My Boyfriend is the Heartthrob, and I’m Just a Passerby.

Start Over Again…

How could that be possible?

Ye Jishu wanted to blurt it out. That was only something that could happen in a game.
But suddenly, he remembered—this world itself wasn’t scientific in the first place.

Since a few hours ago, his common sense should have already collapsed.

So, he fell silent.

He neither answered “yes” nor “no.”

The person in front of him carefully observed his expression before finally speaking: “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? The peculiarity of your existence.”

Ye Jishu: “Mm.”

Even if he didn’t understand at first, when he saw Yan Mei’s true form, he should have realized.

The game he encountered before this was practically a blatant hint.

There weren’t such coincidences in this world, where he would play a game highly corresponding to reality based on a specific audience’s recommendation.

And afterward, the first live broadcast project he participated in just so happened to include a horror segment that exposed Wen Yuhe’s real nature.

Thinking about it now, that was all just a gradual process—seeping into his mind, preparing him to accept the truth.

Since he already knew—

Everyone present was watching Ye Jishu nervously, not making any sudden moves, waiting for his response.

Although time was pressing and they couldn’t predict how he would react to their actions, if they didn’t give him some buffer time after experiencing multiple shocks in such a short span,the consequences would still be unimaginable.

Not everyone could immediately accept that they were in a situation akin to The Truman Show—someone who lived what they believed to be an ordinary life, only to discover they had been nothing more than a subject of observation.

Just imagining it made his head feel like it was about to explode.

“…Um.”

All eyes turned toward him as Ye Jishu finally spoke.

Everyone held their breath, unsure of what he was about to say or what actions he would take.

“Your budget must be quite sufficient.”

To develop a game tailored specifically for him in such a short time.

To set up an entire district as an observation site.

Had his previous living environment been the same way?

This must have cost a fortune.

“…Pretty impressive.”

As his words fell, the air was filled with dead silence.

Of all possible reactions, this was the one no one had expected.

A moment later—

Lin Lin’s lips moved slightly, and a voice slipped out: “…I told you, you can’t use normal ways of thinking to predict Ji—”

Wei Yangze was momentarily stunned.

Then, he carefully examined Ye Jishu’s expression.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of forcefulness or irony in the other’s face.

No matter how he looked at it, there was only one conclusion.

He genuinely didn’t care about this matter, nor did he have any intention of pursuing it further.

He didn’t even ask why the Control Bureau had done this.

—What kind of being was this?

Realizing this, Wei Yangze widened his eyes in astonishment, a thought flashing through his mind.

[He can accept this without issue…]

[His emotions are too stable.]

Now, he completely understood why He had taken an interest in him.

While the Source of Infection was spreading in the real world, most people’s emotions had become restless, chaotic, and disoriented.

But in Ye Jishu’s presence, all of that vanished—only pure tranquility remained.

This kind of trait would naturally attract certain special entities.

While everyone was lost in different thoughts, Ye Jishu stood up from the ground, walked toward Lin Lin, and reached out his hand.

Lin Lin quickly reacted and immediately handed over the gift he was holding.

Ye Jishu lowered his eyes and carefully inspected it.

The packaging was intact.

The item inside shouldn’t have been damaged.

“…Thanks,” he said, looking up.

Lin Lin was momentarily stunned before awkwardly replying, “…Uh, um, you’re welcome.”

[No matter how many times we talk, I can never understand what this person is thinking.]

Fortunately, Ye Jishu had no intention of continuing the conversation.

“What do you mean by ‘starting over’?”

After speaking, he turned his head to the woman beside him. “Can you explain?”

Ye Jishu’s existence was purely accidental.

To use a virus as an analogy—Everyone was infected, and after a long period, someone would inevitably develop resistance.

In other words, someone with the ability to weaken the [Source of Infection.]

Ye Jishu was that person.

Ever since the Control Bureau discovered him, they had been protecting him.

To ensure that the concept of [normalcy] remained intact, and to prevent the rare [antibody] from undergoing a mental breakdown, they had been secretly monitoring his every move, deliberately placing [Source of Infections] near him to maintain his ability, but also ensuring that excessive [Source of Infections] didn’t appear around him.

