Chapter 3

The System had long since discovered that Mu Yu's emotional fluctuations were much weaker than those of ordinary people.

But the data reflected from such monitoring seemed especially stimulating when brought into reality, particularly when the situation was far from ordinary.

For instance, despite a major problem like "severe timeline distortion" occurring, Mu Yu still rigorously followed their original plan to have the villain, in its cub form, collide with him.

Another example was when his grand endeavor of forcibly settling compensation funds was obstructed. Mu Yu, in the tone of "I want to buy a lollipop," said to the ball of white fluff in his arms, "I want to spend two hundred million on him."

Because his tone was far too calm, the System momentarily faltered, nearly resorting to its own emergency medical card: "...Okay, *zzzzzzt*."

Mu Yu reminded it, "The speaker is wet again."

The System sheepishly admitted it was a mixture of drool and tears of poverty. It shut off the crackling mechanical noises, retreated to an inconspicuous corner of its mental sea, and sent a message to headquarters to inquire about the timeline bug.

Mu Yu didn't join the System in researching the timeline. He glanced at the venue layout, circled twice with the little snowball, and found a seat in the rest area.

Staff were still busy with pre-recording adjustments and preparations. The children's waiting area was filled only with boisterous kids.

No adults were watching this area, and the minor commotion that had just occurred seemed to have gone unnoticed by anyone.

Mu Yu leaned on one hand, sitting on the chair, and slowly extended his right leg, pressing his knee twice.

He wasn't using his cane today. He had been too hasty when stepping over earlier. While he hadn't injured himself, it was still uncomfortably awkward.

The injury in his leg had been with him for too long. Mu Yu was accustomed to this subtle discomfort and didn't pay it much mind, covering it with his hand for a while before letting it be.

While the recording hadn't started yet, Mu Yu re-checked the information provided in the documents.

Yàn Sǔn's language and writing abilities were impaired. Until he was fourteen, he had significant difficulty speaking and writing, though he could still understand spoken words.

However, being able to understand at fourteen didn't mean he could at five.

It was akin to a language barrier, being thrown into a completely unfamiliar place. He could hear sounds, see and understand what was happening, but was simply unable to communicate. Listening to people speak felt like deciphering an ancient text.

Earlier in the venue, Mu Yu had noticed Yàn Sǔn's near inability to comprehend conversations. It was only after Mu Yu gestured "hit me" several times that Yàn Sǔn had a rough understanding of his intent.

Most of the scripts Yu Mu had written in the early stages relied on Yàn Sǔn's lack of comprehension, allowing him to fabricate truths, distort facts, and spare no effort in smearing his name.

Mū Yú released his arm, placed the little snowball on the ground, and crouched down to be at eye level with him.

The little snowball stood on the ground, its dark eyes slightly round, its complexion pale, clutching a small piece of fabric from his sleeve.

A minute later, the System spoke: "...Host."

Mū Yú: "What is it?"

The System was still waiting for news from headquarters. By rights, it shouldn't have interrupted, but it couldn't withstand the unnervingly prolonged silence and eerie atmosphere: "Do you... have telepathy or mind-control abilities?"

"No," Mu Yu asked, "How much is it? Is it expensive?"

System: "..."

That wasn't what it meant. It just wanted to ask why Mu Yu was squatting there, staring at the villain in complete silence for a full sixty seconds.

"They're not for sale," the Host asked, and the System had to answer. "They can only be unlocked by perfectly completing certain hidden levels or through a lottery."

"Then forget it," Mu Yu lost interest. "Help me buy another jacket."

As he spoke, he unzipped his casual jacket with one hand and took it off.

The little snowball was still clutching the cuff of his right sleeve. Seeing Mu Yu's action, it hesitated for a moment before mimicking him, withdrawing its hand and unzipping its own down jacket.

Mū Yú couldn't help but smile. He reached out and helped the little one pull its arms out of the sleeves.

This was his first time interacting with such a young child. Their little arms and legs were soft everywhere, as if they would break with the slightest bit of force.

Without the down jacket, the little snowball wasn't as plump, but it was still a small, soft figure. It didn't speak or run around, silently looking up at him.

