The staff restroom was located in the back of Moonlight Manor, not far from the private room. It had the essentials, though it wasn’t as luxurious as the front hall. The stalls were cramped, unheated, and lacked privacy with gaps at the top and bottom.

Le Le pointed Cheng Ji to the location. Once inside, Cheng Ji looked up and was immediately startled by the reflection in the mirror—a figure pale as a ghost. He almost collapsed on the spot.

“…”

Clutching his wildly beating heart, he thought, Oh my god, how can someone who looks like this have the nerve to sell themselves?

Upon closer inspection, he realized it was the heavy makeup on his face that made his complexion ghastly pale, his eyes rimmed with dark circles, and his lips blood-red like a vampire’s.

Staring at his reflection, Cheng Ji couldn’t help but admire the original owner’s ingenuity. The guy knew how to disguise himself. This look was more disorienting than face paint. But honestly, was this aesthetic meant to lure in customers or scare them to death and rob them?

Having no urge to pee and unable to wash off the makeup, he settled for rinsing his hands. Meanwhile, that mechanical voice continued echoing in his ears:

“Cheng Ji, Cheng Ji, please respond.”

Finally, unable to bear it anymore, Cheng Ji leaned against the sink and asked, “Who the hell are you?”

“I am the Plot Administrator,” the voice replied.

“Who?”

“The Plot Administrator—the guardian ensuring the proper functioning of this book’s plot.”

“Plot start countdown: eleven minutes.”

“Book?” Cheng Ji asked, staring up at the ceiling. “What book?”

“The book you are currently in.”

Cheng Ji’s hands slipped, and his face nearly hit the mirror.

He gasped. “Confirm that again. I’m inside a book?”

“Correct.”

Cheng Ji spent a full minute digesting this. He considered himself a reasonably smart person—within the realms he was familiar with, at least. Then again, he’d already accepted being resurrected, wearing fishnet stockings, and selling himself. Why couldn’t he accept being inside a book?

But still, no one prepared him for entering a book.

He had prepared for becoming a Mongolian prince, though. If there were an opening for one, Inner Mongolia or Outer Mongolia would do. He could even sing Ulaanbaatar Nights.

“What book?”

“This question will be answered later. Plot start countdown: ten minutes. Return to your position.”

“I’m not going,” Cheng Ji replied. “Explain everything first.”

“The Administrator has already explained enough. The Administrator is not your mentor. The Administrator only ensures the proper flow of the plot.”

“Fuck you,” Cheng Ji muttered, continuing to wash his hands, entirely unfazed.

“My name is Administrator, not ‘fuck you.’ Plot start countdown: nine minutes. Return to your position.”

Cheng Ji chuckled, leaning on the sink. “What I mean is, screw you. If there’s a plot, send someone else. I’m not going.”

“The Administrator has no authority to communicate with others. To everyone else, this is the real world. You are the anomaly, and only you can receive this information.”

This statement made Cheng Ji pause. He stared at the mirror, intrigued. “So, I’m that important? Am I the protagonist?”

“No.”

“A supporting character?”

“Not exactly.”

Cheng Ji pressed further. “Then what kind of role am I playing?”

There probably wasn’t a worse fate for an upright, pure-hearted young man than waking up to discover he’d been reduced to a life of selling his body.

The Plot Administrator stated:
“You are an insignificant, inconsequential, dispensable, replaceable, and utterly negligible minor character. In other words, anyone could take your place.”

Countdown: Eight minutes and thirty seconds.

Cheng Ji banged his head against the sink in frustration.

He fumed, “You dragged me all the way here just to make me an extra? And you’re even showing off your vocabulary with all those fancy phrases?”

“You have five lines of dialogue with the protagonist.”

“That still makes me an extra!” Cheng Ji splashed water onto his overly gelled hair, trying to smooth it down.

“You are an anomaly. The Plot Administrator doesn’t know why you appeared here.”

Running a hand through his hair, Cheng Ji muttered, “I have no dad. My mom is dying in the hospital. I sell my body to pay for her treatment. With such a tragic backstory, and I’m just a random nobody?”

“Your backstory is randomly generated. This book has hundreds of characters with lines. Your situation is too minor for the Administrator to bother with.”

Cheng Ji replied, “Administrator, please do me a favor and drop dead. I quit. I’m heading back to Inner Mongolia.”

Countdown: Seven minutes.

Countdown: Six minutes and fifty seconds.

Countdown: Six minutes and forty seconds.

Countdown: Six minutes and thirty seconds. Please return to your position.

Countdown: Six minutes and twenty seconds.

Cheng Ji sneered, “Screw you. I’m serious. I quit. I’m leaving.”

“You have nowhere to go. Regardless of where you came from, you now belong to this world. Please ensure the proper progression of the plot. Countdown: Six minutes and ten seconds.”

“This self-sacrificing, unsung hero act is too much,” Cheng Ji grumbled. “Since I’m so replaceable, find someone else to take my place.”

“The Administrator cannot replace roles. Also, you still have one line with the protagonist today. You must be present.”

Countdown: Six minutes.

Cheng Ji raised an eyebrow. “Six minutes? Fine, then I’ll take a really long dump. I guarantee it’ll last more than six minutes.”

