I Can’t Keep Being a Scumbag Anymore—What Should I Do? [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 2

In the narrow alleyway, a dilapidated streetlamp flickered with a dim, yellowish glow.

Two silhouettes were interlaced against the wall. The taller one had pinned the other’s wrists above his head, his back slightly arched as he buried his head in the other’s neck, causing a mess of things.

The sound of wet, messy kisses mingled with the boy’s soft, tearful pleas for mercy, creating an atmosphere of hazy confusion.

“You—let go! I didn’t give you permission to kiss.” Ran Muqiu turned his face away sharply, trying to dodge the other’s grasp. Just as he managed to twist away an inch, his chin was gripped firmly and forced back. “Mmph!”

A sharp sting bloomed on his lips. Unable to hold back, a few physiological tears welled up and spilled over. He tried to push Li Zhuo away, but his wrists were restrained so tightly he couldn’t budge. He was left with no choice but to lie there like a fish on a chopping block, at the mercy of the other for a long while.

After a moment.

Li Zhuo had finally “gnawed” his way from Ran Muqiu’s lips down to his neck. Seemingly satiated, he finally pulled back, his breathing still heavy and ragged.

Ran Muqiu slumped weakly against the wall. The corner of his mouth was slightly bitten and raw, and his eyes were shimmering with a layer of moisture, looking as if he had been terribly bullied.

Li Zhuo braced one hand against the wall beside Ran Muqiu’s head, staring at his face. After a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbed. He leaned down, intending to kiss him again.

However, before he could make contact, he received a slap across the face—not too heavy, but not light either.

Li Zhuo’s head snapped to the side. Five faint finger marks immediately appeared on his handsome, pale face.

He licked his lips, showing no sign of anger. Instead, he leaned back toward Ran Muqiu and asked with a submissive air, “Why are you unhappy?”

Afraid of being bitten again, Ran Muqiu quickly covered his mouth. But remembering his persona as the “School Bully,” he demanded weakly, “Who gave you permission to kiss me?”

With his hand over his mouth, his voice sounded muffled and nasally.

Li Zhuo tilted his head, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You wanted it.”

Ran Muqiu: “…”

Was this what they called shooting yourself in the foot?

Immediately upon entering this world, System 233 had transmitted several “Scumbag Gong Strategy Guides” to Ran Muqiu. Most were scraped from the system’s bookshelves, with titles like The Scumbag Weeps and Begs for Forgiveness After the Divorce, I Became the Scumbag’s Stepmother After Dumping Him, and The Scumbag’s Crematorium After I Took the Kid to a Reality Show.

Ran Muqiu knew he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but having survived in the Quick Transmigration world for years, he understood the necessity of studying data and summarizing strategies. He had studied them diligently and tried the most popular methods one by one.

But perhaps it was because Li Zhuo had a resilient personality. He was the type of “strong shou” who was unyielding in every situation except in bed—otherwise, he wouldn’t have had such a long, angst-filled epic with two different gongs in the original plot.

In short, those tactics didn’t work on Li Zhuo at all. Ran Muqiu had been busy for a month or two, yet the “Heartbreak Value” hadn’t budged an inch.

Left with no choice, Ran Muqiu resorted to the most popular and clichéd tactic in the guides: The Sugar Daddy approach. He would humiliate the protagonist’s dignity by throwing money at him.

Since it was a “kept man” arrangement, physical intimacy with the “little lover” was inevitable. Although Ran Muqiu had no desire to recreate the original script’s scenes in the woods or the equipment room, he felt he had to go through the motions.

However, as 233 had put it, Ran Muqiu’s “aptitude” was poor. This role had only fallen to him because the 188cm-tall, eight-pack-abs “Big Bosses” couldn’t be recruited. Thus, completing tasks was not easy for him.

For instance, when he tried to kabedon (wall slam) the 186cm-tall Li Zhuo, he had to insert height-increasing insoles and stand on his tiptoes.

And he still couldn’t quite reach the right height.

He also tried to put on the airs of a big shot, demanding his “little lover” kiss his cheek in a humiliating, pleasing manner. But the final “buyer’s result” looked nothing like the examples in the guides.

In short, the guides were probably fine; it was just that he was too useless, turning what should have been a point-grinding “Sugar Daddy” trope into whatever this was.

He had come to the alley tonight clinging to a shred of hope, wanting to raise the Heartbreak Value with the classic “Sponsor orders the Protagonist to please him in public” trope. But Li Zhuo must have misunderstood him, because the guy had lunged at him without a word.

But “beckoning with a finger means I want a kiss” was from the previous world’s script!

Besides, Ran Muqiu had clearly meant for Li Zhuo to obediently offer his face for Ran Muqiu to kiss, not for Li Zhuo to pounce on him!

And he definitely didn’t say anything about kissing the mouth!

