Mature Fantasy Power Invasion

Chapter 22

"Xiaohuan, there aren't really any customers left. Where's Sis Tong?" Yan Huan, who was cleaning up glasses and plates, turned to glance at the seat where Tong Tingting had been sitting earlier. There were still bottles and glasses on the table, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"I'll go look for her."

Yan Huan wiped his hands and walked in that direction.

The shop had a second floor, but it wasn't open to customers. Sis Tong usually stayed upstairs.

A long corridor connected the shop to the staircase leading to the second floor, with a bathroom in the middle.

Yan Huan figured she had gone upstairs to rest, but when he reached the stairwell and saw the iron door was locked, he knocked a couple of times and called out. No response.

"That's strange."

With the way Tong Tingting managed the shop, if the staff weren’t trustworthy, someone might just empty out the pub for fun one day.

Thankfully, Yan Huan was a model youth—the especially well-mannered kind.

He sent her a message through Plane(*) but got no reply. Yan Huan pouted, glanced at the time, and called out toward the outside,

(*) Note: Plane is likely a fictional or in-universe messaging app.

"Sis Guan, Bro Tian, why don’t you two head out first? She’s probably fallen asleep upstairs. I’ll lock up later!"

"Alright, we’ll help you bring in the tables and chairs outside!"

"OK!"

In the corridor, Yan Huan called her through Plane again. The *doo-doo* ringtone rang from his phone, but no one answered. Instead, a ringtone echoed from the bathroom.

Yan Huan raised an eyebrow and cautiously knocked on the bathroom door, calling out,

"Sis Tong?"

A tune from Longguo(*) continued to play inside.

(*) Note: Longguo may refer to a fictional or stylized term for "Dragon Nation" or "China."

Helplessly, Yan Huan pushed the door open.

Inside the cramped single bathroom stall, the cubicle door stood wide open, revealing Tong Tingting sitting dazedly on the toilet lid.

Good thing—she hadn’t pulled down her pants.

Yan Huan let out a sigh of relief, glanced at the phone that had fallen to the floor, picked it up, and hung up his own call.

Just as the call ended, the lock screen displayed over 99+ message notifications—all from her mother.

Yan Huan didn’t even check the content. He simply locked the phone again.

Then he leaned in a little closer to Tong Tingting and called softly,

"Sis Tong?"

"Mmm."

Hearing Yan Huan’s voice, she reached out to rub her slightly furrowed brow, brushing aside the bangs on her forehead.

Her flushed, beautiful face carried an expression of listlessness in her eyes.

At the same time, her left hand quietly slipped into her jacket, as if she had already grabbed something.

But when she clearly saw the boy in front of her, the guarded look in her eyes gradually faded, replaced by the alcohol-laced breath that escaped her slightly parted red lips.

"Yan Huan."

As her guard dropped, her hand loosened slightly, and a stun baton slipped down, landing on her thigh.

*thud*

Seeing this, Yan Huan found it a bit amusing. He pointed at the stun baton on her leg and asked,

"Come on, Sis, why are you carrying a stun baton around? What if you couldn’t see clearly and ended up zapping me?"

"Kids shouldn’t meddle in adult business."

"I guess you’re the only one who keeps treating me like a kid every day, Sis Tong."

'Oh wait, there's also Aunt Ye Lan—she’s even more dramatic when she talks.'

Tong Tingting struggled to sit up straight, then tucked the stun baton back into her jacket and softly asked,

"They’re off work?"

"Ah, there aren’t any customers at this hour."

"Mm."

She lowered her head a bit, so Yan Huan proactively asked,

"Want me to help you upstairs to rest?"

"Mm."

Yan Huan sighed, tucked her phone into her jacket, helped her to her feet, and guided her toward the door.

She fished around in her pocket for the key and handed it to Yan Huan, who used it to open the door and reveal the upstairs room.

The room was a bit messy, with all sorts of clothes and underwear piled high on the sofa. While helping her up, Yan Huan nearly tripped over clothing tangled with stockings on the floor.

Clearly, she had thrown those two things into the washer together, and after drying, they ended up like that.

"Sis Tong, every time I come into your room, I’m shocked all over again."

After switching on the light, he noticed a black electric guitar hanging on the wall.

Yan Huan didn’t know much about instruments, but he could tell the guitar was well-made, with a line of gold-plated signature on it—it looked expensive.

"Mm."

She kept her head down, her red hair slightly covering her face, and responded rather casually.

But the hand resting on Yan Huan’s shoulder began to move restlessly, then slid to his chest.

Yan Huan quickly grabbed her wandering hand and promptly tossed her onto the bed.