Mū Yú wrapped himself in his own jacket, zipped it up, and took the down jacket to find a staff member.

White down jackets couldn't hide stains easily.

Yàn Sǔn had been pushed off a rocking car by those boys, leaving several marks on his clothes. They would only be more apparent on camera.

In the data file, Yu Mu encountered Yàn Sǔn, who had fallen from a rocking car, and patted the dust off him—an action that did not make the down jacket cleaner.

On the contrary, the dust quickly made the down jacket dirty, obscuring the finger marks.

Yu Mu might indeed have been a screenwriter with some talent, able to identify perpetrators, victims, and bystanders at a glance and then approach them, selling his conscience by the pound to make money.

"Host," the System asked, "Did Yàn Xī push Yàn Sǔn?"

Mū Yú had the System open the camera and photograph the marks on the down jacket: "Most likely."

When he arrived, he saw Yàn Sǔn falling precariously headfirst. He didn't have time for anything else but to save the child first. Moreover, it was chaotic at the time, and he hadn't managed to get a clear look at the child who had pushed him.

Mū Yú had just scouted the area; there were no surveillance cameras or staff nearby. But determining who had acted wasn't difficult at all, as the handprints remained on the down jacket.

...If they had been smudged by dust, it would have been impossible.

Because of Yu Mu's action, Yàn Sǔn's adoptive parents sought him out and hired Yu Mu to cooperate in destroying Yàn Sǔn.

The System remained silent for a long while.

This inference was the most logical and likely to have occurred. If nothing else had happened, it was even the truth.

It meant that Yàn Sǔn's encounter with Yu Mu at age five, when he was helped up, was merely the act of an accomplice, a cover-up, a stepping stone—the only fragments of warmth in his life.

...

Mū Yú took the down jacket, explained the situation to a staff member, and returned to where Yàn Sǔn was obediently waiting, then crouched down.

His jacket was still too large for the five-year-old child, loose and baggy with sleeves so long they almost brushed the ground.

Covered by the jacket, Yàn Sǔn obediently turned with his movements, allowing Mu Yu to adjust each sleeve, acting very compliantly, like a moving, blinking, circling little snowman.

Mū Yú had played enough. He turned Yàn Sǔn back around and, calibrating his strength, folded the cuffs of the sleeves.

"Host," the System reminded him, "Yàn Sǔn's adoptive parents have arrived. Their emotional readings are quite poor."

The System could roughly detect emotions. Although the couple's expressions appeared normal, even friendly and amiable, their internal emotional readings had already reached the threshold of "annoyance."

This annoyance and resistance were directed at Mu Yu. Upon seeing Mu Yu taking care of Yàn Sǔn, it had jumped up two more notches.

It seemed the previous speculation was true: Yàn Xī had indeed been so heavy-handed with his younger brother amidst the chaos.

Mū Yú's intervention, even if the Yan couple had the ability to silence the show's production team, would require more effort.

"Mr. Yú."

Father Yan had deep nasolabial folds and a stern expression. His voice deepened at the end when he spoke, sounding naturally authoritative: "My son has troubled you."

Father Yan extended his hand: "Little Sun, come back with me."

Upon seeing Father Yan, Yàn Sǔn's breathing became shallow.

Mū Yú gently pulled. The previously soft little arm remained motionless, as if frozen. His dark eyes were open but even his movements were slow.

Father Yan said, "Give the jacket back to scriptwriter Yú."

Yàn Sǔn didn't understand. Father Yan's words were clearly meant for Mu Yu.

Before coming over, Father Yan had already inquired with the production crew and learned the identity of this interfering "Yu Mu."

A third-rate scriptwriter who shamelessly bummed around the variety show to earn money, almost too poor to eat.

Who knew where he got the audacity to meddle in affairs that didn't concern him.

Father Yan glanced at Mu Yu, his expression clearly disdainful, a chilling glint flashing in his eyes.

...

"Oh no, Host."

The System suddenly reacted, anxiously reminding him: "We didn't follow Yu Mu's logical actions!"

