In the lobby, several servants were utterly baffled.

The original host treated the little one horribly, often resorting to abuse. Though he did it away from others, under the same roof, everyone knew—except for the newly-arrived Butler Li.

But strange things happen every day, and today is especially full of them! Earlier, the Young Mistress’s attitude towards Madam was a complete turnaround, and now he’s treating the Little Master differently too!

What’s going on!?

Since no coin was inserted, Cheng Leyan’s kiddie ride paused. Holding Zhuozhuo, he sat back on the sofa, letting the child sit on his lap.

The child was so light, just bones. Wrapping a hand around his thigh, there was hardly any meat there, so thin.

Why is he so skinny?

Cheng Leyan asked the nanny beside him, “Is Zhuozhuo losing weight again? How much does he weigh?”

The nanny, Aunt Zhang, smiled and said, “Last time, it was 24 pounds. Young Mistress, the Little Master is so picky, hardly eats anything, not at all obedient, no wonder he’s thin.”

Picky eater?

The child is young but not foolish; he’ll get hungry. No one can be so picky as to eat nothing.

A few plates of snacks remained on the table from what was prepared for Mama Rong but left untouched.

Cheng Leyan casually picked one up and brought it to the tiny one’s lips, “Cake-cake, does Baby want some cake-cake? Have a bite; it’s delicious!”

The child stayed silent, still a nervous face, frightened, not moving at the snack, turning his head if it got too close.

Cheng Leyan said, “Well, if Baby doesn’t want to eat, then we won’t for now, okay? Does Baby want a different cake? Which one do you want?”

The system couldn’t help but get goosebumps: [Host, why the change in voice?]

Cheng Leyan: [What change? When talking to kids, this is how it’s done. I worked as a daytime nanny for a year, received professional training, even got a maternity nurse certificate.]

System, alarmed: [A maternity certificate? You got certified for that?]

Cheng Leyan: [Maternity nurse salaries are high! But men aren’t suited for it. Sigh, wasted my certificate, missed out on plenty of money.]

The system, struggling to comment: What kind of host did I end up with!

Cheng Leyan: [This kid’s got good eyes; he can make eye contact and interact, follow commands—not like autism. His silence is odd. Oh, I got it!]

He continued in the same tone, “Let me tell Baby a joke, alright? One day, a cherry tomato asked: ‘Mom, mom, are we vegetables or fruits?’ How did the tomato mom reply?”

He paused for seven-eight seconds before revealing, “Tomato mom said, ‘What the heck, tomatoes don’t talk.’”

He mimicked the tones of the little tomato and mom perfectly, making several nearby servants chuckle, even the system in his head was laughing.

But not Zhuozhuo. Watching others’ reactions, he was puzzled.

Cheng Leyan had a hunch: This kid’s understanding isn’t behind, he gets what I’m saying. Not getting the joke’s punchline is normal—kids can’t grasp what’s funny. His confusion proves he’s curious.

So, is it psychological issues causing his silence? Time to chat with his speech therapist.

As he thought this, a commotion broke out.

Looking up, Cheng Leyan saw Butler Li dragging a young man who looked like a college student out of the elevator.

The young man was swearing, “Who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty? Even Cheng Leyan wouldn’t dare talk to me like that, and you do?!”

Cheng Leyan raised an eyebrow.

Really? I wouldn’t dare? As if there’s anything Papa Cheng would shy away from, except spending money?

Butler, flushed with anger, dragged the man in front of Cheng Leyan, “Young Mistress, I accidentally left a recorder in the Little Master’s room, capturing everything from their lessons. Only then did I realize how this ‘teacher’ was teaching Young Master Zhuozhuo!”

He then pulled out the recorder, playing a snippet.

A male voice was clearly abusing, “Are you stupid, how many times and you still don’t get it. Can’t even say ‘car-car’? Idiot, moron, wasting my time. Speak! I told you to speak! Damn, not mute, are you? Or a vegetable? Kids like you turn their dads into vegetables—perfect for a family of dead people. No response? I’ll slap your mouth if you don’t talk…”

The recording was full of foul language after that.

Holding Zhuozhuo, rage boiled inside Cheng Leyan, covering the child’s ears.

The child trembled, eyes reddened, lips tightening—pitiful.

That so-called “teacher” hadn’t anticipated being recorded, alternating between red and white, defensive and offensive, “The kid has issues, can’t say a single word after all this teaching. Did I lie? Tell me which part I got wrong! You should take him to a hospital, not waste time with teachers!”

