At Da Bai home.
This was Chu Zhi's first time visiting Da Bai's house. From the outside, Su Shangbai gave off a neat and efficient image, and the interior matched it—minimalist to the extreme.
Compared to the style of his old hotel, this was on another level… What did "minimalist" mean here? It meant absolutely no decorations of any kind.
Furniture was kept only to the bare essentials.
A large living room usually had a carpet or a display shelf—none of that here. Good grief, Chu Zhi thought, even a robot would find this place dull.
And to think Su Shangbai called this a "small place"? Chu Zhi was convinced the villa was bigger than his own home.
"You arrived earlier than I thought, brother Jiu," Su Shangbai said, wearing an apron and busy in the kitchen.
One after another, dishes appeared: braised lion's head meatballs, red-braised crucian carp, stir-fried chicken with green chili, fragrant duck, spicy lemon chicken feet, and finally, tomato beef brisket.
"There are only the two of us, so I didn't make too much," Su Shangbai explained.
"With chicken, duck, fish, and beef… that's more than enough," Chu Zhi replied.
Judging by the spread—enough for at least four people—Su Shangbai clearly had a solid grasp of Chu Zhi's hearty appetite.
They began eating, both quietly abiding by the unspoken rule of "do not speak while eating, do not talk while sleeping." The only sounds were the soft clink of utensils and the rhythm of chewing.
"When making tomato beef brisket, you have to add some tomato paste. Just tomatoes alone won't give it a rich enough flavor, and the sauce won't taste as good over rice."
The sentence popped into Chu Zhi's mind out of nowhere.
He didn't know why, but after two or three years in this parallel world, he had become oddly sentimental this year. Something about it felt… off. He swallowed two mouthfuls of rice and decided to eat more.
"Want a drink?" Su Shangbai suddenly asked.
Chu Zhi set down his chopsticks and smirked. "I can't cook, and you can't drink."
"?" Su Shangbai also put his chopsticks down. "Brother Jiu, did I never tell you? I've never been able to get drunk since I was a kid."
What a boast. Chu Zhi didn't buy it for a second.
"Alright then, let's test that."
The result? Either Su Shangbai was bluffing or his family just couldn't hold their liquor—because after only six bottles of red wine between them, Su Shangbai was completely drunk.
Lightweight!
Chu Zhi, who often drank during performances, had a high tolerance for alcohol.
Drunk, Su Shangbai lost his usual composed, elite aura and looked more like a young boy. Well, that made sense—he was a year younger than Chu Zhi.
He started talking about his childhood. His mother had "married into wealth," but was never accepted by the in-laws, and by extension, neither was he. His family always favored his cousin.
At fourteen, his grandfather decided to "let him experience life" by sending him to work at a construction site. Fourteen was underage labor, which was illegal, but since it was the family's own site, no one said a word.
Over the years, Su Shangbai—third-generation heir to a wealthy family—had done everything from hauling bricks to waiting tables to working in a factory.
He never had any obsession with being a singer. Back in school, he had written novels and even dreamed of becoming a photographer. Singing just happened to be the path he stayed on the longest.
He only ended up in line to inherit the family business because his cousin had ruined his reputation and his younger male relatives were useless. He was the only one capable of taking the role.
"My name, Shangbai, sounds elegant—like 'White Jade Capital in the Sky, twelve towers and five cities.' Nice, right? And meaningful too. But my grandfather, who hated me, was the one who gave me this name. He's from Fengdu, and in the Fengdu dialect, 'Shangbai' actually means 'going to a grave.' Hahahaha."
Well, wasn't that a coincidence? Chu Zhi's original body's grandfather had also been from Fengdu, so he knew the dialect. In Baoluan Town, "Shang" pronounced a certain way, and "Bai" a certain way, together meant exactly that—going to a grave.
What kind of grandfather would name his grandson "Su Going-to-a-Grave"? And his father hadn't even objected.
"Da Bai, you…" Chu Zhi wanted to say more, but when he turned his head, Su Shangbai was already fast asleep.
"…"
Chu Zhi stared at his sleeping companion, speechless. Sprawled out on the sofa like that—was he supposed to carry him to the bedroom?
Of course not! Anyone who's ever tried to carry a drunk person knows there's a world of difference between moving someone conscious and moving someone unconscious.
