The Abusive Novel System Pleads with Me to Resign-Chapter 40

With Shen Ying's slacker attitude, she would delay starting work as long as possible, never arriving a second earlier than necessary.

So in the first world, she rested until the very end, reluctantly concluding her vacation only when death came knocking.

When the system tallied the earnings from that world, it straight-up burst into tears.

As mentioned before, through repeated probing and deduction, Shen Ying had already figured out the game's operating principles, some hidden rules, and its profit model.

No wonder the system always wanted to see her suffer—it wasn’t personal, just business.

Though the angst system preached that "true love conquers all," what it really wanted wasn’t a faithfully adapted tragic romance novel.

Otherwise, why go through the trouble of screening players, coercing them into service, and guiding someone inherently resistant to the plot?

They could’ve just molded an obedient, self-deprecating female lead straight from the original story.

After years of scheming and questioning, Shen Ying confirmed why player substitution was necessary.

The game craved the intense emotions of love and desire generated by the targets during the conquest process.

These targets were pivotal figures in their scripted worlds—individuals blessed with extraordinary fortune. The game sought to extract energy from them.

This energy had nothing to do with the world's hierarchy, the targets' social status, combat prowess, or genetic superiority.

As long as they were designated as romanceable characters in the script, they possessed immense luck—a divine gift that couldn’t be seized by any means.

Only through overwhelming emotions of love and desire could fragments of this energy be extracted, and even then, the process was convoluted.

It required a specific medium to ferment before yielding the energy the game truly needed.

This medium couldn’t be artificially created but had to be subservient to the system, allowing it to legally exploit the surplus value produced.

Since original characters couldn’t form contracts with the system, the necessary medium was obvious: players like Shen Ying.

By winning the male leads' affection and combining it with their own suffering, players could ferment the energy the game desired.

This explained why the system kept claiming she could avoid tragic plotlines, only to panic whenever Shen Ying successfully sidestepped them.

To put it simply, the targets' love was water, the player's pain was yeast, and only by mixing the two could the game obtain the chemical concoction it wanted.

But Shen Ying’s love meter was overflowing, while she hadn’t experienced a single drop of suffering.

The system wailed: "Decades! Do you know how I’ve suffered these decades?"

"I had to watch all that energy just sitting there—so much of it!—but not one drop of pain to ferment and transform it."

It was like working a job for half a year, covering travel, meals, and accommodations, only to pocket a measly ten bucks in profit—then still having to pay the employee’s salary.

Oh, and said employee even freelanced on the side during the trip, and the system had to dutifully convert her earnings at the current exchange rate.

This deal was a catastrophic loss. Since when did games get bullied like this?

Shen Ying consoled it: "If I can’t produce pain, that’s hardly my fault."

"Nobody should apologize for being happy, right?"

The system: "Fine. You’re amazing. Consider the first world a newbie bonus."

Then it switched to a businesslike tone: "Does the host wish to proceed to the next world?"

Shen Ying: "I’d like to rest for two more—"

Before she could finish, she was teleported away.

The system smirked at the carefully selected script it had prepared for her.

It had miscalculated. Due to insufficient intel on the player, it assigned her an ill-suited world.

Once the life-saving plot was triggered, the male lead’s favorability would skyrocket. From there, avoiding a few key events made for an effortless, painless conquest.

And the male lead’s progress directly influenced the antagonist’s attention.

This was supposed to be a low-difficulty stage for beginners, but this freeloader used it to slack off and collect a paycheck.

The system decided to revoke Shen Ying’s newbie privileges. The next world’s difficulty would be multiplied.

When Shen Ying regained consciousness, she felt sticky all over, exhausted and drowsy.

It was as if she’d spent the whole day walking under the scorching sun.

And in a way, she had. After absorbing the memories and script, she understood her current situation.

This time, she’d been handed the "white moonlight’s stand-in" trope.

The original host and the white moonlight were twin sisters. But at age seven, the younger sister was adopted by a wealthy family, sending their lives on drastically different paths.

The sister grew up with elite education and high-society connections, while the original host struggled through part-time jobs just to scrape through college.

The sister was gentle, bright, confident, and resolute—admired by countless people, most notably this world’s four male leads.

In the year she graduated, the sister suddenly decided to travel the world alone to "find her purpose," explicitly requesting no disturbances.

The four of them could only watch helplessly as their beloved walked away, leaving them in unbearable loneliness.

Just then, the elder sister—the original owner of this body—appeared before them, marking the beginning of her tragic fate.

