Chapter 12 The Video Call
Memory confusion was a classic trope in novels anyway.
And since I was a transmigrator, incomplete memories made sense. They mistook it for confusion—fair enough.
But... why did everything deviate so much from the original story?
This was too confusing.
My phone pinged.
I opened it. A video from Liang Ye.
In a packed hexagonal cage, sweat soaked every inch of the man's skin.
Jaw clenched tight, he slammed a heavy fist that knocked his opponent flat.
Even through the screen, the force of each hit came through sharp and heavy.
It was footage from one of Liang Ye's past matches.
"Come cheer for me."
So blunt.
But... they said men lost their minds when adrenaline and testosterone spiked.
Maybe this was my chance to ask him some things.
Action followed thought.
Less than an hour later, I reached the venue.
His friend got me inside, right up against the cage—closest possible spot to Liang Ye.
Through the mesh, his gaze locked on mine. Pure aggression.
Punch after punch landed with meaty thuds. Sweat flew. Up close, I could see every muscle quiver.
The initial strangeness faded. With each blow he landed, my voice turned into wild, frantic cheering.
Sure enough, men in that state really had no brain left.
So when Liang Ye leaned in to kiss me right after victory, I didn't dodge.
Amid the roaring cheers of the crowd, two hearts pounded hard against each other.
"Not dodging me anymore?"
His voice came out hoarse.
But I forgot one thing.
Boxing matches get broadcast.
So when I got home that night and saw four people in the living room,
the sky fell again.