Qi Sen: …What a foolish little brother.

His head hurt.

Can-Can didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. She clumsily climbed up onto the bed and handed the dragon egg to Pei Shen.

“Third Brother, this is for you to eat!”

Just as Pei Shen was about to accept it, the hospital room door knocked twice.

Qi Sen got up to open it.

At the door stood a middle-aged man in a black leather jacket, holding several books in hand.

He lifted the books and smiled.
“I’m Pei Shen’s chemistry teacher. I need to speak with him.”

“Qi Sen, let him in,” Pei Shen quickly called from inside upon hearing the commotion.
“This is the teacher I told you about—Mr. Wu Hongcai, my junior high chemistry teacher. He’s been helping me revise my paper.”

Qi Sen remembered this guy.

Pei Shen had been staying up late every night lately—not only to prepare for the upcoming chemistry competition, but also to finish the paper he’d been working on for months.

“Can’t the paper wait until after you recover?” Qi Sen asked.

Wu Hongcai waved his hands anxiously.
“No, no. I’ve already reached out to one of the top national chemistry journals. We need to get it published as soon as possible.”

Qi Sen frowned.

He didn’t like the glint that flickered in this teacher’s eyes when he said the word “publish.”

Can-Can sat on the edge of the bed, holding a big apple in both hands. She took a bite, then placed it down, her cheeks puffed up from stuffing in too much at once, chewing with effort as she blankly stared at Pei Shen and his chemistry teacher.

She didn’t understand a single word they were saying.

“Ah-woo!” She took another big bite.

The crunch of her chewing finally caught Wu Hongcai’s attention. He looked over at the little dumpling with wide eyes.

After a pause, he said softly,
“Why don’t this child and your friend step outside? We need a quiet space to discuss academic matters.”

The implication was obvious: This kid is noisy and getting in the way.

Pei Shen froze.

He didn’t like the way the teacher’s words so plainly dismissed Can-Can. He felt a bit angry—but didn’t know how to say so.

This teacher had helped him countless times since junior high, guiding him through the most difficult years of his chemistry path. In a way, Wu Hongcai was like a second father to him. He couldn’t bring himself to talk back.

Pei Shen looked uneasily at Can-Can, who was still sweetly munching on her apple.

Just the thought of asking her to leave left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Can-Can noticed him looking and cheerfully waved her apple at him, giving him a sunny smile.

Pei Shen’s heart turned to mush.

Qi Sen stepped in, sparing him the trouble. He picked Can-Can up and whispered,
“Let’s go buy some breakfast for Third Brother.”

Can-Can happily agreed, waving goodbye to Pei Shen as she skipped out the door with Qi Sen.

As he shut the door, Qi Sen gave Wu Hongcai a quiet glance.

A chill began to stir in his heart.

The greed in that man’s eyes when looking at Pei Shen—it was far too blatant.

And Qi Sen’s instincts were rarely wrong.

—

That night, Can-Can had a dream.

It was a secret dream-message sent to her by her grim reaper master.

On the Book of Life and Death, the page for Pei Shen had always been mostly blank. But now, lines of black ink began to creep across the page:

“Betrayed by teacher. Thesis stolen. In despair, sank into depression. Health declined. Died of melancholia.”

The moment the Reaper King saw this, he panicked and broke the rules to send a dream-message straight to Can-Can.

Sheng Jing, Qi Sen, and Pei Shen had all descended to the mortal realm to bear calamities in Can-Can’s place. Each one bore a different tribulation.

Qi Sen endured the pain of abandonment, carrying the burden of having no home, no parents—this was the calamity of family.
Pei Shen faced the pain of failure, the hardship of a life without recognition—his was the calamity of career.
As for Sheng Jing, he bore the heartbreak of love—this was the calamity of emotion.

These trials were originally meant for Can-Can alone. But now the three of them were suffering on her behalf.

Can-Can was spared. But the pain, it fell to them.

Yet unlike the usual heavenly trials, Can-Can’s tribulations as the future Little God King weren’t just to be endured—they were to be understood.

You had to know why suffering existed. And then see through it.

But on Pei Shen’s page, those final words—“died of melancholia”—meant that he couldn’t bear it. He wouldn’t survive the suffering. And without enduring it, he couldn’t pass the trial.

If it were just Can-Can herself, she would have been given another chance—another cycle of rebirth, another path toward realization.

But Pei Shen wasn’t allowed such luxuries.

He was a god who had gone against fate to change hers.

If he couldn’t pass the trial, his spirit would scatter and vanish into nothingness.

There would no longer be a Third Prince of the Boundless Sea.

The Reaper King turned ghostly pale, and immediately rushed to send the dream to Can-Can.

—

At that moment, Can-Can was deep in slumber.

She dreamed she was sitting on a little stool, rows and rows of rainbow candies neatly lined up on the table in front of her.

She giggled and happily ran circles around the room.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Pei Shen stood in the doorway, clutching a stack of papers, his face ashen, his body swaying like he was about to collapse.

Can-Can froze.

“Big Brother? What’s wrong?” she asked.

Pei Shen’s eyes were empty, like a soul-less shell. He stumbled two steps forward, murmuring the same words over and over:

“He published my paper…”

The teacher he admired most… had betrayed him. Every year of trust, every ounce of respect had been a lie.

And now, his painstaking work had been stolen and published by someone else. Years of effort gone in a blink.

Pei Shen couldn’t take it anymore.

He crumpled to the floor with a thud.

—

At 6 AM, Can-Can woke naturally.

She sat up on the bed, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her hair was a wild mess.

Tao-Tao was still sound asleep.

Can-Can pouted, grabbed her coat and clumsily pulled it on, then slid off the bed with a soft plop.

After a few steps, she blinked and realized—

Oh! Right! I’m still staying in a hotel. Second Brother and Third Brother aren’t here.

Her dad had said the police were still trying to find her parents. If they couldn’t, they’d figure out another plan.

Can-Can rolled around on the sofa, quietly entertaining herself with sleepy somersaults.

By the time Qi Sen knocked on the door, she’d rolled seven or eight times.

She stood on her little stool to open the door, peeked her head out—and gave him a slightly goofy, sleepy smile.