. Lis had only left two messages.
Lis: Who exactly was coaxing whom to sleep? Lis: Fail. Continue tomorrow night.
Grass.
My sin, my sin.
Song Yang tapped his own head, cursing himself for being a dull donkey.
Feeling incredibly apologetic, he tapped out a reply:
song: I am sorry, Teacher. Give me another chance tonight. I will drink coffee in advance!
Song Yang exited the chat page and unexpectedly found a small red dot on his contacts.
Literary Department’s Bai Mo requested to add you as a friend. Greeting: Hello, God of War of C*ck. I heard you take orders for cursing?
“Someone from the department…” He looked at the name, did not recognize it, and hit Accept. “Who is this?”