Luck Ch.18

Chapter 18: You will definitely succeed, Ji Yu.

The cabin was actually quite stable, but for some reason, once Jiang Chi lay down, he kept feeling like the boat was rocking and couldn’t fall asleep no matter how he turned.

Ever since transmigrating into the book, Jiang Chi’s sleep quality hadn’t been great.

The darkness took away sight, but at the same time heightened the other senses. Qin Yan’s presence suddenly became much more noticeable.

The faint sound of shifting, steady breathing, and even the rustling of hair brushing against the pillowcase…

Even with his eyes closed, Jiang Chi could sense what the person beside him was doing.

The person beside him had his back to Jiang Chi, with one arm pulled out from under the covers. He was probably curled up, his chin tucked into the comforter, with only the upper part of his face exposed. His breathing hit the surface of the blanket again and again.

Maybe that position made it easier to fall asleep.

The last two times Qin Yan had fallen asleep, it had been in that same position — lying on his right side with his back to Jiang Chi, curled up under the covers. He’d drift off not long after.

After counting the sixty-fourth breath, Jiang Chi switched to the same position as Qin Yan, trying to coax himself into sleep.

By the two hundred thirty-seventh breath, Qin Yan moved slightly, gently turning to glance at Jiang Chi, seemingly checking whether he was asleep.

Jiang Chi said, “I’m not asleep. Do what you want, it won’t bother me.”

Only then did Qin Yan sit up. “I’m going to get some water.”

Jiang Chi sat up as well. “Grab me a bottle of cold water.”

Qin Yan came back with water and handed a bottle of mineral water to Jiang Chi. “Drinking cold water in the middle of the night? You must have a strong constitution.”

Jiang Chi rubbed his temples. “Strong nothing. I’ve got insomnia.”

Qin Yan sat on the edge of the bed, his tone calm. “I can’t sleep either — someone shook me awake.”

Jiang Chi hesitated. “…Are you blaming me?”

Qin Yan was firm. “Yes.”

“Forgive me, I’m already getting my karma,” Jiang Chi said as he picked up his phone and showed it to Qin Yan. “Hong Zixiao and the others are playing Pictionary in the group chat. Look at this — can you tell what he drew?”

On the phone screen was a blurry, chaotic image, made up of clumps of golden yellow and streaks of blue. It was so abstract it could barely be called a drawing.

Qin Yan pointed at the golden orb in the top right corner. “Is this… the sun?”

Hong Zixiao’s sun was just a circle, and he hadn’t even drawn the typical radiating lines around it. But judging from its height and position, you could sort of guess it was supposed to be a sun.

Even if it was a sun, it was a poor excuse for one.

Jiang Chi wasn’t playing the game, so he had the “God view” of a spectator, able to see all the players’ screens.

After opening the drawing prompt the system had given to Hong Zixiao, Jiang Chi went silent.

[The prompt given by the system was: Jingwei Filling the Sea.]

Qin Yan studied it for a moment, his gaze flicking repeatedly between the golden orb and the blue lines, trying to figure out how the sun was connected to Jingwei. Unfortunately, even someone with Qin Yan’s formidable logic couldn’t follow the wildly abstract leaps of Hong Zixiao’s imagination.

Jiang Chi was getting anxious just watching. He wished he could just take over and draw it himself.

He said to Qin Yan, “Let’s play later too. You studied art — this game must be super easy for you.”

Qin Yan, who definitely did not study art: “…”

He quickly changed the subject, trying to shift Jiang Chi’s attention back to Hong Zixiao’s masterpiece — not a hard task, given how uniquely terrible the drawing was.

“Look, at least he drew the sea for Jingwei Filling the Sea,” Qin Yan said.

As the timer ticked down, the system provided a hint.

[Clue: A story from ancient mythology.]

That narrowed it down a bit. But faced with Hong Zixiao’s drawing, Player 2 was clearly anything but confident.

Only when the countdown was almost up did they finally type in four words:

[Kua Fu Chases the Sun].

Qin Yan: “…”

Jiang Chi: “Hahahahahahahahahaha!”

Now it was Player 3’s turn to take Player 2’s answer and draw Kua Fu Chases the Sun for Player 4 to guess.

The game they were playing was a drawing relay game — essentially, Drawing Chain.

In this game, players with odd numbers were responsible for drawing, while even-numbered players had to guess what the previous player had drawn.

