Reborn as a high school freshman with an awakened system, a fat boy transforms into a male god.

After breakfast, Lin Bei helped Su Wantang clear the dishes and then returned to his own home.

Today is Sunday, no school, and my mother is off work. She had just gotten up and was washing vegetables in the kitchen in her pajamas, her hair casually tied in a bun. She looked five years younger than usual.

Hearing the door open, Wang Xiulan poked her head out: "You're back? I'll start cooking now, don't rush me!"

"Mom, I ate. I ate at the neighbor's place across the street."

Wang Xiulan was stunned for a moment, the vegetable leaf in her hand hanging in mid-air, water droplets dripping down the veins of the leaf.

"Did Wan Tang cook this?"

Lin Bei blushed and nodded.

Wang Xiulan smiled, a smile that contained a sense of satisfaction that "my son has made something of himself," a hint of gossip that "this is interesting," and a touch of restraint that "I have to hold back my smile so it won't be too obvious or my son will get angry."

"Great, you're eating someone else's cooking now."

"Mom, it's not what you think."

"Mom didn't say anything," Wang Xiulan paused, "but that girl is very outstanding, you'd better work hard."

"Mom..." Lin Bei didn't know what to say.

Forget it, I won't explain anymore. Explaining is just covering up, and covering up is just telling a story.

"Alright, study more when you have time! Only when you are good enough will there be fewer obstacles." Wang Xiulan turned around and continued washing vegetables, but the smile on her lips never faded.

He suddenly remembered a joke he'd seen online: When your mom urges you to date, she says, "Look at Aunt Wang's son next door, he's already had three girlfriends." When your mom doesn't urge you to date, she says, "Get yourself sorted out first."

[The host's mother's parenting philosophy can be summarized as "laissez-faire parenting." The core idea of ​​this approach is: I support your efforts, and I won't criticize you if you give up, but you have to let me know you're trying. The host's current performance rating is B+. Still one "other people's child" away from being truly outstanding.]

[System Supplementary Explanation: This "other people's child" does not refer to Su Wantang. The host's current level is three "other people's children" short of being a match for Su Wantang. The system suggests the host treat this as motivation, not as a blow. Although the system's words do indeed have a negative effect, the system's intention is good.]

Lin Bei walked into the bedroom and sat down at his desk.

He took out his phone and opened the notes app.

"Rebirth of the Strongest Male God" already has a thousand words. He flipped through the section he wrote last night, read it once, and thought it was alright.

It's not "amazingly good," it's "at least not disgusting." For someone writing a novel for the first time, "not disgusting" is already a high compliment. It's like cooking for the first time; if the dish isn't burnt, overly salty, or causes food poisoning... that's a success.

He continued writing. With the memory palace, writing novels became different. He could "see" the novel fragments stored in his mind—the pacing of *Battle Through the Heavens*, the distribution of exciting moments, the tension of the dialogue. It wasn't plagiarism, it was "reference."

Just like learning to paint requires copying, learning to write requires tracing. He first imitated those "beautiful" writing styles, and gradually found his own rhythm.

I wrote for about an hour, and then wrote another 800 words. Adding that to the previous 1,000, it's almost enough for a chapter.

He posted the chapter online, then leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

I don't know if anyone will read this.

[The system has detected that the host is experiencing "post-publication anxiety." Symptoms include: repeatedly refreshing the page, doubting one's own writing quality, and considering deleting the post and running away. The system suggests the host go for a run to convert anxiety into calories. After running, check back; if you still want to delete the post, it means it's truly poorly written. The system recommends deletion.]

Lin Bei: Your way of encouraging people is truly unique.

The system doesn't encourage people; it encourages efficiency. If it's well-written, continue; if it's poorly written, delete and start over. This is called "iterative creation." Major internet companies all do this. Although these companies iterate on products, while the host iterates on novels, the essence is similar: both involve creating and revising simultaneously, crying while revising, and then continuing after the tears.

Lin Bei did not delete it.

It wasn't because he wasn't anxious, but because after refreshing the page more than ten times, he finally got his first favorite.

1 favorite.

He stared at the number for a few seconds, then turned off his phone.

Even a single click is still a click. Even if the person clicked the wrong thing, he still considers it encouragement.

Lin Bei spent the afternoon doing math problems.

