Afterward, the two of them headed to Shiwen’s room.
The room had a simple layout: a bed, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, a storage cabinet, a desk, and a computer desk with its chair. Taped to the wall above the headboard was a poster of Guan Zhilin.
The desk sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, facing the bed directly, while the computer desk and chair stood adjacent to it.
Yang Haoran told Shiwen to grab the game controllers and Little Overlord first. While Shiwen rummaged through the storage cabinet, Yang Haoran settled into the computer chair and powered up the PC with practiced ease.
“Found it. Haven’t played in forever—hope it’s not busted,” Zhou Shiwen said as he pulled out a rectangular box from the cabinet. He opened it to reveal a pair of black game controllers, the Little Overlord card reader, and a stack of game cartridges.
These were childhood treasures for both of them. Back in the day, games didn’t come crammed onto a single CD; each cartridge held just one title, and the Little Overlord had been the era’s bestseller for reading them.
“Bring it over here. Should be fine. If nothing happens, give it a puff of air,” Yang Haoran said while plugging his USB drive into the tower. He navigated the computer and started copying the drive’s files over to Shiwen’s G: drive.
Once the progress bar appeared, all they could do was wait patiently.
Watching the bar crawl along, Yang Haoran figured it would take at least an hour or two to finish. That gave him plenty of time to kill.
The controllers and Little Overlord were mostly cover, just in case Aunt Shen walked in—they needed an excuse.
Zhou Shiwen plugged the Little Overlord into the computer, then connected the controllers to the ports on the back of the monitor. He grabbed a cartridge at random and slotted it into the reader.
“Is this one dead?” Zhou Shiwen asked when the screen stayed blank.
“Give it a blow,” Yang Haoran suggested.
“Nah, forget it. We’ll swap it out.” Zhou Shiwen shook his head. They weren’t really playing anyway; no way every single cartridge was broken.
He yanked out the dud, snatched another one offhandedly, and glanced at it. A long sticker on top read Fist King Fighter.
Without a second thought, he inserted it into the Little Overlord. A few seconds later, the reader’s light blinked a couple times and steadied.
The monitor popped up a game connection notice. “We’re good.”
With everything set, both of them grinned. The Little Overlord might be an antique these days, but damn if it wasn’t built like a tank.
“Haoran, how long’s this gonna take?” Zhou Shiwen asked, watching Yang Haoran fiddle with the Fist King Fighter menu.
He meant the video copy time, of course, and Yang Haoran got it right away. He thought for a moment. “Over an hour, probably. Here, you take the chair. If Aunt Shen comes in, just grab a controller and right-click—you can switch to the game screen in a flash.”
Yang Haoran clicked to start the game, navigated to the character select screen, then Alt-Tabbed back to the desktop where the progress bar ticked on. He stood up, yielding the seat to Shiwen.
“So we’re just gonna stare at this? Progress is only at 2%. Might as well game while we wait,” Zhou Shiwen suggested.
“No need. The copy can run on its own. Go ahead and check my USB first—see the quality. No boasting here, Shiwen; these are my handpicked uncensored HD gems. Open one up and you’ll see.” Yang Haoran winked exaggeratedly. No way was he letting them game; he had important business.
Zhou Shiwen flushed with embarrassment. Porn videos, after all—he was still a little shy about that stuff.
“Uh… that doesn’t feel right. Let’s just play games instead.” His face burned hotter with Haoran right there watching; he couldn’t relax.
Put simply, he was thin-skinned.
“It’s just a preview, not full-on watching,” Yang Haoran said, rolling his eyes. “These are my pride and joy, cherry-picked from thousands. Every type you can imagine, all neatly sorted. Super intense—don’t get too carried away.”
With Haoran pushing like that, Zhou Shiwen clicked the USB icon glowing in the screen’s top corner.
The window jumped open with a little pop-up, landing him in the drive’s directory. He double-clicked to dive in.
Folders sprang up in neat rows.
“Campus Schoolgirl Corruption Collection” “Campus Teacher Corruption Collection” “Cosplay Anime Collection” “Western Hotties Collection” “Mother-Son Incest Collection” “Green Mother Series Collection” “NTR in Front of Hubby Collection” “Gangbang Orgy Collection” “BDSM Training Collection” “Outdoor Exposure Collection” “Anime Hentai Collection”
A dazzling lineup of folders filled Zhou Shiwen’s screen, each with its own provocative label. His eyes bugged out as he scrolled through them one by one.
Suddenly, “Green Mother Series Collection” jumped out at him. His heart stuttered for a beat, his breath hitching sharply for a couple seconds. Before Yang Haoran could notice, he jerked his gaze away and kept scrolling, feigning casualness. “Isn’t this a bit much? So many categories for videos like these?”
“There’s way more out there,” Yang Haoran said, pointing at one. “Take the campus series—it’s split into students and teachers. Student ones are usually innocent cuties getting railed by teachers or school bigwigs. Teacher ones flip it: students gang up on them, that sort of thing.”
“Then you’ve got big categories like Western, anime, cosplay—endless subtypes. Training, exposure, cuckolding right in front of the husband… all subdivided. I just did rough sorts; the real breakdowns go way deeper.”
Yang Haoran spoke with the confidence of a seasoned vet, rattling off details effortlessly.
Zhou Shiwen’s shocked expression gave him that big-brother thrill of schooling a wide-eyed newbie. Grinning, Yang Haoran jabbed at another folder. “Check this one: Mother-Son Incest series. Not even that extreme. But look at Green Mother—doesn’t it just shatter your worldview? Incest is one thing, but these green-turtle cucks who get off on their own moms getting cheated on? Total perverts, right?”
His tone brimmed with mock astonishment as he shared the revelation, a touch in his voice—completely oblivious to how Zhou Shiwen’s face grew more and more unnatural with every word.
Lost in the joy of geeking out over his specialty with his best buddy, Yang Haoran didn’t notice a thing.
“Yeah, super perverted. Never thought people like that existed,” Zhou Shiwen replied, his expression one of righteous outrage as he swiftly changed the subject. “So… why do you even have stuff like that Green Mother collection?”