Cheng Leyan laughed in anger, “Who let this jerk in?”

Butler Li paused, thinking, then quietly replied, “It was you, Young Mistress.”

Cheng Leyan: …

Being called a jerk shocked the “teacher,” not expecting to hear such words from Cheng Leyan, pointing and cursing, “Cheng Leyan, who the heck are you cursing? You dare insult me?”

Cheng Leyan: “Cursing whoever acts like a jerk. You’re the jerk; I curse you. What’s there to be afraid of? You think you instantly master everything taught to you? Let’s bet. I’ll say a word, if you repeat it, this million is yours.”

He waved the 1-million cheque from Mama Rong in his hand.

The teacher gazed, swallowing unconsciously at the cheque.

Cheng Leyan: “If you can’t, bow and apologize to my son, pack up and leave, repay the salaries—oh, how much does he make per class?” The last question aimed at the butler.

Butler Li: “Two thousand per class.”

Cheng Leyan nearly dropped his eyes in shock: This quality for two grand? Two grand??? What’s going on, has the world’s inflation turned yuan to Vietnamese dong!?

System: [No inflation, just high wages! Squeeze it out of him, Host! Get it back!]

Cheng Leyan faced the teacher, “So, bet or not?”

Still eyeing the cheque, the teacher eventually snapped, “Bet!”

Cheng Leyan: “Alright. Here it goes—Рентгеноэлектрокардиографического.”

A whole stream—sounded like a monologue rather than a word.

Fuming, the teacher accused, “You’re messing with me! Did you make that up!?”

Cheng Leyan mocked, “It’s Russian for an X-ray electrocardiogram. Don’t believe it, Google it—check if I’m right.

“So, can’t you pronounce it? Find it hard? Like words difficult for speech-delay kids, they struggle. Not repeating means they can’t, just like you.

“You’re a teacher, earning two thousand per class; do you actually understand speech delay? Know what autism spectrum in infants means? Don’t tell me you think it’s Alzheimer’s.

“Wait, Alzheimer’s would be flattering you; you probably think it’s Azkaban.”

Finally, he said, “Alright, refund first, then.”

Panicked, the teacher shouted, “Cheng Leyan, what are you doing? Does my brother know about this!? How will you explain to him?”

Cheng Leyan startled, 419 surprised as well: [Host, this, I found out—I checked his background, discovered he’s Xiang Jingzhou’s brother! Xiang Jinglin, just a college student majoring in early childhood education. Xiang Jingzhou recommended him, and you hired him on high pay to send money over!]

So that’s it.

You two brothers are tag-teaming to scam money.

Cheng Leyan narrowed his eyes, “What doesn’t your brother know? Without his consent, could I do this? Calling you a jerk, you really are one; think your brother’s got your back forever?”

His words, a cold splash, numbed Xiang Jinglin’s heart.

Cheng Leyan, a sycophant to Xiang Jingzhou, was always courteous to him, flattering cautiously. Who knew he’d see this side when Cheng Leyan turned cold!

Besides, Xiang Jingzhou! Why?! What happened? Did Xiang Jingzhou find out about their and Mom’s plans, making Cheng Leyan act?

Panic rose.

Cheng Leyan said, “Thirty classes, huh? C’mon, return the six thousand.”

Xiang Jinglin, saving that money for a flashy show with car and clothes rentals for a rich classmate’s birthday, was in no mood to return it. Desperation leading him to argue, “Why should I? The money was earned legally. Why return it?”

Unbothered, Cheng Leyan casually recounted, “Second-year at X University, right? Don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll see your mentor, share this with your classmates, chat with your principal. The Rong Family once donated a building there; principals will listen.

“Oh, also legal steps. I’ll use the Rong Family’s lawyers. Maybe demand damages for inflicting psychological trauma on my son. Plus, you know, confession walls, BBS, we’ll put it all out there—”

Cheng Leyan nailed Xiang Jinglin’s weak spot.

He aimed high because he was pursuing a wealthy classmate, eagerly awaiting her birthday to impress and, if lucky, level up socially. Despite looking down on his brother, he chose the same path.

If Cheng Leyan exposed him at school, his entire plan would fall apart.

Desperate, he cried, “Enough, Cheng Leyan! Fine, I’ll return the money, satisfied?!”

