Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Invincible Little Mei Aluminum

Su Tong entered the room and found Yang Feifei standing barefoot not far from the door, wearing an oversized cartoon T-shirt that hung past her thighs, making it impossible to tell if she was wearing anything underneath. Her slender, pale legs immediately caught Su Tong’s gaze, and he was transfixed.

He had never seen such an alluring beauty dressed in such a provocative way; he was utterly stunned.

“What are you staring at? Haven’t you ever seen this before?” Yang Feifei snapped.

As Su Tong stood there dazed, a throw pillow came flying at him, hitting him squarely on the head.

No matter how thick-skinned he was, Su Tong couldn’t help but blush, muttering inwardly that he truly hadn’t seen anything like this before.

Yang Feifei’s outfit was even more suggestive than wearing nothing at all, setting his blood on fire.

“You knew we had a guest, and you’re still dressed like this,” Sister Yaya chided gently.

Yang Feifei stuck out her little pink tongue, walked over, and bent down to pick up the pillow from the floor.

Su Tong was once again mesmerized. When Yang Feifei bent down, her T-shirt naturally lifted, revealing even more of her thighs, but still no sign of any shorts.

He roared silently in his heart and, before Yang Feifei straightened up, managed to wrench his gaze away, his heart pounding wildly.

This was dangerous.

If Sister Yaya weren’t present, he might have lost control and rushed over.

It was the first time he realized how much he liked women.

To die under the peony is still a romantic fate.

It seemed the ancients spoke nothing but the truth, not a word of exaggeration.

“Come with me. Let’s see what gear I’ve prepared for you,” Yang Feifei beckoned to Su Tong and walked toward another room.

Su Tong hurriedly took off his shoes and glanced at the slippers by the door, unsure which pair to choose.

“The newest pair,” Sister Yaya prompted him.

He had just finished changing when Yang Feifei was already in the other room.

Su Tong strode after her and was amazed by the spaciousness of the room.

He’d once helped a senior who was preparing for graduate school look for a place to rent. All the places he saw were cramped and divided, dark and damp—some were little more than coffin rooms, just big enough for a tiny bed, a small cabinet, and a desk, with no windows at all, costing a thousand Qin coins a month.

Yang Feifei’s room was at least thirty square meters, bright and airy. More importantly, there was a piano, both a violin and a viola, a guitar, and other instruments.

Su Tong was especially interested in the computer and live-streaming equipment. He quickly walked over to the desk.

Yang Feifei had already turned on the computer for him to check the setup.

Camera, microphone, sound card—all crucial. After testing them for a while, Su Tong nodded in satisfaction. They were much better than what he had at home.

“We start the stream at seven, but it’s just after five now. Tell me the rest of ‘The Immortal Executioner’ story, using your voice-changing skills,” Yang Feifei coaxed. No matter how well Su Tong sang or how funny his jokes were, nothing captivated her as much as the tales of “The Immortal Executioner.”

Especially since Su Tong could mimic different voices for various characters—it left her in awe.

Su Tong dared not look at her; her outfit was simply too tempting for any man to resist.

“I haven’t had dinner yet—I'm starving,” Su Tong said. “Is there any food here, or should I order takeout?”

Yang Feifei pouted. “Glutton.”

Then she added, “Sister Yaya can cook. Just wait a bit. Tell me more of ‘The Immortal Executioner’ first. Have you finished writing it?”

“How could I? I’m still working on another web novel too, I don’t have that much energy.” Of course, Su Tong couldn’t admit he already had the complete manuscript.

Mentioning the other novel was a mistake. Yang Feifei’s face fell. “You know you don’t have the time, yet you’re writing two at once? That ‘Coiling Dragon’ of yours makes no sense. I forced myself to read it several times but never got through more than a few chapters. I just can’t get into it.”

These past two days, Yang Feifei had been following “Nian Nu Jiao” closely. She also knew Su Tong had uploaded “Coiling Dragon” to Dindin Chinese Web.

“Ha! ‘Coiling Dragon’ is very popular on Dindin Chinese Web. It’s not like Qin coins—no work is liked by everyone.” Su Tong laughed it off. Most girls loved Korean dramas, sobbing their way through them, but he couldn’t stand them no matter what.

Since he didn’t want to tell her a story, and it felt awkward just waiting while Sister Yaya cooked, Su Tong went to the kitchen to help.

“Su Tong, you know how to cook?” Sister Yaya didn’t stand on ceremony with him and didn’t try to shoo him out like most hosts would.

“A little.” Su Tong started helping with washing vegetables. He’d begun learning to cook over three years ago after his mother left.

“What dishes can you make?” Sister Yaya, wearing an apron, handed him another one.

