Shen Wuxiao wasn’t in a rush to cultivate. In his mind, as long as he collected enough points, everything else would fall into place. He didn’t need to train hard—he just needed to keep encountering “lucky protagonists” and leech points from them. Otherwise, what was the point of being titled the “Luck Harvester”?
Right now, all he needed to do was follow his plan, step by step—win over Jiang Huaiyue, and then wait for Lin Fan’s mental collapse.
The more miserable Lin Fan became, the more emotional damage he suffered, the greater the number of points Shen Wuxiao would earn. And all the while, Shen Wuxiao would enjoy life, basking in beauty and success.
It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
…
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Lin Fan was living a completely different life—a pitiful one.
He was still staying in a run-down apartment in a soon-to-be-demolished neighborhood. There was no running water or electricity, and his only access to power came from several nearly-drained power banks. He didn’t even dare to use his phone too much.
He hadn’t showered in days. He stank. His once neat, cropped hair now drooped over his forehead, threatening to become a middle part, and his beard was a scraggly mess.
As for food—it was the bare minimum. Instant noodles, compressed biscuits, and those greasy self-heating hot pots were all he had. After eating the same stuff day after day, he’d been constipated for over two days.
Lin Fan had never been picky about food, but even he had a limit. Especially with those oily, spicy hot pots—just the smell was enough to make him nauseous now. But he didn’t have much of a choice.He had originally planned to go out today to buy some fresh supplies, but just as he approached the door, he saw a large group of men in black suits sweeping through the neighborhood.
There were at least a hundred of them. The sight of them moving as a unit was like watching the Axe Gang descend on Pig Cage Village.
Lin Fan wasn’t afraid—but he was cautious. There was no point in picking unnecessary fights right now. So, he backed off and stayed inside, watching the group interrogate locals outside.
He clenched his fists in frustration.
Since when has the Border Wolf King ever needed to hide like this?
If the person from the Haisha Society he’d killed had been evil, he would’ve stood tall and dealt with the retaliation. He wasn’t afraid of violence. But the fact that the person had been innocent made the situation different.
Now, the Haisha Society had every right to hunt him down. He couldn’t fight back. If he struck first, it would betray the values he’d lived by all his life. It would ruin his martial path.
He had been a soldier. A real one.
And a soldier does not raise his blade against the innocent.
So, for now, he endured.
Just then, a knock came at the door, followed by a threatening voice. “Is anyone inside? Open up, or we’re breaking it down!”
Lin Fan frowned. They had finally reached his building.
But he remained calm. He knew they wouldn’t recognize him like this—not in his current state.
Still, to be safe, he quickly grabbed the leftover hot pot containers, poured some soup at the doorway, grabbed some dirty cotton from the sofa, and scattered it around to make it look… disgusting.
“Coming!” Lin Fan called, then opened the door.
Three men in suits stood outside, their expressions sharp.
They looked Lin Fan up and down—greasy hair, unkempt beard, filthy clothes.
“You live here alone?” one of them asked.
“Yeah. Just me.”
“We’re going in to search,” another said, stepping forward.
But the moment they saw the scene at the door—the foul mix of soup, stains, and filth—they gagged and froze.
This guy wasn’t just poor. He was absolutely disgusting.
Even in a place like this, most people kept things at least somewhat clean. This was on another level.
They hesitated, then decided not to step inside.
One of them handed Lin Fan a flyer. “If you see the person in this photo, call the number on the bottom. There’s a reward of one million. On the spot.”
Lin Fan glanced down—it was a photo of himself, though he barely recognized the clean-cut man in the picture.
“Sure,” he nodded. “If I see him, I’ll definitely call. Really a million?”
The three men chuckled coldly. “Of course. But if you make a false report, don’t expect mercy. The Haisha Society doesn’t like being messed with.”
Then they turned and left for the next building.
Lin Fan closed the door, looked at the flyer again, and sighed. This wasn’t going to blow over anytime soon. It wasn’t just a search anymore—it was a manhunt.
Everyone in the area probably had a copy of this flyer by now. If someone sharp-eyed managed to recognize him, he’d have no choice but to fight his way out.
Even going out to buy food would be risky from now on. He needed to contact Brother Sikong soon.
He slumped back onto the broken sofa, exhausted.
How did things turn out like this? I didn’t mean to kill him… Now everything’s a mess.
But he was still grateful. At least he had Brother Sikong.
That guy had done everything he could to help. Without him, Lin Fan might already be dead or captured.
He thought back to the people he once fought alongside.
“Sharp Knife, Tank, Red Leaf… how are you guys now?”
“And Yue’er… you must have completed your mission and returned to the team by now.”
“You’d probably be furious if you found out I was discharged from the army.”
“My ears are burning—you must be thinking about me too. I miss you. Once I settle everything here, I’ll find you again and finally confess what I’ve always wanted to say. I’ll promise you the life you deserve.”
He muttered to himself, and Jiang Huaiyue’s beautiful face appeared vividly in his mind.
But while he was thinking of her, Jiang Huaiyue had no time to think of him.
…
At that very moment, she was setting the dinner table and calling Shen Wuxiao inside.
“Dinner’s ready!” she called out.
Shen Wuxiao rushed in with a grin. “Wow, Yue’er, you really made all this? I was just thinking of ordering food, and here you’ve already prepared dinner!”
He looked at the table—three dishes and one soup. Though simple, the aroma was mouthwatering.
Shredded pork with green peppers, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, braised eggplant, and corn pork rib soup. It was colorful, fragrant, and inviting.
“I haven’t cooked in a long time,” Jiang Huaiyue said, her tone light. “I don’t know if it’s still any good. Just make do.”
Her hands didn’t stop moving. She scooped a bowl of rice, filled a bowl of soup for Shen Wuxiao, and pushed it toward him.
Then she sat down across from him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Try it.”
“Alright!” Shen Wuxiao picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the shredded pork.
His eyes lit up. “It’s tender, the flavor’s perfect—Yue’er, you’re amazing!”
He wasn’t exaggerating. For someone like him who was used to eating out or being served fancy meals, this home-cooked food felt genuinely refreshing.
Despite the simplicity, the taste was heartwarming.
Jiang Huaiyue had gotten used to being called “Yue’er.” It no longer made her uncomfortable. She heard his praise and simply smiled. “Eat more.”
After that, she fell silent and focused on eating. She didn’t even look at Shen Wuxiao.
Strictly speaking, this was the first time she had ever cooked for a man.
Even Lin Fan had never tasted her cooking.