In this way, it was best if he remained a passerby—just brushing past those anomalies.

However, this plan was completely disrupted when he entered university.

Because—he entered His world.

From then on, Ye Jishu’s peaceful life was utterly shattered.

Even if he had been just a passerby, he had now become someone’s [everything.]

“We collected data and confirmed that your first interaction happened on that rainy night.”

Ye Jishu quickly realized.

Since the Control Bureau detected it immediately, he had that dream of “this is just a novel” on the same night.

In a way, this method has been quite effective.

At the very least, it made him consciously ignore some of the strange occurrences in reality, so he wouldn’t immediately start doubting everything.

“To correct this mistake, headquarters activated Experimental Subject 001.
It can send you back to that night. Logically, as long as you don’t approach that classroom that night, everything should be fine—after all, if it were him, he wouldn’t have noticed you either.”

Yes.

That was true.

The Butterfly Effect.

If it weren’t for that rainy night, if Ye Jishu hadn’t avoided sharing an umbrella with others and walked to the end of the corridor, he wouldn’t have stumbled upon the bizarre confession scene of Yan Mei.

He wouldn’t have spoken that line just to avoid trouble.

And everything afterward wouldn’t have happened.

Just one brief encounter, and his entire story changed.

However, the connections formed from such coincidences were extremely fragile.

So, there was no need for multiple rounds of breaking up—just by following this plan, he and Yan Mei would be completely separated.

Of course, this way, the Control Bureau also wouldn’t have to take any risks.

They could solve the problem from the root.

This was a plan they had deliberated over for a long time—after all, they couldn’t imagine the consequences of directly confronting Him.

Just the thought of it was enough to send chills down their spines.

Even someone like her, a special-grade, felt a creeping sense of fear when facing an unknown existence.

“Jishu, you’re someone who dislikes trouble. If you can drink fruit tea, you’ll never try another drink. Once you’ve walked a road once, you won’t explore new routes. Even in the only game you like, you rarely try different genres—you always stick to your familiar action playstyle.”

Mm. That was true.

“Ever since you met Yan Mei, many aspects of your life have changed. Do you not feel out of place, unfamiliar?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but—if you could retreat back into your comfort zone and live your old life again, would you be willing?”

This wasn’t a matter of willingness.

It was a matter of—

“Can I even do it?”

Humans exist because of emotions.

Severing the bond built over time is not an easy task.

For others, perhaps they would have a seventy percent chance of getting the other party to agree.

After all, [Yan Mei] was a monster.
For ordinary people, the normal reaction when facing such a non-human being would be to stay as far away as possible, just like Bo Zhehan did.

But the person in front of them was Ye Jishu.

Someone who remained completely indifferent even after knowing they were being observed—no emotional turmoil, no loss of composure.

Even they couldn’t predict what Ye Jishu was thinking…

After a moment of silence—

Suddenly, the person in front of them looked up and said, “That, I can try.”

Lin Lin was instantly startled.

He looked at Ye Jishu and found that the other party had finished contemplating, still maintaining that same expressionless demeanor.

It was the same as when he first learned he was under observation—completely unfazed.

Lin Lin was different from the others.

He was the first to come into contact with the two of them.

So he knew very well that Ye Jishu probably liked [Yan Mei], otherwise, he would never have explained things for them even when being interrogated.

Because of that, he couldn’t understand why Ye Jishu was doing this.

But Ye Jishu had already spoken.

He was willing to try.

Since the person involved had already agreed to the Bureau’s plan, Lin Lin felt he had no position to question the reason.

Lin Lin remained silent.

He couldn’t even read any emotions from Ye Jishu’s face.

He wondered if others felt the same sense of powerlessness when facing him.

Now that permission had been granted—

Very soon, Ye Jishu arrived at the door of a room within the Bureau.

They halted.

The door was pushed open, revealing the interior.

Ye Jishu looked inside.

The layout—it was exactly the same as the room he had once lived in.

