Chapter 50: Call Me Godfather

At six o'clock the next morning, Lin Mo had intended to sleep in, but he was woken up by his stomach.

Don't misunderstand; it wasn't hunger. It was that ever since he started having a spoonful of Tujia honey water every morning, he had to hit the restroom for a "big one" before dawn.

This thing was practically a biological clock, far more effective than an alarm. After all, you can turn off an alarm, but you can't hold back when nature calls.

In that situation, he wouldn't even dare trust his own farts, let alone continue lying in bed.

He went to the bathroom, washed up, changed into sportswear, and took out his posture corrector in the process.

He hadn't even used this thing since he got his hands on it, and it worked quite slowly, requiring twenty days to show results.

Although he didn't have a hunchback, his posture was merely average and far from the upright, charismatic look of someone with perfect carriage, so this thing was somewhat useful to him.

The moment he put on the posture corrector and fastened the buckles, Lin Mo felt a distinct pushing force. He couldn't help but chest out and lift his head, instantly looking much more spirited.

Once fully dressed, Lin Mo glanced at the motionless "Sichuan Girl" and then left the dormitory.

With a light jog, he soon arrived at the school track, prepared to complete his thirty-minute slow-running task.

That's right. After the Sichuan Girl's explicit refusal last night, he had ultimately chosen to pursue "secondary development." Otherwise, he would have rather sacrificed this chance to grow taller just to buy the Sichuan Girl a "miracle tool."

After all, he also wanted to know how that thing performed the "disappearing brother trick" once worn. He was curious!

But there was no way around it; if the Sichuan Girl wouldn't try it, he couldn't do it himself. He planned to develop quietly at school before facing off against the Great Emperor Ru Yan.

Without a gun, how could he usurp the throne? If the enemy attacks, just surrender; there's no point in living otherwise.

As for that authentic *douzhi* (fermented mung bean milk), he'd just look at it. Although he had never tasted it, many people online had tried it, only to become a local "scenic landmark" themselves.

Locals loved watching outsiders drink *douzhi*. He felt it was best not to try it lightly, especially since he had seen those glaring words: "sour and stinky." He didn't know why "sour and stinky" was considered authentic, but he respected the culture.

The blue-flame Gatling gun was a useless waste; he'd pick it if a zombie crisis ever appeared.

Besides, even if he did choose it, where would he hide such a massive Gatling gun? He wasn't like Miss Yuan, who was gifted with the ability to fit anything inside her skirt.

Wearing the posture corrector, Lin Mo began his slow jog on the track. He had to admit, once the corrector was on, he could immediately feel a force correcting his torso and back; even his running posture was slightly different from usual.

With his chest out and abdomen tucked, he projected a particularly upright and disciplined aura.

In the vast school, the track was nearly deserted at this hour. Lin Mo didn't mind; he was just here to grind his tasks, so nothing else mattered.

However, even a thirty-minute slow jog was quite a challenge for him, as he had long since passed the physical peak of middle school.

A "fragile college student"—given that nickname, one could easily guess his physical condition.

After ten minutes, Lin Mo was already panting. After twenty minutes, his body was heating up, sweat was on his forehead, and white foam appeared at the corners of his mouth.

He finished the final ten minutes by gritting his teeth, eventually collapsing onto the grass, gasping for air.

"I lack exercise. If I had known, I would have followed a few fitness influencers and trained with them," Lin Mo mocked himself. There was a period in the past when he loved watching fitness videos, thinking every time that he would definitely train and build a perfect eight-pack, but every video just sat gathering dust in his favorites folder.

In his mind back then, "watching" was equivalent to "training." Now that he felt his body was far from its prime, he felt a bit of regret.

Just then, an elderly woman with snow-white hair ran past him. Her hair was combed meticulously, and she wore gold-rimmed glasses.

Despite her age, one could tell from her aura that she must have been a formidable figure in her youth.

He actually knew her; she was Professor Mu, who taught advanced mathematics at their school. This elderly professor seemed to have won many honors domestically; she didn't teach specific classes but occasionally gave large public lectures.

Lin Mo had only seen her from a distance a few times and never dared to greet her. This grandmother's temper was not good; she had scolded many people during her public lectures.

As Professor Mu ran, she swung her arms vigorously against her body, making a slapping sound. Many elderly people used this method of exercise.

Whether it was effective was unknown, but Lin Mo suspected they were covered in red marks after exercising.

The sophisticated Professor Mu clearly noticed the only other student on the track.

The reason she was certain Lin Mo was a student was that she was all too familiar with the "aura" of college students—much like the students below her when she taught calculus, their eyes were filled with nothing but stupidity.

The reason she glanced a second time was entirely due to his looks; after all, there weren't many male students in the school who looked like this.

Lin Mo also noticed Professor Mu looking at him. The two even locked eyes for two seconds. Habit told him he should greet the teacher, but his body's instinct prevented him from opening his mouth.

It wasn't that he was socially anxious, but whenever he spoke to strangers, his jaw would always click first, as if it were out of use.

He felt that greeting a "big shot" so suddenly would be awkward, and primarily, he was a bit afraid; this little old lady was fierce when she scolded people.

Until Professor Mu ran far away, Lin Mo hadn't opened his mouth, and he couldn't help but complain about his own lack of backbone.

"Useless mouth! What's the harm in a greeting? It's not like she's going to eat you!"

He stood up, brushed the dirt off his pants, and headed to the snack street near the school's back gate. With the semester approaching, many shops were opening for business.

He found a breakfast stall, ordered two buns and a bowl of porridge, and grabbed an extra portion for his "foster son" in the dormitory.

When he returned, there was still no movement from the Sichuan Girl's bed.

"Hey, hey, hey! Get up and eat!"

Placing the food on the table, Lin Mo habitually tapped the Sichuan Girl's curtain, much like someone tapping a pen to wake a pig.

But in the next second, a pretty face suddenly popped out from behind the curtain. Although her makeup wasn't fully finished, she already possessed the basic demeanor of Li Shiya.

Her wig was slightly messy, giving the impression of a goddess who had just woken up, and her first words were a critical hit

"Thank you, hubby!"

The sudden attack startled Lin Mo so much that he jumped back. It was too damn sudden. He immediately roared, "Dammit, call me 'Godfather'!"

The Sichuan Girl, sporting her "Li Shiya" makeup, thought for a moment and said, "Then, thank you, Daddy?"

Lin Mo: "..."

"Heh~"

So, when a person is speechless, they really do let out a little laugh.

Fine, fine, fine. He used to wonder how there could be a "Thousand-Hand Guanyin" in this world; it turns out it's just someone who can't swing their hands fast enough.

Immediately, the more Lin Mo thought about it, the angrier he got. He lunged forward, hooked his "shop brother's" neck, and spoke in a gentle, smiling voice

"If you dare pull that crap on me again, I'll shove an umbrella up your ass and then pop it open. You hear me?!"

Li Chuan: (ΩДΩ)

(End of Chapter)