In that moment, he even began to wonder if Tong Tingting had also been chosen by the Modifier(*).

(*) Note: Modifier likely refers to a supernatural or psychological force within the story universe.

If the Modifier had chosen someone like Ye Shiyu or Spencer—complete strangers—Yan Huan wouldn’t mind. But if it chose someone familiar, that’s what left him speechless.

With strangers, he could go all out acting, treating it like a mental duel with the Modifier.

But if someone close suddenly used the Modifier on him, the warped and shattered dynamics of those once-normal relationships would be the hardest to bear.

Especially when you’re the one being modified.

Fortunately, Tong Tingting just seemed drunk. After being thrown onto the bed, she quieted down.

Yan Huan sighed and smiled at her.

"I think you’re really starving, Sis Tong. I’m ten years younger than you, and even I’m not off-limits?!"

Tong Tingting let out a soft grunt, her muddled consciousness seemingly stirred by Yan Huan’s sudden words.

She opened her eyes and squinted at the boy standing in front of her bed.

She saw him dressed in the pub’s bartender uniform, the brown vest outlining his slender figure with an air of forbidden allure.

She had even squeezed him earlier—his muscles were quite firm.

The most critical thing was that charming face of his.

*tsk*

*...*

Tong Tingting’s scanning gaze made Yan Huan feel a little uneasy.

"Sis Tong?"

After a moment of silence, she sat up.

Then turned her head and picked up the bulging wallet from the bedside drawer.

"Sit."

Yan Huan dragged a chair over and sat down in front of the bed.

He watched her open the wallet and pull out bills one by one.

Then she handed the small stack of cash to Yan Huan.

But Yan Huan didn’t dare to take it. He just blinked at her.

Seeing he wouldn’t take it, Tong Tingting tossed the money onto the bed.

Somehow, her fingers had already grasped a metal flip lighter. She pulled out a cigarette box, lowered her eyes, and suddenly asked,

"How do I usually treat you?"

*pause*

'Why does this feel like one of those movie scenes where the boss sends a little brother to his death?'

"S-so-so?"

Tong Tingting paused as she was getting a cigarette, then looked up at Yan Huan.

Yan Huan smiled and quickly corrected himself.

"Just kidding, Sis Tong."

Tong Tingting lowered her head again but heard him continue,

"Actually... you’re pretty mean to me."

"?"

Tong Tingting looked up at him again—those perpetually dead-looking eyes actually widened a bit.

Yan Huan reached out and gently closed the cigarette box she had opened, then began counting on his fingers as he explained,

"Look, you dump all the shop work on me every day—that’s fine—but you also constantly threaten to dock my pay. Your liquor tolerance is terrible, your mouth’s ruthless, always swearing..."

"What else?"

Tong Tingting nodded and casually asked while reaching for the stun baton again.

Yan Huan immediately smiled.

"Nothing else. Everything else is great, Sis Tong."

Too lazy to keep arguing with Yan Huan, she gestured with her mouth toward the pile of money on the bed and said,

"Take the money. Sis needs to ask you for a favor."

"Say it first—what do you want me to help with?"

"My family's been pushing hard for me to get married. They know I don't have anyone, so they keep calling every few days to set me up. If I ignore them, they go through all sorts of relatives to drop hints, saying my parents are getting sick from the stress."

"Mm, all just an act?"

"Who knows? I’m abroad again, and if I have to fly home for this kind of petty crap, seriously—"

Tong Tingting sighed and cupped her pretty face as she looked at Yan Huan.

"So, I have an idea, Yan Huan."

"..."

"Just play along with me. When they video call, show your face, act a little affectionate, and help me get through it."

As Yan Huan listened to her, he looked at Tong Tingting’s serious expression and seemed hesitant to speak.

Seeing his face, Tong Tingting paused and asked,

"What? You want to say something?"

"Sis Tong, you really come up with the worst ideas sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when business at the pub was bad, and you randomly brought in a band—without checking they played heavy metal? We got reported for disturbing the peace, and the neighbors pelted the shop with eggs and lettuce."

Tong Tingting blinked, seemingly recalling it. Yan Huan had been the one to talk those grumpy uncles and aunties into leaving.

"And then there was that online discount coupon you launched to promote liquor sales. You messed up the price tag—put the decimal in the wrong place. Someone noticed and bulk-bought everything. We got exploited for a whole month."

"..."

Hearing that, Tong Tingting opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word for a moment.

Actually, when she wasn’t drinking, Tong Tingting’s mind was sharp—she was really clever.

But as soon as she drank, she turned into a little idea machine, full of harebrained schemes that hurt others and herself.

