Chapter 22: I Beg You, Be Human
System: Holy crap! Is this big oaf trying to hit on you, Host?
Rong Ziyin didn’t respond. Instead, he pondered the name of the young man revealed in the system prompt, growing increasingly cautious.
If this was indeed the Ji Shu he knew, Rong Ziyin decided he really needed to keep his distance. Compared to that useless second-generation heir in his dorm, this guy was the real deal—a true troublemaker. And someone Rong Ziyin absolutely couldn’t afford to cross right now.
There was no way around it. The name Ji Shu was too notorious in Yanjing City. Even an ordinary student like Rong Ziyin had heard whispers about him.
A regular in the gossip columns, the notorious eldest son of the Ji family. By his early twenties, he’d eliminated a string of elders to seize control of the Ji empire—even his own father couldn’t rein him in.
He might look like a cool, aloof tycoon, but his romantic history was downright tangled.
A reckless playboy, his entourage was never short of companions—from glamorous starlets to innocent college girls. Rumor had it that Ji Shu’s bed was perpetually occupied, 365 days a year.
So why would such a man return to the village? Rong Ziyin found it intriguing, though it didn’t change his desire to avoid Ji Shu entirely.
Especially with the system’s提示情欲值 (desire value) alert, Rong Ziyin grew increasingly wary of Ji Shu. A walking hookup machine—Rong Ziyin, being more traditional, couldn’t stomach this playboy persona.
But clearly, Ji Shu hadn’t noticed he’d been seen through. Instead, he strolled over toward Rong Ziyin, strutting like a peacock.
It had to be said, Ji Shu’s ability to charm so many young lovers into devotion stemmed not only from his wealth and power, but also heavily from his striking good looks.
Especially now, as he drew nearer, Ji Shu’s features became sharper—particularly those seductive, flirtatious almond eyes. They locked onto Rong Ziyin with an ambiguous, intoxicating intensity that was downright dangerous.
Even Rong Ziyin, a straight man, couldn’t help but inwardly marvel at how strikingly handsome he was.
Taking a deep breath, Rong Ziyin pulled himself together and took a step back.
But Ji Shu suddenly reached out and addressed him, “Hello, my name is Ji Shu. Meeting you is fate. Would you like to be friends, young man?”
His opening words carried a smile, the smooth-talking charm unique to rich second-generation playboys. Yet Ji Shu’s voice was unusually clear, his gaze genuinely sincere. Far from seeming sleazy, he appeared delightfully playful.
Under normal circumstances, Rong Ziyin would have responded politely. But Ji Shu’s gaze was clearly off—far too bold.
[Desire Value: 9999]
System: Holy shit! Did he pop some aphrodisiac pills or what?
Rong Ziyin chuckled at the system’s snark, yet his gaze involuntarily drifted toward Ji Shu’s lower body.
Long and straight, encased in denim, the contours were almost perfectly sculpted. But despite Ji Shu triggering two consecutive Lust Values of 9999, his physique showed no visible change?
Rong Ziyin activated a skill to check if Ji Shu had some kind of ailment.
Sure enough, he spotted two dark spots on Ji Shu’s body—one on his head, the other near his heart. The color was extremely deep. However, no disease name was labeled. The reason? Rong Ziyin’s current system level was insufficient; he needed to upgrade again to see it.
Even without the name, it proved Ji Shu was indeed ill!
Recalling online rumors about Ji Shu—his nightly revelries, perhaps indulging at such a young age…
A flicker of sympathy suddenly welled up in Rong Ziyin. After a long silence, he took the leeks he’d bought earlier in town from his bag and placed them in Ji Shu’s hands. “Forget about being friends.”
“Also, take care of yourself. You’re still young.”
Leeks boost vitality, Rong Ziyin said before turning and walking away.
Ji Shu, left behind, was completely dumbfounded. He didn’t even register Rong Ziyin, sidestepping him to leave.
Only when the big goose beside him poked its head out and nibbled twice at the vegetable leaves in his hand did he snap back to reality. He gently grabbed the goose’s neck and shook it twice. “Goose! Wasn’t that young man handsome?”
The big goose tilted its head and rubbed against Ji Shu: Daddy~ Aren’t these vegetables for me to eat?
