Zhao Youyue herself hadn't actually been hurt. She wasn't Xu Jing after all, merely possessing her. In special circumstances, peeling away her own sensory perception wasn't difficult, allowing the phantom sting of the baton to fade as she breathed in the familiar, quiet scent of her own bedroom. She was, after all, a "higher being" who existed in the same real world as the creator. How could an inexplicable baton from a two-dimensional world possibly hurt her? At most, it could beat Xu Jing hard enough to tear her clothes.
Even so, she was extremely annoyed. She really couldn't figure out how the Xu Jing she was playing had offended this work's creator. She only wanted to use Xu Jing's body, which was full of drive and perseverance, to study quietly in the corner of the classroom. Why was that so difficult?
As Zhao Youyue gradually calmed down, her heart rate slowing in the stillness of the night, she changed her perspective. She couldn't help but admire the unseen creator's cruel efficiency. By making Xu Jing suffer so miserably, the character left a deep impression on Zhao Youyue herself, let alone on the ordinary readers who were already beginning to rally behind the girl.
Come to think of it, this weekend should be when the new issue of Feng Manhua hit the shelves. Presumably, everything she had experienced in the dimensional world would appear in the magazine's glossy pages. She decided she would buy a copy then to take a look. At the same time, she also decided to try contacting the manga artist named Su Li online first. If she could get information about the artist's real-life identity, that would be even better.
Did that person really think abusing characters in a comic wouldn't bring retribution?
She would follow the network cable right to their doorstep to take her revenge.
In her mind, a creator who drew this kind of campus harem manga had to be some disgusting, lecherous man who would never find a woman in his entire life. Yes, that was her naked prejudice. She genuinely disliked this one-man-with-many-women harem genre. For the sake of giving readers fanservice, the creator had used every possible method to degrade the female cast. She had dodged the "divine tumble" and put on safety shorts, yet in the end, she still hadn't been able to dodge the urban enforcement baton that tore her clothes apart.
If a sleazy creator who couldn't walk when he saw a woman were lucky enough to be asked out by a beautiful girl reader like her, would he really refuse? When the time came, she would even spend money to hire a professional to go on the date and lead him on.
You mess with me in your comic? Then don't blame me for messing with you in real life.
Breaking news: certain harem manga artist caught soliciting a female high school student and detained. Publication suspended for two weeks.
Come on, let's hurt each other.
That said, Zhao Youyue truly stood in an unassailable position. In a sense, she was invincible in the work's world. No one could harm her. It was just that sometimes the creator would interfere with what she wanted to do, like studying, and that was extremely annoying to her.
At this moment, completely sleepless, she subconsciously picked up the phone charging by her bedside. As a heavy phone user, when she didn't have the device in her hand, she felt as if an important part of her body was missing. Whenever she had free time, she would play with it for hours.
The screen's harsh white light illuminated her face in the dark room. She saw several new WeChat messages. When she opened them, they were all from Han Leng. At midnight, he had sent a one-thousand-word message. Of course, it wasn't a love confession, but a self-reflection essay. At one-thirty, he sent another thousand words. The third message came at two-thirty, containing the final thousand-plus words.
Zhao Youyue never expected that Han Leng would actually stay up all night to finish a three-thousand-word self-reflection. How badly did he want those extra two hundred yuan?
After sending the essay, Han Leng sent a few more messages.
"Boss, mission accomplished."
"Casually checked your Moments. Tsk tsk, you really are a Zhao family young lady. Traveling abroad at the drop of a hat, rotating luxury brand bags, posting high-end food whenever you feel like it. Seeing that in the middle of the night made my stomach growl. If I had known, I wouldn't have been so curious."
"Miss Zhao, you should be asleep by now. Good night."
After reading his messages, Zhao Youyue smiled. Her mood, which had been ruined by that creator earlier, recovered a bit. She didn't say much, very straightforwardly sent Han Leng another two-hundred-yuan WeChat red packet, then decided to get up and copy the self-reflection. That way, she wouldn't have to worry about the homeroom teacher, Lao Qiu.
