The boy who looked like a high school student had been sizing her up for half an hour.
Even though he had ordered the 699-yuan luxury package, "Relive Your Innocent Memories—High School Uniform Gold Medal Massage," the woman was still getting creeped out by his scorching gaze.
But he was clearly a high school student, so why was he spending so much money to look at a uniform?
Hadn't he seen enough of them at school?
Master No. 7, who was already twenty-four this year, had always been fairly confident in her ability to play a female high schooler. But now that she had run into a real high school student, she suddenly felt her career facing an unprecedented challenge.
With that face, there was a ninety percent chance he had played with actual high school girls.
Was he going to ask her to help him with math problems later?
She had only attended vocational high school. Vocational high school didn't really count as high school, did it?
"Why do you do this?"
"Huh?"
"You're quite pretty. Why do you do this?" the boy asked.
"When I was very young, my dad became addicted to gambling."
The woman began smoothly.
"Being addicted to pi isn't okay either."
The boy did not buy it and immediately cut her off.
"Wouldn't it affect your grades?"
"I'm not a high school student. I'm cosplaying. I don't have grades, only performance targets."
"But people around you would gossip, right? If I took you home, I'd not only have to explain things clearly to my relatives and friends, I'd also have to consider how to eliminate the negative impact of this dark chapter in your past."
The woman broke out in a cold sweat.
He made it sound so convincing. Was this guy planning to marry her?
At such a young age, he already had the heart of a savior.
Still, judging by his looks, it might not be impossible.
"It'll be hard for you to work in another profession in the future, won't it? For example, if you debut and become famous, and someone finds out you used to wash feet, they'll definitely flood the comments with things like, 'A geisha a businessman has already played with, and you treat her like some treasure.'"
The boy analyzed the matter seriously.
"If there's any upside, it's that people might pay you even more to wash their feet in the future. But if I had that kind of money, why wouldn't I just book—"
"Fuck, are you fucking sick?!"
The woman snapped.
She felt like she had been turned into a joke. Wearing this school uniform was embarrassing enough already, and now she was being humiliated by a high school kid.
"I'm done! Your mom can wash your feet herself! Fuck washing feet—go wash your goddamn brain!"
Furious, the woman stood up and prepared to leave.
"Then refund my 699."
"It's a seventy-minute service. I washed your feet for forty minutes, and you still want a refund?"
"Then refund me 400, and give me a 399 coupon too. I know you have them. I saw them at the front desk just now," the boy said seriously.
"..."
Holding the coupon, Lin Tian walked out of the spa.
A heavy rain had just passed, and puddles still lined the street.
Looking at the All-Around Producer System before him, he sighed.
In the end, there still wasn't a suitable candidate.
Having been reborn into this parallel world eighteen years ago, Lin Tian had originally planned to live an ordinary life. But last week, he had bound himself to a system called the All-Around Producer System.
He could not use the system himself. He had to bind it to a female partner before it could activate.
By cultivating his partner into an "idol" worshipped by the world, Lin Tian could increase his own attributes and receive rewards consisting of works from his previous life—novels, music, manga, scripts, and the like.
However, although Lin Tian possessed a face that countless men envied, his everyday school life had been so energy-efficient that he had almost no luck with girls.
Right now, finding a girl to bind with was not going to be easy.
Left with no other choice, Lin Tian had thought of trying a foot-washing parlor.
After all, foot-washing parlors were one of the cheapest places where men could directly meet pretty women.
But unfortunately, foot washers were still just foot washers.
Even if he dressed her in an idol's clothes, she would probably only rack her brains to launch a pedicure package called "Post-Handshake Event Story Play—Performance Outfit Gold Medal Massage."
Sure enough, this was not something he could rush.
If he accidentally bound himself to the wrong partner, Lin Tian would spend the rest of his life serving as a lobby manager.
What kind of manager, you ask?
Naturally, the lobby manager of Golden Foot Impression. Mr. Lin Tian, mentor to countless gold medal beauty technicians and known as the "King of Foot Washes," possessed a system yet still chose to shine in the foot-washing industry. After his death, he would be worthy of worship in the imperial ancestral temple, receiving incense offerings for a thousand years.
Unfortunately, Lin Tian, who was currently in his final year of high school, had no interest in washing feet.
By the time he left the foot-washing parlor, it was already dark. Lin Tian took the subway home.
