TTGOL CH80

Chapter 80: Gege

Chi Yan didn’t end up staying the night after all, because the moment Tang Cuo suggested sharing a room with him, Jin Cheng abruptly turned hostile and kicked him out.

The moment the door slammed shut, Chi Yan was completely bewildered about what had just happened.

What exactly provoked this older brother?

Inside, Tang Cuo didn’t say a word. He just leaned back against the sofa with his arms crossed, quietly watching Jin Cheng throw his little fit.

Being stared at like this, Jin Cheng didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty. Instead, he put on the air of a drill instructor and said, “Time is precious. There are still over ten hours until tomorrow. Since we’re just sitting around anyway, do you want to go to the training ground for some practice?”

Tang Cuo: “Sure.”

Jin Cheng finally saw Tang Cuo smile at him, though it didn’t feel like a good thing. It seemed he really had rubbed this little tiger the wrong way, and the tiger was currently gearing up to take a bite out of him.

To Tang Cuo, there was nothing that couldn’t be resolved with a fight—even if he couldn’t win.

This shameless, talkative guy, Jin Cheng, was exceptionally handsome when he fought. He could smile at you with reckless abandon, or he could ruthlessly suppress you with his higher level—composed, confident, and completely at ease.

This was exactly how Tang Cuo had gradually fallen for him back then. He loved Jin Cheng’s strength. Even if he was knocked to the ground time and time again, as long as Jin Cheng was still standing, he felt he could always get back up.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t bother getting back up. Having to get up over and over was too much of a hassle. He would just wait until he became stronger than the other person, then knock them out with one punch. Much easier.

Unsurprisingly, the session ended with Tang Cuo lying exhausted on the training room floor, while Jin Cheng sat cross-legged beside him, handing him a bottle of water.

Tang Cuo was drenched in sweat. After drinking some water, he finally recovered a bit, but still lay on the floor, refusing to move. At that moment, Jin Cheng grabbed his arm, prompting him to reflexively launch a counterattack.

Smack! Jin Cheng pushed down Tang Cuo’s sweeping leg, grabbed his wrist in a reverse grip, pinned it down, and leaned over to look at him, a smile on his lips. “Don’t be nervous. I’m just looking at the injury on your arm.”

Tang Cuo remained expressionless. But after high-intensity training, his hair was soaked, and a natural flush colored his cheeks. No matter how much he tried to suppress his expressions, he looked incredibly youthful and vibrant, his eyes especially bright.

“I’m not injured,” he retorted.

“Are you sure?” Jin Cheng shoved his sleeve up, revealing a large bruise on his arm. Now Tang Cuo was speechless. But he truly hadn’t noticed it; he wasn’t deliberately hiding it. Besides, an injury sustained in Yong Ye City couldn’t even be called an injury. Drink a potion and you’re good as new, without even a scar left behind.

Speaking of which, Tang Cuo had never known how Jin Cheng got the scar on his face or why he never had it removed.

“Stop staring at your Gege,” Jin Cheng started acting shameless again.

Tang Cuo silently turned his head away and genuinely stopped looking. Now Jin Cheng was unhappy. He pulled out a bottle of Wen Xiaoming’s homemade potion and began applying it to Tang Cuo’s bruise—such a minor injury didn’t warrant a healing potion—while saying, “You were staring at me like that just now, didn’t you have something to ask?”

Tang Cuo: “Not interested.”

Jin Cheng: “Then tell me, what about me makes you uninterested?”

There is something seriously wrong with your thought process.

Annoyed to death by him, Tang Cuo sat up abruptly, turned his head, and asked, “What does it matter if I tell you?”

Jin Cheng rested his chin on his hand and smiled. “I can give you some suggestions, and maybe you’ll be able to change your mind, right?”

Not changing himself, but making Tang Cuo change his mind. To say something so incredibly arrogant—there was truly only one Jin Cheng in the world. Tang Cuo almost got up to fight him again, but decided against it. Even if they fought another three hundred rounds, Jin Cheng would still be Jin Cheng.

Tang Cuo continued to broadcast a death glare.

Jin Cheng rubbed his nose, knowing he couldn’t tease the guy too hard, and began to change the subject. “You were looking at the scar on my face just now, right? I got this scar the year I first arrived in Yong Ye City. I suffered a loss and learned a lesson, so I never removed it. If you don’t like it, it’s just a matter of a few points.”

Removing the scar was secondary; Tang Cuo was genuinely curious. “What kind of person could make you suffer a loss?”

Jin Cheng: “A teammate I teamed up with when I first got here. He backstabbed me in an instance.”

Tang Cuo: “You don’t seem like someone lacking in vigilance.”

“Because he saved my life once,” Jin Cheng said lightly. “Not every interaction is filled with conspiracy. Before that instance, he was actually a decent teammate. Not necessarily upright and kindhearted, but at least he had a bottom line. It’s only when a crisis hits that you realize a bottom line exists only to be broken.”

Tang Cuo: “?”

Jin Cheng: “He wanted to save someone. That person was very important to him. So when I and that person were placed on the scales at the same time, he didn’t hesitate to sacrifice me. If it had been the two of us in danger and he had to choose one, that would be one thing. But it was a devil’s deal. To save that already dead person, he wrote my name on the contract.”

“And then?”

“He died, and the deal failed.”

