From my previous description I'm sure you also understand how hard it is to be a side character. Of course, those aren't the only aspects which are troublesome either, but now let's not talk about them yet, as I'm sure they'll also make themselves clear in the story to follow. So you understand how important it is to have a good character settings, and the most important part is to get a citizenship protagonist halo. You'll understand that sentence eventually. In the novel's world, all characters, all resources are in service of the protagonist. Exactly to what degree depends on how much like a real mom the author is. Characters that are taken care of by a real mom instead of stepmom have great differences, especially in relation to how likely the character will end up half-dead. This type of background connection is also important.
Now that my background information has been made clear, it's time to talk about my story.
Like I said, this is a transmigration cultivation story, so clearly the protagonist here is transmigrated. Like the tens of thousands of other protagonists, he died due to the deployment of rampaging plot devices by the authors, then has managed to regain their lives due to the author's whims in this world. The plot starts then. As for this protagonist, how he died is this. One day he was riding a train, which was delayed because of a mudslide in the path. When the train is stopped, for some reason the train doors are open. Our silly little Mr. protagonist thought the train has arrived at its destination and walked outside, but he didn't know that the train is just stopped on top of a bridge. He successfully landed onto a river from a bridge in the sky, and unsurprisingly the landed was a failure and our Mr. protagonist has arrived at my world.
Of course, this backstory setting is not that ludicrous when you consider the prospects of those transmigrating via toilet, but… feel free to diss this setting if you want.
If you've finished your digression, then I'll continue my story.
The plot will be starting now.
To be honest, I'm a bit nervous.
You have to understand that everything in our world exists in service of the protagonist. He's literally the world's favourite child, he's the centre of the whole universe. I knew about that since I was young. I don't know if you can understand this feeling, but in a sense, I'm about to meet the most important person of my life. Not to jump the gun or anything, but if I have a good relationship with him then I have less of a chance to have to take my packed lunch too.
After the protagonist fail in his bungee jump attempt, he will be reborn on a child who died due to being hunted by his own family. That kid is thrown into the wilds by his stepmother because of his identity and problems with his family inheritance, and his stepmother is planning to finish him off there. Though the stepmother did not expect that… or rather, she did know that outside of her character setting… that this child is the future protagonist. While we're at it, the child truly has it hard. He was born just to give up his body to the protagonist, and die as young as he is. I don't know what his stepmother thinks, as she is just another tragic cannon fodder. Outside of the plot, perhaps she doesn't want to do this either, but this can't be helped. Anyway, the events progress as they do, and this child will die, then the centre of this universe will arrive.
In terms of plot, he'll be here today and be picked up by me. So to protect the favourite child of the world, I've crouched by the river since early morning, waiting for our protagonist to be washed downstream. This is quite the difficult task too, since in summer there's quite a lot of mosquitoes by the riverside. When considering the visual aspect of my appearing in the plot I can't get stung because to appear with his face and hand all covered in red dots is hardly fitting with the image of a cool, imposing, wild, impressive and arrogant, tall, rich and handsome side character, which is why I've sprayed mosquito repellent on myself early on. Though people who've used that probably know as well that under the attack of swarms of mosquitoes they're just about nil in effectiveness. As someone who mosquitoes like to bite, red dots have inevitably appeared on my skin. It's a good thing they're not somewhere blatantly visible, so I can only wrap my clothes tight under the boiling sun and keeping watch upstream.
I've been waiting for a really long time, but this is a very important thing, since he is the protagonist. It's one thing when the author is torturing the protagonist, but to give additional hardships to the protagonist outside of the plot is a whole other thing.
Anyway, after waiting for a long time, I'm finally able to see a piece of clothing floating downstream, sinking and surfacing as it goes. You can't imagine how thrilled I am at that moment. While my mission is to save someone, I'm not that good at swimming, actually. In any case, as a male deuteragonist who is cool, imposing, wild, impressive and arrogant, it will be quite the shattering to my image if I were to jump into the water and end up soaked. So I jump up, landing on a rock by the water, and then fishes the protagonist up in one fell swoop. You can laugh at me, since even though the protagonist is still in a child's body right now, he's quite heavy actually, and almost dragged me who underestimated his weight down into the water. Though, since this is my first appearance, it's the moment the first image of me forming in the readers' and protagonist's mind… Even though, soaked as he is, the protagonist probably can't see me. Mm. In terms of the current situation, I think I've managed to secure my image well in any case.