Lin Tian lived alone in a cheap rental in an old residential complex. The environment was a little run-down, but the location was not bad.
It was within the city's second ring road, six subway stops from his school and only a few kilometers from downtown. For a day student like him, it could not have been more suitable.
His apartment building stood by the street, and on the first floor was a rather artsy coffee shop.
To save himself a few steps, Lin Tian usually cut directly through the coffee shop.
The shop owner was an elderly man surnamed Gan. His hair was completely white, yet he always seemed full of energy.
Grandpa Gan knew Lin Tian lived alone. Every time Lin Tian returned from school, he would smile and greet him, ask about his life, and during holidays, give him pastries and homemade rice wine.
Lin Tian was very grateful for that.
Even though he had never had a habit of drinking coffee, he often bought a cup when he came home at night, though Grandpa Gan often refused to take his money.
That night, when Lin Tian returned to the coffee shop, he was surprised to find that the lights inside were already off and the front door tightly shut.
It was only a little past nine. Why was it closing so early today?
Lin Tian found it a little strange.
The coffee shop normally closed at eleven thirty, and in truth, it only ever closed later, never earlier. Once, Lin Tian had come home at three in the morning and the shop had still been open.
Grandpa Gan probably had something to do.
Lin Tian did not think much of it. He approached the glass door and looked inside.
Just then, the door opened from within.
A girl carrying a cello on her back walked out and ran into Lin Tian.
She had a clean, unadorned face and wore the uniform of the same high school as him. Her hair was tied in a neat ponytail.
But for some reason, her eyes were like stagnant water.
When she saw Lin Tian, the girl's lips moved slightly.
"Do you need something?"
"Where's Grandpa Gan?"
"He isn't here. I'm watching the shop today."
"You are?"
"His granddaughter."
"Oh."
"Mm."
Their brief conversation ended, and the girl walked straight past Lin Tian. The cello case on her back even brushed against his shoulder.
The girl tossed a bag of trash into the roadside bin, then turned around and returned to the shop, locking the front door behind her.
Looking at the girl's back view, Lin Tian was puzzled.
How had he never known that Grandpa Gan had a granddaughter who attended the same high school as him?
Then again, Grandpa Gan had always been the one concerned about his life. He really had never paid attention to Grandpa Gan's family.
He had originally wanted to ask whether he could pass through the coffee shop.
But seeing how indifferent the girl looked, Lin Tian gave up.
It felt like communicating with her would be troublesome.
Entering through the gate of the residential complex, Lin Tian went up to his building. He lived in 603.
National regulations required elevators in buildings above six floors, so most buildings in these old residential complexes only had six floors.
When he reached the sixth floor, he saw that same figure again.
The girl, carrying the bulky cello, sat atop the corridor railing outside apartment 603.
Her pale legs dangled over the edge.
What was she doing, catching the breeze? Looking for a lost kitten?
Surely she was not trying to kill herself.
The girl turned her head and saw Lin Tian too.
"Could you not die outside my door?"
Lin Tian asked.
"Okay."
The girl on the railing shifted lightly from outside 603 to across from 602.
"That makes no difference. How about changing floors?"
"If I jump from lower down, I might not die."
"Headfirst would do it."
Lin Tian thought about it. In that case, she would have to tie the cello to her head. But she definitely could not do that alone, so he would have to help her.
Then when he went home and looked in the mirror, he would see a 1-0-0 above his own head.
"Go to the rooftop?"
"The rooftop door is locked. I don't have the key."
"If you pull that lock downward, it opens. It isn't locked."
"Oh."
The girl suddenly understood.
She slowly turned around, then slowly lowered her legs and jumped down from the low wall.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Lin Tian nodded, took out his keys, and prepared to unlock his door.
Just then, the girl seemed to remember something.
After taking a few steps upstairs, she came back down.
"By the way, could I trouble you to keep this for me?"
The girl took the cello case off her back.
"I'm afraid not. Sorry," Lin Tian refused.
"Okay." The girl sounded somewhat regretful. "Then good night."
"You too. Good night."
With that, the girl headed toward the rooftop upstairs. Lin Tian also opened his door and returned home.
He opened the refrigerator, took out some pour-over iced coffee that had been sitting there for who knew how many days, lay down on the sofa, and turned on his computer, intending to enjoy some leisurely time before showering.
However, a minute passed.
Lin Tian gradually began to feel that something was off.
Wait.
She... wasn't really going to die, was she?
Before you continue