Chapter 6: Being Compared to a Character Created by Women is the Highest Praise for a Man’s Charm

Shandimon reserved his evenings specifically for rest, connecting his Bluetooth to play fairy tale music. The gentle singing of a young girl filled the air, stirring mischievous thoughts in Jiang Huan’s mind. Shandimon still asked casually, “Is there anything you’d like to eat?”

Jiang Huan quickly walked over, removed his sunglasses, snatched his chopsticks, and set them aside before pushing him into a corner. Shandimon, relaxed and unguarded, let her do as she pleased. Jiang Huan climbed up the wall again, this time even more skillfully than before.

Her gaze leveled with Shandimon’s, their breaths almost mingling. Shandimon’s eyes widened. “What’s this? Climbing up to confront me like this?”

Jiang Huan remained silent, waiting to see how he would react. The cramped corner space made her feel a bit triumphant. This table-less nook seemed perfect for such close encounters—brushing bodies, exchanging glances, listening to each other’s restrained breathing.

Suddenly, Shandimon grinned mischievously and leaned forward, nearly kissing Jiang Huan on the lips. Startled, she loosened her grip to escape, but he tightened his arm around her waist, turning her around and pinning her against the wall. He lifted her higher, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck instinctively. She lightly pounded his shoulders twice. “Put me down.”

“Is this the reaction you wanted?”

Not only that—it was like a direct face-to-face attack. Jiang Huan returned to the ground, her ears and cheeks burning hot. Clearly, she couldn’t joke around like this with Shandimon. So earlier, he had just been testing what she intended to do. Though he appeared surprised, he had been completely composed.

A man who never blushed.

The music shifted from fairy tales to the theme song of a shoujo manga. Coming back to her senses, Jiang Huan began teasing Shandimon: “You’re the perfect boyfriend. Can you help me out by pretending to be my prototype? I’ll put up a hundred posters for your shop.”

Shandimon’s expression froze momentarily. “That’s not within my scope of services.”

“But you’re a god!” Jiang Huan blinked her star-like shining eyes, reaching to remove his sunglasses. “A god can’t refuse the prayers of mortals!”

Shandimon sighed, reclaiming his sunglasses and putting them back on. He picked up his long chopsticks and returned to the kitchen to cook dinner. Cooking while wearing sunglasses looked… pretentious. But Jiang Huan sat at the counter, chatting and asking him to add a marinated egg or a slice of beef to her meal, as if this private time belonged solely to her. She talked about the eccentric interns at work, the hilarious fan-edited videos of their company’s games online, and how she, being fragile, narrowly avoided getting hit by a car. These fragmented conversations felt like casual banter. Shandimon listened quietly, likely peeking at the pot through the gap beneath his sunglasses. Even when he glanced at her, he didn’t take them off.

The small restaurant closed during meal hours, seemingly reserving this time exclusively for her. And why did he always wear sunglasses when meeting her but not others? Strange, very strange.

From the pocket of his apron, Shandimon pulled out a black plastic bag containing the new game Jiang Huan had waited an entire year for. No one could get their hands on new games faster than Shandimon. Overwhelmed with excitement, Jiang Huan blew him a flying kiss, which Shandimon playfully flicked away with his hand. His silver hair paired with sunglasses exuded an otherworldly romance, further elevated by his aloofness.

Shandimon was a legendary figure on Renwu Road. A genius double-degree professor at Dan University, he returned from studying abroad as an outstanding postdoctoral researcher and began mentoring graduate students. In his spare time, he immersed himself in gaming and artificial intelligence. He often wore glasses and various hats, appearing as a delicate, oxygen-type boy. However, due to frequent all-nighters, he lacked physical strength and carried an air of melancholy. Preferring casual and linen clothing, he spent most of his time either in front of a computer or holding his long chopsticks, earning him the nickname “Deflated Angel” from Jiang Huan. What stood out most was his silver hair—natural streaks evenly distributed among black strands, never dyed or permed, beautifully silvery. Paired with his refined features, he resembled a wandering scholar in the mortal world. Once upon a time, he wasn’t styled this way; he sported golden hair, a white T-shirt, and a denim jacket, becoming a campus legend akin to a manga bishonen character. Later, he dyed it black, and as熬夜 turned it white, no one ever saw the golden-haired beauty again.

This transformation seemed to happen overnight, coinciding with the removal of cherry blossom trees along Renwu Road. After the tender blossoms disappeared, Renwu Road transitioned from a nostalgic manga setting to something increasingly cyberpunk. Yet, unchanged was Shandimon’s exclusive gentleness toward her. Jiang Huan wasn’t forgetful, but she harbored a certain fixation on Shandimon. All flirtatious jokes were reserved for her alone, yet he remained perpetually single—a solitary figure on Renwu Road.

This street was brimming with stories and legends.