Immediately, Cheng Leyan pulled out his phone, displaying the payment code.

Not until the telltale “ding” signaled 60,000 deposited did he feel at ease.

Seeing Xiang Jinglin slink off, Cheng Leyan called, “Wait, you haven’t apologized to my son!”

Xiang Jinglin cursed, “Crazy, huh, Cheng Leyan! Apologize to a three-year-old?! Also, wasn’t it your—”

Interrupted, Cheng Leyan said, “No apology? Tomorrow, see you at school.”

Xiang Jinglin bit down, numerous thoughts racing, ended up reluctantly bowing to the child, “Sorry, I apologize.”

Cheng Leyan said, “And those insults, who’s the idiot, who’s a dead kid, who’s the jerk? Speak.”

Grinding his teeth, Xiang Jinglin said, “…Me, it’s me! I’m the idiot, the dead kid, it’s me. I apologize. I said nonsense. Is that enough now?”

Cheng Leyan waved, “Alright, you can leave.”

Xiang Jinglin fled.

Zhuozhuo’s big eyes blinked, puzzled and surprisingly delighted.

Did he really no longer have to see Teacher Xiang?

Teacher Xiang yelled at him daily, even hit his hands with a ruler, listed on his “grudge notebook.” Sometimes nightmares featured Teacher Xiang’s scolding.

Knowing Teacher Xiang came by his stepfather, yet now his stepfather cast him away.

Teacher Xiang bowed, apologized to him.

Is this real? Is it truly real? The child couldn’t believe it.

Holding Zhuozhuo, Cheng Leyan then gently patted his head, speaking softly, “Sweetie, that person is a bad guy. Don’t listen to his words, okay? He’s a bad person, just wait—stepdad will have the police catch him. Baby, don’t be scared, okay?”

The child gazed blankly, still tinged with disbelief and timidity.

Seeing such an expression, Cheng Leyan’s heart melted, “Don’t worry, that person won’t appear before you again. Stepdad promises he can’t hurt you anymore. Stepdad will ensure he gets proper punishment.”

He sighed gently, “Is Baby sad, scared, unhappy? Stepdad knows. Baby, you’ve been wronged.”

Then embraced the child tightly.

Despite maintaining, “I’m Iron Man, no tears,” the child couldn’t hold it anymore.

Unsure of his stepfather’s intentions, not knowing why he said what he did.

But…

He might be Iron Man, but he really wanted to cry.

Cheng Leyan felt his shirt soaked with tears.

Kids’ cries are often loud and messy, yet Zhuozhuo cried silently, more heart-wrenching.

Fully aware of the importance of acknowledging his emotions, Cheng Leyan didn’t speak, just held Zhuozhuo, gently patting his back.

After a while, Zhuozhuo lifted his head, his face tear-streaked like a little kitten.

The nanny, Aunt Zhang, offered, “Young Mistress, shall I take the Little Master to wash his face?”

Cheng Leyan nodded, “Alright.”

Passing the child back to Aunt Zhang.

Living on the third floor, Aunt Zhang carried him to the elevator. Beyond her shoulder, his tear-glazed eyes lingered silently, silently watching Cheng Leyan.

He must have cried so hard his eyes deceived him—seeing his stepfather differently now.

Today, stepdad seemed nice, almost glowing.

When Aunt Zhang returned, having bathed Zhuozhuo, she said he drank a milk box and fell asleep.

Still uneasy, Cheng Leyan checked once more, seeing Zhuozhuo snug under a blanket, sleeping soundly, before leaving.

Yet Zhuozhuo hadn’t slept at all. Half an hour later, in the dim room, he silently rose and retrieved an old phone from within a worn teddy bear.

His contacts had only one entry, to whom he texted quietly: [Brother Gu Qin, Cheng Leyan changed. He’s acting strange. He sent the teacher away, held me, didn’t hit.]

His speech delayed, but typing pinyin was swift and fluent, vocabulary expansive, unbeknownst to others.

“Gu Qin” was, in fact—the protagonist of “Prison of Love,” now just eight years old.

Gu Qin replied instantly: [What’s his scheme now? Is he trying to exploit you to win over your grandma, or possibly planning to lull you and sell you off!?]

The child paused, replying: [I’ll be cautious, Brother Gu Qin.]

Gu Qin: [Alright! Send me a message daily—over 48 hours without, and I’ll go to your grandma!]

