PREVIEW

... umber of fans of the Xianchan Maoca account has also increased a lot, and there are already 700 Many fans.

next day

Holding the phone in his hands, Zhou Yan said in a daze, "Boss, I've been making videos for several years, and the highest number of views is only over two million, and there hasn't been a video that has become so popular since then."

He is just a small UP with more than 300,000 fans, and the number of views of many videos does not even have the number of his f ...

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Ye Yang, a straight man from Northeast China, transmigrated into a novel about court fights, became a concubine, and was bound to a system, which could put on view the favorability score of the main characters.

On condition that the emperor’s favorability score was too high, he’d fall in love with Ye Yang. However, if his favorability score was too low, he’d be mercilessly killed. In order to protect his life and chastity, Ye Yang forced himself to create his own persona, repeatedly switching between the personality of an unrefined man from Northeast China and the first beauty of the harem.

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He had a snowball fight with the dog emperor and pushed him into a snowdrift. Both of them caught a cold. Feng Luan’s favorability score had been increased by +10.

The mink he raised thought out a plan for Feng Luan to renovate the imperial study room worth of more than 10.000 taels of silver. The imperial study was so horrible that one could hardly bear to look at it.

Feng Luan’s favorability score had been increased by +100.

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The longer Ye Yang lived in degradation, the more he felt that the dog emperor was different from what he initially thought.

At his feet the ground was covered in blood and bones, but behind him was the delightful scenery of the prosperous world, and the coming of all nations.

A few years later, he helped Ye Yang up the stairs and gazed into the distance. He saw a myriad of twinkling lights, bustling, bright and beautiful.

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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

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Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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