"Hey, Yan Huan, I’ve got an idea!"

Like a passive skill triggered by alcohol, whenever she said that, Yan Huan knew something bad was coming.

(*) Note: "Passive skill" is a gaming term, referring to abilities that activate automatically under certain conditions.

The key was, Yan Huan had realized something about Tong Tingting.

If she came up with a bad idea while drunk, shouldn’t her sober self realize it was dumb?

But no—that was the magic of Tong Tingting. Her drunken ideas were like cursed rules. Her brain would never break them. Even when sober, she’d never recognize they were flawed.

"..."

"..."

In the room, Tong Tingting and Yan Huan stared at each other in silence.

A second later, Tong Tingting irritably rubbed her red hair.

With a light tug, she undid the hair tie behind her head. Her shoulder-length hair fell loosely.

"Then what do I do? They call nonstop every day—I’m about to explode."

Yan Huan rested his chin on his hand, thought for a moment, and asked with Zhuge Liang-level wisdom,

(*) Note: Zhuge Liang is a legendary Chinese strategist known for his intelligence.

"I’ve got a high, middle, and low plan. Which one do you want to hear first, Sis Tong?"

"Start with the low one."

As expected of a drunk Sis Tong—her logic was on another level.

Yan Huan didn’t even comment. He just smiled slightly and continued,

"The low plan is the one you suggested—I pretend to be your boyfriend to fool them. But lies can’t cover everything. They want you married, not just dating. Even if we dodge this round, a barrage of follow-ups is inevitable, right?"

Tong Tingting frowned, spinning the flip lighter in her hand faster and faster.

"Then what’s the middle plan?"

"The middle plan is to toughen up. No matter what they say or how much they push, just ignore it. Block them if you have to."

"..."

"Bottom line, Sis Tong, the reason you’re annoyed is because you care about your parents’ feelings, right? If you were truly heartless, no matter what they did, if you refused to date no matter what, what could they even do?"

Tong Tingting looked at Yan Huan and sighed.

"I wish I could be that heartless—but they’re still my parents. I came here for school back in high school, and they’ve been farming back home to support me. No matter what—"

But as she spoke, her anger resurfaced.

"But dealing with this constantly, I’m exhausted. Always forcing me into these extreme choices—either hurt myself or hurt them. What’s the point?"

"Don’t worry, there’s still the high plan, Sis Tong."

"Mhm, go on."

Yan Huan raised one index finger and asked,

"Sis Tong, have you ever thought about why they keep pushing you to get married?"

"What else—old-fashioned thinking, obviously."

"Sure, that’s part of it. But I think there’s another reason—they’re worried about you. They want someone to take care of you."

"Wait, what? Did they brainwash you?"

Tong Tingting gave Yan Huan a highly suspicious look, like she thought her mom had possessed him.

"Sis Tong, where’s your brain? Your brain."

If not for the stun baton in her hand, Yan Huan really wanted to dissect her drunk brain structure.

"Look at you—staying up all night, drinking, smoking. You ignore all calls and texts during the day. Anyone can tell your schedule is a total mess."

"..."

"Even when you finally pick up a video call at night, you look like a Qing dynasty zombie—your yang energy sucked dry. People might think Linmen’s feng shui breeds the undead."

(*) Note: "Qing dynasty zombie" refers to the traditional Chinese hopping vampire, often depicted with pale faces and stiff limbs.

"..."

"Even before they started pushing marriage, I’ve heard them talk about this countless times. So I think, Sis Tong, your parents just don’t know what else to do. They think marriage might fix your bad habits."

Yan Huan looked at the frozen Tong Tingting and finally said,

"So the high plan is: quit smoking, quit drinking, fix your schedule, and go out more. Don’t just stay holed up in this coffin shop. If your parents see you changing, maybe they’ll stop pressuring you so much."

Tong Tingting blinked. Just as she was about to speak, she suddenly remembered—Yan Huan had been doing that all along.

Every time she lit a cigarette, he’d immediately interrupt her.

Every time she tried to drink, he’d speak up and advise her.

Honestly, since Yan Huan started working here this past year, she’d smoked and drank way less. Her condition was much better than a year ago—even if still far from normal.

No wonder her parents thought that way.

But why had Yan Huan spent this whole year actively trying to get her to quit smoking and drinking?

Could it be... this brat... likes me?

Thinking that, Tong Tingting froze slightly, her eyes flickering as she asked,

"So this whole year, you’ve been telling me to quit smoking and drinking, it’s... why?"

She asked directly, but halfway through, her voice faltered.

"Oh, that—"

But Yan Huan didn’t seem to catch the subtext. He just smiled brightly and said,

"Because I hate the smell of smoke! Seriously, Sis Tong, you light one up and it stinks like death."