Gu Qin: [Zhuozhuo, wait a few years, a little longer. When I make money, I’ll get you out, we’ll eat and sleep together, anyone dares bully you, I’ll beat them.]

Staring at these words for some time, the child glanced back at his “grudge notebook,” flipping to Cheng Leyan’s page.

Today, no swords were drawn.

Earnestly, he sketched a large pill.

Just one.

If stepdad truly is sick, feels one pill wouldn’t cure him.

Yet—if stepdad stays like this, it might not be so bad.

Meanwhile, Cheng Leyan, post-dinner, lay on his bed to digest.

Rong Family’s wealth meant dinner was extravagant, with Australian lobster, king crab, and more—left him overwhelmed. Villa expenses weren’t on him, so he ate voraciously, too full to move.

Cheng Leyan: [Oh, the food’s so good, why doesn’t Zhuozhuo like it?]

System: [You really care about him, Host.]

Cheng Leyan: [Of course. He’s adorable, my task, also concerning my future—not caring isn’t an option. Plus… as a child, I didn’t have it great. Seeing Zhuozhuo makes me want to give him everything I wanted, a sort of self-compensation. Many adults probably feel this way.]

The system timely suggested: [Would you like to accept a world mission, Host? It’s connected to Zhuozhuo, and there’s money involved.]

Perking up, Cheng Leyan asked: [Oh? How much can I earn?]

System: [Let me explain the task. In the book “Prison of Love,” the antagonist ends with “evil earns its due.” The protagonist destroys his company, and they find legal proof of kidnapping and murder—like the dog cage—the antagonist is executed.

[In reality, however, the antagonist grew absurdly powerful, wrecking the protagonist and company, thriving with unmatched influence, locking both leads up—unbelievable, right!? Basically taking over the world!

[World will sought help from transmigration bureau; coincidently the original host had a heart attack, so you arrived. Your goal—change this world’s fate from being antagonist’s plaything.]

Cheng Leyan: [Mm-hm. So, System Bro, how much exactly?]

System: …

Feeling it’d rambled on for nothing.

System: [Change world fate 10%, earn 10 yuan.]

Cheng Leyan: […Are you kidding me?]

System: [20% equals 100 yuan. 30%, 1,000. Then comes 10,000, 100,000, and more. With 90%, earn a billion. 100% means—a hundred billion.]

The system’s heart pounded. It’s the highest payout within its limits, even emptying its secret stash, unsure if it’d sway the Host—so nervous!

Next moment, gasping, Cheng Leyan yelled in his head: [System Father! Dad!! System, you’re my long-lost dad!!! Dad, you’re so rich; who knew, Dad!]

Joyously: [First day here, already gaining Mom, Dad, and a son—hahaha! We’re a happy, joyful family~]

System: …

Help…

Is this what the plot team does daily…

So different from my past Hosts.

They only ever said “Uh-huh” or “Ah.”

Sniff, kind of miss my old assignments…

System: [I-I’m not that rich; I just helped 23 uke and 107 seme earn a little.]

Curious, Cheng Leyan: [Huh? Why’s the uke to seme count so off? And your R18 System—is it what I think?]

System: […Host, let’s focus on the task, shall we!]

Cheng Leyan: [Sure thing!]

Without original memories, the system began outlining key points and background. Eventually, Cheng Leyan requested the original “Prison of Love” novel, diving into an enthusiastic read.

He read and read, soon lulling himself to sleep.

Two in the morning.

In dreamland, Cheng Leyan envisioned his wedding, lovers—a radiant golden apple, and a cheque—smiling blissfully even asleep, giggling uncontrollably.

Two in the morning.

System 419, diligently dissecting Jinjia transmigration records, baffled why Jinjia semes lacked anything below the neck? How could this be okay?

Two in the morning.

Mama Rong, brain echoing “Say bye to all troubles,” finally sat up in irritation: No, is Cheng Leyan ill?

Two in the morning.

Zhuozhuo, mind spinning with “Dad’s dad called grandpa,” rose exasperatedly: Is Cheng Leyan sick or something?

Two in the morning.

In a City A’s sanatorium, within a patient, a system wailed in despair: [What’s going on!!! I was with the plot team, why shifted to R18 overnight!!! What even is this job?! Plus, how’s my Host a vegetative state?! A vegetative state??! How the heck am I supposed to work with this!]

[Host, wake up, Host!!!]

[Wake up!!!]