As soon as Shen Ying received the script, she asked, "System, let me ask you something."

"Why would a wealthy family, fully capable of doing so, only adopt one of the twins?"

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‍system was no longer friendly toward her: "I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose information not present in the original work."

A hint of something unreadable flickered across Shen Ying’s expression, but she didn’t press the issue further.

Instead, she teased the system, "Afraid I’ll complete the mission too soon?"

"I strictly adhere to the game’s rules and hold no personal bias against you. Please do not misunderstand."

Shen Ying waved her hand dismissively. "A substitute is just a low-tier stand-in. It’s only natural for people to look down on them."

"To win over the male lead, not only do I have to erase that sense of disdain, but I also have to overcome their psychological barrier of emotional transference. Just these two points alone will take some serious effort."

"Not to mention, the initial favorability rating won’t be high because of that underlying contempt. And any emotional value I generate would probably just get credited to the white moonlight. That’s what you were thinking, right, System?"

The system: "……"

It had expected Shen Ying to see through its plan, but it hadn’t anticipated her complete lack of resentment.

Instead, she said gratefully, "System, I knew it. No matter what you say, you’re still my closest work partner."

"I really, truly appreciate you assigning me such a perfect slacking-off—ahem—romance mission."

The system wanted to mock her for her stubbornness, but remembering those two CEOs who had turned into love-struck fools, it suddenly lacked the confidence to retort.

Shen Ying stopped wasting time with it and headed upstairs, her body sticky with sweat.

This was a luxurious high-rise apartment in the heart of the city, an oasis of tranquility amidst the urban bustle, offering a breathtaking view of the skyline.

Naturally, the original owner—a freshly graduated student with no money—could never afford such a place.

The reason she lived here was simple: one of the male leads had discovered her and essentially kept her as a pet.

The original owner didn’t have an impressive academic background. After graduation, she struggled to find decent work and had nowhere to go. To survive, she took a job as a waitress at a high-end restaurant—her looks at least helped her pass the interview.

It was there that she met Chang Ming, one of the male leads, who occasionally dined at the restaurant.

That day, Chang Ming sat in the restaurant until closing time, staring at her the entire evening.

After that, he became a regular, stepping in to help when the manager harassed her or when customers berated her over minor mistakes.

Eventually, he started asking her out.

The original owner naturally assumed he was pursuing her. She quit her job at his request and moved into the apartment he provided.

She believed they were in a proper relationship, even though his possessiveness was extreme—he forbade her from working, remained emotionally distant, and rarely spoke to her. Most of the time, he just stared at her face, lost in thought.

But the original owner, having grown up deprived of love and plagued by low self-esteem, failed to recognize the red flags.

Until yesterday, when she accidentally discovered that Chang Ming was in love with someone else—a fact well-known among his social circle.

Desperate, she confronted him, only to be met with: "What right do you have to ask about her?"

Heartbroken, she stormed out and wandered aimlessly all night, feeling utterly abandoned by the world.

But the original owner, with her wings already clipped, had nowhere to go without Chang Ming. Even now, she couldn’t truly escape him.

So, by morning, she had no choice but to slink back to the apartment—just as Shen Ying took over.

The summer heat was oppressive, and after a night of wandering, her body was drenched in sweat. All Shen Ying wanted now was a shower and sleep.

Everything else could wait.

But the moment she opened the door, she saw a man standing in the living room.

This 300-square-meter luxury riverside apartment was Chang Ming’s gilded cage, and aside from him, only one other person ever visited—his personal assistant.

Assistant Zhu looked at Shen Ying, his eyes flashing with disdain.

Though his job was to retrieve her, it was hard to respect a woman who crawled back after such humiliation.

"Miss Shen," he said sternly, "next time you leave, I hope you’ll take your phone. You wouldn’t want Mr. Chang to worry, would you?"

Shen Ying grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and gulped down half before replying, "If he didn’t even step outside to look for me, does that even count as 'worry'?"

Assistant Zhu scoffed internally. Still expecting him to chase after you? You really don’t know your place.

Aloud, he emphasized, "Mr. Chang is a very busy man. His time is precious. Your impulsive little stunt not only troubled him but also kept several of us up all night."

"I assume you’re not the type to enjoy causing trouble for others?"

Shen Ying smirked. "If you’ve got complaints, take them up with the right person. Isn’t this mess entirely thanks to your dog of a boss, Chang Ming?"

