The Proud Muscle and the Pitying Glace

“When I slept with them… I was wearing my underwear.”

The soft, delicate voice lingered in the room.

Peng Biao froze.

Wearing underwear?

Noticing the “big dummy” Heavenly Master spacing out, the beautiful youth couldn’t help but frown, explaining: “So you don’t need to say those kinds of things. I’m not an idiot.”

If it weren’t for the sudden realization that the other man was genuinely worried about him—and angry because he seemed not to care—Ye Shengge wouldn’t have used such a patient tone to answer this big guy who was lecturing him like a clueless child.

He wasn’t stupid; how could he not tell the difference between a good person and a bad one? He wasn’t so naive that he’d just let some pervert do whatever they wanted.

The system, hearing this: 【…】

It felt that the big guy could have actually said a bit more. Perhaps it would have been more effective in giving its naive host some self-awareness, preventing him from being swindled by perverts disguised as normal people.

However, the Heavenly Master—who had finally managed to steel his heart to say something “vulgar” to get his host’s attention—immediately surrendered the moment he heard the “underwear” clarification. He apologized with utmost sincerity.

“I’m sorry. I was too impulsive just now. I didn’t scare you, did I? Just leave the business with the doll spirits to me. Go to the bedroom and rest for a bit. Have a good sleep, and I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.” Hearing the explanation and seeing that the boy was finally taking the matter seriously, Peng Biao’s expression softened significantly.

He had been too anxious. Seeing that the beautiful youth didn’t seem to care about being targeted by perverts, he had lost control of his facial expressions and spewed all those stimulating words. He was truly worried he had frightened the boy.

“I’m not a child. How could I be scared by a few words?” Ye Shengge felt a bit slighted, though this annoyance actually helped wash away the lingering shame of their earlier conversation.

He really wasn’t scared; at most, he found the sudden shift in Peng Biao’s personality surprising and a little hurtful.

But thinking about it, that version of Peng Biao actually matched the “cold and aloof young master” described in the dungeon lore and rumors. If Peng Biao was always this silly, easy-to-bully big dog, Ye Shengge would have doubted whether this “golden finger” was actually reliable.

Moreover, once he understood that the man only did it to make him realize the gravity of being targeted, the weird sense of grievance vanished. He even started worrying about the big guy—with so much on his mind, would he lose years off his lifespan?

Of course, whether the Master lived a long life or not had nothing to do with him—as long as he stayed alive until the doll bosses were sealed.

Thinking this, Ye Shengge’s mood improved. He comforted himself: No need to dwell on that embarrassing conversation.

Technically, he was the one coming out ahead. This “cold master,” whom countless players would beg on their knees just to meet, had agreed to help him so easily. If an embarrassing conversation was the price for a Heavenly Master’s protection, players would be lining up for blocks to be interrogated.

I’m totally winning.

The system, sensing its host’s self-deception: 【…】

The system opened its mouth to speak, then closed it. Sometimes, the ability to regulate one’s emotions to this extent was a talent in itself. Horror dungeons tested one’s psyche; this kind of “Ah Q” spirit of self-consolation was necessary to survive, let alone finish tasks.

“Yeah, I know you wouldn’t be scared,” Peng Biao echoed with a silly grin, showing no trace of his earlier intimidation. He looked exactly like the “big dumb dog” from their first meeting.

But everyone knew that a mask is just a mask. You can’t undo what has been done.

As the first “golden finger” to break free from plot control and reject numerous players, Peng Biao was never as simple as he looked. He had more depth than anyone. A wolf that chooses to wear a collar and be tamed is still a wolf; the blood of a predator still runs through its veins.

The memory of Peng Biao’s cold interrogation and overbearing gaze had left a shadow on Ye Shengge’s mind. Even with his self-consolation, he couldn’t immediately return to their previous dynamic. His ability to keep snapping at Peng Biao was mostly fueled by sheer stubbornness.

“Then… are you going to the bedroom to rest? You look a bit pale,” Peng Biao asked again, noticing the boy’s complexion.

“I’ll go sleep for a bit. Don’t forget what you promised,” Ye Shengge said. After everything at the villa and the emotional roller coaster, he was indeed exhausted.

“Don’t worry about that. Leave it to me,” Peng Biao promised, nodding vigorously.

“Okay.” Ye Shengge yawned and began walking toward the bedroom Peng Biao had assigned him.

He had only taken a few steps when a voice came from behind him:

“About those questions earlier… I’m sorry.”

Peng Biao had grown up in a cutthroat orphanage where problems were solved with fists. He was stubborn and extreme, never caring about others’ feelings. After becoming a Heavenly Master, he had even less reason to care—people usually scrambled to please him.

This was the first person he had ever cared about. No matter how he tried to restrain himself or clumsily please his sweetheart, he always seemed to mess up. His jealousy and anxiety had accidentally frightened the timid boy.

The man, whose combat power was off the charts but whose EQ was at rock bottom, felt a deep sense of self-reproach. He walked up to the youth and said seriously: “If you’re still angry, hit me a few times to vent.”

He was sturdy; he could take it.

“You’re hard as a rock all over. Who wants to hit you?” Ye Shengge’s eyes swept over the big guy’s chest—which heaved with every breath—and the solid muscle shapes that even loose casual wear couldn’t hide. His tone was full of disdain.

At first, he had been dazed by the sudden apology. But after understanding why he was apologizing, he found it both funny and pathetic. Aside from the embarrassment of describing the dollmaker’s actions, he wasn’t actually that mad.

He had never seen someone so “smart yet stupid.” If anyone else had the chance to make an enemy look foolish, they’d seize it. But Peng Biao stopped himself and then offered to let the “enemy” punch him out of a guilty conscience.

Truly a complete idiot…

Besides, there was no way he was hitting him. With a body that thick and solid, a punch would only hurt Ye Shengge’s own delicate hands.

Unless someone else did the hitting for him, that proposal was a non-starter. Why hurt his own hands?

However, that tone of utter disdain hit the big guy hard. Peng Biao, who was actually quite proud of his physique, froze.

He subconsciously relaxed his tensed muscles—the ones he had been showing off to get the boy’s attention—trying to make them look less “exaggerated.” He asked anxiously: “You… you don’t like my muscles being hard?”

Ye Shengge resisted the urge to roll his eyes and snapped: “Why on earth would you think I like that kind of thing?”

Peng Biao stammered, unable to find words. He had assumed the boy was like him—the more you lack something, the more you are interested in it.

Looking at the big guy who couldn’t squeeze out a single sentence, Ye Shengge pursed his lips: “Forget it, I don’t blame you. But don’t say things like that anymore. Just talk normally.”

His own attitude toward the big guy wasn’t great either, and to maintain his character persona, it likely wouldn’t get much better. Under the circumstances, he felt bad being too harsh on the silly man.

“Mm.” Seeing that the boy refused to hit him, Peng Biao felt a sense of loss.

He had thought that if the boy hit him, he would definitely notice how solid his muscles were and look at him with new respect. But…

He had calculated everything except for the fact that the beautiful youth might not like “tall, muscular hunks.”

Even if he successfully lost muscle mass, he couldn’t change his height or bone structure, which were much larger than the average person’s.

Watching the slender, elf-like youth walk away, and then looking at himself—tall and wide as a bear, covered in muscle—Peng Biao felt a wave of inferiority.

Can I really not win any favor with my body?

To Peng Biao, this thought felt like a bolt from the blue.