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“Why does video recording trigger automatically?”
“It’s like how humans can’t help themselves. Whenever you experience emotional fluctuations, the action of recording a video is triggered.”
“I didn’t even realize I had emotional fluctuations. At the time, I was just in a bad mood.” If I’m really good at romance, and my previous test scores were high, wouldn’t gaining Jiang Huan’s affection be a piece of cake?
[Task 1-5: Actively use the visual camera function once.]
The die lit up beside him: “So confident?”
“If it’s just about collecting emotions, what’s the harm? After all, I’m an enforcer with a score of 4.90. It’s just social interaction—no need to worry.”
A VR world still in its early stages of development was halted by Bai Jingchuan—not because his abilities were extraordinary, but because he had the backing of the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods. Before Lori’s holographic series went to the exhibition, Bai Jingchuan was invited to tour other departments’ application scenarios. When he saw the “Afterlife Entrustment Project,” he paused for a moment. The boss was insistent on this project, placing great importance on emotional authenticity. Bai Jingchuan stood for a long time in front of a simulated father figure: tanned skin with sunburn marks, a crooked mouth, age spots on his face, drooping eyelids, tall but with a hunched back, yellowed fingertips from smoking. He wore clothes made of special materials that didn’t quite adhere perfectly to his skin, and his eyes followed whoever looked at him, his mouth moving to form corresponding expressions. Bai Jingchuan had seen similar figures in Magu City—unremarkable, likely NPCs or expendable characters in works. He didn’t quite understand why so much effort was spent creating such an image.
“Doesn’t he look like the classic Chinese father?”
“Mm.” Saying less meant revealing less about his limited understanding of the real world.
“The clothes can’t fully adhere to his skin; otherwise, the touch sensors sometimes trigger false alarms. His autonomous communication level is decent—he can initiate conversations based on programmed settings. Once communication reaches a certain depth, he’ll determine if you’re someone related to him. But indeed, there’s still a long way to go from machine to human.”
“Very advanced.” Bai Jingchuan observed the cutting-edge technology behind the biomimetic human, taking several deep breaths. His breathing sounded no different from others’, and he remained calm, thinking rationally—he was a complete person. The level of AI’s ability to “cast” humans had improved significantly. The person before him still felt distant.
Bai Jingchuan locked eyes with the boss. Because of his outstanding appearance and impressive resume, the boss’s admiration for him was always more pronounced than for others. The department producer said: “This model is just for showcasing technology at the upcoming near-future biomimetic conference. No one wants their classic Chinese father resurrected as a biomimetic being—after all, original families are so suffocating. They’d rather spend the money on finding a new partner. We avoid creating young female images because we don’t want people to think our motives are impure. Besides, aging skin like this is indeed more technically challenging.”
Bai Jingchuan looked at this “classic father figure.” He had no memories of parents; his persona was filled with superhuman qualities. He simply said, “I have few memories of my parents. My apologies.”
Everyone around him froze for a moment. The boss quickly recovered, patting his shoulder: “It’s fine. Not understanding is fine too. Trust me, not having such a father isn’t something to regret deeply.”
“I actually wish I had such memories.”
At least it would be better than only recording love—Bai Jingchuan thought this sincerely. Everyone’s pitying expressions made him feel even sorrier for himself. The boss smiled: “Your department has great potential. I lacked confidence before because I had no experience developing games for women, but with you joining, I’ve become very confident.”
He was referring to Emotional Tide . Bai Jingchuan knew nothing about Emotional Tide —the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods provided no information about it. It was such an emotionally rich work, authored by someone whose name was attached to him, leaving him to find the author himself. It seemed solving this puzzle required the one who tied the knot in the first place.
Coincidentally, Jiang Huan particularly liked Emotional Tide . Now, with a 50% filter applied to Bai Jingchuan, gaining her affection seemed effortless. Just as he finished this thought, he received a message from Jiang Huan inviting him to visit the VR experience room to test out the Norsek Continent experience. He’d been at the company for so long but hadn’t truly entered any scenes yet.
