Chapter 54 Why Should I Go to Your Place?

This prop card seemed as though it was about to come in handy very soon.

A flicker crossed Chen Fang’s eyes, the corners of his lips curling into a mysterious smile, as if some private thought amused him.

Ji Mei, noticing this, asked with a hint of confusion, “What are you smiling about?”

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to say—I’m full.”

The truth was, there had been far too much food. Even after feeding each other, they’d only managed to eat half; the rest on the plates was simply too much for them.

“I’ll tidy up, then,” Ji Mei offered.

“No need.” Chen Fang scooped Ji Mei into his arms, her soft curves fitting perfectly as he carried her toward the bedroom. “I’ll hire a temp to clean up tomorrow.”

He nudged open the door with his foot.

Ji Mei hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. Tidying up after such a meal would be a real chore, and exhausting besides.

Her smooth, shapely legs wrapped around his waist, and for that instant, she was half a head taller than him.

Chen Fang tilted his head up to meet her gaze. “Are you full?”

“I am,” Ji Mei replied, just as his hands began to rove, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur, “I don’t think you are.”

In a heartbeat, the bedroom was transformed into a battlefield.

...

As it turned out, Chen Fang’s endurance was unmatched.

By the time the night waned toward dawn, Ji Mei was utterly spent, on the verge of tears from exhaustion, while Chen Fang felt not the slightest fatigue—his energy seemed inexhaustible, relentless, never pausing for an instant.

At last, he relented and let Ji Mei rest.

The next day dawned gray and sunless. The world outside was shrouded in mist; even with his robust health, Chen Fang still felt a faint ache in his back after such a strenuous night.

It wasn’t until noon that he finally roused from sleep.

Rain pattered steadily against the windows—a heavy, persistent rain, dark clouds blanketing the city of Kyoto, showing no sign of letting up.

Chen Fang stretched with a yawn, rubbing his back. “I’ll have to take it easy from now on, or even the strongest kidneys will give out on me,” he muttered. Or perhaps, he thought, he could wait for the next time he opened a box and drew a Vitality Elixir—three bottles, reputed to bestow immortality. A clear exaggeration, but after three bottles, surely he’d never feel this aftermath of indulgence again.

Ji Mei was still asleep, draped over him like an octopus, her limbs entwined so completely that Chen Fang could hardly breathe. No wonder he’d felt pinned down all night.

But he didn’t wake her.

Ji Mei no longer had a job; she could sleep as late as she pleased. After so many years of relentless effort, grinding her teeth and forcing herself forward, she had finally laid down her burdens. No one could understand the profound relief she felt—she deserved to sleep as long as she wished.

Chen Fang carefully slid her off and tucked her in, then slipped naked into the living room, poured himself a glass of water, and listened to the gentle rhythm of the rain outside, feeling a rare contentment.

He loved rainy days—the sound of raindrops tapping against the windows was deeply soothing.

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

“System,” he called silently.

“I’m here.”

“Let’s open a box.”

He’d gotten so carried away last night that, after midnight, he’d completely forgotten about the daily system reward, only dimly hearing the system announce, “Your daily box has been issued,” as he drifted somewhere between bliss and oblivion.

“Opening box now.”

A few seconds passed.

“Ding. Congratulations, host: you have received a rare prop card.”

Another prop card? Chen Fang’s heart skipped. Please, don’t let it be another bad luck card.

“‘Beginner Acting Card.’ Use to permanently increase the host’s acting ability by a small margin. This card can be stacked with no upper limit.”

An acting card? Chen Fang frowned. Honestly, he had no use for such a thing right now; he had no intention of venturing into the film industry. He had only just started out in the music world, barely finding his footing—now was hardly the time to branch into acting.

“System, can’t you give me something I can actually use right now? If nothing else, at least a bottle of Vitality Elixir?” Chen Fang couldn’t shake the feeling that the system was intentionally toying with him, the rewards entirely at its whim.

The system remained silent for several seconds.

Chen Fang pursed his lips. What a taciturn system, unable to utter a single word for ages.

“If the host does not want this prop card, I can offer an alternative,” the system suddenly said.

At that, Chen Fang’s eyes lit up. “What alternative?”

He sat down on the sofa—though it was summer, the villa was comfortably cool, and he didn’t feel the least bit cold.

“Give me one million, and I’ll take back the prop card and grant you another chance to open the box.” The system’s indifferent voice sounded in his mind, and the glass in his hand creaked under the pressure of his grip.

He took a deep breath. “How much did you say?”

“One million.”

Chen Fang couldn’t help but laugh dryly. He’d always felt he was poor, working tirelessly to escape poverty—but this system was even more desperate, demanding a million at every turn. Why not just rob him outright? For a system that claimed to be the most powerful in the entertainment industry, it was downright embarrassing.

The system spoke again, “This system has a temper too. Please mind your thoughts and emotions.”

Damn! He’d forgotten—the system could read his mind.

Suppressing a sheepish grin, Chen Fang eyed the Beginner Acting Card in his inventory and sighed. Forget it. He might as well keep it; his storage had plenty of space.

First of all, spending a million just to redraw was hardly worth it. If he paid up and ended up with a bag of laundry detergent, he’d have half a mind to end it all.

Secondly, he didn’t even have a million. The five million he’d earned earlier had long since been transferred out by the system, and the royalties from his other songs hadn’t yet arrived, leaving only a few thousand in his account.

Resigned, he could only accept the prop card.

“A prop card’s still better than laundry detergent,” he told himself.

Glancing at his system inventory, he saw only two cards: the ‘One-Day Bad Luck Card’ and the ‘Beginner Acting Card.’ Better to save them—you never knew when they’d come in handy.

After finishing his water, Chen Fang was about to head back to the bedroom to nap with Ji Mei when his phone rang in the living room.

“Where’s my phone?” He scanned the room. It should have been in the pocket of his pants—but where were his pants?

He followed the sound, searching until he finally found his trousers beneath the TV stand. The caller ID read: Xi Yuanyuan.

“Baozi, what’s up?” he asked with a yawn, still sleepy.

Images of Ji Mei’s alluring figure lingered in his mind, but as soon as Xi Yuanyuan began to speak, that image was abruptly replaced by her face, startling Chen Fang so much he nearly jumped.

“Come over to my place,” Xi Yuanyuan said bluntly.

Chen Fang paused. Go to her place? Shouldn’t business matters be handled at the office?