A classic case of reporting the bad news first, then the good—lowering the boss’s expectations.
Quan Heng snorted coldly. “What do you mean?”
The assistant watched the fluctuation curves on the screen. “After last night’s physical altercation, and a day of emotional ups and downs, their ‘Bitter Couple’ progress peaked at one point past 71%—almost hitting the warning red line.”
She rapidly flipped through various data points. “The system integrated psychological models for analysis. Their personality differences are enormous. This extreme disparity makes the probability of them becoming ‘Lifelong Partners’ approach zero in the data projection.”
“If the ‘Lifelong Partners’ probability is near zero, then why did the Bitter Couple value drop!” Quan Heng cut her off impatiently.
The assistant pulled up another data chart. “System analysis shows that while they won’t become Lifelong Partners, they also won’t become one hundred percent Bitter Couple. Their final identity progress will stagnate long-term, landing in the 50% to 60% Bitter Couple range.”
Quan Heng stood with his back to the assistant, his joy or sorrow unreadable.
If only the Death Party 4.0 update hadn’t hit a snag.
Quan Heng cursed inwardly.
A while back, a major investor had withdrawn funding because their favorite popular contestant died. Other investors had also grown hesitant, deterred by Death Party’s high risk, leaving the 4.0 version’s funding chain unstable.
If not for that, Quan Heng could right now directly update the identity system, release the “identity unbinding item,” split these two apart, and send Fu Songcheng rolling as far away as possible.
But he couldn’t do that now.
The system restricted his highest authority.
He could only tamper with the “identity evolution” mechanism.
Quan Heng took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
His gaze returned to the screen. Fu Songcheng had just finished the last bite of cheesecake, and Yu Huaiting naturally pulled a tissue, wanting to wipe the cream from the corner of Fu Songcheng’s mouth, only for Fu Songcheng to tilt his head away and take the tissue himself.
Yu Huaiting shrugged, looking at Fu Songcheng with a smile.
Yu Huaiting, you worthless sight!
Watching this scene, Quan Heng narrowed his eyes slightly.
Since I can’t split them apart directly, then let every moment they spend together be agony.
Let them become bitter enemies.
…
Fu Songcheng tossed the used tissue casually into the trash bin beside him. “The next instance—when do you plan to enter?”
Yu Huaiting was taken aback, seemingly not expecting Fu Songcheng to suddenly switch to the main topic.
He leaned back against the chair, his posture relaxed, but his gaze stayed glued to Fu Songcheng. “Me? I’m fine anytime.”
Here, he paused, then said with a hint of grievance, “I used to run them back to back. Come out of an instance, settle the points, drink some recovery potion, then go into the next.”
He deliberately drew out his tone, carefully observing Fu Songcheng’s expression. “Brother Fu, now that we’re teamed up, are we still going to run instances without sleep? (д)”
He could hear the coquetry in Yu Huaiting’s words: he was telling him—with you here, everything is different.
Fu Songcheng didn’t comment on it, but the corners of his mouth couldn’t stop lifting.
“Then let’s take more prep time,” Fu Songcheng gave a clear time point. “Next entry—noon five days from now. That work?”
“No problem. Whatever you say.”
Yu Huaiting agreed readily.
Fu Songcheng looked at him, his tone sincere. “I want to spar with you more. Your combat instincts and techniques are top-tier. I hope to learn some practical combat experience from you. Is that okay?”
Those words were like fireworks suddenly detonating, exploding in Yu Huaiting’s mind in an instant.
Praised by Fu Songcheng!
Fu Songcheng had not only praised him as skilled—he’d actively asked him to teach him, and even wanted five days of sparring together, day and night!
Yu Huaiting’s eyes visibly lit up. He sat bolt upright. If not for the last shred of reason still working, and Fu Songcheng’s gaze still calm and utterly unrippled, he’d have wanted to summon his greatsword on the spot and give Fu Songcheng a solid demonstration right there in the cramped rest room.
“Of course it’s fine!”
Yu Huaiting tried hard to put on a breezy, casual air, even clearing his throat with feigned profundity. “Since you’ve sincerely asked, I’ll definitely teach you without reservation. Sparring? Piece of cake.”
Though he said “piece of cake,” those eyes fixed tightly on Fu Songcheng, glinting with a longing to be petted, had already betrayed his inner ecstasy.
Fu Songcheng took it all in.
Looking at Yu Huaiting—clearly thrilled to death yet forcing composure, even appearing a little reserved and cautious—Fu Songcheng’s heart softened to the point of melting.
How could a person be so extreme?
One second making your teeth itch with hate, the next making your heart fizz with delight.
“Teacher Yu,” Fu Songcheng blinked at him, “please guide me well.”
“What! What did you call me?”
Yu Huaiting deliberately leaned closer to Fu Songcheng, bending slightly, his ear nearly pressed to Fu Songcheng’s lips. “I didn’t hear. Say it again~”
This kind of thing was enough to say once—say it too often and Fu Songcheng’s ears would burn too. He leaned back slightly, escaping Yu Huaiting. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You did! You said it! Say it again~”
“Then I’ll just call you Brother Fu every day~”
Yu Huaiting was the type who wouldn’t let things go, and now he was deliberately being obstinate.
Fu Songcheng looked at Yu Huaiting’s bobbing head. “I already said it. You just didn’t hear.”
Besides, say it too many times and it stops working.
But that was a thought Fu Songcheng would never tell Yu Huaiting. He was beginning to understand the mindset of fishermen now—reel in, let out. This kind of game had its own flavor.
If Fu Songcheng wanted to catch a big fish, he couldn’t feed it too full.
…
Over the next five days, the two’s daily rhythms fell into a strange cycle.
The biggest problem was their schedules didn’t match.
Fu Songcheng went out promptly at dawn every day.
To find his sparring coach and train stamina and reaction speed.
Yu Huaiting’s biological clock was an entirely different style—he slept late and usually didn’t wake until the sun was high.
Around noon every day, Yu Huaiting would finally wake, hair a mess, and groggily shuffle to the training hall where Fu Songcheng was.
The two would naturally sit and eat lunch together.
Sometimes it was a simple meal exchanged from the system; sometimes Yu Huaiting would get a whim and take him to some high-end restaurant, most of the dishes familiar yet with a strangely wonderful texture.
Fu Songcheng chewed his food, watching Yu Huaiting across from him devouring his meal, when a thought suddenly popped into his head: the two of them now were more like “meal buddies” than lovers.
After lunch, the entire afternoon was given over to practical combat drills.
Yu Huaiting taught Fu Songcheng without reservation—from footwork, to power generation, to how to counterattack in extreme danger.
“Your lower body isn’t stable enough. Against a strength-type monster, this strike would cost you your balance.”
Yu Huaiting’s voice echoed through the empty private training room.
He strode behind Fu Songcheng, slowly reaching out to circle Fu Songcheng’s waist from behind, his long, powerful leg wedging directly between Fu Songcheng’s legs to correct his stance. “Feel the pressure I’m applying. Use your core to resist, not just your arms.”
Yu Huaiting’s chest pressed tightly against Fu Songcheng’s back. Through the thin training clothes, Fu Songcheng could clearly feel the heat and muscle contours radiating from him.
Fu Songcheng’s thoughts wandered for a moment before he adjusted his power point per Yu Huaiting’s instruction.
Yu Huaiting’s mouth couldn’t help curving upward.
Of course he was teaching seriously—but sneaking a bit of tofu and enjoying some physical contact was the benefit he deserved as a “sparring partner”!
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