Simple decor, an overwhelming whiteness.

The only furnishings were a bed, a half-open window, and a nightstand with a very ordinary pothos plant.

It was said that green plants could prevent radiation, which was why he had bought it, since he often played games. But later, he found out that pothos didn’t actually have that effect. That claim was probably just a marketing gimmick to sell more plants.

Even though it was useless, he eventually decided to keep it because the room felt too empty—it needed some decoration.

“For the sake of making you feel more relaxed, we took the liberty of doing this,” a woman said.

Indeed, that made sense.

After all, of all the places he had been shuffled around, this was where he had lived the longest. It should, in theory, bring a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Ye Jishu retrieved this memory from his mind.

Back then, it was the first time he had a room of his own.

His aunt and uncle had said they would treat him like their own child because he was “pitiful” and needed their care.

Pitiful?

Ye Jishu had been confused. But he hadn’t argued.

Then, as expected—

Like everyone else, they gradually started ignoring his presence.

At first, they would remember to call him for dinner, to open the door for him when he returned from school.

Then, over time, it became him sitting on the stairs, silently waiting—until they finally remembered he hadn’t come in yet, and the door would open in front of him.

The only reason he remembered this so clearly was because a single match in the game he was obsessed with back then lasted forty minutes.
If he won five or six rounds in a row, someone would finally call him home.

And since each victory came with a reward, he didn’t need to ask anyone for money.

Ye Jishu thought—that must have been the key.

In any case, he really liked games.

Not only could they pass the time, but they also provided thrill, excitement, and in the end, a reward that belonged solely to him.

If he didn’t understand the rewards handed to him, he would rather obtain them himself.

That mindset had gradually become his habit in gaming.

Thinking about it now, he might just be a creature that couldn’t live without video games.

[Am I overthinking? Right now, I should be asking what to do next.]

With that thought, Ye Jishu turned his head, his gaze questioning the person beside him.

The other party immediately said, “This room, that bed—you may use them however you wish.”

Ye Jishu understood.

It was probably going to be through dreaming.

Previously, the Bureau had made him believe he was a character in a novel using this method.

He walked toward the bed, took off his coat, and spread it over the mattress before lying down.

This was the simplest way to avoid dirtying the sheets—less trouble.

In the middle of his movements, his phone, still in his coat pocket, seemed to vibrate.

But he didn’t take it out to check.

Instead, he turned his gaze back to the woman.

He was asking—what next?

“We’re leaving now,” she said.

“Whatever happens next… will be determined by you.”

After saying that, she stared at Ye Jishu for a few seconds.

That gaze reminded him of many people who had looked at him with the same confusion, failing to understand him.

She didn’t explain further.

She just turned around—

And shut the door.

Lin Lin and the others disappeared from his sight as well.

A moment later—

Ye Jishu looked away, staring up at the ceiling.

[Is this really reliable? Can it end this easily?]

No matter what, he should just follow through with it first.

He refocused his attention on reality, suppressing the urge to check his phone.

A rustling sound reached his ears.

Outside the window, the pitter-patter of rain could be heard.

The scent of fresh grass and damp soil filled his nose.

Shadows of swaying trees cast patterns on the floor through the cracks in the window—

It was raining again.

The rainy season—this always happens in summer.

But strangely, there were no noisy cicadas chirping outside.

He didn’t know how long had passed, but his vision gradually blurred, and a wave of drowsiness flooded his mind.

Lost in thought, his mind emptied.

He was about to fall asleep…

His eyelids shut.

But in the very next moment, his eyes suddenly snapped open.

The sensation of falling disappeared.

His mind abruptly cleared.

Ye Jishu felt a cool sensation on his arm—it was the distinct touch of pressing against a hard wooden surface. His cheek rested between his arm and the desk, a fiery stinging sensation left from the pressure. He straightened up and looked around.

The scene before him had changed.

It was a typical lecture hall with tiered seating in a fan-shaped arrangement. One glance was enough to recognize it as a public lecture classroom. And with the lecturer’s voice drifting into his ears, he confirmed—it was a history class.

