Chapter 2

“Stop running, I told you I’d talk!”
“Activate Level One Punishment Program!”
“This is important today, you can’t be dragged away, stop right now!”
“…Activate Level Two Punishment Program!”
With the final command, a surge of pain rushed through every bone and limb.
Star Shi was only two steps from the wall when, with a sharp turn, he darted into the adjacent corridor, marked with a restroom sign—he’d spotted it earlier.
He ran to the sink, rinsed his hands, and looked up at the reflection in the mirror—a familiar face, his own.
He stared for a moment, then turned and left.
From his experience at lunch, he guessed no one here recognized him. Since everyone was a stranger, he shed his jacket, changed his “skin,” and pretended the person who’d just sprinted wildly wasn’t him. Calmly, he returned to the dining hall.
The Level Two punishment had ended; the pain was tolerable. The system couldn’t control his body, nor could it erase him at will. Apart from punishment, it seemed powerless against him.
He organized the facts in his mind and headed to the beverage area.
The system, nearly frightened out of operation, saw him lively and even with the mood for a drink, and collapsed: “Even Level Two punishment doesn’t affect you?”
If it had been another host, they’d have been down on the ground the instant it started. How could he be unfazed?
It asked, “Is there something wrong with your nervous system?”
Star Shi replied, “I have a high pain threshold. Want to try Level Three?”
The system fell silent.
Star Shi thought to himself that the punishment mechanism indeed triggered only under certain conditions, and said, “So I don’t feel pain when I hit the wall. Want me to demonstrate?”
The system immediately responded, “I’ll talk.”
Star Shi poured a glass of juice, replying with a hum to show he was listening.
“Star Shi, nineteen, freshman at Z University.”
After compromising, the system’s voice regained composure: “During the winter break, you met a talent scout while working part-time and signed with June Cultural Media as a trainee. Today is the day for the second round of auditions and class assignments…”
Star Shi interrupted, “No more college?”
The system said, “You keep attending classes. The company is close to your school, so you train and study simultaneously.”
June Cultural Media had only been established for two years but was growing rapidly.
Its artists included a newly crowned film emperor and popular young stars. Last year, their trainees earned first and fifth place in a wildly popular talent show.
This year, major platforms would host more competitions, so at the start of the year, when the company announced trainee recruitment, applicants flooded in.
After introducing the background, the system continued, “The company formed a scouting group. If they spot someone with exceptional looks, they sign them early—what Feng Zifan and the others call ‘pre-selected’.”
“All those who passed the first round are taking the second now. Today is the last day. In the afternoon, those who pass, along with you pre-selected ones, will be assigned to classes and begin targeted training.”
Star Shi resisted, “How many years did I sign for?”
The system replied, “Five.”
Star Shi asked, “How much is the penalty for breaking the contract?”
The system answered, “The contract states over a million, but June Cultural is decent. It can be negotiated. However, with your looks, wanting out would cost at least six figures.”
Star Shi asked hopefully, “Can I afford it?”
The system replied, “No.”
Star Shi took a few small cakes and a plate of fruit and carried them back to his seat.
The system waited, seeing he was silent, worried he’d pull another stunt, and said, “Being a star is great—lots of admirers, lots of money.”
Fu Xiuning heard the voice again but didn’t look up.
There was a range limitation; he hadn’t heard their later conversation, only seeing the host dart into the corridor. The other was running so fast, he only caught a glimpse of a back—black trousers and a denim jacket.
He’d know who it was when classes were assigned.