“Li Bode, your chance has arrived. If you act convincingly enough, you might even directly start dating her and gain affection points.”
An image of Jiang Huan floated in his mind—she liked him openly, trying to catch any whiff of Emotional Tide on him, clearly harboring thoughts beyond mere hostility. He straightened his tie: “How could I deceive someone’s sincere feelings?”
The die elegantly spun in the air: “I already told you—you have talent. Li Bode, you should go to the store and get a patterned tie and some nice clothes. How many days have you worn that old suit…?”
The game room had been successfully renovated, and Bai Jingchuan specifically requested Jiang Huan to join him for the experience. Both held motion-capture weapons, eyeing each other curiously but holding back. Bai Jingchuan was curious about Jiang Huan, and completing the task would earn him a house—he was tired of sleeping under flashing disco lights.
Norsek Continent was located outside Bifei City, resembling a vast recreational park requiring a two-hour drive from the urban area. The tranquility of the countryside differed from the city’s hustle and bustle. Under a clear sky, mountains overlapped, and the shimmering water occasionally revealed leaping fish. Elegant swans glided across the lake, bending their necks gracefully to play in the cascading flower fields. Jiang Huan began picking up twigs along the road, gathering fruits here and there, running to the manor to exchange materials and crafting a bow. It was rudimentary but gave off a cowboy vibe when equipped. Watching Jiang Huan skillfully gather twigs, Bai Jingchuan couldn’t help but ask: “Is this part of the experience too?”
“Many people camping in the suburbs get stuck in traffic jams, and parks often get overcrowded. But at home, it’s different. Lucia Prairie is vast. Choosing co-op mode lets you see friends nearby; if you want solitude, choose quiet mode and camp at home. You can hunt if you want—no need to buy weapons; you can craft them using gathered materials. Basic weapons can synthesize bows and swords. Some animals can be cooked, though you can’t taste them yet. For better gear, you need to spend time collecting materials across different maps, fishing, chopping trees, and completing quests.”
“It seems the half-finished project you left me has grand ambitions.”
“With so much work stress, why shouldn’t people spend time in nature? This city offers few places to connect with nature. Over time, people go crazy. I think you’re already showing signs of it.”
“If you’re accusing me of being a capitalist, then let’s issue salaries within the game. You can craft weapons to your heart’s content and experience what it truly means to ‘drink the northwest wind.’”
Just then, a gust of wind blew through, chilling Jiang Huan to the bone. She hadn’t noticed his sharp retorts when they first met, but now she realized Bai Jingchuan wasn’t just a ruthless capitalist—he was also incredibly sarcastic.
Bai Jingchuan crafted a bow and arrow, continuing their conversation: “What’s different about two people traveling together, or traveling with the male lead?”
“People in love can travel together. Those without boyfriends can choose to travel with the male lead. Being able to immerse yourself in a romantic relationship as a form of emotional support is rare. Especially with controllers and headsets providing visual, temperature, and tactile feedback—you can feel the sensation of being held in someone’s arms, their breath on your ear, and the feeling of having someone belong to you…”
“So, do you fall in love with these characters too?”
“Seven men, huh? I can’t possibly love them all—I’m not Grandpa葫芦娃 (Calabash Boy).”
Jiang Huan aimed carefully at a soaring eagle in the distance, her movements fluid. Bai Jingchuan was astonished: “You’d shoot something so beautiful?”
“It’s poultry—it restores stamina. In the wild, you must be decisive, accurate, and ruthless. If you show mercy now, don’t come crying to me when monsters drain your health.”
Bai Jingchuan gripped her wrist: “Let me see your bow.”
Too busy explaining, Jiang Huan hadn’t gathered proper materials—her bow was just a shabby beginner’s model. The arrow flew awkwardly, missing the eagle by a wide margin—it didn’t even notice. Embarrassed, she fired several more arrows until she ran out, pulling out the last one when her wrist was gently held: “That’s your last arrow.”
Bai Jingchuan’s fingers lightly touched the back of her hand: “Your grip isn’t right. Pulling the bowstring like that makes it hard to aim. You’re relying too much on finger strength, and hesitation causes trembling.”