“The Administrator must ensure plot continuity. The Administrator will not give up easily. The Administrator has contingency measures.”

“Screw you!”

Frustrated, Cheng Ji stared at his reflection. The heavy makeup was unbearable, so he began scrubbing it off.

Just then, someone burst into the restroom, grabbing his arm. “Cheng Cheng! Why are you hiding here? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Turning around, Cheng Ji saw a man around 35 years old standing behind him.

The man was of average height, with stylishly neat hair and immaculate attire. His expression was slightly anxious.

“And you are?” Cheng Ji asked.

“Don’t play dumb!” The man huffed. “I only kept you around because of Le Le’s recommendation. If you keep acting crazy, you’ll regret it later!”

The tone was harsh, but there was an undertone of teasing, a mix between genuine annoyance and playful scolding.

Cheng Ji glanced down at the man’s name tag, which read Deputy General Manager, Zhou Zhiwen.

“Manager?” Cheng Ji asked.

“Manager, my ass!” Zhou snapped. “Everyone knows I’m your daddy. Now move! I’ve been waiting for you.”

Zhou pulled Cheng Ji out of the restroom. Reluctantly, Cheng Ji asked, “Where are we going?”

“To meet Young Master Qi.”

“And who’s that?”

“The bigshot,” Zhou said.

Cheng Ji instantly scowled. Unfortunately, the thick makeup on his face masked his expression, leading Zhou to misinterpret it entirely.

“Excited, huh?” Zhou said, grinning. “Look at how thrilled you are. Although Young Master Qi doesn’t visit often, he’s the most important client at Moonlight Manor. Everyone dreams of getting in his good graces!”

“…”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Zhou continued. “He’s not easy to please. Still, just getting your face in front of him is a win.”

Cheng Ji rolled his eyes.

Without waiting for his response, Zhou dragged him along. Despite his reluctance, Cheng Ji was pulled away.

“Plot is back on track,” the Administrator’s monotone voice echoed in his ear.

Countdown: Four minutes.

Zhou kept talking, rapid-fire, leaving no room for Cheng Ji to interject. The only thing he caught was the last sentence:

“Listen carefully. When I bring you into Young Master Qi’s private room, you must be perceptive.”

“What do you mean by ‘perceptive’?” Cheng Ji asked.

“Stand behind me. Don’t talk, don’t move, until I introduce you. Then you’ll say one line: ‘Hello, Young Master Qi.’ Say it sweetly, warmly, cutely. No loud or rough voices.”

“And why should I?” Cheng Ji challenged.

Zhou stopped, turned, and replied seriously, “Because he’s generous, well-endowed, skilled in bed, handsome, and could crush you like a bug without breaking a sweat.”

Cheng Ji laughed. Physically speaking, it’d take one hell of a mammal to crush him.

“Don’t laugh!” Zhou scolded. “You’re ugly enough already without that smug grin.”

Dropping the smile, Cheng Ji asked, “Can I just not go? What if he really crushes me?”

Besides, what did Young Master Qi’s “generosity and skills” have to do with him? Cheng Ji was straight—straight as an arrow, free as a prairie horse galloping through the plains.

“Don’t worry,” Zhou said in a hushed tone. “Just follow my lead. And starting now, no talking. We’re almost at the third floor.”

Countdown: Two minutes and forty seconds.

The Plot Administrator seemed quite pleased with its contingency measures.

Although Manager Zhou didn’t look particularly strong, he had a surprising amount of strength when it came to dragging someone. Cheng Ji, despite resisting all the way, couldn’t shake him off. Glancing down, he realized it wasn’t entirely Zhou’s strength—his own body was too frail. Thin wrists, slender ankles—it was no wonder that even as a man, he didn’t look bad wearing fishnet stockings.

Of course, if he really wanted to break free, he could have. But Cheng Ji knew better than to make things difficult for well-meaning people. For example, there was the chatty but kind-hearted Le Le earlier, or now, this Manager Zhou.

If it had been the sneering guy who sat at the door earlier, Cheng Ji might have resorted to throwing punches.

The third-floor corridor was opulent and serene. Above, crystal chandeliers sparkled brilliantly. The walls were lined with luxurious silk wallpaper, and the thick carpet underfoot muffled every sound.

Moonlight Manor was located in the hills of Shuiyue Mountain on the outskirts of Hong City. It was a high-end clubhouse spanning about 30,000 square meters, with four separate buildings nestled among towering, lush trees. When the mountain breeze blew, the sound of rustling pines echoed, creating an atmosphere of secluded elegance.

During the day, the place was as quiet as a graveyard. Only at night would luxury cars arrive one after another in a steady stream.

Manager Zhou led Cheng Ji up to the third floor via the service staircase. Pushing open the fire door, they could see a room at the end of the corridor.

“There are five private rooms on the third floor,” Zhou whispered. “Young Master Qi only uses Room 388. Whenever he visits, we don’t book out the other four rooms. He doesn’t like running into people.”

Cheng Ji’s curiosity overtook his disdain. He decided to follow along and see what kind of reclusive, tiresome person this Young Master Qi was.