In the height of summer, inside WK's campus, Fang Chen weaved through the crowds in an oversized white T-shirt. The front read "Super Pizza", a promotional shirt from the store. Everyone else thought it was ugly, so Fang Chen just grabbed them all.
Hot? Wear one.
Cold? Layer two.
Building 5, Room 301.
Fang Chen lowered his head, struggling to find the name among a long list of delivery orders. He poked his head out the door and called, "McKen! McKen!"
"What are you shouting for? Looking for me?" a deep, hoarse voice sounded from above.
Fang Chen jumped and quickly looked up. A short-haired, burly guy was standing in front of him, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed.
Silently, Fang Chen compared himself, his thighs were probably as thick as the guy's arms.
He took two steps back, raised the pizza boxes slightly, and said in a stiff voice, "Delivery."
The boxes were stacked high. McKen had ordered three and they hid Fang Chen almost completely. Only his thin fingers pressing tightly against the packaging were visible.
With ease, McKen picked them up. "Got it."
"W-Wait!" Fang Chen stammered, facing the imposing figure. His palms were sweating as he blurted, "Please give us a… a…"
Damn it. How do you say "good review"?
The more Fang Chen panicked, the less he could think. His mind went blank until a low voice came from inside, "McKen, what are you dawdling for?"
The voice seemed taller than the burly man in front of him. A shadow stretched across the door as its owner walked toward the entrance. Fang Chen quickly shut his mouth, hugged the remaining boxes, and turned to run.
Seth walked out, looking impatient. "You're half an hour late. Everyone's waiting. Are you just standing at the door chatting?"
As he spoke, his eyes glanced at the staircase corner. The oversized white T-shirt billowed in the wind, sunlight glinting off it, revealing a slender figure in flashes.
His expression grew colder.
McKen was famously a playboy, capable of dating seven or eight girls a week.
"If you're in a hurry to get into bed, you don't need to come today."
McKen protested, raising the boxes. "I'm just picking up pizza, really!"
Seth gave him a cold look, then turned to walk inside. McKen hurried to follow. "But you should've come out earlier, the delivery guy's a cute boy. You might like him…"
His words cut off abruptly under Seth's dark stare.
McKen had said it on purpose. Recently, Seth had grown tired of endless love letters and confessions popping up everywhere, so he had openly admitted he liked men.
Seth spoke slowly, coldly: "Do you want to get kicked out now?"
McKen forced a smile. "My bad, Seth. I'll keep my mouth shut."
He didn't dare anger Seth—otherwise, WK could force him to leave school tomorrow.
Thinking of this, he quickened his steps into the classroom, cheerfully saying, "Hey guys, I ordered pizza from the hottest place. Let's eat before we work on the group report."
After delivering all the orders and running half the campus, Fang Chen returned to the store, collapsing into a chair from the heat, panting like a little white puppy.
"Baby Chen, did you deliver the orders to Building 5 just now?!"
The store clerk Benjamin ran over and grabbed Fang Chen's hand, shaking it vigorously.
"Did you see Seth? I heard he's been holding group meetings in Building 5 lately."
"Who?" Fang Chen yanked his hand back. "I only know Fasis… but he wouldn't order pizza."
"Oh my god, you don't know Seth? Seth Bolton! Are you really a WK student?"
At that last sentence, Fang Chen felt a moment of guilt, afraid someone might notice that the "soul" in this body had changed. He quickly sat up straighter and coughed.
"I'm a freshman… but I think I remember now. Is he the one with a really good body?"
On campus, if someone's name was well-known, it was either because they were handsome or had a great physique.
And someone worshipped by a gay guy? Must be an eight-pack, alpha male waist.
"Not just that!!" Benjamin's eyes sparkled. "Seth Bolton has won the inter-school boxing championship three years in a row. He's the favorite for the ICK gold belt! And most importantly, he's from the Bolton family—the most powerful noble family in the northwest!"
Benjamin rattled off like a machine gun. Fang Chen's language skills were poor, and he could only catch a few keywords: boxing… noble.
Like doing a cloze test for the CET-6.
"Oh," Fang Chen said, casually. Boxed.
He remembered the burly guy he'd seen delivering pizza earlier, the muscle blocks made his head spin. Was that considered well-built?
"I didn't see him," he said indifferently.
Benjamin's excitement deflated… for two seconds. Then he perked up again, fists clenched. "Next month's inter-school boxing match—I have to watch! I'm going to buy some more chips."
"…What does that have to do with chips?"
"Come on, do you know how expensive the tickets are? Three thousand dollars each!" Benjamin held up three fingers dramatically. "Even if you sold me, I couldn't afford it."
"But PLL Chips sponsors the match. They're doing a promotion—new chips this month have lottery cards, and the grand prize is a match ticket."
Fang Chen rolled his eyes. "The odds are basically the same as winning the lottery."
"Eh, you have to dream big sometimes."
Fang Chen waved his hand, refusing to chat further. After resting, he got back to delivering pizzas.
After all, he was paid by the job. To survive next month, he had to grit his teeth and keep going.
Damn this transmigration!
Damn this fate!
Damn this foreign country!
He was seriously cursed!
Yes, Fang Chen had transmigrated.
Before this, he was an ordinary college student. One night, water spilled on exposed wiring while gaming late—next thing he knew, he was sent here, fresh as a daisy.
