After finishing her morning routine, He Ying remembered that at noon, on a whim, she had sent her dad the Crazy Thursday promotional copy for KFC. It seemed her father had done something quite extraordinary afterward.
Lying in bed, she took out her phone and opened Weibo. She didn’t even need to search—a trending hashtag was already pinned at the top, impossible to miss.
Trending #What Happened to KFC Across the Country Today#
He Ying clicked in and saw that it wasn’t an official news report but a blogger’s rant.
[Can anyone relate? The world is one giant Tomato Novel. How could someone impulsively buy out Qiangsheng Group?! Damn it, I’m fighting these rich people with my bare hands!!]
The comments below were just as unhinged, matching the blogger’s mental state perfectly.
One comment asked how the blogger knew, since there were no official reports.
The blogger, playing the victim, replied: [Because I’m the NPC who got acquired.]
[HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA blogger is so unlucky]
[What? You actually own a group?! You’re not a real NPC at all!]
Originally, this was just a simple rant. The blogger usually treated Weibo like a personal social feed, with few followers—mostly like-minded friends who followed each other. Everyone treated the blogger’s “crazy ramblings” as entertainment and laughed along.
But as more and more similarly unfortunate souls caught wind of it, the popularity of this rant gradually soared.
[Can anyone relate? My family used to own all the KFC stores in R City. Everyone called me “young master,” but today I realized I’m no young master—I’m just an NPC who got acquired. Goodbye forever, you damn world!]
[Woke up today working for a new boss. Can anyone relate?]
[I thought I was the only one. Glad to see we’re all NPCs.]
[Who knows why that living legend suddenly bought the group?]
[Let him buy it. Who can outbuy him anyway?]
The comments were filled with former KFC tycoons from various regions.
Finally, a newly registered account using an overseas IP address quietly replied under one of the comments: [My dad has this big shot’s WeChat. According to the intel my dad overheard, the big shot bought the stores because his daughter sent him the KFC Crazy Thursday copy today. He thought she was adorable, so he acquired the group.]
From that point on, the rant post exploded into a full-blown trending topic.
It even sparked several other trending hashtags:
#Dear Phone, Don’t Force Yourself into Circles You Don’t Belong In#
#Dad, I’m Your Long-Lost Little Daughter#
#The Big Shot’s Daughter’s Crazy Thursday Copy#
#Laughing at My Own Poverty!#
Looking at this last hashtag, He Ying felt an inexplicable sense of belonging. She eagerly clicked in and, using her alt account, replied with a meme.
Damn it, if she were rich, would she be suffering like this?!
She’d already completed a hundred tasks—why couldn’t the System cut her some slack? Like giving her that 1.3 trillion for no reason at all!
As if on cue, the System confirmed the task completion just as He Ying thought of this.
[Progress Task Judged Complete]
[Rule Modified: Task Target Restricted to Chi Jingsheng’s Biological Individual]
He Ying wasn’t surprised by this.
She was skilled at finding weaknesses when completing tasks—and the System’s weaknesses were no exception.
However, the System’s weakness optimization was rapid; essentially, each method could only be used once, and a second attempt would be ineffective.
Sigh.
He Ying checked the time again—it was now 9:30. She only had 30 minutes of free time left.
Hongru Academy had strict daily schedules. Students were required to turn off the lights and go to bed promptly at 10 p.m., and they had to wear an electronic wristband programmed with their biological data while sleeping.
The electronic wristband monitored the students’ physical data in real time. If a student hadn’t fallen asleep within half an hour, the recorded body metrics would be transmitted in real time to the school’s Health Management Teacher.
The Health Management Teacher would use the data to determine whether the student hadn’t even started trying to sleep or was unable to fall asleep for some reason.
Different causes required different solutions, but all methods led to the same outcome: helping students develop healthy sleep habits.
It had once been joked that if you ever met someone who still went to bed promptly at 10 p.m. even at an advanced age, you could ask if they had graduated from Hongru Academy.
After browsing Weibo and recalling that comment, He Ying opened WeChat and checked her dad’s Moments.
The accompanying image was a collection of He Ying’s “crazy quotes,” paired with her soft and cute cat avatar. It looked like a little kitten boasting about being an Ultraman from a prestigious family.
Dad He’s caption was equally domineering:
“What she likes belongs to her.”
The statement was a bit awkward and slightly cringey.
But as the person involved, He Ying could only say that saying this while holding a bottle of mineral water and saying it after buying all the KFC stores nationwide carried completely different levels of charm.
Her dad’s damn charisma only strengthened her determination to study.
With 30 minutes left, He Ying decided to practice Spanish before bed, as she was lacking in that area.
To inherit the family fortune, she had to master eight languages.
It wasn’t for grades or to fit some “domineering CEO” stereotype. It was simply because their family’s businesses spanned the globe. Without mastering the eight most commonly used languages, she might struggle to understand contracts in their original form and could easily be misled by translations.
After studying, He Ying fell asleep in an instant—even she hadn’t expected to sleep so well.
In the end, He Ying concluded the reason for her sound sleep: a young body is just that good—you lie down and you’re out.
He Ying got up, washed up, dressed, and after getting everything ready, she went to the living room and saw Ding Yunyun already reading the newspaper at the dining table again.
Her serious expression showed a maturity far beyond her peers.
He Ying could tell that Ding Yunyun was carrying something heavy in her heart, but since Ding Yunyun hadn’t brought it up, she wouldn’t ask.
She leaned over to check out today’s breakfast and was surprised. “We’re actually having congee today.”
Ding Yunyun sighed helplessly and put down the newspaper.
“Our previous breakfast choices were spot-checked by the Health Management Teacher and deemed severely unhealthy. Now we’re under special observation.”
He Ying scooped up some congee and muttered, “It was just a jianbing guozi. How stingy.”
After muttering, she took a bite of the congee, and her eyes lit up.
Delicious!
“Pfft.” Ding Yunyun hadn’t expected to see someone in real life actually make their eyes light up like that. He Ying’s originally overly refined and unapproachable expression instantly became lively, turning soft and squishy, making people want to pinch her cheeks.
When He Ying first started having meals with Ding Yunyun, she still held herself back and tried to eat as elegantly as possible. Now that they were familiar, she ate in front of Ding Yunyun like a little hamster—not quite aloof, but overflowing with cuteness.
Upon hearing Ding Yunyun’s laughter, He Ying looked up in confusion, her eyes asking, “What’s wrong?”
Ding Yunyun opened her mouth but still couldn’t bring herself to say what was on her mind.
She shook her head and brought up the big news from last night: “What happened at your place yesterday has already spread in the circle. You’re definitely going to get a lot of people bothering you today.”
He Ying let out an “oh,” still not fully grasping the seriousness of the situation at that moment, and underestimating just how unhinged the F4 World could get.