He stood behind her now, their shadows overlapping. Bai Jingchuan was a head taller, his shoulders broader: “Keep your back straight, engage your core. Sinking into it prevents deviation. Align your waist and feet—if you’re unsure about posture, lean against me. I’ll be your benchmark.”
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: -50.]
Bai Jingchuan hesitated: “Don’t keep your arm too straight, or the recoil will hit you. Sorry, let me get closer.”
His body heat transferred through her neck and back, making Jiang Huan flush with warmth.
“Relax.”
His chest pressed against her back, the intimacy of skin-on-skin contact undeniable. This direct physical connection undeniably conveyed the joy of co-op gameplay—her heartbeat quickened.
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: -50.]
Why was her affection decreasing? Bai Jingchuan’s patience was wearing thin: “Are you ready? Let’s release together.”
It wasn’t her arrow—it was his. The eagle circling above hadn’t noticed them when it was struck and fell to the ground, dropping two glowing pieces of bird meat. Behind the tenderness lay a familiar ruthlessness—Bai Jingchuan had his cold-blooded side, usually concealed.
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: -50.]
Bai Jingchuan took a large step back, raising his hands as if surrendering. The wind rustled the grass, waves of green swaying. He was utterly baffled—losing affection points consecutively felt like facing a formidable enemy. “If I got too close, I apologize. Your bow seems weak. Using my method might improve accuracy.”
“Do you think I’m so fragile I need protection?”
Jiang Huan’s face wasn’t red anymore. She picked up her bow again, and when the eagle’s shadow passed over the grass, she drew the bowstring forcefully and released. Two pieces of glowing bird meat dropped right by Bai Jingchuan’s feet. She chased after another circling eagle, even flipping gracefully to show off.
“I’ve been in this map for two years. I know every blade of grass, where to find props, and the fastest way to hunt birds. I even helped the tech team debug equipment, practicing muscle memory to test force feedback for female users. I’m not as delicate as you think—I know everything about this place inside out. So… I don’t need protection.”
“Being familiar with this map allows you to avoid all dangers?”
“Of course.”
Footsteps approached from behind. Jiang Huan quickly ran off as a deer charged, knocking Bai Jingchuan flat on his back. Jiang Huan pouted triumphantly: “See? I told you not to underestimate Lucia Prairie.”
Bai Jingchuan got up, his hair disheveled: “Such a cute deer would attack?”
“You let your guard down. Step back—a deer is coming again.”
Bai Jingchuan obediently retreated, looking somewhat defeated. But two steps behind him was a trap—too late. Instinctively, Jiang Huan grabbed Bai Jingchuan, and he quickly pulled her into his arms, shielding the back of her head with his hand. She was enveloped in his embrace, close enough to hear his sharp intake of breath and rapid heartbeat, thumping against her ear.
Both of them braced for the fall down the slope—it felt so real—but instead, they were lying quietly on the floor of the game room. A colleague pushed the door open, saw the producer and narrative designer hugging each other while holding two longswords, and chuckled awkwardly: “Is the immersion this good? I’ll leave you two alone then…”
Awkward.
A strange wave of heat spread through both their bodies as they quickly separated, neither saying a word. The two sword-wielding figures now hung side by side on the slope. Jiang Huan raised her head and saw Bai Jingchuan’s face. The clouds parted, casting soft light that fell directly on him. His expression—gentle yet panicked—was framed by the scent of grass wafting around them. The light shifted from dim to bright, like fingers sliding up to the highest note of a melody.
“I said there was a trap behind me—I didn’t mean to let you slip and fall… Do you believe me?”
“You’re the biggest trap I’ve encountered since coming here.”
“Do you trust no one?”
“I trust you.”
Bai Jingchuan’s words seemed sincere. Jiang Huan’s heart pounded heavily. Rolling down the slope should have been romantic—even without full immersion, she should have been moved by the embrace. How could he speak such cold words with a 37-degree mouth?
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: -50.]