Ji Shu narrowed his eyes, watching Rong Ziyin’s retreating figure as he licked his lips. “You think he’s gorgeous too, right? What should we do, Goose? Your daddy here doesn’t want to be human anymore.”
The big goose stared at Ji Shu with its black bean eyes: So can I eat this vegetable or not?
Ji Shu and Big Goose were talking at cross-purposes, but that didn’t stop him from scheming ways to find out more about Rong Ziyin.
Though they’d only met once, Ji Shu instantly developed all sorts of unspeakable thoughts about Rong Ziyin.
Rong Ziyin was simply too pure. Especially just now, when he gently smiled while pinching the tuft of hair on the top of the goose’s head—it made Ji Shu’s heart flutter.
From a distance, with Rong Ziyin’s head slightly bowed, Ji Shu couldn’t see his full face yet, which only heightened his anticipation. Only when Ji Shu drew near and saw Rong Ziyin’s full face did he feel, in that instant, as if he’d discovered a treasure.
Too bad the other seemed uninterested in him. But no matter—where there’s a will, there’s a way!
Armed with his face that appealed to all ages, Ji Shu soon learned Rong Ziyin’s name and occupation.
To his surprise, Rong Ziyin was the village veterinary at the animal husbandry station—a top graduate from Yanjing University.
It seemed Rong Ziyin wasn’t just exceptionally talented but also possessed impeccable character and integrity.
Ji Shu pinched the little duckling’s flat beak and whispered, “Man, after finding out about your dad, I feel even less like being human!”
Gosling: ???
Ji Shu glanced at the livestock station nearby, an idea forming in his mind.
“We need to buy land for you anyway. Since I’m on leave lately, how about we stay in the village for a few more days?”
Gosling: ???
“Seems you agree!” Ji Shu nodded with satisfaction, convinced he and Goose had reached perfect harmony. He then led Goose toward the village chief’s house.
He planned to stay overnight in the village and needed a place to sleep—preferably somewhere close to Rong Ziyin.
Meanwhile, Rong Ziyin had long forgotten Ji Shu. After their chance encounter on the field ridge, he’d moved on. Once inside the animal husbandry station, Rong Ziyin threw himself into his work with single-minded focus.
He needed to hatch the goose eggs won in the lottery first, so he was fiddling with the incubator.
The animal husbandry station had a dedicated incubator. Though not a professional breeder, as a veterinary student, Rong Ziyin had studied relevant materials. However, the incubator here bore a different brand from the ones he’d seen at school, and the button layout differed.
Still, incubators are incubators—the operational procedures were largely similar. After a few practice runs, Rong Ziyin mastered the controls.
Machine incubation couldn’t begin immediately; the fertilized eggs first needed to acclimate to the incubator’s environment.
Rong Ziyin set the temperature to 24 degrees Celsius and placed the eggs into the incubation chamber, intending to let them rest there for about 12 hours.
Afterward, he could configure the optimal incubation conditions and begin hatching the goslings.
The system inquired curiously, “How long does it usually take for them to hatch?”
Rong Ziyin: “About twenty-eight days.”
System: “That’s quite long!”
Speaking of which, the system suddenly recalled another question: “Host, what exactly is ‘desire value’?”
Ji Shu’s feelings toward Rong Ziyin were unprecedented. The system initially judged Ji Shu’s intentions toward Rong Ziyin based on his bullet comments. However, the concept of desire value wasn’t part of its programming.
Rong Ziyin pondered for a moment, then offered the System what he considered an objective, scientific explanation: “Biologically speaking, lust is the desire to mate.”
System: “I see.”
Satisfied with the clarification, the System marveled at having gained new knowledge.
But moments later, it suddenly snapped to attention.
“Holy shit! Wait—isn’t Ji Shu a guy? Why the hell would he want to mate with you?” The system was utterly flustered.
Rong Ziyin’s next words sent it into a tailspin: “Ah, don’t worry. He’s probably just got kidney deficiency.”
Another bizarre piece of knowledge added to its inventory.
The system was utterly confused. It carefully recalled the emotions surrounding Rong Ziyin and was shocked to discover that since its arrival, the emotional content Rong Ziyin had received hadn’t been particularly normal.