A 70-point IQ combined with the memory palace technique creates a truly remarkable experience. A function problem that used to take him half an hour to solve can now be solved in fifteen minutes. This isn't because he's become significantly smarter, but because he can remember all the examples he's worked on.

The steps for every problem, the thought process behind every method, and the patterns of every trap are all stored in his mind. When solving problems, he doesn't need to "think," he only needs to "search."

Found it, applied it, and solved it.

[Host's math homework accuracy: 87%. A 12 percentage point improvement from last week. System evaluation: From "barely passing" to "fairly acceptable." Still a long way to go to become a "top student," but at least no longer a "poor student."]

Lin Bei glanced at the "87%" and closed the textbook.

My phone vibrated in the evening.

Su Wantang sent a message: "My dad is back."

Lin Bei replied with a single word: "Mm".

He didn't know what to say. "That's good then"? That would be too perfunctory. "Is your dad alright?" What could possibly be wrong with his dad? "Then let's not sell the house?" He'd already asked.

He thought about it and decided that instead of dwelling on those heavy topics, it would be better to ask something more practical.

Have you had dinner?

"Not yet. We're just about to start."

"Don't bother making it, my mom made braised fish, I'll take it over."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then a single word was replied: "Okay."

Lin Bei put down his phone and went into the kitchen.

Wang Xiulan was busy at the stove, where a grass carp was stewing in a pot. The broth was bubbling and the aroma of scallions, ginger, and garlic mixed with the salty fragrance of soy sauce filled the entire kitchen.

"Mom, is the fish ready yet?"

"Almost done, just five more minutes." Wang Xiulan glanced back at him. "Should we send it to 502?"

"Um."

Wang Xiulan didn't say anything, took a food container from the cupboard, and placed it next to the stove.

When the fish was done cooking, she first ladled out a bowl for Lin Bei, then put the rest into a food storage container, and then ladled out a bowl of rice and wrapped it in an insulated bag.

"Go."

Lin Bei took the insulated bag, walked to the door of 502, and knocked on the door.

The door opened.

Su Wantang stood behind the door, wearing a light pink loungewear set, her hair loose, her face showing a hint of fatigue, but her eyes were bright.

"Here you go." Lin Bei handed over the insulated bag.

Su Wantang took it, glanced at it, and then looked up at him.

"Lin Bei".

"Um."

"Are you coming for breakfast tomorrow morning?"

Lin Bei was taken aback.

He assumed today's breakfast was a one-time thing, a return gift for "thank you for your help." But her saying "I'll do it again" meant it wasn't a one-time thing, and that she was willing to continue making it.

"Come here," he said.

Su Wantang smiled slightly, nodded gently, and then closed the door.

Click.

Lin Bei stood in the corridor, his heart beating a little fast.

[Host, trading a bowl of braised fish for breakfast is a good deal. The cost of the ingredients is about fifteen yuan, and the emotional gain... is immeasurable. The system can only say that Su Wantang closed the door 0.3 seconds slower than a few days ago. This means she didn't want to close the door so quickly. Although 0.3 seconds is short, it's enough to make a fat person's heart race.]

Lin Bei turned around and went back into the house.

In the evening, he continued writing his novel.

With the experience gained during the day, he wrote more smoothly than before. After the first update was posted, the number of favorites increased from 1 to 3. The comment section was still empty; no one was criticizing, and no one was praising. It was as quiet as a patch of snow that hadn't been trampled on yet.

But he didn't stop.

I wrote for about two hours and finished another chapter. Two thousand words. I sent it out and then turned off my phone.

After finishing the push-ups, lie down on the bed.

I closed my eyes, and the scenes from this morning automatically replayed in my mind.

Su Wantang sat opposite him, head down, drinking her porridge. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on her profile and making her eyelashes gleam. The moment she looked up, her eyes shone, a smile played on her lips, and she was like a painting.

He stored that image in his memory palace and labeled it: "Su Wantang, eating breakfast, September 9, 2012".

Then he turned over and buried his face in the pillow.

Damn it, he thought, this memory palace is too clear. So clear that he can count how many eyelashes she has.

[Host, the system reminds you: the memory palace is for studying, not for storing photos of female classmates. Although the system does not restrict the content stored, your behavior... the system suggests that you at least add a password to the folder.]

Lin Bei: ...