Another Failed Love Confession
In front of a small stationery shop, a familiar figure came flying out.
His Zhongshan suit was buttoned all the way to the top. His hair was parted straight down the middle like Kim Jong Un. His face radiated innocence and pure sincerity.
It was Marvel—our most naive and hopelessly honest character.
He rolled twice across the sidewalk and quickly sprang back to his feet.
In his hand, he still held a small bouquet—just three roses, likely due to budget limitations.
Inside the store stood a beautiful young woman.
Her top had been completely ripped apart. She crossed her arms over her chest in rage and embarrassment.
“You sick freak!” she screamed. “If you ever come near here again, I’m calling the cops!”
Marvel took one desperate step forward and shouted:
“I admire you! I adore you! I worship you—from across the street!
The moment I first saw you, my heart exploded—my soul ignited!
I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t breathe—your beauty haunts me!
I just wanted to be near you, to touch you, to hold you—
No, not just hold you—grope you!
I wanted to grope your chest, your waist, your everything—
I wanted to melt into you, become one with your flesh!
Please! I’m not lying—I say this with pure love in my heart!!”
Before he could say anything else, a handful of fountain pens shot out of the store like throwing knives—sharp, fast, and headed straight for his groin.
Marvel dove to the side and barely dodged them.
One of the pens flew past him—
and struck a random jogger passing by.
It pierced her heart.
She collapsed immediately, dying on the spot.
Marvel froze.
Cold sweat trickled down his neck.
“…Oh sh*t.”
And just like that, he dropped everything—including love—and ran.
Seducing the Elderly
After a long morning of rejection, Marvel was physically and emotionally drained.
He walked into a convenience store and bought himself a bottle of Pepsi. Cracking open the tab with a snap, he took a deep swig and let out a loud, satisfied “Ahhh—”.
Instantly, his insulin and dopamine levels surged.
His energy returned. His mood lifted.
He was fully restored.
Full of new life, Marvel continued his quest.
He held his little bouquet of three roses and strolled down the sidewalk, eyes scanning for his next romantic target.
As he passed a large industrial dumpster, he noticed someone lying beside it—a tall man, about 6’3″, wearing filthy, torn clothes with a huge belly exposed.
It was Tom.
Tom was peacefully napping on the ground during his lunch break, enjoying life like a human cat under the open sky.
Marvel glanced at him and muttered judgmentally:
“People like him don’t want to work. No wonder he’s homeless. Not worth anyone’s pity.”
He kept walking.
A few minutes later, at a quiet intersection, he spotted an elderly woman hunched over with age, shuffling slowly across the street.
Marvel paused.
Maybe I should try someone easier, he thought. Build my confidence first… just get one success… validate my charm score… and then go after the more difficult targets.
He approached the old woman, bouquet in hand.
At first, he planned to confess his feelings sincerely—but the moment her mouth opened to speak, something felt off.
He couldn’t even fake it properly.
Marvel blurted out:
“I… I love ya… your… hunched back…”
Even he didn’t know what he was saying.
It was random. Completely unhinged.
The old lady slowly stepped closer… then smacked him across the face—hard.
“Young man,” she scolded. “This goofy lifestyle of yours will get you nowhere. Go home and study if you’ve got time to waste!”
Then, without hesitation, she snatched the Pepsi can right out of Marvel’s hand—he had only taken two sips.
She poured the remaining soda onto the street, dumped the empty can into a black garbage bag, and shuffled off while grumbling:
“Back in the day, young men worked hard and said little. Nowadays, they beg their parents for soda money and spend the day wandering aimlessly with flowers.”
The Kung Fu Dog
Marvel kept walking along the main road, feeling defeated, helpless, and lonely.
He thought to himself, If I can’t even seduce an old lady… who the hell can I seduce?
As he passed a convenience store, he noticed a large golden retriever tied to a parking meter pole.
The dog barked wildly at him.
Marvel was furious.
“Even dogs look down on me now?!” he shouted.
He decided to take out all of his pent-up frustration on the dog.
He stepped back, swung his leg, and aimed a harsh kick right at the dog’s nose.
But right before impact, the dog stood up on its hind legs and crossed its front paws in front of its face—blocking the strike perfectly.
Marvel froze.
“Holy fuck…” he whispered in shock.
The dog, still standing upright like a human, launched a flurry of claw swipes toward him.
Marvel’s clothes were shredded in seconds—only the topmost button and a thin loop of fabric from his Zhongshan suit remained wrapped around his neck like a collar.
Then, in one smooth motion, the dog flipped backward and double-kicked Marvel in the chest.
Marvel was sent flying several meters, skidding along the ground before finally coming to a stop.
The dog sprinted after him but was suddenly yanked back by the leash, which had reached its full length.
With its front paws stretched forward, hind legs planted firmly on the ground, and head arched toward the sky, the dog barked madly in Marvel’s direction.
When Marvel was kicked, his bouquet of three roses flew from his hand and landed near the dog.
He didn’t dare go back for it.
He turned and ran away as fast as he could.
Who would’ve thought… even a dog knows Kung Fu?!
