Cheng Shengnan ultimately didn’t call out to Shen Ge. The two walked into the office one after the other, and Old Zhao, catching sight of them, shot Shen Ge a knowing look.
Shen Ge ignored him, booted up his computer, and began finalizing the revisions for Director Chen’s proposal.
As noon approached, Cheng Shengnan appeared at her office doorway and called out, “Shen Ge, come to my office. Let’s discuss the proposal.”
Old Zhao’s smirk deepened, his expression screaming: I get it, I totally get it, but I’ll never say a word. He was clearly reveling in his role as the office’s top gossip spectator.
“…” Shen Ge was speechless.
Fine. Whatever makes you happy.
He grabbed the proposal and entered the manager’s office. Sitting down, he handed the documents to Cheng Shengnan. “The proposal for Director Chen is done. I’ve also noted down all his potential ‘minor adjustments,’ so whoever takes over can handle it smoothly.”
The way he phrased it—like a resignation handover—made Cheng Shengnan frown slightly. She set the proposal aside, her expression turning serious. “We’ll talk about that later. You’re trending.”
“Huh?” Shen Ge blinked. Proposals and trending topics? That’s one hell of a pivot.
The video showed yesterday’s scene: Shen Ge chasing the giant rat through the market, kicking a child out of harm’s way, and trapping the anomaly in a metal cage.
“The Special Measures Department’s efficiency is slipping,” Shen Ge mused. He wasn’t shocked that he’d gone viral—he was shocked the department hadn’t suppressed the incident.
Cheng Shengnan’s voice was tense. “That rat… another one of those monsters?”
Her expression twisted into something unreadable. “Three days, three encounters. Is the world ending, or do you just have a supernatural magnet strapped to your back?”
“Maybe… I’m the chosen one?”
After a beat of silence, Cheng Shengnan sighed. “People who know the truth understand you were saving lives, but… just read the comments.”
Shen Ge scrolled down. The top comment, with over 100k likes, read:
“Let’s ignore the fact that this man saved a child—but was that kick really necessary? Who knows if the kid was hurt! So violent!”
The replies were a chorus of agreement:
The trending discussions barely touched on the rat itself. Most were nitpicking—accusing Shen Ge of child abuse, causing public panic, or even stealing from the auto shop owner.
Admittedly, Shen Ge had had other options besides kicking the kid and smashing the rat with a brick.
Option 1: Dive in front of the boy, shielding him with his own body.
Option 2: Use his “Immobility” trait to freeze the rat mid-leap, buying the kid a few seconds to escape.
But Option 1? He didn’t know the kid. And getting bitten by an anomaly could have unknown consequences—he wasn’t about to martyr himself for a stranger.
Option 2? The rat was in constant motion. No guarantee “Immobility” would work. If it failed, the kid’s head would’ve been rat chow. Then the headlines would scream: “Heartless Bystander Watches Child Die!”
So yes, his methods were rough—but they were the safest choice.
As Shen Ge scrolled, his frown deepened at the few compliments buried under the hate—mostly about his looks. With a grimace, he started typing furiously.
“What are you doing?” Cheng Shengnan asked.
“What does it look like? Clapping back.” Shen Ge didn’t glance up. “If they ruin my mood, I’ll ruin theirs.”
He wasn’t one to stew in anger. Revenge was best served immediately.
Curious, Cheng Shengnan peered over his shoulder.
Shen Ge’s strategy was meticulous:
“Since you’re ‘ignoring facts,’ let’s talk feelings. The wind whispers, the flowers bloom—and the best match for you, dear fairy, is a bouquet of white chrysanthemums. PS: Stop stealing your daughter’s lipstick. That Barbie pink on you looks like a sausage wrapper. Even her comments under your videos say so. Next time your grandkids go out, stick a ‘Fragile’ sign on their backs so I know not to ‘violently’ save them. I’m not your ancestor—I won’t coddle your family.”
Post-reply, he blocked her.
Cheng Shengnan, the epitome of icy composure, snorted. This man had just delivered a masterclass in trolling—then denied the target any chance to retaliate.
By the time she realized, it was too late. Shen Ge’s APM had skyrocketed to pro-gamer levels. Dozens of clapbacks and blocks flew in the blink of an eye.
“Ahhh, much better.” He set the phone down, stretched, and slumped back in his chair—only to meet Cheng Shengnan’s deadpan stare.
“Oh, right!” Shen Ge sat up, pulling out his own device. “Forgot I had this. Time for Round Two.”