After all that effort, the Heartbreak Value didn’t rise, and he ended up with a split lip.

The more Ran Muqiu thought about it, the sadder he became. Never had he felt the weight of “poor aptitude” more deeply than at this moment.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks in large droplets. His skin was too pale; when his eyes turned red, his cheekbones flushed a deep crimson as well, making him look pitiable.

Li Zhuo looked down at him for a few seconds, then reached out to wipe a tear from Ran Muqiu’s cheek.

Ran Muqiu: “…”

The bad news was that the “School Bully” persona was completely ruined.

The good news was that, so far, only Li Zhuo had seen it.

Was it too late to silence the witness?

Ran Muqiu slapped Li Zhuo’s hand away and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. With reddened eyes, he tried his best to look fierce. “Turn your face away! Don’t look at me!”

Li Zhuo paused, glancing at Ran Muqiu’s current state.

The boy’s hair was a bit messy, his lips were still shiny from the kiss, and his eyes were red. He didn’t look like a domineering school bully; he looked like a puffed-up, bristling rabbit.

Li Zhuo felt a strange itch in his heart. His fingers curled slightly as he gave a slow, compliant “Mhm” and turned his head away.

Ran Muqiu peered out to make sure Li Zhuo wasn’t peeking before asking the system tearfully in his mind: [233, do I lose points for breaking character?]

System 233: [“…”] No.

After a pause, perhaps seeing how miserably Ran Muqiu was crying, it added: [Before you entered this world, the Bureau evaluated that given your aptitude, performing “Scumbag Gong” tasks would indeed be difficult. Therefore, the OOC (Out of Character) scoring criterion has been disabled in advance. You can complete the mission however you like, by any means necessary.]

Ran Muqiu automatically ignored the words “given your aptitude.” He sniffled, and the grievance of being kissed to tears by the protagonist dissipated slightly.

At seven o’clock, Ran Muqiu and Li Zhuo entered the low-rent apartment building together.

Walking up the old stairs to the third floor, Li Zhuo fished a key out of his backpack and opened the iron gate.

Before them was a small rental apartment—a one-bedroom, one-living room layout. Though the furniture was old, it was kept very tidy and felt quite cozy.

This was the place Ran Muqiu had rented for Li Zhuo after “buying” him.

Li Zhuo’s family situation was dire. His father had died early, and his mother had no steady job. She was a beautiful woman, and after she attended one parent-teacher meeting at the school, strange rumors began to spread.

Because of this, Li Zhuo was ostracized at school.

He was already a man of few words, and from then on, he became even more like a dark shadow lurking in the furthest corner of the classroom.

Once the door was open, Ran Muqiu didn’t wait for an invitation. He pulled open the shoe cabinet to find slippers.

On the top shelf were two pairs of cotton slippers: one blue and one white. The white pair looked brand new, still stuffed with tissue paper to keep their shape. As the “Sponsor,” Ran Muqiu naturally didn’t act polite; he put them on with a clear conscience and walked into the living room.

After a few steps, he looked down. The shoes fit perfectly.

Ran Muqiu circled the small living room, tossed his backpack onto the old wooden sofa, and collapsed onto a slightly softer dining chair.

Li Zhuo followed behind him, silently picking up the discarded tissue paper and putting Ran Muqiu’s outdoor shoes away. Finally, he went into the kitchen to wash his hands, then came out to ask, “What do you want for dinner?”

Ran Muqiu’s arms still felt a bit sore from being pinned against the wall. He was slumped weakly in the chair, devoid of energy.

Hearing the question, Ran Muqiu instinctively wanted to say he didn’t want anything. But then he remembered the script mentioned the protagonist was an excellent cook. His eyes darted around as he said, “Just make whatever you’re best at.”

Li Zhuo nodded, rolled up his sleeves, and headed into the kitchen. In less than half an hour, three dishes and a soup were ready.

They were all very common, home-cooked dishes, but perhaps because the protagonist’s cooking skill “Golden Finger” was so overpowered, the tempting aroma could be smelled from far away.

Ran Muqiu was indeed hungry. Once he smelled the food, he sat himself at the table and started eating, not even bothering to wait for Li Zhuo.

The way Ran Muqiu ate was quite unique. Most people bring food to their mouths, but Ran Muqiu tended to bring himself to the food. Because his mouth was small, he had to try hard to open it wide to take a bite, then his cheek would bulge on one side as he chewed slowly.

He looked focused and adorable while eating.

Li Zhuo couldn’t help but stare for a while.

By the time Ran Muqiu realized it, he had already polished off an entire bowl of rice paired with tomato beef brisket, while Li Zhuo was eating leisurely—his bowl barely looked touched.

As Li Zhuo ate, he would glance at him from time to time, a trace of a smile in his expression.

