Chapter 10: Looked Down Upon Once Again

Jingdong Mall was clearly for nobodies.
He’d been waiting to play PUBG at full 4K with maxed-out settings on a four-way “Titan” setup, and had placed his order before 9 a.m., yet it wasn’t delivered until 11:30?
The strong never apologize, but the Jingdong delivery guy obviously lacked confidence, apologizing over and over for being late. The quality of a company starts at the top; Liu Dongqiang was a pauper himself, so it was no wonder he trained his staff to be so mediocre.
Though the Demon King looked down on them, Ma Weimin was actually quite pleased. Since they hadn’t delivered it by helicopter, this delivery time was already impressive. It was merely the poverty of the milk tea mogul’s imagination—hardly the fault of grassroots workers.
He handed a good cigarette to the courier, plus a five-star review.
The tech nerd assembling the PC was also a nobody, but strangely, the Demon King’s body didn’t reject the task; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it.
So he squatted in the downstairs living room, assembling a gaming computer.
Damn it.
Too long without touching hardware, and too much money had led to overactive imagination—turns out even tech nerds make mistakes.
Only then did he realize that NVIDIA had crippled this generation, only supporting two-way GPU SLI. The infamous Intel was its chief accomplice—he’d spent nearly twenty grand on a CPU, only to get a measly forty-some PCIE direct lanes. Exclude the SSDs, and two Titans maxed it out.
NVIDIA’s CEO, old Huang, was something else. Thinking “it’s good enough” and pulling a stunt like this on me. He’s got the skills of a butcher, but when it comes to high tech, his peasant mindset severely limits his vision.
Intel—better left unsaid, since “it’s my company”—has lost all integrity and is now a toothpaste factory. When the Demon King was twelve, he helped them design the Core architecture that stunned a whole generation of techies. Back then, Core was so cool and stylish, and once released, who could compete? AMD’s K8 empire was shattered overnight.
Yet for all these years since, they’ve just coasted, never striving for more.
These people always think “good enough” will do, but what they don’t know is, only nobodies squeeze every drop of performance. Take Ni Feihong’s car—it can hit 330, but she drives it out at ten.
So now, forced to use only two Titans for gaming, 4K max settings can’t even hit a locked 240fps for the esports monitor—hardly up to my standards!
Thus, Ma Weimin was nearly schizophrenic, sitting on the floor in a frenzy, assembling the machine while lost in random thoughts.
The clock struck noon.
Tao Zi, after a long sleep, came downstairs in her pajamas, a mug in hand, yawning incessantly. “Xiao Ma, what are you doing?”
What the—
Ma Weimin put down his tools to greet her, but she turned her back, filled her mug, yawned again, and went back upstairs. She’d only asked out of idle curiosity.
So Ma Weimin lowered his head and finished cable management.

