Noble Academy's Mob Character: Reborn as the Campus Heartthrob - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: A Dreamscape That Plunged His Mind into Darkness

As it turned out, Qi Yuan found himself blocked outside the Student Council hall.

How utterly absurd.

He surveyed the crowded hall, realizing squeezing through would be sheer torture, and no one would even notice him. Resigned, he squatted outside the Student Council door.

He wasn’t alone; a whole row of students was squatting alongside him.

Two students nearby leaned close, whispering intently.

Qi Yuan pretended to be absorbed in his phone, but in reality, he was eavesdropping.

“President He finally returned after so long. It’s like everyone’s gone mad trying to get his attention.”

“Well, he is the sole heir to the He Family now.”

“Exactly. I heard he was away so long because he was dealing with those illegitimate children and power-hungry branch families trying to seize control.”

“Speaking of the He Family, they must have lost their minds letting those bastards rise above President He. No wonder he unleashed such ruthless methods—banishing all the illegitimate children overseas. He’s a true role model for our generation.”

“Don’t even mention illegitimate children! My deadbeat dad went and had one, brought him home, and the guy’s even older than me! I swear, I wanted to spit on that shameless old bastard and kill him! Sigh, if only I had President He’s ruthless methods, I’d love to cut a bloody swathe through them all!”

“Sigh, you think I don’t feel the same?”

“Sigh.”

The two exchanged a glance and sighed in unison.

Qi Yuan chuckled inwardly. These two were quite amusing.

He discreetly observed them, and sure enough, their eyes sparkled with a clear, almost innocent foolishness.

It wasn’t just his conspiracy-minded nature. Normally, wealthy families wouldn’t raise their children to be clueless idiots lacking any worldly skills. But if they did, it must be for a hidden purpose. Given their talk about the illegitimate son, the answer seemed obvious: to raise him into a failure.

Noble families were rife with grudges and secrets, and Qi Yuan wanted no part of it. His aspirations were simple: to be a hardworking wage earner who could support his family comfortably.

After waiting half an hour, he grew impatient.

He pursed his lips, staring at He Zhou’s account on his phone, debating whether to poke it.

He was torn.

Qi Yuan didn’t know He Zhou well at all; they’d only met three times in person. To think he could get special treatment based on such a flimsy connection was wishful thinking, he figured.

His finger hovered over He Zhou’s account, pausing briefly over the keyboard before retreating without sending a message. He exited the app, switched off his phone, and resigned himself to squeezing his way in like everyone else.

Just as Qi Yuan rolled up his sleeves, ready to plunge into the throng, a breakthrough arrived—a call from Zhuo Ming.

“Qi Yuan, I heard the Student Council is packed. Have you managed to get in yet?”

“No, Brother Zhuo,” Qi Yuan replied listlessly. “I’m still stuck outside, looking in.”

Zhuo Ming: “Maybe you should give up for now? President He rarely returns. I really wanted to give you a chance to make a good impression, but with things like this, you’ll have to wait for another opportunity.”

A hint of regret lingered in his voice.

Qi Yuan felt no regret at all—in fact, he was secretly delighted.

But he had to play the part; you couldn’t openly defy your superiors.

Qi Yuan sighed theatrically. “Ah, Brother Zhuo, it can’t be helped. I’ll head back then. I have class this afternoon.”

Zhuo Ming: “Alright. Sorry to have you make a wasted trip.”

Qi Yuan: “No problem. I was heading to the cafeteria for lunch anyway.”

Zhuo Ming: “Okay, then.”

After brushing off Zhuo Ming, Qi Yuan pocketed his phone, the call having ended. He casually swung the documents in his hand as he strolled toward the cafeteria.

He hadn’t been lying—he was indeed heading to the cafeteria for lunch.

Meanwhile, He Zhou, overwhelmed by everyone’s demands, rubbed his throbbing temples.

He signed documents with weary irritation, listening to the endless reports from department heads.

Time slipped away, yet he never caught sight of the person he longed to see.

Finally, the midday break arrived. Liang Tingxuan dispatched staff to clear the lobby below of lingering personnel.

He Zhou had no idea who leaked news of his return to Weilika Academy, leaving him no time to find Qi Yuan.

The He Family driver was already waiting downstairs.

This morning was all the free time he could spare. He straightened his clothes.

With pressing matters demanding his attention, he’d have to postpone their meeting.

They had plenty of time ahead; there was no need to rush.

He stepped into the car.

The midday sun beat down mercilessly. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the moving vehicle.

Sitting in the back seat, He Zhou gazed out the window, his gaze sweeping over the pedestrians along the road.

Moments after passing the cafeteria, the figure he’d been searching for emerged from the entrance.

They had missed each other by a hair’s breadth.

Fate is a fickle mistress: yearning to meet, yet narrowly missing; disinclined to meet, yet constantly crossing paths.

Life settled into its usual rhythm, mostly uneventful, even as Qi Yuan gradually thrived in his department.

But the Dreamscape always intruded upon his peaceful existence, dragging him into its turbulent vortex.

Strange dreams resurfaced once again.

Qi Yuan couldn’t fathom why his Dreamscape self, a successful graduate of Weilika Academy, would forgo a stable job and choose to become a livestreamer.

He had heard about the notoriously unstable income of livestreaming.

To Qi Yuan, this was like a bolt from the blue, and he strongly disapproved of the career choice.

Yet since his Dreamscape self was already in the industry, he couldn’t change it. Having been explicitly told that livestreaming held the key to escaping the Dreamscape, Qi Yuan had no choice but to accept it.

