Recently, Zhou Mo had been working at a construction site, hauling cement for a living—earning 150 yuan a day.
"I made a very serious comparison between carrying bricks on a construction site and crushing ice at a milk tea shop," Zhou Mo said with his mouth full of food, words slurring together. "And then I resolutely devoted myself to the great cause of construction. Whether it makes money or not doesn't matter—I just love civil engineering. Labor is glorious, right?"
"Bullshit!" his coworker Cao Xiaodou spat out rice. "You're a finance major—since when do you love civil engineering?!"
It was the height of summer. The shaded shed on the site was already packed—claimed by the foreman—so Zhou Mo and Xiaodou had no choice but to squat somewhere shady outside and shovel food into their mouths. His orange safety helmet sat off to the side. The ground was so hot you could fry an egg on it. Zhou Mo hurriedly snatched his helmet back from the sun, while the wind blowing past was nothing but stifling heat. White salt stains had already bloomed across his T-shirt, and sweat dripped down his face into his lunchbox.
Holding his meal like an old sage, Zhou Mo said, "When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a man, it first—cough cough—"
A truck roared past, kicking up a cloud of dust that blasted straight into his face, making him choke. Another layer of sand settled onto his rice. Cao Xiaodou reacted quickly and shielded his own food—but not Zhou Mo's. He glanced into Zhou Mo's lunchbox. "You can't eat that anymore, right? If you get another portion, you'll have to pay."
"No big deal." Zhou Mo stirred his lunch, flipping the cleaner rice from the bottom to the top. "A little dirt won't kill you."
Cao Xiaodou: "..." This guy's gone full broke-mode.
"Hurry up, Xiao Zhou! A cement truck just arrived!"
"Coming!" Zhou Mo flashed a bright grin and rushed over, his dust-covered face full of excitement—as if the sacks weren't filled with cement, but with a hundred kilos of cash.
Zhou Mo was always enthusiastic at work—and freakishly strong. He could carry two sacks of cement up five floors without even panting. He was basically the site's number one workforce. At first, Cao Xiaodou could keep up with him—but eventually, he fell behind completely. Zhou Mo moved like he had a motor installed in his heels, zipping around the site so fast he left afterimages.
"Zhou Mo!" Cao Xiaodou gasped. "I—I can't anymore. You handle the cement, I'll go push bricks."
Zhou Mo stopped, glanced back, and sighed. "Alright. If you're tired, take a break. Give me that one."
He took the cement sack from Xiaodou and slung it over his shoulder, heading upstairs with light steps.
Cao Xiaodou: "..." My bro Zhou… truly a man of steel.
After unloading the cement, Zhou Mo rubbed his sore shoulder. Even he was starting to feel the strain. He was about to go help push bricks when he suddenly noticed the towering stack above Cao Xiaodou slowly tilting.
"Watch out!" he shouted—but it was too late.
Cao Xiaodou didn't even have time to react, and behind him was a wall of stacked bricks—no room to dodge. Zhou Mo dashed forward in a flash, slammed him to the ground—and the falling bricks all came crashing onto Zhou Mo's head and back.
Turns out, Zhou Mo might have a will of steel—but not a skull of steel.
It felt like his brain was about to be smashed out.
"Zhou Mo!" Cao Xiaodou screamed, catching him as he collapsed. "What happened?! Are you okay? Look at me!"
The commotion drew all the nearby workers. They crowded around him, chattering.
"The stack collapsed!"
"Lay him down, quick! Kid, are you conscious?"
"His eyes are closed—call an ambulance!"
"Take off his helmet first!"
Zhou Mo felt dazed, like he couldn't even tell what day it was. Everything went black. He vaguely heard Cao Xiaodou crying beside him. Irritated, he clicked his tongue weakly.
"Why are you crying… shouldn't you be in class?"
Cao Xiaodou cried even harder. "Bro, it's summer break! What if you got hit stupid?! Call an ambulance!"
Even in his daze, Zhou Mo sharply caught the words ambulance.
"…Forget it, I'm not—" Not rich enough for a hospital stay!
Before he could finish, his eyes closed completely. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open them again. Warm liquid streamed from his nose. He wanted to ask how he went from sitting in class to getting smashed like this—but he had no strength left.
Everything sank into darkness.
