[Stop acting like a bot all the time]

Lu Zhuonian was like some sleek, sharp-eyed predator.

He gazed silently at Chen Zemian, every pore of his body exuding the aura of a ruler.

Chen Zemian indignantly averted his gaze.

‘Can’t roast this guy—he’s the real deal.’

Lu Zhuonian was the one and only, absolute male lead of this novel. The entire world revolved around him. Everything that happened worked in his favor, and all wealth, power, connections, and luck gravitated toward him endlessly.

From his family background to his abilities, from his appearance to his essence, Lu Zhuonian was the pinnacle of perfection in every way. Even a plain white shirt on him carried the grandeur of an imperial robe.

How could someone live such a charmed life?

Chen Zemian sighed inwardly once again.

With so many resources in this world, why couldn’t some be spared for him? Why does it all have to go to Lu Zhuonian?

Ugh, thinking about it is pointless. In the original novel, with so many young masters, he still ended up transmigrated as a miserable, groveling lackey. Just retaliating against Liu Yuebo had put him at risk of Lu Zhuonian noticing his abnormality.

What a tragic fate.

Instead of hoping for some unrealistic stroke of luck to fall into his lap, he’d be better off focusing on making his game. Once he finished that shooting game, he could trick Lu Zhuonian into playing it, then—while he was still figuring out the controls—mow him down with a machine gun in-game.

‘I’ll fire a hundred rounds at Lu Zhuonian, empty the clip, shoot him right in the face.’

He could also smack him with a frying pan or trick him into blowing himself up with a grenade.

Chen Zemian’s thoughts drifted further and further.

Noticing Chen Zemian’s increasingly unfocused gaze, Lu Zhuonian reached out with his left hand, rapping his knuckles on the table with a hint of displeasure. “Chen Zhe.”

The first time, Chen Zemian didn’t register that he was being called. It wasn’t until Lu Zhuonian said “Chen Zhe” again that he snapped back, realizing that was his name now.

“Hm?”

Chen Zemian looked up at Lu Zhuonian, responding as if on autopilot. “What’s your order, Young Master Lu?”

Lu Zhuonian fixed his gaze on Chen Zemian, pausing for half a second before saying, “Chen Zhe, focus. Stop acting like a bot all the time.”

Chen Zemian felt a pang of guilt.

Just moments ago, he’d been fantasizing about luring Lu Zhuonian into the game to blast him like a bot, even considering modeling a game character after Lu Zhuonian’s face.

‘It’s such a remarkable face.’

Not using it for modeling would be a waste.

Lu Zhuonian’s displeasure had shifted to resignation. “Chen Zhe, you’re zoning out again.”

Chen Zemian had come to the shooting range today to gather data for the game’s settings, so it was easy for him to slip into work mode. Anything that caught his eye as fitting, he wanted to incorporate into the game, making his thoughts more scattered than usual.

That’s just how game directors were.

They had to be adept at finding inspiration, turning mundane, boring life into marketable game features.

And there he went, zoning out again.

Lu Zhuonian offered a sincere suggestion. “Chen Zhe, you know, sensory integration training can still be done as an adult.”

Chen Zemian’s thoughts snapped back quickly. “My focus is fine, Young Master Lu. I was just thinking about something.”

Lu Zhuonian asked casually, as if it were an afterthought, “Thinking about what?”

Chen Zemian scrambled to circle back to the starting point. “Wondering how Young Master Lu knew what I said to Liu Yuebo.”

Lu Zhuonian tilted his chin slightly.

Chen Zemian followed his gaze—

And saw the blinking red light of a surveillance camera.

‘Surveillance again!’

He swore never to get into a fight on Lu family property again. They even had scene playback!

It’s all because the Lu family owned too much!

And Lu Zhuonian, with nothing better to do— ‘what kind of male lead spends all day watching surveillance footage?’

But since he’d seen the footage, there was no need for Chen Zemian to explain the context. Lu Zhuonian should be able to see clearly that Chen Zemian wasn’t the one who started it.