Disapproval aside, Qi Yuan adapted well to his new job. What’s the difference between one job and another? he thought.

He didn’t actually dislike livestreaming; he simply believed work should provide stable income.

Generally, he avoided jobs with unstable earnings unless he had a sure thing—like his department job, where his past-life experience guaranteed substantial earnings. Otherwise, he steered clear.

He surveyed the small apartment: a one-bedroom, one-living room, one-kitchen, and one-bathroom layout.

The place was spotless, sparsely furnished, suggesting a recent move-in.

The live streaming equipment on the desk looked expensive, even to Qi Yuan, a complete novice. He never expected his Dreamscape self to splurge on such high-end gear.

Sitting on the bed, Qi Yuan opened his phone. His Dreamscape streaming account had over 50,000 followers after a month of broadcasting, giving him a solid fanbase to build upon rather than starting from scratch.

After familiarizing himself with the broadcast schedule, he watched several hours of stream replays.

His conclusion: his Dreamscape self basically just sat there chatting, no special talents or performances involved. Yet he had a few die-hard fans who showered him with lavish donations.

No wonder his Dreamscape self persisted and planned to stream long-term. Just sitting and chatting for a few hours daily earned him more than Qi Yuan’s entire monthly salary in reality. Anyone who passed up that opportunity would have to be crazy.

Except…

Looking at the pinned friends list on the account, labeled 1, 2… 5, Qi Yuan couldn’t make sense of it.

Clicking into one, he cringed at the chat history.

So, his Dreamscape self had been managing a “fish pond”—simultaneously messaging five different people! Wasn’t he afraid of getting caught and ending up dead?

Qi Yuan’s moral bar had just been lowered even further.

Last time, he was two-timing. This time, good heavens, he was five-timing!

This was like a toddler standing before a titan.

Frowning, he skimmed through the messages, then closed his eyes in utter despair, lying stiffly on the bed with his hands crossed over his stomach.

Thanks, I’m practically dead for now.

It was his first time encountering someone who flirted so brazenly while sending mass messages—and the recipients remained completely oblivious, dutifully transferring money every day with the note “Voluntary Contribution.”

This person truly isn’t afraid of leaving a complete corpse behind after death.

How dare they?!

Who gave you the courage?!

Qi Yuan in the Dreamscape is asking you!

Qi Yuan covered his eyes, desperately trying to block out the sight, but the chat log’s image kept flashing in his mind, impossible to ignore.

He sighed heavily.

Sitting up, he resolved: I absolutely can’t get caught, at least not before I leave this Dreamscape. Absolutely not!

This was far more serious than his previous two-timing fiasco. That time, getting caught had only resulted in localized social death.

But if this five-timing scandal were exposed, given his influencer status, it would become national news.

So, absolutely, absolutely, I can’t let my five-timing scheme be exposed.

Even Qi Yuan’s usually resilient composure crumbled under the weight of this revelation.

Trying to regain composure… Impossible!

He took a deep breath.

It was almost 9 p.m., livestream time. Qi Yuan went live as usual.

Facing the camera, his body seemed to remember its routines, his face automatically settling into his standard smile.

God only knows how I managed to convince myself to do this.

“Good evening, everyone,” he greeted the screen, mimicking his usual intro from past streams.

Fans flooded into the chat room the moment he went live.

Yuan Yuan is so punctual!

Yuan Yuan looks especially handsome today.

Where are the Big Brothers?

They’re here, already hanging around.

You: Baby, did you eat properly today?

Qi Yuan: “I did, yes.”

(How could I possibly eat…? But that doesn’t stop me from lying through my teeth.)

He remembered that in the Dreamscape, he had designated this “You” as Number 5.

Yang: Should we do a ranking battle today?

Qi Yuan shook his head.

“I just want to chat.”

He was in no mood for ranking battles or pleasing others. Just dealing with these five was exhausting enough.

This was Number 3.

Cheng: Darling, you look a bit listless. Did something happen?

Qi Yuan made up an excuse: “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m just a bit tired.”

This was Number 4.

He: If you’re tired, go rest. You can skip today’s stream and do it tomorrow instead.

A hesitant expression flickered across Qi Yuan’s face. “Wouldn’t that be… inappropriate?”

This was Number 2.

【He: There’s nothing wrong.】

【You: Baby, go get some rest. Your health is the most important thing.】

【Yang: Get some proper rest first.】

【Cheng: It’s okay, sweetheart. Just end the stream.】

Feigning gratitude, he thanked them for their concern and ended the stream at lightning speed.

As expected, they were all familiar faces:

• 2: He Zhou
• 3: Yang Huaiyuan
• 4: Cheng Xinyi
• 5: You Qinghe

Number 1 was a single letter, “X,” and appeared to be offline. Qi Yuan didn’t recognize this user. Unlike the others who simply used their surnames as usernames, this letter felt far more mysterious.

This was Qi Yuan’s first-ever livestream in the Dreamscape, lasting less than ten minutes. Yet, after checking his earnings, he was astonished to find over ten thousand yuan in tips.

Before he could even get a proper look at the exact amount, his phone buzzed with a barrage of messages:

【You (5): Baby, if you’re not feeling well, do you need me to come take care of you?】

【Yang (3): Qi Yuan, how are you? I’ve asked Auntie to make some chicken soup. I’ll bring it over as soon as it’s ready.】

【Cheng (4): Sweetheart, I’m on my way.】

【He (2): Qi Yuan, let’s go to the hospital for a checkup.】

Qi Yuan: “………”

Shit. This feels like I’m about to get completely screwed.