Assistant Zhu drew a sharp breath, looking at Shen Ying with disbelief.

His expression remained indifferent as he said, "Miss Shen, please be aware of your position and responsibilities."

"The privileged life Mr. Chang has provided for you is something countless people could never attain in their lifetime. Yet you enjoy all of it—where exactly could you go if you left him?"

"I trust that after a night of reflection, you’ve come to your senses. Since you’ve chosen to return, there’s no need for pointless defiance, nor should you display any dissatisfaction in front of Mr. Chang."

The message was clear: if she had slunk back with her tail between her legs, she shouldn’t act coy now.

But Shen Ying merely replied, "Oh, there are plenty of places I could go."

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Assistant Zhu frowned. "What did you say?"

Shen Ying had no patience to waste on him. She waved a hand dismissively. "Assistant Zhu, you may leave now. Do me a favor and tell Chang Ming I’ll be waiting for him at Starlight Restaurant at six tonight."

Assistant Zhu’s expression darkened. Was this woman deliberately ignoring him?

"Mr. Chang has prior engagements tonight—"

"Just deliver the message. Whether he comes or not is his decision." With that, she ushered him out and closed the door.

Outside, Assistant Zhu scoffed, brushing off her words as insignificant.

Once he was gone, Shen Ying eagerly took a shower, feeling refreshed afterward. She grabbed a quick bite to eat, then retreated to her bedroom for a long nap. She slept until the afternoon, finally shaking off the exhaustion before getting up.

She picked a dress at random from the closet. Unlike the sweet, girl-next-door appearance of her previous world, the original owner of this body had striking, glamorous features.

However, years of poverty and hardship had conditioned her to dress plainly, keeping her head down and hiding her natural radiance.

As the time approached, Shen Ying headed out.

The Starlight Restaurant she mentioned was an upscale dining establishment with exorbitant prices.

Though Chang Ming had taken her in, the original owner was frugal and conscientious, uneasy about accepting his material generosity. She disliked causing trouble for others, so apart from basic necessities and housing, she rarely asked him for anything.

The system observed her actions and remarked, either maliciously or as a warning: [Host, Assistant Zhu did not relay your message to the male lead.]

Shen Ying wasn’t surprised. "Doesn’t matter. I never expected him to convince anyone to come anyway."

"Having him deliver the message was just to keep his attention on me."

Given the delicate nature of Shen Ying’s relationship with Chang Ming, Assistant Zhu was well aware of the implications. Though he dismissed her words, he couldn’t help but wonder about her intentions—what she might say the next time she saw Chang Ming.

Under such speculation, he wouldn’t forget the matter entirely. In fact, he’d likely keep an eye on Shen Ying’s movements from time to time.

The system pressed: […Host, the money you have on hand isn’t even enough for a cup of coffee at that restaurant, is it?]

Shen Ying chuckled. "And whose fault is that? With my usual assets, I could’ve bought the entire restaurant. Who knew there’d be a freeze period when entering a new world?"

The system explained: [Asset rationalization requires time to process. Otherwise, certain players’ excessive wealth could disrupt the task world.]

Shen Ying was understanding. "Fair enough. Have I complained about it?"

The system hesitated. [Then how will you pay for the meal—]

Shen Ying smirked. "Relax. Someone will foot the bill."

Just as Shen Ying arrived at the restaurant, three cars pulled into the parking lot beneath Starlight Restaurant at the same time.

Three men stepped out—each strikingly handsome, the kind of men who commanded attention and intimidated onlookers.

One had a cold, imposing demeanor, another radiated charisma, and the third exuded a dangerous, restrained allure.

The moment they crossed paths, their expressions twisted with mutual disdain.

Yet, perhaps out of habit—maintaining a facade of harmony in front of a certain someone—they still entered the elevator together.

Pei Ying, the coldly handsome one, spoke first. "What are the two of you doing here?"

The Pei Corporation’s headquarters were nearby, and since a certain someone adored Starlight Restaurant, he often dined here.

Jiang Liuxu, the bespectacled man with an air of restrained danger, replied, "There’s a medical symposium in the area today. It’s been a while since I last visited, so I thought I’d drop by."

Yu Yan, the radiant one, scoffed. "Last night, during our video call, she mentioned missing the taste of this place. She asked me to come and try it for her."

The other two men sneered at his words.

Before they could retort, the elevator stopped on the first floor, its doors sliding open.

And there, standing before them, was a figure they never expected to see—!