A drunk person was basically dead weight. Even the self-proclaimed Emperor Beast, though not drunk, was tipsy enough to know he didn't have that kind of strength tonight.
So, after thinking for a while, the Emperor Beast grabbed a throw pillow and draped it over Su Shangbai like a blanket.
"Mm… that should keep him from catching a cold." But something still didn't feel right. The pillow was too small, leaving Su Shangbai's stomach exposed. If he rolled over and the pillow fell, he could still get sick.
After all, he had eaten here tonight. The Emperor Beast trudged upstairs, wrestled a larger pillow off the bed, and brought it down. Compared to the square throw pillow, this one covered him properly for the night.
Only after that did Chu Zhi wash up before bed. Even if he was tired or tipsy, he couldn't sleep without washing—otherwise, he just wouldn't rest well.
Thanks to the "Wine Immortal" trait, he felt like playing music, but since he was in someone else's home, he restrained himself.
Time for sleep.
"It's New Year's Eve, so I'm taking a break from reading today. I'll make up for it tomorrow, since there's no schedule."
Even on a holiday, Chu Zhi still thought about studying—and insisted on making up for the missed day. Compared to certain web authors who take a break and never update again, the difference was like night and day.
The night outside didn't share in human joy. Or maybe human joy had nothing to do with nature. The sky was pitch-black, without stars or light.
Maybe the sun was asleep.
It wasn't exactly the middle of the night, but the very early morning—around six—when Han Jue suddenly sat up in bed. She had just realized something.
"I finally know why I felt such a sadness in Jiu-yé's singing of that song."
She murmured to herself, "Always Go Home and Visit—Jiu-yé is telling us to go home more often, but his home… is only him now."
The realization stabbed at her heart. It hurt worse than when her ten brand-new lipsticks were destroyed by her husky.
"Ahhh, why did I have to figure this out? If I hadn't, I wouldn't have known!"
Han Jue took a deep breath and opened Douyin again. At this hour, the feed was flooded with comments reviewing tonight's Spring Festival Gala.
"Two performances really surprised me this year. One was the Hong Kong Hood Band reuniting after 24 years. Sure, the lead singer's voice was gone, the drummer could barely keep time, and the guitarist was just posing—but youth is youth. Just seeing them together again made it worth it."
"The second was Chu Zhi's original song Always Go Home and Visit. It wasn't mind-blowing—not like The Unspoken Sutra or The Opera 2—but come on, this is 2021! Who even writes songs like this anymore? It feels both out of place and perfectly fitting. My grandmother loved it."
The more praise she saw for Always Go Home When You Can, the more Han Jue felt fans needed to understand how cruel this song actually was for its singer.
"Why does it sound like something from decades ago, like an 80s or 90s composition and arrangement? Because Jiu-yé wrote it for his grandfather!"
She couldn't risk posting this on Weibo—it might look like she was trying to ride the trend, and she was half in the entertainment industry herself. Instead, she opened her small Douyin account. No need to show her face; she just typed the words, took screenshots, added music, and made it into a short video.
The title read: Can You Go Home More Often?
===
Do you love the "misunderstood MC" trope?
You know, those protagonists who are accidentally seen as legendary figures while remaining completely oblivious? Think Momonga from Overlord, Tanya Degurechaff from Youjo Senki (Saga of Tanya the Evil), or Lin Jie from I'm Really Not The Demon God's Lackey.
Just like them, our MC is seen as a terrifyingly brilliant and powerful figure—except she has no idea why everyone fears her so much. If you enjoy watching side characters overanalyze every little thing the MC does—while the MC is just vibing—then you'll love this story!
"The Invincible Money-Grubbing Fairy"
Yao Ranran was just playing a cultivation game when she got isekai'd as a minor side character. Worse, the male protagonist ruined her cultivation, leaving her a cripple! But no worries—she's got a blacksmith shop, a laid-back attitude, and one goal: Get rich or die trying.
While others see her as an unfathomable, terrifying genius, the truth is… she's just winging it. Her disciples and allies? They're convinced every move she makes is 5D chess. Enemies? They tremble at her "ruthless schemes." Meanwhile, Yao Ranran is just sipping tea under her unbreakable 99,000-layer shield, wondering why everyone keeps calling her a peerless fairy.
Will the world ever realize the truth? Or will Yao Ranran accidentally ascend to legend while just trying to run her shop?