However, just as the red packet was sent, Han Leng immediately accepted it and replied with a message. "Wow, Miss Zhao, you are still not asleep? After all this, we are actually the same kind!"
After finishing the self-reflection, Han Leng had no sleepiness at all, so he had picked up an online novel to start "cultivating immortality," and he had cultivated all the way until now.
Right after that, he sent Zhao Youyue a sticker. It was a panda-eyed face with dark circles and panda ears, with the words "Long live cultivation!" written on it. Using himself as a reference, Han Leng assumed Zhao Youyue was also part of the late-night cultivation crowd.
That was actually impossible. Zhao Youyue's daily routine was extremely regular, and she paid great attention to exercise and maintenance. She never used cosmetics that harmed the skin, but she did use top-tier skincare products. Otherwise, how could her skin be that good?
Beautiful women might be born that way, but to keep that beauty going required effort later on. In this regard, her privileged background gave her a huge advantage.
Don't be fooled by how unremarkable she seemed in high school. Once she got to university, grew her hair long, ditched those unfashionable athletic uniforms, put on stylish, expensive clothes, and carried bags most people would never dare dream of owning, she would instantly become a goddess admired by the majority of men.
Zhao Youyue replied like this. "No, I just had a nightmare o(╥﹏╥)o"
Then, wearing her luxurious silk pajamas, she turned on the room light. She walked over to her desk and switched on the lamp, the warm glow chasing away the shadows. She took out manuscript paper and began copying the self-reflection Han Leng had sent on WeChat, her pen scratching softly against the page.
She had never systematically practiced calligraphy, yet her handwriting was delicate and pretty. During exams, her papers always looked clean and tidy. Her essays followed the most basic argumentative structure, one main thesis and three supporting points. The examples she used were always those overused famous figures like Sun Bin, Sima Qian, Han Xin, Newton, Edison, Zhang Haidi, and Shi Tiesheng, which were worlds apart from a true talent like Han Leng. Sometimes, however, she could still score high, purely because the neat presentation gave the graders an excellent first impression.
As Zhao Youyue bent over copying the self-reflection, she felt as if Xu Jing had possessed her. She was surprisingly patient and focused.
When Han Leng saw that Zhao Youyue said she had woken up from a nightmare, he wanted to reply with some words of concern. Yet he felt he couldn't bring himself to do it. It felt embarrassing. Besides, he wasn't familiar with her at all. They were purely in a transactional relationship. But saying nothing at all felt too cold. No, he was supposed to be a cold, aloof man in the first place.
He hesitated and struggled for more than ten minutes, typing and deleting a lot of text, yet he couldn't bring himself to tap 'send.' He had no idea that Zhao Youyue was already copying the self-reflection. In the end, he only managed to squeeze out a few words. "Are you okay?"
Zhao Youyue pulled down the message list and took a look. Of course, she had no idea how long Han Leng had agonized over sending those words. She replied naturally. "I'm fine now. You should sleep early. I'm going to copy the self-reflection first. Thanks again for this one (＾ω＾)"
When Han Leng saw that message, he didn't reply again to disturb her. Instead, he abruptly flipped out of bed, went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, then looked at his reflection in the mirror. His dark circles were heavy, his face full of "immortal aura." He grinned, then, like a madman, opened the balcony door and stepped outside, standing there as he overlooked the entire campus.
The teaching buildings stood like silent giants in the darkness. The campus streetlights still cast a dim yellow glow on the pavement. Mist lingered in the air, damp and cool against his skin. The basketball court next to the dormitory building was empty, and the field farther away felt even more desolate. In the whole world, there was only him, utterly alone.
For some reason, he suddenly really wanted to write something. By hand. To record it in that private notebook which carried his dreams of becoming a poet and essayist.