A Glimpse of God
Marvel kept walking down the street with his upper body still half-naked, wandering aimlessly.
Frustration. Loneliness. Helplessness.
All of it weighed heavy in his chest.
Suddenly, from up ahead—around a street corner—he heard a girl’s voice crying out:
“Don’t come any closer! You perverted freak!”
The words jolted him. Curiosity kicked in.
And honestly, what else did he have to do?
He sped up and headed straight for the corner.
As he got close, a strange golden light flashed—just for a second—then vanished.
And after that… silence.
No screaming. No running.
Just eerie quiet.
Marvel cautiously peeked around the corner.
It was a dead end.
Standing there, with his back to Marvel, was a man in a floral shirt, blazer, and slacks.
Even from behind, the figure was unmistakable.
It was PhD.
In front of him stood a girl in heels, staring off into space with a blank, almost dreamlike expression.
Then, without warning, tears began to stream down her cheeks.
She stepped toward him slowly, like she was drawn by some invisible force.
And in a trembling voice, she said:
“I love you… I’ve missed you so much it hurts…”
PhD gently reached out his right hand and stroked her hair.
His voice was soft, calm:
“It’s okay. It’s all over now. I’m right here.”
Marvel gasped.
“That’s him… that’s the man… the guru… the god… the living legend…”
Not only was PhD standing right there—he was demonstrating a live, unscripted romance technique tutorial, right in front of Marvel’s eyes.
And somehow, it felt sacred.
Marvel didn’t feel jealousy. Not even a little.
Just pure admiration.
He watched with his whole heart, holding his breath like a monk in a holy ceremony—too respectful to make even a sound, afraid to disturb the perfect rhythm unfolding before him.
The Sacred Act
PhD gently stroked the girl’s hair, his fingers trailing down to her earlobes. He brushed them tenderly—then touched her cheek, her jawline, tracing it like it was something precious.
With a soft voice, he murmured,
“All these years… every day, every night, I’ve thought of you. Did you know that?”
The girl leaned in, resting her head against his chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist.
“Really?” she whispered. “I’m just… so happy to see you again. I missed you so much it actually hurt.”
PhD placed both hands lightly on her shoulders—right on the fabric of her tank top—and slowly slid it down. Inch by inch, the top slipped off. Within seconds, the girl’s entire upper body was bare.
“I think a lot of people might see,” she said softly. “But… it’s okay. I’ll use my body to shield you.”
From a short distance away, Marvel watched with wide, unblinking eyes.
But PhD’s broad shoulders blocked everything.
Marvel clenched his fists and muttered under his breath,
“Damn it… could you just lean a little to the side?!”
Then the two started kissing—deeply.
PhD caressed her body with expert hands, every motion slow and deliberate.
Marvel’s face flushed bright red. His ears, too. His blood was rushing fast through his veins, his heart pounding wildly—
ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—
Then he saw it.
PhD’s meat stick—at least thirty centimeters long—rose into view like a divine artifact. It pulsed once. Then again. Like it had its own heartbeat.
PhD’s hands softly pressed on the girl’s shoulders.
And with graceful submission, she sank to her knees.
She closed her eyes. Then leaned forward.
Her tongue slowly licked along the base, tracing it with affection.
Then—calmly, deliberately—she opened her mouth… and began to take the whole thing in, inch by inch, as if savoring a sacred experience.
From the shadows, Marvel stared—motionless.
His eyes focused like a student at a masterclass.
He promised himself:
“I have to remember every move… Every angle… Every rhythm… I’m gonna learn from this.”
The Taste of Romance
PhD closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly upward, savoring every second of pleasure. His hands gently cupped both sides of the girl’s head, his fingers guiding the rhythm and speed like a maestro conducting a symphony.
Her movements began slow and tender… then gradually quickened—faster, more intense. She panted softly as her pace accelerated, and soon, saliva streamed from her lips, dribbling down the shaft and glistening under the dim streetlight. It nearly touched the pavement.
After five, maybe ten minutes, PhD’s body gave a small tremble.
Everything stopped.
The girl slowly rose to her feet, her expression glowing with quiet joy. A faint smile spread across her face, even as a small trail of thick white fluid clung to the edge of her mouth.
They redressed calmly.
PhD took out a tissue and gently wiped her lips clean. Then, in a low voice filled with warmth, he said:
“You’re amazing… You really are the one I love most in this life.”
Tears filled her eyes again. She replied:
“Darling… I don’t know when we’ll meet again. Please… come see me often. I’m scared of losing you again.”
They held hands and began walking down the street, whispering sweetly to each other. Michael thought he overheard something about seeing a movie together.
He stood frozen in place, his expression still dazed.
His breath was uneven, his mind foggy, his cheeks burning red like apples. He was dizzy, flushed, overwhelmed.
“Is this… love?” he wondered.
Then, like a light bulb flicking on, an idea struck him.
He decided: starting tomorrow, he would follow PhD everywhere. Every step. Every move. He had to observe. He had to study. Because buried in PhD’s every gesture, every glance, was the ultimate secret…
The secret of seduction.