The strong are not always strong; even Jin Cheng made mistakes in trusting people. No matter how casually he brought it up now, as long as the scar on his face remained, that event would exist forever.

It wasn’t that Jin Cheng was still brooding over it, but rather that he never rejected any past version of himself.

Tang Cuo felt he should probably say something at this moment, but he had never been good at expressing himself. Saying something like “I will never abandon you” was far too cheesy.

After a long while, he said, “Don’t remove the scar.”

Having waited ages for this sentence, Jin Cheng looked slightly doubtful. “Why?”

Tang Cuo: “Because it looks cool.”

As the words fell, surprise bloomed in Jin Cheng’s eyes. He hadn’t expected Tang Cuo to be so direct. Usually quiet as a clam, but the moment he spoke, he was so cool—a very cool clam indeed.

“So have you thought it over?” Jin Cheng propped himself up on one hand, staring at him with burning eyes.

“.” Tang Cuo leaned back slightly.

“Read error. Try again.”

“I accept.”

Just as Jin Cheng was about to rejoice, Tang Cuo took a deep breath and added, “To be your good brother for the rest of our lives.”

Jin Cheng’s mood was like a roller coaster, violently thrown into a 360-degree loop by Tang Cuo. Enraged, he grabbed Tang Cuo’s wrist and pinned him to the floor. Looking at the other’s perfectly composed face—immune to threats and persuasion alike—he couldn’t hit him, couldn’t scold him, and could only grit his teeth and say, “You’re trying to piss me off to death.”

Tang Cuo blinked. “Gege.”

Whoosh. The balloon named Jin Cheng deflated.

The green youth from back then had finally become an old slicker. Time truly spares no one.

What could he do now? Just kiss him.

Facts proved that such a forceful approach worked best on Tang Cuo. Talking too much or beating around the bush would only backfire. Playing the victim was useless too; this heartless little bastard could roast you to your face even while feeling sorry for you.

However, that night, Jin Cheng still failed to realize his grand dream of sharing a room, because Tang Cuo said he was injured.

Injured by Jin Cheng beating him.

Jin Cheng squatted outside Tang Cuo’s door, leaning his back against it. With his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands, he once again experienced the true meaning of “dropping a rock on one’s own foot.”

The next day.

Tang Cuo, a hypoglycemic patient with morning crankiness, was in relatively good spirits. Jin Cheng, however, looked like he hadn’t slept well, his aura extremely low. Seeing Tang Cuo come out, his expression changed instantly; he stood there looking innocent and wronged.

Are you a teenage girl?

Tang Cuo grumbled inwardly, unable to dodge him. Relying on his two major advantages—height and combat power—Jin Cheng cornered him after just a few steps. Tang Cuo only managed to get away after letting Jin Cheng steal a kiss.

This is what they call the hardships of life.

After breakfast, the two immediately headed out.

Since they only had Zone B passes, they had to go to the Central District first and enter Zone B from there. The system would automatically scan their passes and let them through without any need for paperwork.

An hour later, the gates to the divination room were in sight.

Zone B was the second-highest advanced zone, right behind Zone A. The buildings here, whether in scale or architectural style, were several tiers above those in Zone E. The divination room was no exception, located inside a villa with a garden.

“A person can only have their fortune told here once. I came last time, so it’s up to you this time,” Jin Cheng said.

“What are the criteria for selecting clients?” Tang Cuo asked. Since the fortuneteller only saw three clients at a time, it couldn’t possibly be on a first-come, first-served basis.

Jin Cheng spread his hands. “Having no criteria is her criteria. You’ll understand once we get to the gate.”

Tang Cuo didn’t press further.

There was already more than one person at the villa’s gate. Observing carefully, Tang Cuo noticed that most of them just stood there for a while before walking away. Some suddenly looked furious and shook the iron gate forcefully, but received no response from inside.

There were also a few stragglers standing at a distance. They didn’t look like they were there for a reading, but rather like they were gathering intel.

When Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng arrived, because Tang Cuo was walking slightly ahead, no one recognized them at first. But once Jin Cheng’s highly recognizable face came into view, they naturally became the center of attention.

Ignoring everyone, Jin Cheng smiled and instructed Tang Cuo, “Just go stand at the gate. If you’re her client, the gate will open automatically.”

Without a word, Tang Cuo walked straight to the gate.

The others were getting restless, harboring who-knows-what sinister intentions, but a single sweeping glance from Jin Cheng burst those thoughts like bubbles in the sun.

And right at that moment, the gate, which had been shut tight since morning, suddenly opened.

Jin Cheng walked up to Tang Cuo. “It seems our Ms. Fortuneteller knew you were coming early on.”

Tang Cuo asked, “Was it like this for you last time?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then let’s go.”

Ignoring the astonished or envious stares around them, the two swaggered inside. Just as their figures disappeared around the bend of the cobblestone path, the gate slowly closed, blocking anyone else from entering.

Some people stubbornly clung to the gate, trying to peer inside, but saw nothing but lush, dense trees.

Meanwhile, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng smoothly reached the actual front door. This time, the door also opened automatically, accompanied by a cold female voice. “Jin Cheng, what are you coming in for? I don’t serve you.”

Jin Cheng: “Accompanying a family member.”

The other party fell silent. After three seconds, the voice said, “You sit downstairs. Let your family member come up alone.”

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