Damn… don't tell me I actually got killed by a brick…
His consciousness drifted in a sea of darkness—up and down—until a beam of white light pierced through. He instinctively moved toward it. The light grew brighter… until it became a stark white ceiling.
Then came the sounds—beeping instruments in a quiet room.
Zhou Mo slowly realized—
He was in a hospital.
But not a crowded ward. The bed beneath him was wide and soft. The room was bright and clean, with sunflowers blooming on the windowsill.
Before he could process it, he heard movement beside him.
A middle-aged man in a suit.
"You're awake," the man said, pressing the call button. "How are you feeling?"
Zhou Mo opened his mouth. His voice was hoarse, barely audible. The man leaned closer to hear.
"…This is… a work injury."
Even though his voice was weak, his tone was firm—like if they didn't reimburse him, he'd crawl back to the construction site and expose capitalist injustice with blood.
The butler froze for a moment, then nodded seriously. "Yes… indeed, an 'attack injury.'"
After all, the young master of the Fu family was injured by the 'gong' (top). Makes sense.
"Reimburse… my medical fees…"
"…?" The butler looked confused. "What?"
"Medical… fees…"
"What about them?"
Zhou Mo persisted, barely breathing. "Reimburse… my insurance card… at home…"
"You mean… you want Pei Ji and Young Master Fu to compensate you?" the butler guessed.
Pei Ji?!
Zhou Mo's head buzzed.
Why did that name sound so familiar?!
[Ding! System installation 100%. Plot package loaded. Monitoring module online. Forum installed. System booting…]
A cold mechanical voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
Zhou Mo jolted. "Who's talking?!"
The butler paused. "Young master, do you need something?"
[It's me, the system. Congratulations, host—you've transmigrated.]
"…Are you kidding me?"
[Please communicate with me mentally. Otherwise, your behavior will be considered insane by humans.]
The butler watched Zhou Mo blank out again, head wrapped in bandages, thin and fragile like a sheet of metal. He looked so pitiful, curled up alone under the blanket.
"…Schedule a brain CT," the butler told the doctor quietly. Just in case he'd gone stupid.
Meanwhile, Zhou Mo sat there, stunned.
What the hell was going on?
[Welcome to the world of You Are My Secret. Since you have died in your original world, we invite you to join the 'Story Reconstruction Program'—to change the tragic fate of cannon fodder Zhou Mo and upgrade from a low-quality extra to a high-quality supporting character.]
Wait—wasn't this the BL novel Cao Xiaodou dragged him to read last night?!
They even joked about sharing the same name and made him recite it!
Honestly, there wasn't much worth remembering.
The Zhou Mo in the book was peak cannon fodder—on the surface a pampered young master, but actually an illegitimate child. The Zhou family acknowledged him only to save face, but never truly accepted him.
Sure, he lived comfortably—but no one treated him like family.
His parents went abroad early, leaving only his older brother to manage things domestically.
If he'd just lazed around as a rich parasite, fine—but no.
He fell for Fu Youwu.
The Fu and Zhou families were close. Their mothers were childhood friends. Fu Youwu was a real young master—smooth sailing life, loving family, perfect upbringing.
Zhou Mo? The moment he saw him, it was like he'd been cursed—clinging, pestering, doing anything he could, even sabotaging Fu Youwu and Pei Ji's relationship.
In the end, he got crushed by Fu Youwu's older brother, Fu Yanzhi—and died poor.
And right now?
He'd just been beaten up by Pei Ji at the school gate.
Straight into the hospital.
Zhou Mo: What if I refuse?
[You've already been cremated in your original world.]
Zhou Mo: "…Ruthless."
[To ensure reader satisfaction, your interactions will be serialized as a novel in another dimension. Reader comments will influence your future tasks. Would you like to check the comment section?]
Still dazed, Zhou Mo nodded.
His phone dinged.
He opened the link—
—and was immediately greeted by a flood of insults so intense they almost cracked his screen.
1st floor: Finally got beaten up! What a celebration!
2nd: Seeing everyone this happy reassures me.
3rd: Daily check—Is Zhou Mo dead yet? I'll donate three cents for the funeral feast.
…
27th: Can he just disappear already? I feel sick seeing him.
Zhou Mo froze.
"So… my future actions depend on these comments?"
[Correct.]
Zhou Mo: "…Then based on this situation… shouldn't I just die a little?"
[...]