Not only were the sources of intimacy points bizarre types like the village heartthrob and the village sick duck, but now, the one who finally showed interest in Rong Ziyin was a man.
System: Host, don’t you think you should seriously consider why this is happening?
Rong Ziyin was utterly unfazed: Because they’re sick and I can cure them?
The System shut down again, refusing to accept any messages from Rong Ziyin.
Rong Ziyin didn’t bother trying to persuade it, returning to the endless tasks at hand.
The thesis had been submitted; all that remained was awaiting the subsequent review. The class group chat remained unusually lively for some reason. Rong Ziyin clicked in to take a look and discovered that the rich kid had finally recovered from Rong Ziyin’s devastating blow. For reasons unknown, he had posted the final page of his thesis to the class group chat.
He claimed it was a mistake, but it was clearly another attempt to flaunt his thesis advisor—that true heavyweight in academic circles.
“Ahhhhh! A living legend personally revised it! Holy crap, that kid is so lucky!”
“This is what a real winner looks like. Us commoners can only dream.”
“I just wanna know—what score do you need to get into the big shot’s grad program?”
The class group was flooded with envy for the rich kid.
But Rong Ziyin stared blankly at that thesis page.
The writing style and topic felt eerily familiar, like he’d seen it somewhere before, yet he couldn’t quite place it.
Was it a journal or an academic paper?
Rong Ziyin quickly sorted through his memories and narrowed it down.
It wasn’t from recent journal issues; it must be an article he’d skimmed in an academic paper back in school. And judging by the conclusion, Rong Ziyin suspected this rich kid’s thesis was less about academic rigor and more about padding his resume.
Put bluntly, it appeared impressive at first glance but lacked any substantive follow-up research. Still, for an undergraduate level, it was already quite dazzling.
So it seemed the ghostwriter who penned this paper for him had likely taken the rich kid’s commission for money, unwilling to hand over genuine research findings. Instead, they’d simply cranked out a fluff piece.
The rich kid, unaware of this, was basking in self-satisfaction.
So who exactly was this ghostwriter? Rong Ziyin felt certain he’d read this person’s work before, though he couldn’t quite place it.
There was no rush anyway. Publishing in a core journal wouldn’t happen for at least a decade. He’d keep this incident in mind—sooner or later, he’d catch the fox by its tail.
Thus, Rong Ziyin decided to set this matter aside for now and focus on what he could accomplish immediately.
Opening the system interface, Rong Ziyin examined the recipes for salted duck eggs and salted fish in the exchange section.
Twenty thousand gold coins for each recipe—the price was indeed steep. Yet even so, Rong Ziyin found himself tempted to craft them himself.
One recipe for 200,000 gold coins, two for 400,000. It seemed he needed a way to farm coins quickly.
Thus, Rong Ziyin’s thoughts turned once more to Zhihu [Chinese Q&A website modeled on Quora, at zhihu.com, launched in Jan 2011]. After all, there were truly many passionate souls here!
Several days had passed since his last post. Though people still clicked in occasionally, it no longer provided a large-scale supply of emotional energy.
Still, the method was solid. Rong Ziyin felt it was well worth continuing long-term.
He opened Zhihu and swiftly wrote three new posts based on his recent research.
They were titled: “How to Identify Your Big Goose,” “My Special Method for Making Goose Feathers Vibrantly Colorful”…
The system couldn’t help but interject: “But nobody reads these, right?”
Rong Ziyin: “Actually, they do.”
Rong Ziyin had carefully analyzed the emotional value he gained from Zhihu. While those posts about pig farming techniques didn’t generate as much overall as that melodramatic post about wealthy families, they could harvest emotional value over the long term.
After all, people genuinely came to Zhihu looking for answers to related questions. Rong Ziyin’s science-popularization content was straightforward, so it consistently attracted viewers.
System: But aren’t you trying to make money fast?
Rong Ziyin: Right! That’s why I have a third article.
And so, the system watched helplessly as Rong Ziyin typed the title of his third piece: After Falling from Grace and Returning to My Village, Even the Big Geese Stayed Loyal to Me.