Chapter 7: Returning to the Original World to Slap the Author Twice

Upon hearing from the system that he could return immediately, Ye Xingchen’s eyes widened instantly. He was overwhelmed with excitement, yet a deep sense of frustration lingered.

He was excited to finally escape the snide remarks of his old classmates, but frustrated that the author of this story was so incredibly difficult, placing him in such an awkward and suffocating situation. "Hmph," he thought, "once I get back, I’m going to have a serious 'discussion' with him."

In the blink of an eye, the light and shadows before him shifted rapidly. Ye Xingchen felt a dizzying sensation, and when he came to, he was already standing at the author's doorstep.

Looking at the unremarkable, ordinary house, his brows furrowed so tightly he could have crushed a fly between them. He couldn't help but shout, "I have to say, Mr. Author, you’re really something! You wrote me into such a pathetic state in that book. I’m over there dealing with mockery and struggling to fight back, while you’re hiding in this little nest, living carefree. Today, I’m going to have a real talk with you."

Without bothering with manners, Ye Xingchen raised his arm and began pounding on the door. The impact was like a wrecking ball; the entire building hummed, and it felt as though the dust on the ceiling was about to shake loose.

The door creaked open. The author poked his head out, eyes bleary with sleep, his hair a bird’s nest. He looked at Ye Xingchen in utter confusion. Before he could even open his mouth to ask who was there, Ye Xingchen shoved his way inside like a gust of wind, dragging two massive trunks that he slammed onto the floor with a thud so heavy it nearly left a hole in the floorboards. The author jumped back, nearly landing on his backside.

Eyes wide, the author stuttered, "Wh-who are you? This is breaking and entering! What are you doing?"

Ye Xingchen crossed his arms and tilted his chin up, exuding an overbearing aura. "Who am I? I’m the Ye Xingchen you wrote about! You’ve put me through hell, and today I’m here to bring you some 'special gifts' so you can taste what it’s like to be wealthy. Next time you write, you’d better be more careful. Stop coming up with these infuriating plotlines—do you understand?"

Ye Xingchen knelt and flipped open one of the trunks. Instantly, the room was bathed in a golden glow. The trunk was packed solid with stacks of bank cards, so heavy they seemed capable of crushing the floor beneath them.

As Ye Xingchen pushed the trunk toward the author, he shouted, "Take a look! This is twenty kilograms of bank cards. The money in here? Forget about lasting a few lifetimes—even if your descendants did nothing but squander it every single day, they’d never finish it."

"And you! You wrote that I had to buy hotels and acquire companies just to prove I had money—it was exhausting! Now, you get to experience what it’s like to be 'rich and capricious' yourself. Hmph!"

The author’s eyes were fixed, his mouth agape wide enough to fit an egg. He remained frozen, staring at the bank cards as if under a paralysis spell.

Before the author could recover from the shock, Ye Xingchen went to the second trunk and kicked it open. A variety of keys spilled out—gold, silver, and some encrusted with gemstones—glittering so brightly under the light that they were dizzying. They looked incredibly luxurious.

Ye Xingchen waved his hand, his tone one of exasperation. "And here are two tons of keys. Luxury cars, mansions—if it exists in this world, the keys are likely in this box."

"Take them and enjoy yourself. And don't you dare write any more scenes where I’m being humiliated over there, got it?"

The author was completely bewildered. Trembling, he stammered, "This... this is too exaggerated! I... I’m just writing a novel. Where... where did all this come from? I... I wouldn't dare take this! It doesn't make any sense. If people find out, they’ll think I’m insane."

Upon hearing this, Ye Xingchen’s temper flared. He pointed at the author’s nose and began to scold him, "You wouldn't dare take it? You have the nerve to say that? Do you know how suffocating it was for me because of what you wrote? Those classmates were acting like they’d swallowed gunpowder, surrounding me and my wife with insults, saying the nastiest things. I had to rack my brain to find ways to fight back—do you have any idea how exhausting that is?"

"I finally got a chance to come back here and set things straight, and you’re talking to me about 'logic'? Why didn't you think about logic when you were writing my story, eh? Let me tell you, you are taking these things today. You’re going to fix the plot, make sure things go smoothly for me from now on, and let me live freely. If you make me suffer through that nonsense again, I won't be finished with you!"

The author, terrified by Ye Xingchen’s roar, turned pale, tears welling in his eyes. "B-but this is too absurd! With this much money and all these keys, how... how am I supposed to explain it to anyone? I’m just an ordinary writer, I’ve never seen anything like this! Big brother, please, spare me! I promise I’ll write well from now on and make your character incredibly powerful, okay? Please, take these back!"

Ye Xingchen paced back and forth, his footsteps heavy and hurried, as if he meant to stomp holes into the floor. He kept checking his watch, muttering, "Why are you so slow? I’m only giving you three minutes to figure this out. I have to get back; my wife is waiting for me! I don’t have time to waste here. This is so frustrating!"

The author panicked even more, feeling as though he couldn't breathe. With a sobbing voice, he pleaded, "Three minutes? Big brother, you're making this impossible for me! With this much money, I... I really can't accept it. I’ll write with heart from now on, just let me off this once, I beg you!"

Ye Xingchen sighed, exasperated, clutching his head. "Why did I end up with an author like you? What kind of karma is this? You’re taking it, whether you like it or not. I’ve already brought it here; there’s no way I’m taking it back. Just enjoy this wealthy life and focus on your writing. Don't make me suffer through those indignities again, or next time, it won’t be gifts I bring—I’ll tie your hands so you can’t write a single word. Do you hear me?"

The author looked like he was about to burst into tears, but seeing the unwavering look in Ye Xingchen’s eyes, he dared not say another word. He nodded weakly, feeling deeply aggrieved and wondering how he had managed to provoke such an "overbearing ancestor" just by writing a novel.

Seeing that time was running out, Ye Xingchen glared at the author one last time. "Remember, write well. If you mess with the plot again, I won't let you off! I’m leaving!" With that, another burst of bright light filled the room, and Ye Xingchen vanished without a trace, leaving the author standing before the mountain of bank cards and keys, distraught and in a state of chaos. He wondered what on earth had just happened, vowing never to write carelessly again—who knew what would happen if this man came back?

As for Ye Xingchen, he returned to the world he had just left. Sitting in the car, Liu Ruyan looked at him with curiosity. "Xingchen, why were you suddenly frozen just now? You seemed to be daydreaming for a long time. What were you thinking about?"

Ye Xingchen shook his head helplessly. "Nothing much, just took care of some business. I think we’ll be dealing with less trouble from now on. Sigh, these days, it’s really something."

With that, he pulled Liu Ruyan closer, and the car drove slowly toward home.

Suddenly, Ye Xingchen asked, "I noticed you don't really have any nice clothes. Let's go buy some now."

"Okay."