Only Player 1 received a prompt directly from the system. After that, each player would draw based on the previous player’s guess. One person would draw, the next would guess, and the answer would be passed along in sequence. As the game went on, chaos usually ensued, and by the end, the final answer often had absolutely nothing to do with the original prompt.

During the game, each player could only see their own interface. It wasn’t until the game ended and the system did a replay that everyone could see exactly when and where things started to go off the rails.

Jiang Chi gave Qin Yan a rough explanation of the game rules: “Everyone’s drawings are awful, so it basically turns into every person doing their own thing. The game’s official name is Drawing Relay, but the name most people use is You Draw Yours, I Guess Mine.”

Qin Yan lowered his eyes and said nothing.

He was terrible at drawing too. But in Jiang Chi’s mind, Ji Yu was good at drawing.

That was a major problem. If he messed up during the game later, Jiang Chi would definitely start getting suspicious.

Earlier that day in the car, Qin Yan had wanted to tell Jiang Chi multiple times that he wasn’t Ji Yu, but each time Hong Zixiao had interrupted, and he never got the chance.

There was a big difference between coming clean and getting exposed. At first, Qin Yan hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with being found out — Jiang Chi was the one who mistook him for someone else, and it’s not like he had lied on purpose.

But somehow, after just a few short hours on this boat, Qin Yan suddenly didn’t want to tell Jiang Chi the truth anymore.

He had gotten used to being friends with Jiang Chi.

If he wasn’t Ji Yu, Jiang Chi wouldn’t take care of him, wouldn’t invite him out, and certainly wouldn’t be lying side-by-side with him on the same bed, laughing over Hong Zixiao’s attempt to draw Jingwei Filling the Sea.

Hong Zixiao wouldn’t joke around with “Qin Yan,” and Fang Sizhe and the others wouldn’t play murder mystery games with “Qin Yan.”

Jiang Chi wouldn’t pull him into the pool, wouldn’t tease him while showering, wouldn’t help untangle the shirt cuff stuck around his leg.

Taking on Ji Yu’s identity, Qin Yan experienced a kind of ease he had never known before. For the first time in his life, he had friends, and he played games he had never played before.

He could ignore etiquette and drop the foods he didn’t like into Jiang Chi’s bowl. He could let go of his aloof pride and joke around with Jiang Chi’s friends. He could even spout nonsense with a straight face, making up quotes and pretending they were from some French philosopher.

If he was no longer Ji Yu, none of that would be possible anymore.

No one would be friends with “Qin Yan.” They would only fear him.

They feared the Qin family behind him, and looked up to the power he represented.

Qin Yan didn’t want people to look up at him anymore.

Jiang Chi had said he would be his best friend — but would Jiang Chi ever be friends with Qin Yan?

Jiang Chi clearly hated the “Qin Yan” from the book.

A dull discomfort stirred in Qin Yan’s chest, but he didn’t think it was sadness.

Since he was young, his grandfather had taught him never to grieve for others — feeling pain on someone else’s behalf was foolishness. And fools weren’t qualified to lead the Qin family. So he was not allowed to feel sorrow over anything.

Even though he repeated those words in his mind, the truth was, Qin Yan was still too young. He might be able to hide his emotions when he was feeling low, but he couldn’t fool Jiang Chi.

Jiang Chi seemed to have some extra sense — a unique sensitivity tuned only to Qin Yan’s emotions.

The moment they locked eyes, Jiang Chi’s heart skipped a beat. It was as if Qin Yan’s sorrow had taken on physical weight, heavy and oppressive, pressing down hard enough to make one ache.

Jiang Chi was startled. “What’s wrong? Yeah, Hong Zixiao’s drawing is ridiculous, but it’s not Squid Game — guessing wrong won’t get you killed. No need to be this upset.”

Qin Yan’s voice was cool: “I’m not upset. I just don’t want to lose.”

Jiang Chi chuckled. “It’s fine. Just draw whatever you get, and guess whatever you see. The fun part’s at the end during the replay. Winning or losing doesn’t really matter.”

Qin Yan was struck like lightning.

How could winning not matter? Isn’t life about pursuing victory?

He stared blankly and repeated, “Winning doesn’t matter?”

Jiang Chi turned on the sound and showed him the replay of the game on his phone.

The game Hong Zixiao and the others had played had started with Jingwei Filling the Sea, which got guessed as Kua Fu Chases the Sun, and finally ended up as Nuwa Mends the Sky.

During the replay, Hong Zixiao was the first to be attacked by the group.

Fang Sizhe, Player 2 — the one who guessed Kua Fu Chases the Sun — went off on him.