Lu Zhuonian’s index finger tapped lightly on the table, a casual rhythm. “The Liu family still holds significant influence in Beijing. You offended him today—haven’t you thought about what comes next?”

Chen Zemian cleared his throat, sidestepping the weight of the question. “Liu Yuebo was looking for trouble. He’s had it out for me before, and I let his insults slide. But today, he went too far—he even insulted you.”

As long as he insisted he’d acted against Liu Yuebo to defend Young Master Lu, the Liu family couldn’t touch him. Otherwise, it’d look like they didn’t think Liu Yuebo’s insult toward Young Master Lu was wrong, which would openly pit them against the Lu family.

And Chen Zemian’s claim wasn’t baseless. Liu Yuebo had insulted him multiple times before, and Chen had indeed “let it go.” This time, he acted, and even if everyone knew he was using the situation to his advantage, no one could bypass the “situation” to punish him.

After all, Liu Yuebo’s reckless mouth had dragged in another untouchable young master.

Chen Zemian clung tightly to Lu Zhuonian’s coattails, adding, “He can insult me, but insulting Young Master Lu? Unacceptable.”

Lu Zhuonian’s gaze shifted, slowly sweeping over Chen Zemian. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m your lackey, of course,” Chen Zemian said. His striking features made even his deliberately fawning smile charming rather than off-putting, radiating a lively, triumphant air. “If the boss is disrespected, it’s the lackey’s failure. I won’t allow anyone to insult you to my face.”

Lu Zhuonian seemed to buy it. “Really?”

Chen Zemian was getting into character. “Of course. You don’t hit the master without going through the dog first.”

Lu Zhuonian: “…”

Chen Zemian kept going, spiraling further. “Forget one Liu family—even if all eight major families of Beijing came for you, it wouldn’t shake my loyalty to Young Master Lu one bit.”

Lu Zhuonian had no idea when Beijing had gained an “Eight Major Families.”

The last time he’d heard that term was in middle school, when the “Eight Masters of Tang and Song Prose” appeared as a test point in the footnotes of a Chinese literature textbook.

Lu Zhuonian asked, “What are the Eight Major Families of Beijing?”

Chen Zemian, a halfway-transmigrated outsider, had no clue that the “Eight Major Families of Beijing,” prominent in the novel’s later chapters, hadn’t yet taken shape in this timeline. Thinking Lu Zhuonian was testing his knowledge of the city’s power dynamics, he blurted out a spoiler: “The Lu family, Ye family, Xiao family, Fu family, Qin family, Shen family, Gu family, and Yan family.”

They were indeed powerful families.

Lu Zhuonian’s brow twitched slightly. “So you’re saying, even if one day all these families turned against me, opposed me, you’d stand by my side as firmly as you did today.”

Chen Zemian nodded.

He was absolutely certain of Lu Zhuonian’s 100% win rate.

The male lead only ever won, never lost. He should be very easy to back.

In the novel’s later stages, a traitor from the Lu family allied with the other seven major families to take down Lu Zhuonian. Betrayed and abandoned, Lu Zhuonian still carved a bloody path through the encirclement, turning the tables and decimating the seven families.

Chen Zemian’s half-hearted promise came as easily as breathing. “Of course.”

Lu Zhuonian gave Chen Zemian a deep look, a flicker of inscrutable darkness passing through his eyes before they settled back into calm.

“You’d better keep your word.”

Lu Zhuonian slowly averted his gaze. “Chen Zhe, since you’re so sincere, from now on, you’ll work for me.”

When Young Master Lu made a promise, he kept it without hesitation.

When he said Chen Zemian would work for him, he meant it—Chen Zemian was given actual tasks.

The day after Lu Zhuonian’s words, he arranged for Chen Zemian to work at the shooting range as a custodian, responsible for the safe storage of firearms and ammunition.

As for what exactly he’d be managing…

When Chen Zemian received the keys to the firearms exhibition hall, he felt like he was dreaming.

Putting a firearms and weapons enthusiast to work in a shooting range exhibition hall was practically handing out free perks.

Starting today, all the firearms in the hall were under Chen Zemian’s management.

He could touch his beloved guns up close.

Touch them as much as he wanted!