"..."

"Also, Sis Tong, the moment you drink, your brain gets hijacked by alcohol and you become a total dumb pig. I’m scared you’ll be so dumb you’ll lose all the money and the shop will go under—then I won’t get paid."

"..."

Tong Tingting’s previously deadpan gaze now looked like she was staring at a corpse.

Seeing that she had fully pulled out the stun baton, Yan Huan immediately stood up.

He glanced at the time on his phone and said,

"Alright then, that’s it. I’m off. Downstairs is all cleaned up—enjoy your nightlife, Sis Tong."

"..."

As he turned to leave, Tong Tingting suddenly called out,

"Hey, wait up."

"Now what? No way—you’re seriously gonna tase me?!"

"You moron."

Tong Tingting picked up the money on the bed, counted out a portion, and handed it to him.

"Here, this month’s salary. Just take it now—there’s only a few days left to payday anyway."

Yan Huan raised an eyebrow, took it, counted, and asked,

"It’s more?"

"Didn’t count you absent on the weekend. Plus today—extra 600."

"Sis Tong, I love you."

"Piss off. You want me to tase you to death?"

Tong Tingting brandished the stun baton triumphantly, though her eyes didn’t meet Yan Huan’s.

"Alrighty, I’m out, Sis Tong."

Yan Huan pocketed the money and left Tong Tingting’s room.

Watching him leave, Tong Tingting lay back on the bed and shouted downstairs,

"Help me lock the door!"

"OK!"

Moments later, she heard the iron door shut with a *clang*, followed by the distinct *click* of the lock. Yan Huan’s footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Lying on the bed, Tong Tingting set aside her stun baton, her eyes still unfocused.

'Maybe I should change my lifestyle a little.'

For now, she couldn't make up her mind. She wasn’t ready to leave the comfort zone of lying around and doing nothing.

After all, a three-foot layer of ice doesn't form overnight—she had long grown used to living like this.

(*) Chinese proverb meaning deep-rooted problems or habits don't form suddenly.

Still, maybe quitting smoking and drinking really was necessary.

'Was I hallucinating from drinking?' She vaguely remembered seeing something unusual...

'A talking white snake?'

Linmen, Luoqiao District.

In a room on the third floor of a residential complex, a black-haired girl in pajamas was fiddling with a box in her room.

Inside the box was a leopard gecko, staring silently at her.

"Xiao Yun, want to come out and play for a bit?"

Her loose pajamas still clung snugly to her generously curved figure.

Fresh from a shower, she brushed her bangs aside, revealing an adorably flushed face.

Her name was An Le, a student in Class 1-C at Yuanyue Academy.

In class, she was a complete nobody. But in her private room, she could finally relax, be herself, and indulge in her hobbies without restraint.

An Le loved raising reptiles.

She was fascinated by geckos, lizards, insects, and all sorts of peculiar little creatures, often binge-watching videos about them online.

But the gecko in the box, "Xiao Yun," simply tilted its head at her, making no move to come out.

"Don’t feel like it today?"

An Le smiled gently. Not wanting to force it, she placed the box back on the shelf.

'Alright then. Let’s see what’s online.'

'Any new games lately?'

'The recent ones have been too tame—not satisfying at all.'

Slipping on her blue-light filter glasses, An Le sat in front of her computer.

She opened a certain resource forum and navigated to the "R-rated games" section.

The search bar still displayed her previous history—an array of questionable keywords.

Yes, An Le was a hardcore otaku in private.

But unlike most otakus, the content she liked had a certain...

...indescribable quality.

"Hmm, the gameplay here feels so outdated. Just intrusion and whipping?"

"What about this one? Ugh, the male lead is so ugly—and when he gets messed up, it’s even worse—oh? He has a non-human form?"

"This one looks okay... tentacles, huh."

While An Le scrolled through the webpages, a strange, almost ghostly noise came from the windowsill.

*Sss... gurulu...*

An Le paused, then glanced toward the window.

"Eh? What’s that sound?"

She got up and walked over, seemingly intending to close the window.

But as she approached, she noticed a small white snake lying there, motionless.

It appeared to be injured—some of its scales had fallen off.

"Eh? A snake? Why would one just show up here all of a sudden?"

An Le blinked in confusion, questioning inwardly.

The little snake weakly opened its eyes, gave her a pitiful look, then closed them again.

"."

An Le slightly parted her lips, hesitating.

A moment later, she returned to her room.

This time, she was wearing bite-proof gloves and gently held the snake in her palms as she brought it inside.

[End of this chapter]