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Zhao Yang's gaze lingered on the open pages of "Da Lang's Classic." The yellowed pages emitted a faint scent of sandalwood, contrasting sharply with the lingering odor of sweat and hormones in the gym. Sweat soaked his clothes, clinging to his body and outlining his muscular physique. He mechanically flipped through the pages, the words and images dancing before his eyes like tadpoles, yet failing to leave any clear impression in his muddled mind. The sounds of Zhu Fang and Hu Fengling gasping, their entwined bodies, and the lascivious scenes replayed in his mind like an unshakeable nightmare, stirring feelings of nausea and revulsion. Hu Fengling's strong arms tightly embraced Zhu Fang's slender waist, leaving crimson marks on her snow-white skin. Zhu Fang's moans grew increasingly high-pitched as her body writhed like a water snake, pressing against Hu Fengling, greedily drawing in his masculine energy.
Lin Ruoshui's words echoed in his ears: "Study it well; perhaps it can change your fate." Change fate? Zhao Yang chuckled bitterly to himself. What fate did he have left? Humiliated, betrayed, trampled upon, he felt like a stray dog, barely surviving in this world.
He suddenly slammed the book shut, the pages making a crisp sound like a desperate sigh. He raised his head and stared blankly at the gym ceiling, confusion and helplessness filling his eyes. The overhead lights cast mottled shadows on his face, highlighting his haggard appearance.
Suddenly, his gaze fell upon the book's cover; the four characters "Da Lang's Classic" struck him like a bolt of lightning, cutting through his chaotic thoughts. Da Lang? Wu Dalang? The pitiful figure poisoned by his wife Pan Jinlian and Ximen Qing? Could this book be... a story about how to turn one's life around and rise from the depths of despair?
He opened the book again. This time, he was no longer a passive reader but approached it with an almost frenzied desire to find answers and methods to change his fate. The pages rustled in his hands as if responding to his anticipation.
The first chapter boldly proclaimed "Conquering a Woman's Heart," accompanied by an illustration of a curvaceous woman nestled in a man's embrace, her gaze dreamy and her lips curved into a smile. The woman's figure was alluringly voluptuous—full breasts, rounded hips, and a slender waist—all radiating deadly temptation. The man's muscles were strong and powerful, exuding an aura of masculinity. Zhao Yang found himself deeply captivated by this image; his breath quickened, and his heart began to race.
He continued reading as the book detailed how to observe women's words and actions to gauge their personalities and preferences, how to exploit their weaknesses for personal gain, and how to tease their desires through words and physical contact—like gently stroking their backs, playing with their hair, or softly kissing their earlobes.
Zhao Yang's mind conjured up Zhan Jingjing's image—her seductive red lips, full breasts, slender waist, and long legs—all radiating irresistible allure. Every smile she offered and every move she made was enchanting beyond measure. If he could master the techniques outlined in the book, could he not conquer her too? Make her submit to him? Have her nestled against him like the woman in the illustration, with dreamy eyes and a smile on her lips?
A fierce desire ignited within him as he envisioned himself standing at the pinnacle of power surrounded by countless beauties, basking in wealth and glory. He gripped "Da Lang's Classic" tightly; determination and ambition filled his gaze. He would change his fate; he would become a winner in life!
He returned to his dormitory and eagerly began practicing the techniques from the book. He meticulously studied Zhan Jingjing's social media profiles to analyze her likes and habits before carefully planning an accidental encounter. He intended to "bump into" her at the gym and use the book’s strategies step by step to win her over.
The next day at the gym, Zhao Yang "accidentally" ran into Zhan Jingjing. She wore tight-fitting workout clothes that showcased her alluring figure perfectly. Her chest rose and fell with each breath; her hips swayed with each step; her waist twisted enticingly—all radiating an irresistible aura. Following the book’s guidance, Zhao Yang looked at her with teasing eyes and engaged her in flirtatious conversation while occasionally brushing against her body. His fingers lightly grazed her arm as his gaze wandered over her chest and hips; his breathing grew increasingly rapid.
Initially dismissive of Zhao Yang’s advances, Zhan Jingjing gradually found herself drawn to the masculine charm he exuded as he pressed closer. She began responding to his teasing; her eyes turned dreamy as her breathing quickened and a blush crept onto her cheeks.
Hu Fengling watched the interaction between Zhao Yang and Zhan Jingjing from the side, his heart burning with jealousy. He never expected that the once timid Zhao Yang would become so bold and confident. A sense of inexplicable fear gripped him; he was afraid that Zhao Yang would take everything from him, including Zhan Jingjing, his status at the gym, and everything he held dear. He clenched his fists, his eyes filled with malice, and he resolved to stop Zhao Yang at any cost.
Zhao Yang's plan seemed to be progressing smoothly, with Zhan Jingjing's attitude toward him growing increasingly ambiguous, and their relationship becoming more intimate. However, he remained oblivious to the fact that a pair of eyes was watching him closely from the shadows, filled with calculation and conspiracy.
Zhu Fang had witnessed Zhao Yang and Zhan Jingjing's interaction, her emotions a tumultuous mix. She had once looked down on Zhao Yang, considering him an insignificant ant, but now she felt an inexplicable sense of crisis. She realized that Zhao Yang was no longer the weakling she could manipulate; he was becoming stronger and more dangerous. She decided to take action—she would either reclaim Zhao Yang or destroy him.
As night fell, Zhao Yang lay in bed, reminiscing about his interaction with Zhan Jingjing earlier that day, a smug smile creeping onto his lips. He felt himself drawing closer to his goal, as if he could already see the dawn of victory on the horizon.
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