“You drew the sun for Jingwei Filling the Sea? Are you out of your mind?!”

Other players chimed in:

“Exactly, at least draw a bird, come on.”

“Birds, pebbles — those are the key elements! Ever heard of cultural literacy?”

Hong Zixiao panicked. “Get lost! Who are you calling uncultured? The sun I drew represents Jinwu! Do you even know what that is? The three-legged golden crow! Jiu tou niao!”

Li Youyou shot back: “Jinwu isn’t Jingwei! They’re both mythological creatures, sure, but not even close to the same species. I seriously can’t with you.”

Bai Wenjun added: “I’m speechless. Jiu tou niao and Jinwu aren’t the same thing either. Did you not finish elementary school? Do you even know what Jingwei Filling the Sea is about? Don’t tell me you thought it was Hou Yi Shoots Down the Suns!”

Hong Zixiao was desperately trying to save face. “Jingwei is the youngest daughter of the Sun God, okay? You illiterate lot. What if I had drawn a bird dropping stones and you guessed The Crow Drinks Water?”

Fang Siyue replied coldly: “Yeah, right. Since when is The Crow Drinks Water an ancient myth? Save it, brother.”

“I didn’t know the system was going to give that clue!” Hong Zixiao suddenly changed his angle of attack and turned on Fang Sizhe: “Even if I did draw a sun, you shouldn’t have guessed Kua Fu Chases the Sun! Where’s Kua Fu? There’s not even a person in my drawing — where the hell did you get Kua Fu from? You just saw the sun and jumped to conclusions, huh?”

The phrase “just saw the sun” was filled with innuendo in Chinese, sparking a chorus of teasing and laughter in the group chat.

Fang Sizhe had drawn a blank during the game — aside from Kua Fu Chases the Sun, he couldn’t recall a single other myth. But of course, he wasn’t about to admit that, so he doubled down, trying to save face.

Fang Sizhe said, “Kua Fu is dead.”

Even Qin Yan couldn’t hold back a laugh at that.

Jiang Chi said, “See? I told you the replay’s the fun part.”

“What are you laughing at? Bunch of uncultured idiots, you don’t know a damn thing!”

Trying to back himself up, Fang Sizhe posted a screenshot of the myth’s ending in the group chat, forcibly constructing a logical connection:

“Look, the story ends like this: ‘Kua Fu ran all day, dying of thirst. After drinking all the water from the Yellow River and the Wei River, he was still not satisfied. He then ran toward the great marsh in the north to drink more, but died of thirst before reaching it.’ Now look at Hong Zixiao’s drawing: the water — that’s the northern marsh. The sun — still out of reach. And Kua Fu — dead. Totally reasonable.”

Everyone: “……”

Fang Sizhe, ever the strategist, didn’t throw Hong Zixiao under the bus. Instead, he praised him: “Hong Zixiao, your drawing is brilliant. The moment I saw it, I was blown away. It’s full of hidden clues. So advanced. You didn’t draw Kua Fu directly, but Kua Fu is everywhere in that picture!”

Hong Zixiao, completely baffled: “R-Really?”

Fang Sizhe affirmed with conviction: “Looking at that drawing, I was deeply inspired. The mountains and rivers endure day and night, and the heroic spirit lives forever. Kua Fu may have failed, but his spirit — is immortal!”

The group chat erupted, spamming:

“Immortal!” “Immortal!” “Immortal!”

Jiang Chi was practically dying of laughter because of these guys, collapsing onto the bed, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Everyone in the group chat joined in the chaos, spamming candle emojis and flower stickers, all playing along with the joke at Hong Zixiao’s expense.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Jiang Chi clutched his stomach and pounded the bed:

“Fang Sizhe and that mouth of his—he could spin black into white. I swear… I could never catch up!”

He finally managed to stop laughing—just barely—only to look up and see Qin Yan smiling too. The sight of Qin Yan’s smile made it all start again. Jiang Chi flopped back onto the bed, cracking up once more.

“Nope, I’m gonna die laughing—HAHAHAHA—” He stretched a hand out toward Qin Yan. “Help, my stomach hurts so bad, my leg’s cramping!”

To Qin Yan, Fang Sizhe’s nonsense was 100% funny, but Jiang Chi nearly laughing himself to death? That was 100,000,000,000,000% hilarious.