At both ends of Renwu Road lay prestigious universities and several gaming companies. The area was densely populated with students and gamers, featuring cafes, Western restaurants, bars, bookstores, and esports lounges. Every floor of every building housed shops. Shandimon owned three establishments here: a noodle shop called Feast , where he often stayed late, turning it into a midnight diner for gamers; a record store named Floating World , crammed with shelves so narrow one could barely squeeze through, offering rare vinyl records, vintage bootleg discs, imported editions, limited releases, and first pressings; and finally, Soul Room , selling game cartridges, merchandise, and renting manga, nicknamed…

The origins of these three businesses were all unexpected. The record store was taken over by Shandimon after a friend on Renwu Road couldn’t keep it running. Shandimon mostly kept it locked, using it as a private music sanctuary when no one was around, gifting it to Renwu Road as a musical box. Feast came about because Jiang Huan once mentioned the lack of instant noodle shops on this street teeming with workers and students—an illogical oversight. Though costly and labor-intensive, it became popular. Soul Room , however, barely turned a profit, selling few games and renting out countless manga volumes. Except for the noodle shop, none of the stores had assistants, often closing unexpectedly. Yet, people didn’t mind—they adored Shandimon. His home was also on Renwu Road, purely out of love for the place, mingling with the youth. This angelic professor, beloved at Dan University, moonlighted as a bright entrepreneur, fulfilling every request. For gamers, Shandimon’s domain was their paradise—he was like an HP replenishment station in games, possessing immortality and specializing in buffing the protagonist.

Forgot to mention—he played the erhu, frequently invited by gaming and film companies for performances. After appearing at a renowned mobile game concert, he gained many dream-girl fans.

But he seemed indifferent. Most of his time was spent at Soul Room , using it as a workspace. At Feast , the master chef usually cooked noodles, but whenever Jiang Huan visited, Shandimon would don his sunglasses and wield two long chopsticks in the kitchen, pretending to be cool.

Like now, a 181 cm tall man in a loose gray shirt stirred sauces in the kitchen, using chopsticks to dab a taste onto Jiang Huan’s tongue. Satisfied with her enthusiastic thumbs-up, he continued cooking the noodles. It was their exclusive happy moment. Jiang Huan knew Shandimon could multitask effortlessly: “What are the odds of characters from games, anime, manga, novels, or fictional worlds crossing over into reality?”

“Zero.”

“No chance of someone suddenly entering our world to meet me?”

“Overactive imagination leads to disappointment.”

“What if I’ve been devout, hoping for someone I like to appear, and the gods answered my prayer?”

“Let the gods rest.”

Despite immersing himself in thousands of games, Shandimon remained pragmatic, devoid of fantasy. Jiang Huan felt a fleeting sense of loss before regaining her composure, focusing on Shandimon typing on his laptop. He often worked or prepared lessons at these three establishments, treating being a boss like an energy-consuming hobby. He and Bai Jingchuan were different kinds of handsome. Bai Jingchuan was a war god from games—mature, with narrow eyes, aloof, rarely smiling. Shandimon’s face was enchanting, lively, with perfect teeth, peach-blossom beauty, yet detached, as if nothing escaped his notice.

As the steam on his sunglasses faded, Shandimon tapped Jiang Huan’s head lightly, his beautiful peach-blossom eyes blinking. “Are you trying to exploit my sentimentality for a free meal?”

“How could I?”

“Tell me, what kind of person has made you feel dimensional tremors?”

“The producer… I mean, my boss is surprisingly decent.”

“How good must his character be to make you think he doesn’t belong in the real world?”

“Well… how do I describe it?” Jiang Huan scratched her head. “He’s perfect, like a character imagined by female creators.”

Shandimon removed his glasses, staring at Jiang Huan for a few seconds. “That’s the highest praise.”

Gentle, restrained, wise, calm, and extraordinarily handsome, he attracted the attention of most female colleagues. Every movement seemed calculated to tug at heartstrings—though exaggerated to say, his ambition when managing work and his indifference to his own advantages made him quite likable. The only puzzling thing was… he seemed to pay special attention to her. Her intuition was sharp, rarely wrong.

“Do you like him?”

“…Huh?”

“I’m curious about such a perfect man. Wouldn’t you fall for someone like that?”

Jiang Huan waved her hand dismissively, her face and ears flushing red. “No, overall, he’s still quite detestable.”

Shandimon said no more, returning to the kitchen. He excelled at tempting Jiang Huan with food. After all, her palate was discerning, sensitive to flavors. She could critique every dish on the street except Shandimon’s. Jiang Huan adored this boss whose soul was elastic yet slippery. His mannerisms, polite and approachable, exuded an irresistible charm. Yet, his heart belonged to someone else, avoiding every girl’s admiring gaze while drawing them to his shops, maintaining his purity.

To some extent, she herself was one of Shandimon’s “catches.” No one could resist his allure. But Jiang Huan didn’t dwell on this ambiguous atmosphere—it was fresh inspiration for otome game writing.