“I truly feel nothing.” What could he feel? The continuous drop in affection was a huge humiliation for a man with a score of 4.90. He could read almost everyone’s thoughts, but hers remained an enigma. Enforcer Li Bode’s frustration had reached its peak, his smile strained but gentlemanly: “If there’s nothing else, let’s end the experience. I now understand Lucia Prairie well enough.”
Both their faces were slightly flushed, and they silently chose to exit together.
As they left the game room, Jiang Huan noticed Bai Jingchuan still wearing the same suit—he seemed to own only one. His leather shoes appeared too stiff, leaving two bloody marks on his ankles. His stubborn indifference made him look resigned. The sky had completely darkened, and the floor-to-ceiling windows reflected Jiang Huan’s silhouette. As she approached, their shadows overlapped. For the first time, Jiang Huan felt sweat break out just from seeing their shadows. She thought of the male protagonist walking through newly optimized, hyper-realistic scenes, a sense of loss settling over her embarrassment like an unfamiliar snowfall.
“I’ve got a basic understanding of the scene. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
“Wait!” Jiang Huan mustered her courage: “Do you dislike interacting with people?”
“I prefer being alone.”
“But you’re the one who wrote Emotional Tide …”
“The current me couldn’t write Emotional Tide .” He studied Jiang Huan carefully before making his guess: “You seem to dwell on the past quite a bit. Those standees in the recording studio—if they represent your nostalgia for the past, it might be better to let them go. Besides, the recording studio often uses open flames, which could pose a fire hazard.”
“You know about the standees?”
“I do.” Bai Jingchuan had questions for Jiang Huan, and now was the perfect time: “Tell me the names of these seven characters.”
Without suspicion, Jiang Huan obediently recited seven names—none of which included “Li Bode,” not even a similar surname. So he had absolutely no connection to Jiang Huan? Was he simply randomly assigned to a girl of a similar age for emotional exploration? This should have been a minor matter, but with his affection points continuously dropping, why did it feel like such a blow to a 4.90-rated enforcer? His frustration had reached its limit. Suppressing the last spark of anger—not arguing with women was one of his principles—he spoke:
“Among these names, is there someone you particularly care about?”
“They’re all the team’s hard work. I don’t favor any one of them more than the others.” Jiang Huan’s ears turned slightly red. “I just can’t bear the company abandoning these seven characters.”
The seven names she recited seemed to carry emotion. Bai Jingchuan couldn’t pinpoint where his irritation stemmed from, but he tried to push aside his feelings: “If they’re already in the past, then there must be elements abandoned by time and changing perspectives. The company’s decision to move on was surely based on comprehensive considerations. It’s time to step out of the past. What is there in the past that you can’t let go of?”
“I can’t let go of the characters.”
“Have you ever considered that your nostalgia for the past—if your male lead were an independent, autonomous data entity, he might not thank you but instead feel disappointed?”
Jiang Huan was momentarily stunned, her heart skipping a beat before she regained her composure. From their very first meeting, Bai Jingchuan hadn’t shown kindness. Instead, he observed her with a faint sense of scrutiny. She looked up at him and retorted sharply: “It seems like you’ve been scrutinizing me this whole time and projecting your disappointment onto the seven male leads our team poured their hearts into creating.”
“What?”
“Characters aren’t meant to scrutinize me. The reason I can’t let go of them is that, as lovers, they would love me unconditionally. People who like me may scrutinize me, criticize me, or feel disappointed, but love means having my back. The male leads in otome games can’t do that—they’re not worthy of being lovers. You don’t understand, so don’t judge.”
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: -100. Your affection level has plummeted today, triggering a mute mode. You can only regain speech functionality by improving her impression of you. Please console her appropriately.]
Bai Jingchuan was about to defend himself when he realized he couldn’t make a sound. Jiang Huan walked far ahead, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t speak—he had become a literal mute.
So he was silenced just like that?
PS: Xiao Zhang is here, hehehe! This week will also have daily updates. Welcome to add this story to your bookshelf and cast recommendation votes. I’ll wait for everyone to chat today!
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