Jiang Nian had no idea at all that after he left, Yang Mi had blown things up so much that she was going to divorce Liu Kaiwei right away.
Of course, if he did know, he’d probably rush over and try to talk her out of it.
As conceited as this might sound,
if Yang Mi divorced Liu Kaiwei and then set her sights on him, what would he do?
Sure, Jiang Nian liked secretly “driving other people’s cars,”
but if someone tried to transfer the ownership to him, he wouldn’t take it.
After all, a second-hand car like that is only fun for a joyride.
If conditions allow, who wouldn’t prefer a brand-new car?
Not to mention, you never really know if that second-hand car is truly second-hand.
And even if it is, who’s to say the previous owner doesn’t still have a spare key?
Those are all things to think about.
Jiang Nian had no intention of being the fool who gets stuck with the bill.
He left the villa, hailed a cab to the subway station,
then transferred to the subway. An hour later,
Jiang Nian had gone from that luxurious, lavish villa area all the way back to his old, run-down, tiny rental—the one that cost only eight thousand a month but was conveniently close to the film studio.
He slipped into his slippers, went into the bathroom, and took a shower.
After washing every last trace of Yang Mi down the drain,
Jiang Nian dried himself off and walked out of the bathroom completely naked.
He wasn’t worried about anyone catching a glimpse of his “world-serpent” by chance,
because the window in this apartment was tiny—no bigger than two twenty-four-inch monitors—
and it was positioned right up near the ceiling.
And speaking of the ceiling…
Jiang Nian looked up.
He was six feet tall.
And the ceiling was still a full eight inches above his head.
This was actually one of the things Jiang Nian had always been pretty satisfied with.
Sure, the apartment was a bit old, a bit worn down, a bit dated,
but this was where?
Beijing! The capital! Where every inch of land costs a fortune!
Here, he could rent a place with its own bathroom, a window, and a ceiling high enough for him to stand tall with his chest puffed out.
Without exaggeration, he was already ahead of sixty percent—hell, even more—of the people out there!
Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he walked over to the bed, flopped down comfortably, and lay there looking at the ceiling, savoring the events of the day.
And it was while he was reminiscing that—
“Oh, right, didn’t I get some kind of system? I haven’t used it yet, have I?”
Jiang Nian suddenly remembered the voice he’d heard in his ear right after he’d hit the home run.
He sat up in bed and called out, “Hey, system, you there?”
…
The system didn’t answer.
It just silently popped up a panel.
Jiang Nian focused his eyes and saw it was the same old kind of stats panel.
[Film and TV Martial Emperor System 1.0]
[User: Jiang Nian]
[Realm: None]
[Skills: None]
[Attention Points: 203]
[Currently Playable Role: Eunuch]
A pretty bare-bones panel—
you could take it all in with just a quick glance.
But even though it was simple, it still revealed quite a bit of information.
Jiang Nian sorted it out.
First off, the system was called “Film and TV Martial Emperor 1.0.” The “1.0” was probably the system version, which meant it might get upgraded later to “1.5,” “2.0,” “2.5,” and so on.
At the same time, combining the system’s name, the realm column, the skill column, and the “currently playable role” at the bottom,
Jiang Nian figured that he’d need to play certain roles to learn martial arts, get stronger, break through to higher realms, and eventually become the Martial Emperor.
As for those “Attention Points”—
those were probably the system’s currency.
But since Jiang Nian hadn’t actually used it yet, the exact purpose wasn’t clear.
Still, the way to earn them was probably just like the name said.
Get attention, and they’d go up.
“Come to think of it, in that new show I just got cast in, I’m playing a eunuch, aren’t I?”
“Does that count?”
Jiang Nian muttered to himself, then turned and grabbed the script from the table.
Judging by the role he was playing, it wasn’t hard to tell that this show was a period drama.
The general gist was about how ancient martial artists fell in love and built their harems.
The eunuch Jiang Nian was playing was one of the villains in the show.
For the first three episodes, he was the protagonist’s biggest obstacle.
But after the third episode, he was written off.
As lame as that sounded, and even though his screen time wasn’t long at all,
the eunuch was actually pretty impressive according to the lore.
He had entered the palace a year before the story began, trained in the same Shaolin Boy’s Art as the big bad boss, had insane talent, and progressed incredibly fast.
Even after the protagonist got a lucky break three episodes in and saw his power multiply several times over, this eunuch could still hold his own in a fight.
If the screenwriter hadn’t forced his death,
the eunuch Jiang Nian was playing probably would’ve survived from the beginning all the way to the end. Heck, given how fast he improved in the lore, he might have even replaced the head eunuch and become the true final boss by the last episode.
But if that had been the case, Jiang Nian definitely wouldn’t have landed the role.
Too much screen time—he wasn’t qualified.
And the moment Jiang Nian picked up the script—
[Detected Role: Du Gao]
[Realm: Second-Rate Martial Artist (High Martial World)]
[Skills: Shaolin Boy’s Art “Mastered”, Eight-Step Cicada Chase “Mastered”, Xingyi Quan “Intermediate” (Choose one)]
[Attention Points Required to Unlock: Free (First-Time Privilege)]
[Unlock?]
The screen in front of Jiang Nian changed, and several lines of text appeared.
Seeing this, Jiang Nian grinned.
The first time was free?
Now that’s what I’m talking about!
“But that ‘choose one’ thing—does that mean I can only practice one of the martial arts?”
Jiang Nian thought it over, then selected Shaolin Boy’s Art as the martial art he would practice next.
As soon as he confirmed his choice, the panel in front of him turned into a beam of white light and shot straight into Jiang Nian’s mind.
In an instant,
Jiang Nian felt a flood of memories that didn’t belong to him appear in his head.
And the owner of those memories was none other than
the character he was supposed to play: Du Gao!
The system had directly sent him Du Gao’s entire life story.
And it was detailed.
From Du Gao’s birth, to his entry into the palace, to his death—
scene after scene flashed through Jiang Nian’s mind.
It felt so real, as if he had lived through it himself.
And yet, it didn’t mess with his mind at all.
He was still him.
He was fully aware that the memories in his head were all fake and wasn’t fooled by them.
The memories of the role he was playing and his own real memories—Jiang Nian kept them very separate.
It was like sitting in front of a computer playing a role-playing game.
No matter how twisted, moving, or epic the story in the game was,
all you had to do was turn your head, look out the window at a big tree bathed in sunlight, full of green leaves and bursting with life, and you could pull yourself right out of it.
“I guess this is the system’s doing,”
Jiang Nian murmured.
He knew himself too well.
Sometimes he couldn’t even tell apart his memories from his past life and his current one.
If someone else’s memories were dumped on top of that,
he’d be the perfect candidate to play that one character Huo Zi—
running around yelling, “Mom, I can’t tell anymore, I really can’t tell!”
Or he’d turn into one of those unhinged magnetic-field maniacs,
walking around shouting weird stuff like “Ewww!,” “Smash!,” “Aargh!,” and “Keh!”
“But speaking of which… can I only play eunuchs right now?”
“Holy crap, is this the ‘Eunuch Martial Emperor’ or something?”