When he woke, he was on a plane, memories flooding in.
He had transmigrated into a character from a book he had read; the cannon fodder had a similar name to his own.
Fang Chen was unfazed. His parents had died long ago; nothing tied him down. Transmigration or not, it was a chance to experience another life.
In the book, the cannon fodder was a "fake young master" in a wealthy family, constantly stirring up trouble and self-destructing.
Fang Chen was ready to play along!
No problem! Let him show how to turn the tide!
Would he transmigrate to the story's beginning, needing to deal with the real young master early, or to the climax, causing chaos?
Looking around, Fang Chen was shocked to find himself on a plane, holding an empty bottle of sleeping pills.
What the hell? Straight to the ending?
The cannon fodder had been sent abroad to fend for himself but, apparently, had enough pride to attempt suicide on the plane.
Fang Chen's vision went black. He wanted to open another bottle himself.
Help! He hadn't passed the CET-6 yet!
A disastrous start, but it got worse.
Because of the cannon fodder's previous actions, the Fang family had paid all his tuition at once and then blocked all his contacts.
Fang Chen stared at a string of red exclamation marks in despair.
Can I get another chance???
He really has changed now!
Screaming didn't help, he still had to work.
Once settled, he went out to find a job, translating on his phone and memorizing words with a dictionary.
With that effort, not just CET-6… even Level-60 would be easy.
But environment shapes a person. At least he could barely communicate now.
For now, delivery was all he could do.
By evening, after finishing the last order, Fang Chen was starving, barely making it back to the dorm to eat dry bread. He bought something from a vending machine halfway there.
He originally wanted the cheapest cookie to fill his stomach, but paused, then picked up PLL Chips next to it.
He just suddenly wanted chips! No lottery intentions!
As he tore open the bag, a lottery card fell out.
He scratched it with his key and glanced at it.
Wait…
Fang Chen froze.
The streetlight stretched his shadow long. Squatting on the ground, his fingers shook nervously.
Come on, check it.
Grand Prize!!
He nearly jumped up. Clutching the card, his heart raced. He had said it—transmigration shouldn't leave him without a little golden touch.
Luck had arrived!
The next day, at the pizza shop, Fang Chen quietly pulled Benjamin aside during a lull.
"I have an expensive watch. Do you know a safe platform to resell it?"
Since the ticket was so hot, he decided to keep it under wraps for now.
"eBay or Mercari are fine," Benjamin yawned, still tired from last night's clubbing. "But I suggest meeting a rich kid in person—they'll pay more."
"Thanks! Lunch is on me, beef burger."
Fang Chen patted Benjamin on the shoulder and muttered to himself, "Better stick to the platform… I don't know any rich people anyway."
"You could go to tonight's party!" Benjamin suddenly remembered. "It's a school-wide party. Most of the graduate students are rich kids. Your watch will fetch a good price!"
WK holds a Back to School Party every year at the start of term. Benjamin had mentioned it before, but Fang Chen had been too busy earning money to care.
Fang Chen hesitated. Benjamin got excited. "Come with me! You're so cute—let me dress you up!"
From the first day they met, Benjamin had been calling him cute nonstop, shouting "cute boy." In the end, Fang Chen couldn't take it and forced him to stop.
Hearing this, Fang Chen hesitated further. "Maybe… I'll just stay on the platform…"
"No, no, no! You have to come." Benjamin quickly grabbed Fang Chen's hand. "I'll introduce you to several rich people. I swear—you'll make at least two hundred more dollars than selling on the platform!"
It was an animal-themed costume party, and Benjamin was already imagining how to dress Fang Chen—little bunny? Or little lamb?
---
"Boring party."
Seth lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, one leather boot casually resting on the table.
"Come on, great Mr. Seth Bolton, show some mercy."
Joey frowned. "This party was organized by my cousin. She insisted I invite you."
"It's your last year in grad school. Don't you want a good memory?"
Seth remained cold. "I won't waste my time on such stupid activities."
Joey wrung his hands in desperation.
Seeing Seth grow increasingly impatient, Joey suddenly remembered something, slapping his thigh. "Seth, do you know someone's faking tickets for the boxing match?"
Seth finally lifted his eyes, gaze dark. "What?"
Joey worked in logistics and was quick with gossip. "Over a dozen people have already been scammed. The amount isn't small. I've seen the fake tickets—they look real."
Seth's expression hardened. "No report to the police? Are the organizers useless?"
"Of course, they reported it," Joey said quickly. "The guy's called 'Street Rat.' A repeat offender. Police haven't caught him yet, but I think he'll show up at the party. There's more profit selling tickets privately."
Joey added deliberately,
"Seth, someone's messing with your boxing match. Aren't you going to deal with it?"
Seth let out a cold laugh.
He stood up slowly, adjusting his cuffs.
"Not a bad provocation."
Ignoring Joey's anxious look, he picked up his coat and headed for the door—then paused.
"A rat, you say? I'm looking forward to crushing it under my foot."
---
Author's Notes:
1. Height difference: 175 cm vs 195 cm
2. Age gap: 19 vs 24
3. Body type difference: little lamb vs North American gray wolf
4. Sticky-sweet couple daily life
Sweet story! Sweet story! Sweet story!
SC, HE (1v1)