Mū Yú asked, "Why should I follow his logic?"

"If you don't, Yàn Sǔn's adoptive parents won't hire you; they'll consider you a nuisance," the System recited its logic. "You'll be fired from the crew, and you'll never interact with Yàn Sǔn again..."

"I want to raise him," Mu Yu said.

System: "..."

It knew.

It knew the Host was fixated on those two hundred million.

But in the current situation, without the consent of Yàn Sǔn's adoptive parents, they couldn't simply steal a child and raise him.

On such a matter of principle, if the other party disagreed, no amount of money would suffice.

"I want to raise him... so I'm not going to mislead him."

Mū Yú only said half of what he meant. After the System had finished its concerned sputtering, he continued: "I want to be Yàn Sǔn's teacher."

The System paused: "What's the difference?"

"A teacher cannot do wrong things," Mu Yu said. "Students will learn from them."

He could use a more circuitous method. His acting skills were good; he could even assume Yu Mu's persona, feigning compliance and putting on a show.

But that was a different price... that was a different way to break the predicament.

That method wasn't suitable for taking away a child as pure as white paper.

Yàn Sǔn couldn't understand the words, but he could see and comprehend what was happening.

At five years old, a child could already understand many things. Yàn Sǔn might have known what intentions Yu Mu had that day when he walked towards him, reached out to help him up, and held him while patting him.

If it weren't for this, Yàn Zhū mò ten years later wouldn't have specifically taken Yu Mu away on another variety show.

He learned everything his teacher taught him and, using the methods he learned, meticulously imitated and acted them out, bringing his teacher back into that cold, stagnant pool to accompany him.

...

Yàn Sǔn still stood in place.

The little snowman didn't speak, its soft face and hands pale from the cold, its fingers clutching the meticulously folded cuffs of the jacket, its expression empty.

Father Yan strode over, roughly pulling Yàn Sǔn and making him stumble. Just as he bent down to pull the zipper, another hand politely stopped him.

"No need, I have another one," Mu Yu said gently. "It's cold, you can change when you get back."

The variety show was set in a snowy valley, with white snow stretching as far as the eye could see under the bright sunlight. Nearby were venues for skiing and ice skating.

Using Yu Mu's identity as a "scriptwriter" who had shamelessly joined the show, Mu Yu obtained a copy of the variety show script and leafed through a few pages. It was a traditional parent-child interaction variety show format; its special setting made it obvious who it aimed to promote.

"Mr. Yàn, you misunderstand," Mu Yu said. "I have neither the authority nor the standing to pursue anything."

Father Yan believed he had softened, looked Mu Yu up and down, and said with a half-smile, "Scriptwriter Yú, have you thought this through?"

Mū Yú nodded: "I feel a connection with this child and want to take him as my student, to be his teacher."

Mū Yú explained: "I want to take him with me."

System: "..."

Father Yan: "..."

"Host," the System frantically and trembling reminded him, "Yàn Sǔn's adoptive father is unscrupulous, incorrigible, and a terrible person; he perfectly fits the definition of a villain, but he's not the villain. Even if you anger him to the point of strangling you, you can't force a retreat..."

Mū Yú asked, "Can I?"

The System braced itself and jumped out, wanting to shield Yan Father, but Mu Yu raised his hand and drew a square, turning it into a large, inedible marshmallow.

Mū Yú placed the System marshmallow into Yàn Sǔn's arms: "Help me block it."

Marshmallow, blurry: "...Huh?"

Mū Yú walked up to Father Yan.

...

The following events are not suitable for a role model, so I won't show them to the student.

If he remembered correctly, the owner of the ice and snow club where Father Yan worked owed him a negligible sum of money.

Mū Yú, mindful of "Yu Mu's" penniless persona, opened a red plastic bag and rummaged through a pile of stamps, finding the manager's stamp for the Berghead International Bank Ice and Snow Club.

Father Yan recognized the stamp, and his expression suddenly changed. He stared at Mu Yu, his pupils contracting.

Mū Yú picked up the little snowball, who was submerged in marshmallow, and said sincerely, like a teacher: "If possible, we will be a family.\