Chapter 11

They wanted to see whether Shui Wuyuan would also take his first faceplant in life. If even Shui Wuyuan fell, they would shut up—but if Shui Wuyuan did not...

Hmph! Were they not just riding the wave of popularity? Why should they be made to pick up trash?!

So everyone watched Shui Wuyuan.

One minute passed.

River Immortal Pretty Boy had picked up a small bag of trash, while Boss Water smiled beside Immortal Pretty Boy.

Three minutes passed.

River Immortal Pretty Boy had picked up two small bags of trash. Boss Water leaned over to inspect the trash, then took half a step back in disgust.

Five minutes passed.

River Immortal Pretty Boy sorted the three small bags of trash into neat piles. Boss Water strolled behind him, and along the way precisely flicked the forehead of that Black Carp, which repeatedly leaped from the water to spit at him... Forget a faceplant—the boss's shoes had not even been stained by mud!!!

The few streamers with little schemes in their hearts: They got it!!!

The River God's curse and all that was a lie!

They did not want to pick up trash anymore either!

So, three streamers immediately tossed away the trash in their hands. Their movements were not very obvious, but He Qinglan noticed them with precision.

He Qinglan's movements paused slightly.

Then three more streamers saw that someone had thrown away their trash and stopped picking it up, too, sneaking around as they did so. Bending over to pick up trash was exhausting, after all. They did not particularly want to do it either.

This time, He Qinglan stopped completely. His brows furrowed slightly as he straightened up.

Just as the barrage comments were all mocking He Qinglan and waiting to see him fly into a rage, a somewhat cold voice rang out first.

"Who told you to stop?"

"You can throw away trash that you picked up, but can you stuff back the shit you've already shat out?"

"I hate people who go back on their word most of all. Didn't you hear him say that if you wanted to film, pick up trash—and if you won't pick it up, then get lost?"

Shui Wuyuan stood behind He Qinglan, looking down with absolute contempt at the six streamers who had tossed away the trash in their hands. Then he gave a dark, gloomy snort.

"Now, pick up the trash for me. Then, get lost!"

That final word came with Thunderclap. The six streamers who had thrown away their trash were so frightened that they immediately bent down to pick it back up. Yet as the six of them bent over, their legs slipped in unison and they nearly hit the ground. Luckily, their phones did not fly out of their hands, but they could no longer continue streaming—

Because after Shui Wuyuan spoke, the misty drizzle in the area suddenly turned into a torrential downpour. Raindrops as large as beans smashed viciously onto every watching streamer and passerby. On their phones, no matter how waterproof they claimed to be, every screen went black at once.

The six streamers who had thrown away their trash again were battered by the rain until they fled like rats with their heads covered, even beginning to doubt their lives—had they actually clawed hailstones as large as glass marbles off their heads and bodies?!

Good heavens, it was July! The forecast said sunny! Hail?!

But the fleeing crowd had nowhere to reason with anyone. They could only quickly tuck away their black-screened phones and leave, hoping they could salvage them when they got back.

Before this morning-long livestream of onlookers ended in black screens, the entire barrage was filled with [Holy shit].

One enlarged, reddened, bolded barrage comment stood out like a crane among chickens—

[Hahahahaha, whoever it was, come out and get beaten! If this isn't a love story, then what the fuck kind of story is it?! Hahahahahahaha!]

After everyone had left because of the heavy rain, Boss Water, who had just been radiating the aura of a king, casually turned sideways and tilted his head, looking smug.

"I drove all the flies away."

"Now you can pick up trash in peace, and I can watch in peace too~"

He Qinglan: "..."

Immortal Pretty Boy rolled his eyes so hard they nearly reached the heavens.

Author's note:

Everyone: Waiting for Father Water to tear someone apart!!

Shui Wuyuan: That's right, I only tear people apart. Why are you still not picking up trash?!

Now:

Shui Wuyuan: Picking up trash is impossible. After all, I'm this noble.

Later:

Shui Wuyuan: Wife, hurry and look, I picked up another whole truckload!!

Chapter 11

By the time the sun set in the west, He Qinglan had cleared another clean stretch of riverbank the size of a football field. Shui Wuyuan, the male god boss whom countless netizens had been watching, had stubbornly stayed around He Qinglan, watching him pick up trash for several hours.

Whenever He Qinglan turned and glared at him, he would take two steps back as though he had no intention of stirring up trouble.

But before long, he would silently edge back to Immortal Pretty Boy's side and watch him sort the trash into different categories, occasionally using a small stream of water to rinse off the particularly dirty pieces.

Whenever that happened, Lord Rain God, whose Spiritual Power was so abundant that he had nowhere to vent it, would proudly and smugly wiggle a finger. Then an even stronger stream of water would wash over the filthy trash, cleaning it sparkling clean in no time.

He Qinglan: "..."

"Aren't you the richest man?"

Hearing that, Shui Wuyuan straightened his back and tucked in his chin. "That's right."

"Then why aren't you working? Aren't you afraid that the second-richest man might accidentally overtake you?"

Of course Shui Wuyuan could hear the disgust and attempt to drive him away in the River God's words. But he refused to leave. He liked seeing this person's aggrieved look when he could neither beat him nor get rid of him.

And besides.

"Ha! Song Qian only has a tiny bit of the God of Wealth's good fortune on him. Even if he worked overtime while riding a rocket, he could never catch up to me! Even if I lay here and did nothing, my daily earnings could pile into mountains."

He Qinglan's mouth twitched.

Was the money of mortals really worth this guy showing off so smugly?

He added another mark to his ledger.

He Qinglan turned away and ignored this childish, boastful, petty villain drunk on success. Yet Shui Wuyuan seemed to have gained some inspiration from their conversation. After thinking for a moment, he took out his phone and began making a call.

At that moment, the entrance to Bicheng College of Arts was filled with terrified screams and urgent warnings.