Jiang Huan slurped her noodles, gazing at Shandimon from afar. His three shops on this street operated leisurely, helping the neighborhood’s youth find rare items, completing games, and drawing original artwork. Everything he did was meticulously organized, as if following his own trajectory. Inside Soul Room , a pink twin-tailed doll still sat on display, changing outfits in its custom glass case. There was no manga or game featuring this character, yet Shandimon displayed her joyfully, perhaps relying on imagination for novelty.

He too resembled a perfect manga male lead drawn by female artists.

Shandimon keenly caught her gaze: “What are you looking for in me again? Searching for your boss?”

“Self-flattery,” Jiang Huan replied. “Is romantic love the only kind of relationship between men and women in this world?”

“When you start paying attention to someone, it’s usually that.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s time to forget those male protagonists from your discontinued projects. Isn’t dating nice? Being able to date is a basic skill for world-builders and character designers like you.”

He tucked his sunglasses into his pocket, carefully scrutinizing the figurine inside the display cabinet, then opened the cabinet to adjust the position of the fan in the doll’s hand. Opening the glass display case always drew the most curiosity from diners; acquaintances would praise him for being both meticulous and sentimental, while passersby mostly thought he was weird. Shandimon remained calm, his beautiful fingers carefully adjusting the figurine. After closing the cabinet door, he washed his hands and returned to cooking noodles.

Less than ten minutes later, Shandimon came out and resumed the conversation: “No need to bring up dimensions. Maybe the producer is the perfect man with qualities you like. There’s no need to be guarded—get closer, feel him. Perhaps the producer is even better than the ones in your fantasies, and you’ll fall in love with him.”

“Nonsense,” Jiang Huan blurted out. “You might as well wish for snow in Shanghai. Would you expect the twin-tailed doll in your display window to come to life in the real world?”

Shandimon smiled. Jiang Huan didn’t see the look in his eyes beneath the sunglasses.

Jiang Huan vaguely dreamed of a cyberpunk city illuminated by neon lights, its sky obscured by towering buildings. High above, the clouds were intertwined with pipes and neon lights, resembling a mechanical sky where the upper class seemed to reside. On the entire building’s large screen, a new song by a 3D idol girl was playing, her voice intoxicating like soul-numbing honey. The noise of people filled the air, flying vehicles zipped past, and electronic eyes scrutinized Jiang Huan. The time displayed 3 AM, yet the surroundings buzzed with endless traffic and factories working tirelessly. From mid-air, rusty self-driving cars rushed hurriedly, and punk girls in black miniskirts wearing headphones and thick-soled shoes ran past holding idol merchandise. One bumped into her and handed her a piece of bubblegum as an apology. Jiang Huan found it all strange but fascinating. She had been to Changsha and Chongqing on business trips before—both cities had sleepless nights and terrains that created layered urban landscapes. But here, the atmosphere carried an eerie electronic vibe. Everyone was busy with their own tasks, like a cyberpunk jianghu (wandering martial world).

Amidst the chaos, someone tried to rob her. In a strange street with no money and only a piece of candy in her hand, Jiang Huan desperately ran, climbing walls, stairs, and iron fences until she collapsed, thinking it was the end. Suddenly, a tall, slender figure appeared. Just his shadow made the criminals shout, “It’s the Enforcer! Run, or we’ll be ashes in a second!”

It seemed the shadow belonged to someone highly respected and admired—but the appearance was... Bai Jingchuan’s. Jiang Huan stood up after falling, and there stood Bai Jingchuan, wearing black gloves, dressed flamboyantly, his eyes oddly intense, almost... tender. She was confused: “You’re different from the Bai Jingchuan I know.”

“Of course. I abandoned all of this just to meet you.”

“Don’t you like this city?”

“I don’t have any special feelings for anywhere. But here, there’s more freedom. You can make a wish.”

“Can it snow?”

Bai Jingchuan waved his hand, and soon, soft, goose-down-like snow began to fall from the sky. It never snows in Shanghai. Jiang Huan gazed at the snowflakes happily: “Thank you, I really love snow.”

She blew shapes into the cold air, trying to make Bai Jingchuan smile: “In the city where I live, snow and shooting stars are equally rare. Now we can make a wish. Hopefully, a lucky miracle will happen to you too.”

Bai Jingchuan paused for a moment, then handed her a handkerchief: “This is no longer my world. But fortunately—our bond has just begun.”

Jiang Huan woke up leaning against the wall, her shoulders sore. Sure enough, it was a dream. Sure enough, there was no snow. The mysterious city and Bai Jingchuan were indeed enigmatic dreams. Lately, she often dreamed of unfamiliar cities—either escaping danger or unexpectedly meeting Bai Jingchuan. Was it because she slept too little, was too tired, played too many games, or was it that bump with Bai Jingchuan that was unforgettable?

And… surprisingly, he was still so perfect even in her dreams?