[Wasn’t I supposed to return to that rainy night? Then this is… ]

Ye Jishu dazed for a few seconds before he processed the situation.

He quickly turned his head toward the blackboard, searching for an answer.

During every lecture, the professor would write the date beside the notes. This time was no exception.

The history professor for public lectures had a habit.

Soon, Ye Jishu saw the date.

[It’s today.]

The very night he met Yan Mei.

But…

Wasn’t it a little too early?

The classroom clock pointed to 6 PM. Though it was the last period, there were still a few hours until evening self-study.

[The first real conversation we had was after night study ended.]

Ye Jishu laid his head back down on the desk.

The person beside him shot him a surprised look, clearly not expecting someone to wake up only to go right back to sleep. But soon, just like always, they ignored his presence and continued whispering with their friends.

By the time Ye Jishu woke up again, the people around him were gone.

The entire classroom was empty.

No one had woken him up.

Ye Jishu stood and packed his books, the sound of pages and covers colliding crisp and clear.

In the silent classroom, the noise echoed.

But just as he was about to leave, a thought struck him, and he stopped in his tracks.

Bending down, he reached under the desk.

Before long, he found exactly what he expected.

[A pen.]

Sure enough, he had almost forgotten it again…

He stuffed the pen into his jacket pocket.

Then, with a single-shoulder bag slung over him, he left the classroom alone.

The hallway was still scattered with students chatting in hushed voices.

Seems like he hadn’t overslept too much—just avoided the initial rush out of class.

[A few more hours… How should I pass the time?]

As he was deep in thought, familiar voices suddenly reached him from ahead.

For a moment, Ye Jishu’s steps faltered.

Though the voices were unfamiliar, he felt a strange sense of familiarity.

He lifted his head and saw someone approaching from the other end of the hallway.

[Yan Mei.]

Without a doubt, the person before him was Yan Mei himself.

But his face no longer bore the broken look from hours ago. There was no trace of gloom or pain.

His exquisite features carried a faint, indifferent gaze, lips slightly upturned.

That natural, seemingly smiling curve—just looking at it was enough to make someone lose their mind, falling into an uncontrollable frenzy.

It made Ye Jishu wonder if the person he saw that night was just a figment of the dark.

[This is more like him.]

Yet, Ye Jishu didn’t recall ever facing him like this before.

Was it because he had overslept?

In the past, after public lectures ended, he had always followed the crowd and left—never encountering Yan Mei in the hallway at this time.

The strangers surrounding Yan Mei clustered at his sides, constantly trying to strike up conversations.

“I noticed you weren’t taking notes in class, so I wrote them down for you—”

“I saw this new café the other day…”

Yan Mei maintained his smile but didn’t respond to a single sentence.

Yet, that didn’t dampen their enthusiasm. They continued chattering away at his side, desperately seeking his attention.

Their fanatical, adoring expressions made it seem as though, if Yan Mei commanded them to die, they wouldn’t hesitate for even a second.

Ye Jishu wasn’t surprised.

It had always been this way. Whether or not he had a “heartthrob filter” on, Yan Mei was an overwhelming force in relationships, always in a position of absolute dominance.

Though these thoughts ran through his mind, Ye Jishu kept his expression blank, his steps steady.

As he was thinking this, Yan Mei had already walked closer.

The hallway wasn’t that wide. Just a brief lapse in focus, and suddenly, Yan Mei was only a few meters away.

[So close.]

Yan Mei’s gaze landed on him. For a brief moment, it seemed like he had finally noticed Ye Jishu’s presence in the hallway.

For a split second, Ye Jishu thought he would call out to him—just like before.

Ever since they had gotten together, Yan Mei had always been like this.

The moment Ye Jishu appeared in his line of sight, he would happily call his name, drop whatever he was doing, and walk over.

But soon, that gaze only lingered for a fleeting moment before Yan Mei withdrew it.

Without hesitation, he passed by Ye Jishu, completely uninterested.

Along with the group of people chatting at his side, he walked toward the other end of the hallway.

The sound of their footsteps grew fainter.

Yan Mei had left.