Chapter Thirty-Eight: Why Keep a Mistress?

The San Sheng Shi family had deep academic roots and was well-versed in the intricacies of officialdom; he could always calmly analyze the situation. This crisis had cost him two thousand silver dollars, but in exchange, he had obtained the post of a magistrate, which was worthwhile for him, as he was not short of money in reality.

After receiving the system prompt that his cunning had increased by one point, a smile appeared on San Sheng Shi’s face. If such minor schemes could reward him with a point in cunning, then as long as he performed well in official circles, his cunning attribute would steadily rise. As someone aspiring to become a leader in the game, he had allocated all twenty freely distributed attribute points to cunning; once he established his base, controlling NPC subordinates would be no problem.

Chen Hao was unaware that San Sheng Shi had lost money visiting Li Pisen’s home. After mastering the “Three Character Classic,” he spent his time practicing sword techniques and archery, never venturing to level up. When his character began to feel exhausted, he returned to his bedroom, logged out of the game, and opened QQ.

“Honey, how are you doing in the ‘War’ game? Hehe! I made a little fortune in the game—should I transfer it to you and support you?” came a message on QQ.

Chen Hao quickly replied, “I’m the legendary sugar daddy, not a pretty boy. Forget about supporting me!”

She replied, “I like supporting handsome guys with dark features. What’s it to you?”

“If anyone is supporting, it’ll be me supporting you. Nowadays, people have mistresses—one day, I’ll find a big one and come support you. Ugh, I’m really tired today, logging off now. I’ll come to Hu Hai to see you in a few days.”

“Hmph! This brat, doesn’t even have a girlfriend and is already thinking about mistresses—he’s unforgivable,” Ban Qianqian grumbled as she took off her gaming helmet at the other side of the internet café.

After sending the message, Chen Hao logged out of QQ. He had already spent too much time gaming every day; staying online any longer would be bad for his health. The ultra-realistic game “War” allowed people to hone a strong will in the virtual world, but for that training to be effective in reality, he needed a robust physique.

For example, in-game firearm shooting: if a player had high shooting attributes, the system would correct their aim, and over time, they’d develop the most standard shooting posture. In real life, holding a gun, their movements would also become precise. Close combat worked similarly—high combat attributes led the system to correct their actions, and eventually, standard fighting moves became instinctive. Political attributes also influenced reality; when players performed in the official sphere, the system rewarded cunning points, so next time faced with similar situations, they’d know the proper response.

During battles in the game, players with high strategic analysis would receive psychological prompts from the system, guiding them to make the right strategic choices. With the system as a mentor, players’ thinking patterns gradually changed, and their ability to command troops improved.

At first, the creators of “Genesis” did not disclose the purpose of the “War” game, but later, players revealed its true value on forums. Discovering that the game was a treasure trove for talent development, countries began to pay more attention to “War,” and elites from various fields poured in—though in “War,” they too had to start from scratch.

Chen Hao went to the cashier’s counter at the internet café, where by chance he ran into Ban Qianqian. She smiled sweetly and said, “Chen Hao, are you logging off too? What a coincidence!”

Chen Hao nodded, “Yes, I’m heading back to school to sleep.”

Ban Qianqian’s curved brows resembled crescent moons, and she squinted her eyes mischievously, “Why is it that every time I log off, you do too? So strange! Are you going to walk me home again today?”

The café owner Zhao Qiang was absent, and the cashier’s counter was staffed by two girls in their late teens. Hearing Ban Qianqian’s words, their eyes showed disdain.

Although Ban Qianqian was already seventeen, she looked barely fifteen. Hearing her speak, the cashiers assumed someone was being a predator, following a fifteen-year-old girl off the machines just to offer his company home.

Chen Hao was more wronged than Dou E; he had no idea Ban Qianqian was at the “Super Time-Space” internet café today, nor that she’d logged off half a minute ahead of him. Depressed, he paid his bill and followed Ban Qianqian out. Had he looked back, he would have seen Ban Qianqian making faces and grinning smugly.

Both had been online for over ten hours; it was already three a.m. when they logged off. The weather was warmer than yesterday, so Ban Qianqian was in high spirits, chattering non-stop along the way. As they passed the snack street, she suddenly rubbed her tummy and said, “Chen, I’m hungry. Will you treat me to something?”

Though Chen Hao was exhausted, he couldn’t refuse her request. The two headed to the snack street. Ban Qianqian looked slender but had a hearty appetite—she hopped from shop to shop, tried over ten snacks before finally being satisfied.

Chen Hao had never liked snacks, feeling like a tutor accompanying a prince reading. When Ban Qianqian was content, he realized it was already four in the morning.

When they reached the entrance of the School of Economics and Trade, just as Chen Hao was about to say goodbye, Ban Qianqian smiled and asked, “Chen, why do people all like to keep mistresses nowadays? I’m just a foodie and already cost you a lot today. If you kept a mistress, feeding and housing her, plus spending money, wouldn’t that be a loss?”

Chen Hao replied, puzzled, “How should I know? I don’t even have a girlfriend, let alone a mistress.”

Ban Qianqian giggled, “I know you don’t, but all men think about it! Maybe you’ve always wanted one deep down?”

Yawning, Chen Hao was truly tired after so long gaming, and answered perfunctorily, “I don’t know! Thinking about it isn’t a crime. When I get rich, I’ll keep a mistress, maybe even a second one, then write up my experiences for you. Qianqian, I’m really tired today, see you tomorrow! Bye-bye.”

He turned and left. Ban Qianqian waved her little fists, gritting her teeth, “You even want a second mistress! If even the uncle tolerates, the aunt won’t. If you fall into my hands, I’ll drain you dry every day, so you won’t have the energy to flirt with anyone else.”

Her cheeks flushed after this bold declaration. Though the internet was full of wild and risqué things, leading her to understand all sorts of nonsense, she, like Chen Hao, had never been in a relationship.

Overwhelmed by her own fierce words, she grew shy, stomped her feet, and started climbing over the iron gate again.

When Chen Hao returned to his dormitory, a wave of alcohol hit him; switching on the light, he saw the floor littered with broken beer bottles. Wang Donglai sat on the bed, chugging a bottle of beer. Seeing Chen Hao enter, he slurred, “Chen… Chen Hao, come… come, let’s drink together, brother.”

(P.S.: Yesterday, I was five thousand potential points away from twelfth place; today, only a hundred. Brothers, help me out in this crucial moment! I’ll try to write another chapter and upload it after midnight.)