He reached out with one hand to press on Jiang Chi’s calf, trying to ease the cramp. But Jiang Chi had the strength of a bull and thrashed around so much that Qin Yan couldn’t hold him still. In the tug of war, he ended up working up a sweat. Desperate, he sat directly on Jiang Chi’s knees, forcing his legs straight and vigorously massaging his calf.

The pain in Jiang Chi’s leg gradually eased. Exhausted, he weakly mumbled, “Thanks, brother, you saved my life.”

Then Qin Yan suddenly said, “Call me Daddy.”

Jiang Chi: “???”

“What did you say?” Jiang Chi looked at him, dumbfounded. “Who taught you that?!”

Qin Yan betrayed his teammate instantly: “Hong Zixiao. He said it in the group chat.”

Jiang Chi immediately called Hong Zixiao. “Get over here. Who told you it was okay to teach Ji Yu that kind of garbage?!”

Moments later, Hong Zixiao burst into Jiang Chi’s room: “Jiang Chi, let me explain!”

He dashed across the room, leaped onto the bed, and sprawled dramatically over Jiang Chi.

“I swear, Brother Chi, I didn’t teach your wife how to curse!”

Jiang Chi shot up from the bed: “You taught him to curse too?!”

Hong Zixiao, caught red-handed: “……”

Jiang Chi kicked him away. “I’ve said it ten thousand times—he’s not my wife!”

The one now officially dubbed Jiang Chi’s “wife,” Qin Yan, frowned and said, “I’m your dad.”

Hong Zixiao / Jiang Chi: “……”

“Learn something useful for once!” Jiang Chi’s temple twitched, veins visibly bulging. He turned to glare at Hong Zixiao. “Watch what you say. He picks this stuff up fast.”

Hong Zixiao suddenly threw his arms around Jiang Chi’s waist, looking like a 183cm-tall abandoned puppy. “It’s all Fang Sizhe’s fault—he’s evil! That’s the only reason I cursed at him… I don’t want to share a room with him anymore! Didn’t you see how he bullied me in the group chat?”

Jiang Chi put on a grave face, acting all righteous. “What?! How could he!”

Qin Yan ruthlessly exposed him: “He was laughing so hard at it he cramped up. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Hong Zixiao lifted his head from Jiang Chi’s arms. “Jiang Chi! Your heart is so cruel! Have you forgotten all the happy times we shared? I’m shattered. Absolutely broken!”

Jiang Chi shoved him away. “Go ahead and break. Just get out of my room.”

But Hong Zixiao was nothing if not persistent. He immediately clung to Jiang Chi’s arm again. “No, no, I still love you. Just let me stay one night. Don’t make me get on my knees and beg you. I’ll have housekeeping get me a new room tomorrow.”

Jiang Chi sat up, yanking his arm back with effort. “What did Fang Sizhe even do to you?”

Hong Zixiao, utterly aggrieved: “He snores like a power drill. I couldn’t sleep at all this afternoon—every time I closed my eyes, it felt like someone was renovating the room.”

Jiang Chi glanced awkwardly at Qin Yan.

Hong Zixiao’s emotional intelligence suddenly kicked in—he realized his fate depended on Qin Yan’s decision. Pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, he turned to Qin Yan. “Bro, I’ll sleep on the sofa in the living room, I swear. Just one night. One night!”

He bent his middle and index fingers and made a kneeling gesture. “Please! I pulled an all-nighter yesterday, and had way too much liquor—my brain’s buzzing. If I don’t sleep today, I’m gonna drop dead. Come on, bro, you’re gorgeous and kind-hearted, there’s no way you’d let me die, right?”

Qin Yan nodded with regal grace. “Fine.”

Hong Zixiao was moved to tears. He launched himself at Qin Yan and clung to him. “Bro! You’re my real dad!”

No one had ever dared to hug Qin Yan like that before—he froze on the spot.

“You’re shameless,” Jiang Chi muttered, peeling Hong Zixiao off him. “Go sleep outside.”

Hong Zixiao rubbed his eyes dramatically. “I want to play one more round. Gotta redeem myself and fall asleep in the sweet arms of victory!”

Jiang Chi pulled out his phone. “Perfect, we were just about to play too. You start a game and invite us.”

Qin Yan declined. “I’ll sit this one out.”

Jiang Chi assumed Qin Yan just felt awkward joining in. “Alright, Hong Zixiao, invite me then.”

Hong Zixiao invited six people and started a new game. Without the slightest courtesy, he sat cross-legged on the bed and kept trying to sneak peeks at Jiang Chi’s phone to steal answers.