Su Tong thought for a moment. “Braised pork with vermicelli, chicken and mushrooms, pork with scrambled eggs, shredded pork in garlic sauce—I make those a lot.”

Sister Yaya glanced at the pork belly on the cutting board and pulled out some vermicelli from the cupboard. “Then why don’t you make the braised pork with vermicelli?”

Yang Feifei came into the kitchen, and upon hearing her red-braised pork was about to be used for another dish, protested immediately. “I want to eat red-braised pork! Su Tong, get out!”

“My little sister loves my braised pork with vermicelli. I’ll use less pork, so Sister Yaya can still make the red-braised pork,” Su Tong said, not wanting to freeload without helping.

“That’s fine. I actually prefer the braised pork with vermicelli.” Sister Yaya was more than just Yang Feifei’s bodyguard—she held many roles and considerable authority, so she made the decision.

Yang Feifei made fierce faces at Su Tong from behind Sister Yaya’s back, threatening him with gestures whenever she could.

Su Tong no longer saw her as a goddess; she was more like a drama queen. He focused seriously on his dish.

He boiled a pot of water, poured some into a basin once it was warm to soak the vermicelli, and kept the rest boiling. When the water came to a full boil, he slid in the pork belly...

“Don’t get in the way,” Su Tong scolded Yang Feifei, who was circling around him. When he got serious, he didn’t care about anyone.

In the end, it was Sister Yaya who shooed Yang Feifei out. “The kitchen smoke isn’t good for your skin. Go wait outside.”

Yang Feifei pouted and left. Sister Yaya stood nearby and suddenly asked, “Su Tong, do you want to be a big star too?”

She’d been watching him for a while and couldn’t sense any vanity or ambition in him, so she couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course,” Su Tong replied without hesitation. Then he muttered under his breath, so quietly that Sister Yaya couldn’t hear, “I have to—divinity needs faith.”

“Why?” Sister Yaya asked with a gentle smile. Though she looked twenty-five or twenty-six, her mature charm was on par with the nearly thirty-year-old Zhang Xin.

Su Tong thought for a moment. “Our country lacks homegrown young male idols. All the girls go crazy over Korean stars—why should that be? I’m no less than those pretty boys. I want to save our nation’s naïve girls.”

In his previous world, there was a saying: Korean men ruined Chinese women; Japanese women ruined Chinese men.

The same dilemma plagued Da Qin. As for saving Da Qin’s men, Su Tong knew that was hopeless, so outwardly he could only declare his ambition to rescue the millions of Da Qin’s young women.

Sister Yaya was silent. Su Tong’s tone was half joking, half serious, but there was sincerity in his words.

“Then go for it,” she encouraged after a long pause.

…

At the dining table.

Yang Feifei sampled the dishes Su Tong made, her dark eyes darting between him and Sister Yaya.

“You can’t even sit still while eating. Keep your legs to yourself,” Sister Yaya scolded Yang Feifei.

Su Tong instinctively glanced down and saw Yang Feifei’s leg, stretched across to the other side of the table, quickly being pulled back.

“My red-braised pork is way too greasy. But the vermicelli and soup are delicious,” Yang Feifei said, having eaten a single piece of pork belly from the dish before giving up on it, but praising the vermicelli and the broth.

“It’s not as bad as you say. It’s smooth and flavorful, not greasy at all. Feifei, don’t be such a picky eater,” Sister Yaya scolded, clearly enjoying the dish.

“Oh,” Yang Feifei replied softly, head lowered, a little intimidated by Sister Yaya.

Su Tong couldn’t help but find it amusing. On the train the other night, he’d seen Yang Feifei bossing Dalong around like a little queen, but here, she was as docile as a kitten in front of Sister Yaya.

“I’m full,” Yang Feifei announced after only half a small bowl of rice.

Su Tong’s eyes widened. Seriously? That little bowl? He could eat five of those without stopping, and she only managed half—how was he supposed to finish the rest?

Sister Yaya, always understanding, said to him, “Su Tong, finish all the rice in the cooker. Don’t waste food like Feifei.”

Su Tong was touched and ate seven or eight bowls, finally feeling satisfied.

“Su Tong, it’s already six-thirty. The stream starts in half an hour, so you should—” Yang Feifei, unconcerned with his wellbeing, started to say but was cut off.

“You’ve eaten, now go wait elsewhere,” Sister Yaya said, shooting her a look.

Pouting, Yang Feifei left.

Su Tong was surprised. Sister Yaya was being almost too good to him.

But why?

“Don’t rush. Eat slowly,” Sister Yaya said, sitting with him and refilling his bowl every time it was empty.

As he ate, Su Tong’s eyes grew red.

“What’s wrong?” Sister Yaya asked, concerned.

Su Tong shook his head, struggling to swallow the food in his mouth.