As you know, a side character, or a male deuteragonist that I am, the image of my cool, imposing, wild, impressive and arrogant self is built upon a handsome and attractive appearance. Like many of my seniors in this field have said, a good male deuteragonist is a male deuteragonist with a perfect appearance. Why? First you'll have to be seen with a style of being so handsome that you can't be observed with the naked eye in the minds of the reader, and then couple that up with high-class skills and the aura that is out-of-this-world. All in all, you'll have to be cooler and more handsome than the initial protagonist, with a certain chance that the ladies who the protagonist are in love with will fall in love with you. All so that the groundwork for my future stomping will be laid out.
Anyway, so I carried the protagonist back with some effort. I'm sure you understand, because even though this child should be very light because he's never well-fed, but that is only on the surface of the plot. In truth he probably has not been tortured in any sense of the word. I don't know what a child who knows he will die at age 14 might think, or what his stepmother will think as the child goes to die like that in accordance with the plot, but given this child does not really have wounds from torture besides some wounds that are clearly only added in as an after thought after his death, I'm sure his stepmother didn't hate him that much.
While thinking all of these messy thoughts, I've brought him to the grounds of my Icy Mountain Sect, then I've left him in my guest room. As the head disciple, my place is certainly slightly bigger than other people's houses, and it's also a separate house. That said, it is just a single-storey house with one room and one living, without much furniture to speak of. People who cultivate have to study hard, after all, and I'm not demanding with my living standards too. I knew that the protagonist is coming, so I've already laid bedsheets on the floor, so I have no problems settling him in. Not to mention that our protagonist is still unconscious so he won't be complaining any time soon.
Though, in the end, I couldn't just stay heartless like that, so I tended to his wounds and cleaned him well before I put him onto the bed while I slept on the ground. It's still summer so the ground is cool enough. The protagonist is so soaked he looks like he's bulging, so it would be too much if I make him catch a cold on top of that. Sometimes I lament my own hard life too, just think about it, how difficult it is to was to clean a child who is soft like a pile of wet dirt and with wounds all over him that needs to avoid contact with water? He is small, but even so, you know.
The plot has just started, and it will only get harder from now on.
The protagonist will wake up on the morning of the third day, so the two days where there is no plot progression my home has been visited by countless people. Something like the protagonist is even more valuable than pandas, since there's many of them, but the protagonist is unique to the world. It's incomparable, really. As the author of this world is a real mom, so even if you weren't curious, it's quite important to come and remember the look of the protagonist so that you don't cross him by accident outside the plot afterwards. I'm sure you have seen all those mobs and cannon fodders that angered the protagonist and end up dead by his hands in many novels. Really, any person capable of rational thought won't be interested in making those kinds of dumb provocations.
Those who are destined to die due to the plot have all come to spectate with a brave and fierce look on their face. My men… Thank you for all your sacrifice, thank you.
Though there's nobody that has it easy, in any case.
The number of people visiting my house has reached historical records, so much so that I don't even bother greeting them by the latter half. My character setting is an expressionless ice-cold mountain anyway, it's not out of character for me to ignore people anyway. Everyone understands my hardships as well, so all they do is enter, watch the protagonist, watch him some more, then get chased away by people queueing behind them, rinse and repeat. I do try my best to maintain the cleanliness of my floor normally, but because of the high traffic volume, the standard has been falling and falling. I don't really mind onlookers per se, but I can't stand my floor being dirty at all. In the end I chased everyone out. The end result is that there's faces of anguish plastered all over my windows, shocking me every time I walk by, but with the general cleanliness and especially that of my floor at its peak throughout the two days, who cares?
Third day morning, I got kicked awake.
Perhaps I should have expected that and moved my bedsheets on the floor further from the bed, but since the status of the protagonist has been bettering and worsening at times all these nights, it was easier for me to take care of when I'm sleeping close by.
The protagonist who just stepped on me also clearly didn't expect there to be someone by the bed, and slips and falls onto me. It is quite painful for something of his volume and mass to have dropped onto me, so I didn't manage to say anything for a while, and I just stared blankly at the protagonist who has fallen onto me. In the end, the protagonist breaks the silence, and asks, "who are you?"