Chapter Twenty-Four: My Three Kingdoms Could Never Be So Absurd

Before the two armies, Wang Lang clasped his hands and called out, “Is the one approaching Zhuge Kongming?” Zhuge Liang, with his fan in hand, returned the bow—it was indeed him.

“Wang Lang has long heard of your great renown, Master Zhuge. It is my fortune to meet you today!

‘Zhuge Liang! If you understood the times and knew fate, you’d have gotten into Lanxiang. Why, with all the adoration of the masses, do you still remain unattached? Now, with my countless philosophical generals standing firm, a million comrades will explode in joy at your defeat!’

Ah! Please, give me back the Three Kingdoms of my memories!

Fang Qing stared, conflicted, at Wang Lang the Grand Minister, who spewed vulgarities without restraint. “This is not the Three Kingdoms I know.” And yet, for some reason, an inexplicable thrill welled up inside her. Fang Qing’s leg bounced uncontrollably; she simply couldn’t stop.

‘Zhuge, Zhuge, village woman, hold me tight and don’t panic. Those who align with heaven prosper; those who go against it perish. Since the reigns of Emperor Huan and Emperor Ling, Shu’s soldiers have grown ever shorter. Yet our mighty Wei, with a million bold and bald comrades, stands tall. Zhuge Liang, why do you not join us and break free from your singlehood?’

Meanwhile, the barrage of comments was about to explode. There was simply too much to lampoon.

“Shu’s soldiers are getting shorter and shorter.”
“Welcome to the ‘There’s Always Someone’ series.”
“Didn’t expect the protagonist to be like this.”
“Philosophical generals standing firm.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be a pure-hearted little angel?”
“So dirty!”

Fang Qing’s earlier hesitation was long gone—she laughed, unable to restrain herself. Who cared about the original text now? What mattered was seeing how the great Kongming would respond.

On screen, Zhuge Kongming smiled serenely and replied, “I thought you, a beast of the Han, would, before two armies of comrades, at least bring some soap. Never did I expect such vulgar words from you. Allow me to say a few words—please listen!”

The camera panned to Zhuge Kongming on the city wall, plucking at his zither. The music began to play.

Instantly, the scrolling comments flooded the screen.

“Ding! Your friend, Zhuge the Zither Demon, has come online.”
“You’re the only one I acknowledge when it comes to playing the zither.”
“In my world, no one can defeat me!”
“High energy ahead! Leave now or it’ll be too late!”

As the music surged, Zhuge Kongming looked at Wang Lang with disdain. “You, lonely dog! You, who hail from the eastern shores, should support the Han and restore the Liu family. Why side with traitors like Dong Zhuo and Guo Si? Lonely dog! You have lived in vain these seventy-six years, achieving nothing, your sins are grave. Heaven and earth shun you! How dare you try to entice me before my army, you shameless beast! In the days of Huan and Ling, only Jiang Wei loved me. After the Yellow Turban Rebellion, you kidnapped the Han emperor and shamelessly picked up soap, you old villain! Now, in our nation’s crisis, I can pamper Jiang Wei every day. And you, Grand Minister Wang, what have you accomplished?”

“Well said; I truly have no retort.”
“Imagine the psychological trauma for Jiang Wei.”
“Come out, protagonist, I promise I won’t beat you to death.”
“Your friend, Dissonance, has logged off!”

Fang Qing watched the barrage, helplessly lightening the color of the comments for visibility. She was nearly doubled over with laughter—what a wicked mind the creator had! Who would have thought of this?

And yet, the video continued.

“You’re just a duck—how can you compare to Jiang Wei? Not only do you repeatedly aid traitors, you plot to seize the throne! How dare you bark madly before my army? I have never seen anyone so shameless!”

The three-minute video left Fang Qing convulsing with laughter, yet still unsatisfied. She repeated it again and again, not even pausing to eat her boxed lunch.

The alarm on her phone rang shrilly, snapping her back to reality—she still had work that afternoon. Glancing at the time, she wondered how many times she’d watched it.

Looking at the untouched lunch on her desk, Fang Qing realized there was no time to eat. She didn’t regret spending her entire lunch break on the video, though; the spiritual nourishment would last her until tomorrow.

Truly, the creator she admired was extraordinary. Every video was a masterpiece. How could someone so filthy be called a pure-hearted little angel? That just wouldn’t do.

Before heading to work, Fang Qing looked at the bullet screen still full of “pure-hearted little angel” comments. She opened the dialog box and sent a new comment:

“Caught one filthy protagonist, should be handed over to the state!”

Within seconds, the comment section derailed completely.

“Handed to the state 1”
“Handed to the state 2”
“Handed to the state 3”
“I am the state, received.”
“Upstairs, water meter check incoming.”
“Why is the water meter after me?”
“Who am I anyway?”

Seeing the chaos she’d sown, Fang Qing felt a surge of satisfaction, closed her computer, and went to work.

Meanwhile, at school—

Luo Chen looked helplessly at the girl before him. He hadn’t expected something like this.

“Luo Chen, where’s your homework?” In front of his seat, Dai Xinhua hugged a stack of exercise books, glancing at Luo Chen with a guilty, nervous look, as if she’d done something shameful.

Luo Chen found it laughable—he was the one who hadn’t done his homework, so if anyone should be nervous, it was him. Why was the homework collector so anxious? Unbeknownst to him, ever since he became the protagonist of her manga, Luo Chen had been puzzled, suspecting that his former self must have done something odd to this girl.

“Is it… inconvenient to say?” Dai Xinhua’s conflicted expression flashed again. She looked ready to flee but didn’t dare move.

Ever since her secret—drawing manga—was exposed, Dai Xinhua constantly feared Luo Chen and Yan He would find out. She tried to avoid them whenever possible, but as the class secretary, she had no choice. If only she’d let Ling handle it instead.

She sighed, standing there like a criminal awaiting judgment.

“No, it’s not inconvenient. I just honestly forgot,” Luo Chen replied.

Homework? To Luo Chen, that was a distant concept. In three years of university, he’d barely submitted a thesis or two—and those were printed copies. No wonder he kept forgetting.

“Forgot?” Dai Xinhua stared in disbelief. How could anyone forget something like this?

Thanks to Saintly Father’s hundred-point tip for this book, and with recommendations breaking a hundred, the author sincerely thanks all readers for their support. Thank you all!