I am destined to turn to ashes.

As a professional football player, especially one from China, after leaving his original world, Bai Haonan only lacked basic life skills—like washing clothes and cooking—but he certainly didn’t lack social abilities. In fact, he was more adept than most, as his frequent success with women could attest. Since he had conquered these university students on the football field, he carried himself with an air of superiority, always smiling but saying little, as if simply playing along to pass the time, his inscrutable demeanor making the students sincerely admire him. They all called him “brother,” seeing him as more worldly than themselves. At some point, he had taken off his mask, revealing a face with a thick beard, older-looking than the rest. The university students, quick-tongued as they were, didn’t mind calling him that.

The group settled down with laughter, some bringing new friends. As usual, Bai Haonan refused the cigarettes offered to him, his reasoning as straightforward as ever: “If you want strong lungs after forty, don’t smoke. Moderate drinking can help with circulation, but smoking has no benefits. I never smoke.” Perhaps Bai Haonan had always understood that his carefree life depended on his body, so he maintained certain boundaries. As a professional athlete, he never consumed anything of dubious origin, and when indulging in quick, uncertain pleasures, he always took precautions—habits that demonstrated his cautious, shrewd nature.

After another round of admiring remarks, the students began playing cards in noisy chaos. Bai Haonan blended quietly into the group, accumulating small winnings without drawing attention. Today, though, he occasionally joined the conversation, asking, for example, if anyone had heard about duck bars on the local bar street.

This topic made the students fall silent for a moment before erupting into uncontrollable laughter. Some laughed so hard they cried and sniffled. Bai Haonan was baffled, but a few students quickly explained, patting him on the shoulder. It turned out that one of them, sitting right there, had once dreamed of becoming a duck—a male escort—thinking it would be perfect: get paid for sex. For a young man in his prime, what could be better? So, in his sophomore year, he actually tried it.

He wasn’t embarrassed, instead airing his grievances with a touch of class resentment: “Naive! Foolish! Misled by certain online novels, thinking that lonely female celebrities or powerful women would seek out ducks. If I could hook one, I’