Chapter 11: Making Lin Yu Like Me  Only by making him like me can I…

Zhang Modu felt his brain couldn’t keep up with Lin Yu’s pace. He offered an apologetic smile, “Did my form of address make you uncomfortable?”

“I understand now, Ayu. It’s just my professional habit. Since I’m relatively young, most people in the business world are my seniors, so I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

Zhang Modu spoke slowly, exuding remarkable patience. His gentle gaze rested on Lin Yu as he held a cup of tea, radiating approachability.

001 felt its circuits spinning. It frantically mobilized its microchip’s processing power, only to discover it was overheating from the overload. “Host, I can’t comprehend your conversation. I think I need to enter hibernation.”

A system shutdown request popped up before Lin Yu. He dismissed it with an exasperated tap, simultaneously sending an error report to administrator Shen Qian.

When he looked up, he found Zhang Modu studying him intently, having received no response. Unconsciously, Lin Yu straightened his posture.

Much of his perception of this Small World relied on fragmented memories and system suggestions.  

He wasn’t the original host—reviewing those memories felt like watching a movie: observed but not truly absorbed.  

Now with the system hibernating, this native of the Demon Clan from the World of Cultivation felt particularly adrift in this foreign environment.  

When would Shen Qian finally improve the system’s programming?  

Lin Yu met Zhang Modu’s gaze with solemn gravity. “So how should I follow my instincts?”  

Strangely, he found this environment unexpectedly comforting.  

The air carried an unfamiliar incense—like morning blossoms unfurling their fragrance through misty veils, unrestrained and lavish.  

Every detail harmonized perfectly.  

The furniture arrangement, the interior decor, the scent lingering at his nostrils…  

Even the mat beneath his feet seemed precisely calibrated for comfort.  

Lin Yu reclined, his black dress shirt creasing against the sofa in layered folds. His straight legs crossed at the ankles, polished black oxfords tilting upward—an image of restrained elegance.  

Zhang Modu set down his teacup, lips curving. “When pursued, do you feel troubled? Does your instinct urge withdrawal?”  

Something felt off, though Lin Yu couldn’t pinpoint it. “I suppose.”  

Leaning forward, Zhang Modu held Lin Yu’s gaze. One hand pressed downward, leaving a long indentation in the sofa cushions.  

“Then honor that instinct,” he said earnestly. “Maintain appropriate distance. Never let unsatisfactory connections become burdens.”  

Lin Yu nodded hesitantly. As Zhang Modu’s proximity intensified—close enough to feel body heat now—his unease mounted.  

Recognizing this, Zhang Modu immediately retreated, resuming proper posture at a respectful distance while keeping his attention fixed on Lin Yu.  

“Ayu,” he asked, still watching him intently, “did you find my advice helpful?”

He seemed to see the loneliness unique to Lin Yu reflected in his own pupils, as if Lin Yu were an out-of-place sculpture on the sofa, involuntarily reminding him of the ancient Greek gods—each a distinct blend of humanity and divinity.

—Elegant, yet unapproachable?

Had he always been like this?

Zhang Modu found himself growing even more curious.

Lin Yu nodded slowly, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his cup, their cold porcelain-white sheen gradually moving downward from the top.

He carefully considered the strange sensation this human across from him evoked.

“So, do you think we’re friends now?” Zhang Modu smiled beautifully, like a slowly blooming lily—pure and utterly nonthreatening.

The ceiling chandelier had been diligently casting its light all along, as if deliberately highlighting the two protagonists’ thoughts and exchange.

Time flowed, sparks ignited. Outside, daylight had long since faded into complete darkness. All light should have appeared glaring in the dark, yet now it competed to blend seamlessly into the surroundings.

Harmonious. Natural.

Lin Yu gave a noncommittal “Hmm” before sinking back into solitary contemplation.

The primal instinct of natural selection triggered an innate sense of crisis within him. His heartbeat gradually quickened, his fingers trembled with increasing frequency, and his thoughts began to scatter chaotically.

This wasn’t normal.

He looked up again.

Zhang Modu’s entire demeanor visibly brightened. He suddenly stood up, his suit swaying crisply with the movement, and extended a hand toward Lin Yu:

“Remember how I invited you last time to visit our garden?” The corners of his lips curled upward, unable to suppress their arc.

“No,” Lin Yu answered bluntly.

Zhang Modu eagerly stepped forward but withdrew just as his fingers were about to make contact, tentatively grasping only the hem of Lin Yu’s clothes instead.

Half-hesitant, he attempted to pull Lin Yu up, blinking at him. “Then let’s go together, okay?”

Lin Yu allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, frowning as he met Zhang Modu’s expectant gaze. Pressing his lips together, he finally conceded, “Fine.”

And so Lin Yu found himself being led all the way to the garden.

To call it a garden would be an understatement—it was practically a Temperature-Controlled Mini-Forest. With its 24-hour near-constant temperature Plant Cultivation Mode and all manner of peculiar little creatures.

Tulips, whose vibrant enthusiasm clearly defied the season, stretched languidly in the gentle breeze, seemingly savoring the unique beauty of dusk.

Though the sun had long set, the garden’s near-daylight illumination appeared to have been shining ceaselessly without pause.

Lin Yu was brought before a large banana tree where Zhang Modu pointed at a bizarre-looking creature, turning to him with a question: “Are you afraid of chameleons?”