Feng Zifan and his companion had finished eating. When Star Shi returned, they shifted over, filling the previous empty space.
Both had noticed his earlier commotion: “Why were you running? What happened?”
Star Shi moved his tray to the middle, sharing the food and casually replied, “Sudden nausea, but it passed before I reached the restroom.”
Feng Zifan saw him eating cake, which didn’t look like someone with an issue, and switched topics to class assignments. Now they knew his name and pre-selection status.
Star Shi said, “It’s not called pre-selection; I just signed a few days earlier than you. I was lucky to meet the scout. If they’d seen you, maybe you’d have been signed too.”
Feng Zifan and his friend were pleased but waved modestly.
“Good looks come in tiers. Standing next to you, there’s a clear gap,” Feng Zifan said. “We don’t know how many pre-selected there are, but there are two obvious guys among the boys, both arriving at noon. One is you—you came at noon, right?”
Star Shi checked with the system, then confirmed, “Yes.”
Feng Zifan looked knowingly, lowering his voice: “The other is just behind us on the left. Take a look—you’ll spot who I mean.”
Star Shi turned, and immediately saw the person two tables away.
It was early spring; the other’s trench coat was neatly folded, draped over the back of his chair. Now, he wore only a white shirt.
The sleeves were rolled up just so, exposing elegant wrists. His hands were pale and slender, calmly holding dark chopsticks, graceful in both movement and appearance.
His complexion was somewhat pale, lending a hint of fragility, but it didn’t detract from his looks—if anything, it added to his refined aura. He radiated an air of polite aloofness, making him hard to approach.
Star Shi met Feng Zifan’s expectant gaze and confirmed, “White shirt?”
Feng Zifan nodded vigorously, “Isn’t he striking?”
Star Shi honestly replied with an affirmative.
Feng Zifan admired, “You two are something else. You could debut right now without any makeup. You’ll have no shortage of fans.”
Star Shi didn’t reply, because as soon as he said “mm,” the system began urging him to make friends.
He understood, “That’s Fu Xiuning?”
The system said, “Yes. So handsome—just pleasing to the eye.”
“He’s not a trainee. He’s June Cultural’s boss. He’s here today to observe you trainees during class assignments, probably why he’s not eating in a private room,” it suggested, “Pretend you know nothing and make friends with him. He might take care of you in the company.”
Star Shi chewed his cake, listening to Feng Zifan gossip while replying to the system, “He doesn’t seem like someone who makes friends.”
The system said, “You look good—maybe he’ll find you agreeable?”
Star Shi responded, “You didn’t deny it, so he’s indeed hard to approach.”
The system paused for a second, quickly calculating the host’s personality and style, concluding he was stubborn and persuasion was useless, then reasoned, “He’s a target for conquest—how could he be easy? You have the advantage of looks, but that’s not enough. Try and see for yourself.”
Star Shi answered without hesitation, “No need. I’m not up to it.”
System: “?”
Star Shi suggested, “Why don’t you bind to someone else?”
“…Once bound, unless the conquest is successful or the host dies, it can’t be unbound.”
Star Shi was disappointed.
The system said, “Once the host succeeds, they can make a wish to the main system. As long as it’s not outrageous, it’s usually granted.”
Star Shi finished his cake and reached for the fruit plate.
The system, resigned, said, “Go ahead and eat. You’re not the only host, you know? Honestly, you’re the last one bound—other hosts have already interacted with Fu Xiuning.”
Star Shi paused mid-bite, confirmed, “There are other hosts in this world besides me, and we share the same conquest target?”
Sensing his interest, the system thought provocation might work and coldly affirmed, “Yes.”
Star Shi was curious, “Why Fu Xiuning?”
The system replied, “Because he’s antisocial. Remember the affection score the program reported?”
Star Shi recalled, “Minus five?”
The system confirmed, “Yes, that’s his initial affection score for you, but you don’t actually know each other. He dislikes everyone equally…”

As they spoke, the dining hall stirred.
Feng Zifan learned that the downstairs practice room was open; they could familiarize themselves with the environment while waiting for class assignments.
Star Shi still had half his fruit plate left, “You go ahead, I’ll finish eating.”
Feng Zifan and his friend sat back down, saying they’d wait and go together.
Star Shi listened as the system explained—Fu’s family was powerful, and once Fu Xiuning inherited, his resources and authority would increase. If he remained committed to antisocial tendencies, it would be dangerous.
With this sense of justice, Star Shi finished his fruit and stood up, “Why don’t you just kill him or cripple him?”
The system replied, “Our goal is to save him. A life is a life—you can’t just kill someone.”
Star Shi retorted, “The host’s life is a life too. You punish as needed, erase as you please.”
The system was stumped, “We’re just talking. Punishments happen because we’re anxious…Fu Xiuning!”
Fu Xiuning was heading out at that moment.
After the earlier commotion, few people remained in the dining hall. Hearing the system’s excitement, Fu Xiuning glanced toward the dining area, spotted three people coming out, and naturally fixed his gaze on the last young man—black casual pants, white hoodie, denim jacket in hand—clearly the host.
Star Shi, prompted by the system, lifted his head, and their eyes met.
Fu Xiuning saw his face clearly.
A high-bridged nose, delicate features, clean, attractive, dazzling, brimming with youthful energy.
His gaze was calm, perfectly restraining any impulsiveness typical of his age, carrying a unique air.
[Beep beep]
[Current affection score: -4]
Star Shi: “?”
System: “!”
Fu Xiuning: “…”
Their eyes met for only a second before turning away.
Fu Xiuning walked on, his gaze darkening.
This affection program had caused him trouble before, always risking exposure, but he hadn’t expected one day he’d award a point for the host’s looks. For years, he’d felt nothing for humanity.
Clearly, this face suited his aesthetic. The thought of the host eventually distorting it made him instantly disgusted.
[Beep beep]
[Current affection score: -10]
Star Shi: “…”
System: “?!”
The system had never expected Fu Xiuning to raise the score upon seeing the host—so delighted it could have set off fireworks—only to suffer a sudden setback, instantly agitated, “Why?”
Star Shi took it in stride, “It’s easy to understand.”
Fu Xiuning kept his pace steady, curious to hear his explanation.
Star Shi said, “Beautiful things are appreciated. So when he first saw me, he thought, ‘This kid’s pretty handsome,’ and raised the score by one—minus four, nothing wrong with that.”
System: “That makes sense, but why did it drop again?”
“An initial shock must be savored.”
Star Shi followed leisurely behind, “You said he’s abnormal, right? So he mulled it over, realized I’m even more handsome than him—how infuriating, minus ten.”
System: “…”
Fu Xiuning: “…”