“By the way.” Tao Zi paused on the stairs.
Ma Weimin looked up. “Need a hand?”
“Nothing you can help with. Just tidy all this up, will you? I have friends coming over soon, and it’s a mess.” With that, she went upstairs.
It was a bit messy, but easy to fix. He went outside and asked a cleaning auntie if she wanted the cardboard boxes. She showered him with praise, promising to take care of the trash here from now on…
After some rounds of gaming at max settings, bullying elementary schoolers, he still found the setup unimpressive and stopped playing, then went downstairs. Just in time to see Chen Xiao, Tao Zi, and their guest eating takeout. The visitor was another beauty—sultry, voluptuous.
In terms of allure, the guest was no less than Tao Zi, but she clearly wasn’t a model. Her appeal was of a different sort; she couldn’t showcase the beauty of clothing, only her own.
Some people look good dressed, some look good naked—a notion only the wealthy would entertain.
“Oh, there’s a handsome guy hiding here. Whose is he?” the guest teased.
She said it playfully, barely glancing at Xiao Ma. In her eyes, looks weren’t food, though some bald monks could provide good opportunities. In that sense, her circle’s standards were higher than Tao Zi’s.
“Sis Ling, don’t get the wrong idea. He’s not with us—just a roommate, currently unemployed,” Tao Zi said.
“If that’s the case, it’s dull. Don’t know what you’re thinking, mixing people with different tastes and circles—different worldviews, can’t be pleasant,” Sis Ling said in a practical tone.
Then, in a successful-woman manner, she turned to Ma Weimin: “Some handsome faces can be a meal ticket, but you’re a bit old, and I don’t see you as the type with the temperament or character for it. What’s your name? Why aren’t you working?”
Xiao Ma sneered.
“Handsome, are you afraid to answer?” Sis Ling crossed her legs, showing off her pedigree Italian minimalist sandals.
Is this my cue to show off?
A supercomputer with dual Titans might impress nerds but not this enchantress; but if I whipped out my Hermès backpack, she’d have to take notice. Just like how cardboard boxes impressed the cleaning lady, and premium cigarettes and five-star reviews awed the JD courier.
Ma Weimin stared at the ceiling, thinking, and felt the schizophrenia coming on again.
Chen Xiao thought they were going too far. Was there any point in picking on Xiao Ma? He hadn’t bothered anyone—Chen Xiao couldn’t see what was so objectionable about him.
“It’s not that serious. Ma Weimin never claimed to live off his looks. He’s like me, in a transition period—still young, hasn’t hurt anyone,” Chen Xiao defended.
Being talked back to made Sis Ling unhappy, but she said no more.
Under the table, Tao Zi nudged Chen Xiao and whispered, “Don’t cross her—my friendship with her isn’t that deep yet. She’s got powerful people behind her, and if you want to sign with our company, you have to get past her. I have to watch her mood myself.”

So Chen Xiao realized she couldn’t afford to offend anyone, and made a face at Xiao Ma in secret.
People who’ve seen the world aren’t fond of glib talkers; perhaps only naive girls in school are swayed by that. For this reason, Ma Weimin’s taciturn nature didn’t really bother Tao Zi or Sis Ling—they just thought he was a lazy, slightly neurotic nobody. Maybe he even had a vendetta against his own brain.
Sis Ling considered and said, “Xiao Ma, you’re not cut out for this, not enough talent. But if you’re willing to start at the bottom, maybe you’ll get a shot. How about this: come talk to me. I’ll assess you. I’m not a big shot in the industry, but I have contacts and what I say carries weight. If I think you’re suitable, you might have a chance.”
Ma Weimin shook his head—no need.
“Oh, got a temper?” Sis Ling was a little put out. “Maybe I was out of line. I thought if you were jobless and moved in here, you wanted into this business.”
Chen Xiao shot Xiao Ma a worried look—she thought he’d just missed an opportunity, one she herself was desperate for.
Sis Ling patted Chen Xiao’s shoulder: “Don’t bother. You can’t wake someone pretending to sleep.”
Oh? So I’m pretending to sleep now?
Xiao Ma continued his carefree musings.
Tao Zi’s mood soured as well; she shot Ma Weimin a reproachful look, worried Sis Ling might blame her for the bad atmosphere.
But she was overthinking it—Yang Ling was just a big-sister type, not a lunatic.
Yang Ling, exuding self-assurance, checked her Vacheron Constantin watch: “Enough sitting around—let’s go to the office. This is peak season for several top international brands; women’s features are packed tight. Feihong decided at the last minute to add an issue—almost all second-tier photographers are off rest, and even so, there aren’t enough to cover it all.”
Only now did Tao Zi relax—there might be a chance to wear top brands? How had her luck turned around in just two days, after worrying about being a jinx?
Chen Xiao, by contrast, felt a sense of loss—she wasn’t even part of the company.
But Sis Ling pointed to her too: “You, come along. Not much time to assess you—Xiao Liu mentioned you a few times. We’re short-handed; you can come to the audition, but don’t embarrass me.”
Chen Xiao was flattered, quickly nodded, grabbed her bag, and followed them out.
Ma Weimin watched through the glass as they left in Big Sis Yang’s Volvo XC60.
He felt nothing in particular—the Demon King can’t be bothered with ants. So he headed upstairs for another round of games.
For some reason, this body had a fondness for computers—his mind was calmer and less plagued by stabbing headaches while gaming. Once he left the computer, wild thoughts ran rampant and it was as if his personality changed entirely…