Ran Muqiu froze, his face turning a bit red.

When playing a role in the Quick Transmigration world, he often tried to do things that fit the character’s persona. Like at school, to look more like a bully, he would occasionally order Qin Wei and the others around or throw small tantrums.

But since it was a “Body Transmigration” (using his own body), many of his small personal habits couldn’t be entirely changed.

In his original world, Ran Muqiu wasn’t a rich second-generation heir; he was just an ordinary college student with a modest background. Since he hadn’t earned many points since being pulled into this world, he lived very frugally and never wasted anything. When he got to eat something delicious, he always cherished it.

But this wolfish way of eating—as if he hadn’t had a full meal in eight lifetimes—must look very ugly and completely lacking in “aura” to the protagonist, right?

His already meager authority was dwindling by the second! At this rate, how was he supposed to keep grinding the Heartbreak Value?

Ran Muqiu scrambled to salvage his persona. He straightened his face, cleared his throat, and said indifferently, “The taste is just average.”

Li Zhuo glanced at the tiny smudge of tomato sauce at the corner of the boy’s mouth and nodded. “Then what do you like to eat? Next time you come over, I’ll make it for you.”

Having read dozens of “Scumbag Gong” strategy guides and taken extensive notes, Ran Muqiu let out a cold snort. He set down his chopsticks, and the lines flowed from his lips effortlessly. “Next time? You think I’m going to come to this dump of yours every day?”

Li Zhuo was quiet for a moment. He said softly, “You rented this place for me, and it’s also your home. You can come every day if you want.”

Li Zhuo’s tone was neither humble nor arrogant—the quintessential tragic protagonist enduring heartbreak with silent dignity. Encouraged by this expression, Ran Muqiu finally found his rhythm. He let out a disdainful laugh. “Since I’ve taken you in, I’ll naturally give you a few crumbs of sweetness, and this house is one of them. I can certainly come and go as I please.”

As he spoke, Ran Muqiu propped his cheek up with one hand, leaning in closer to Li Zhuo. With his other hand, he provocatively hooked Li Zhuo’s chin. “But let’s get one thing straight: this isn’t my home. At best, it’s just a place to visit.

Whether I come or not is none of your business, and I don’t need to report to you. But whenever I do show up, you’d better be showered and waiting for me obediently. Do you understand?”

The speech was delivered in one smooth, perfect breath. Ran Muqiu felt like giving himself a standing ovation.

The moonlight was beautiful tonight, and his condition was peak. Several of those lines were classics he had highlighted in red ink in his guides. He felt his tone and expression were spot-on—a truly exceptional performance.

As soon as he finished, he held his breath and watched Li Zhuo’s reaction, eagerly awaiting the system’s notification for a Heartbreak Value increase.

Li Zhuo paused. He didn’t speak, but his expression turned inexplicably strange.

Ran Muqiu watched him with bright, expectant eyes.

Please! If the Heartbreak Value didn’t budge after this, Ran Muqiu really wouldn’t know what to do!

Did he really have to follow the original script—lure Li Zhuo into the equipment room, strip him bare, tie him up with a necktie, and do this and that?

Li Zhuo’s silence stretched on. The system remained silent as well.

Ran Muqiu’s anxiety began to flare. Suspecting he had botched it again, he bit his lip and applied a bit of pressure, squeezing Li Zhuo’s chin to force him to make eye contact.

“Well? I’m talking to you.” Ran Muqiu gave his chin a little shake. “Don’t play dumb.”

As expected of a protagonist, Ran Muqiu thought, his skin is actually quite smooth.

While acting fierce, Ran Muqiu couldn’t resist sneakily giving the chin a few extra strokes.

The touch was a bit ticklish. Li Zhuo’s jaw tightened slightly as he looked down at the boy.

Perhaps it was innate, but the boy’s voice was light, soft, and sweet—just like his hands. His words and actions were clearly meant to be flippant and demeaning, yet when he performed them, it was remarkably difficult to find him annoying.

Right now, the boy was leaning on his soft cheek, his other hand shamelessly messing with Li Zhuo’s chin. Those large, dark, watery eyes were staring straight at him, seemingly full of anticipation.

What is he expecting?

After a long while, Li Zhuo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He whispered, “Understood.”

Ran Muqiu blinked, wondering exactly what it was that Li Zhuo “understood.” But before he could figure it out, Li Zhuo suddenly covered Ran Muqiu’s hand with his own. He took the boy’s hand and brought it to his lips, giving it a light, lingering graze.

Ran Muqiu: “?”

What is he doing?

He froze for a few seconds before snatching his hand back with a “whoosh.” He shouted in annoyance, “I’m the Boss! You’re not allowed to touch me without permission from now on!”

After a moment’s thought, his face flushed red as he added, “And you’re not allowed to just kiss me whenever you want, either!”