Jiang Chi shoved him away. “Have some gaming integrity. Stop cheating.”

Hong Zixiao sprawled across the foot of the bed with his legs propped up on the ottoman. He realized it was actually a decent spot to sleep and asked, “Can I sleep on the bed tonight?”

If it were just Jiang Chi, he wouldn’t care—he could cram two more guys into bed without blinking. Boys weren’t that uptight. But now there was also “Ji Yu” to consider.

Even though Hong Zixiao hadn’t shown any interest in guys (yet), Ji Yu… well, he was the protagonist shou in the novel. Maybe he wasn’t gay now, but the odds of him staying straight weren’t great.

Besides, in the original story, Hong Zixiao was one of the male side characters who liked Ji Yu…

Jiang Chi thought about it and coldly denied his bed request. “Don’t push your luck. Be grateful we even let you stay.”

Hong Zixiao reluctantly slipped on his slippers and shuffled to the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, he said with a tone full of sorrow and grievance, “But the air conditioning outside is so cold… You guys have two blankets—can you spare me one?”

Jiang Chi rolled up the silk comforter into a ball and chucked it at Hong Zixiao’s head. “Scram.”

Hong Zixiao then set his sights on a pillow. He didn’t say anything, just lingered in the doorway with a look that clearly said I want one but I’m pretending not to ask.

Qin Yan, seeing through him, said, “Take a pillow too.”

Hong Zixiao grabbed a pillow and trotted off, tail wagging like a happy puppy.

There were plenty of pillows on the hotel bed anyway—two for sleeping, two for lounging—giving one away didn’t make a difference.

There had originally only been one blanket, but Jiang Chi had asked hotel staff for another that afternoon. Now that one had been given to Hong Zixiao, they were back to sharing one again.

Jiang Chi said to Qin Yan, “You use the blanket, I don’t need it…”

Qin Yan glanced at him and handed over the edge of the blanket.

With the comforter now covering both of them, Jiang Chi inevitably ended up a little closer to Qin Yan. He said, “Hong Zixiao can be a bit overly familiar. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll find him somewhere else to sleep.”

Qin Yan, clear-eyed and observant, replied, “Hong Zixiao just wants to hang out with you. Where he sleeps doesn’t matter.”

Even though this get-together was organized by Fang Sizhe, it was obvious that Hong Zixiao was closer to Jiang Chi.

Same with the other rich second generations. They might all gang up to mess with Jiang Chi without a shred of respect, but that just meant they genuinely saw him as a friend. They knew he had a good temper and wouldn’t get mad.

The mini-program on the phone started loading, and the game began.

Jiang Chi drew position number three and received the prompt: Nine-Tailed Fox.

“Can you draw a nine-tailed fox?” Jiang Chi handed his phone to Qin Yan and urged, “Quick, draw a fox—the timer’s about to run out.”

Qin Yan braced himself and took the phone.

He started by drawing a small pointy-eared, pointy-snouted animal, then added nine tails behind it that looked suspiciously like sweet potatoes.

Qin Yan’s heart raced as he anxiously waited for the judgment of his drawing to be displayed to Jiang Chi, resigned to his fate. “This is the best I can do,” he said.

The moment Jiang Chi saw the nine-tailed fox, his mind went boom.

This was the picture that Ji Yu had drawn?

It wasn’t even as good as his own attempt!

Jiang Chi was studying security engineering. Although it was a technical field, he had learned some basic sketching for drawing design diagrams. While he didn’t possess any artistic talent, he did have the basic knowledge of drawing.

But this drawing… It looked like something drawn by someone with no artistic foundation at all. The lines were all wrong, and it wasn’t even close to what it was supposed to be. It was almost on par with Hong Zixiao’s “Jingwei filling the sea” attempt.

Jiang Chi shot a meaningful glance at “Ji Yu.”

No wonder in the original book, when Ji Yu mentioned his dream of opening an art gallery, the protagonist gong’s comment was “Wishful thinking, stop dreaming.”

After seeing this drawing, Jiang Chi had to admit that the protagonist gong’s voice on the matter was not too far off.

Maybe he should gently advise Ji Yu to change majors. Art was not something he absolutely needed to study.

Even if he didn’t study art, there were plenty of other fields where he could excel and still make great achievements.

Jiang Chi silently promised: No matter what Ji Yu chooses in the future, I will do everything I can to help you.

You will definitely succeed, Ji Yu.

Real Ji Yu: Can you guess why I’m not laughing?

<< _ >>