Lin Yu quickly retrieved from memory what a chameleon was, then studied the creature’s rather “unaesthetic” body before answering after some thought, “No.”

But why was it also called a dragon? Could it be of the same lineage as himself? Lin Yu rubbed his chin contemplatively.

Zhang Modu turned around, beaming at him brilliantly. “Then do you like this little thing?”

A dragon? Well, he was a dragon himself—of course he’d like dragons.

Lin Yu nodded.

Zhang Modu stroked the little chameleon’s chin, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to gently wipe the Little Dragon clean.

The little chameleon wriggled reluctantly in Zhang Modu’s palm. He gently pinched its tail and carefully handed it to Lin Yu, cradling it in his hands.  

“Can I give it to you as a gift to celebrate our friendship?”  

Zhang Modu tilted his head. “Would you like to give it a name?”  

Lin Yu fell into thought again.  

Something felt strange—off, somehow. But his mood remained pleasant for now.  

“I don’t know,” Lin Yu said, shifting his gaze from the chameleon to Zhang Modu’s face.  

Zhang Modu, feeling the weight of Lin Yu’s intense, unguarded stare, turned away shyly and passed the little chameleon to Lin Yu along with the handkerchief.  

Lin Yu felt the warmth from the fabric—heat lingering from another person’s touch, pulsing with vibrant energy, lively and passionate.  

It was like stumbling upon a trace of modernity while trekking through the primal jungles of Hawaii—something familiar yet still intriguingly foreign.  

Only when he saw Lin Yu cradling the handkerchief did Zhang Modu clear his throat awkwardly, clenching his fist and lightly pressing it to his lips before continuing to guide Lin Yu through his small garden.  

Time had passed quickly, yet it felt as though he had walked a light-year’s distance.  

Lin Yu had already grown somewhat disinterested after touring the entire garden. Zhang Modu studied his expression cautiously before tentatively inviting him to stay the night.  

Lin Yu considered it. “I think I’ll go home.”  

Zhang Modu lowered his eyes. “But you said we’re friends. Shouldn’t friends stay at each other’s homes?”  

Lin Yu’s mind whirred. “You also said I could refuse anything I don’t want to do.”  

Zhang Modu felt as if he’d been choked—no words came out.  

He bowed his head, visibly dejected.  

Lin Yu glanced at Zhang Modu’s crestfallen face. The pitiful Little Dragon hesitated, brows furrowed in conflict. “Fine, I’ll stay.”  

Zhang Modu’s eyes brightened, vitality surging back into him.  

Delighted, he directed the attendants to prepare a room for Lin Yu before eagerly leading the way.  

The villa’s cold light spilled over Lin Yu’s clothes, casting an aura of solitude that starkly contrasted with the vast, empty space around him.  

Lin Yu’s near-perfect profile was close to Zhang Modu’s, seemingly unbothered by the proximity, yet an unapproachable sternness clung to him—his demeanor and presence alone enough to quicken anyone’s pulse.  

Zhang Modu felt his brain stutter, his heartbeat growing louder and stronger.  

The same magnetic pull he’d felt when first seeing Lin Yu at the basketball court enveloped him again, making his carefully guarded heart pound violently.  

He didn’t understand what had come over him.  

Mechanically, Zhang Modu pointed out his own room to Lin Yu, gave the butler a few instructions, then wandered off in a daze.  

Back in his room, he leaned against the wall like a puppet, sliding down slowly, his movements eerily stiff.  

Zhang Modu patted his own head, and only when he spotted the familiar Black Humanoid Lifeform did he exhale in relief.  

Finally regaining his senses.  

“What’s wrong, Host? Is this mission really that difficult?”

The Black Humanoid Lifeform seemed perpetually enveloped in a haze of dark threads, forming an invisible barrier against the surrounding modern facilities. Thick, inky smoke occasionally emanated from “it,” gradually filling all the space around it.

White light poured down from the ceiling, making the Black Humanoid Lifeform appear even more eerie.

Zhang Modu collected his thoughts. “Didn’t you say you sealed my Emotional Link? Why do I still have feelings for the mission target?”

The Black Humanoid Lifeform snorted impatiently. “Nonsense! Do you even know where we are? This is a Small World!”

“Lin Yu is the protagonist here—the chosen one of this world!”

“Do you really think you can resist the power of a Small World? Is it so strange to feel drawn to him?”

“But…” Zhang Modu seemed to have more to say, but in the next moment, the Black Humanoid Lifeform swiftly vanished from his sight.

Only a single sentence remained, the dark mist dissipating as if nothing had happened. “Just complete your mission. Make Lin Yu fall for you—otherwise, don’t expect to survive.”

“You’d better keep yourself in check.”

Zhang Modu raised his hand, staring at his palm as he recalled the warmth of Lin Yu’s touch when he caught the handkerchief. He dusted off his sleeves and rose from the floor.

Slowly standing up, he replayed the footage from today’s encounter in the small garden, lost in thought.

……

Meanwhile, Lin Yu sat in his room, hugging the seemingly still-frozen 001, his eyes fixed curiously on the screen. He spoke to the figure buried in paperwork on the other side:

“Shen Qian, tell me—why is it that every time he gets close, my mind just goes blank?”