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After deleting the data, Bai Jingchuan escorted Jiang Huan home and then returned directly to the company. The die watched with regret: “Li Bode, you’ve already completed five tasks—you could directly exchange for living next door to Jiang Huan. Such a great opportunity wasted—what a pity!”
“Would being close to her make her happy, or would it trouble her?”
“Li Bode, as an enforcer, you’re only considering everything logically. Have you thought about how your own feelings need care too?”
“For example?”
“Let go of everything else and simply ask yourself—do you want to see her?”
The negative reviews vanished without a trace, and people seemed to forget about the romantic pumpkin carriage incident on Renwu Road involving the drunken prince. Life continued smoothly. Jiang Huan still sported her yellow-tipped hair, wearing a hoodie as she earnestly focused on figuring out how to give her protagonist more charm in the office. In the conference room, several girls argued loudly while Jiang Huan, pulling at her hair, filled the whiteboard with notes, yet they still hadn’t reached a conclusion. During lunch break, Bai Jingchuan skipped eating and went to the training field to complete tasks and earn gold coins. After upgrading his muscle strength, he returned contentedly and spotted Jiang Huan lost in thought outside the company building. Beside her feet lay an orange tabby cat sleeping on a manhole cover for warmth. She dashed into the convenience store, bought some cat food, squatted down, and placed it beside the cat. The cat sniffed lazily and… walked away.
From the coffee shop ten meters away from the building, Bai Jingchuan felt awkward for her for a few seconds and muttered to himself: “Surprisingly, she doesn’t have much luck with cats.”
[You have used the recording function to capture this scene.]
In the same shop, he saw that woman again. Leaning back in his chair, Bai Jingchuan watched her glaring at her phone—this expression was familiar; he had seen it once before in the rain, not hard to remember, especially since his memory was always sharp. This time, she was furiously cursing in her mind, her thoughts clear. She had lost her account and was frantically searching for a way to recover it, sending verification codes to her email, only to be met with red error messages saying, “This user has not registered.”
This was the account she had used for ten years, gaining 170,000 followers by posting and mingling in comment sections. When she worked as an assistant at a film company, she even gained followers after changing her Weibo verification. How could it just disappear? Was it because she reported Love Continent ? No matter, she could register another account. Life was so miserable—she needed an outlet to vent… And why should something so fake like holographic lovers invade real life? Real life was already tough enough—did these virtual beings have to take over job opportunities and rights?
Bai Jingchuan observed her from across the table. She was gaunt, her complexion sallow, and her face full of defiance. Before leaving, she locked eyes with him briefly. He didn’t judge appearances, but her gloomy demeanor made her look repulsive.
He didn’t know why he instinctively started searching for “how to get closer to cats.” In the elevator, where there was no signal, the last piece of cat-related information on his phone screen read: “Even kittens know how to use fake departures to grab human attention!” In the video, a stray cat scolded a few times in the rain, walked away with its head down, but glanced back at the person filming. When the person called softly, “Kitty,” it quickly ran back, tail wagging.
As the elevator doors opened, Bai Jingchuan slipped his phone into his pocket—such behavior from cats was pathetic. Why return after being scolded? Were they really that desperate for a little affection?
At the end of the workday, Jiang Huan entered the holographic testing room, preparing to spend some time immersed in the game—a temporary refuge from the chaos of life. Despite the rumors swirling around her and Bai Jingchuan, deleting negative comments once didn’t solve everything. She still felt cautious after being criticized so many times. The male leads submitted by the team weren’t romantic enough and were sent back by Bai Jingchuan. The writing team struggled to find the best persona for the character, and Jiang Huan pointed at the whiteboard, waiting for everyone’s brainstorming session to produce results—it was hard to strike a balance. Her standards for the male lead were high, but it seemed no one else shared her vision.
The door behind her opened, and Bai Jingchuan walked in: “Want to try together? I can help.”
Jiang Huan felt as though a crystal ball had been placed before her again. Eager for magic to arrive quickly, she smiled awkwardly: “I’ll look for inspiration.”
Her smile looked strained.
With the addition of wind effects, the projection on the wall lit up, and music accompanied the breeze, instantly transporting them to a desolate afternoon outside the city. Thanks to the surrounding projections and hidden foot pedals, they soon reached a farther plain than last time. Jiang Huan took a deep breath, shrugged, and took a few steps before collapsing onto the grass: “So healing.”
Bai Jingchuan stood beside her. The rustling grass and the wind created an immersive experience. Jiang Huan had the illusion that she was eloping with him into a new world.
Eloping wasn’t the right word—she shook her head abruptly. Bai Jingchuan noticed this movement: “What are you thinking about? Don’t you like it?”
“How could I not—these landscapes are all imagined and created by the production team, the best visuals they could come up with. In the future, users and players will create their own versions, turning them into shared memories. Isn’t that fulfilling? Your Emotional Tide is also part of many people’s memories.”
“I think it’s better not to assume what moves players. Their personal experiences might resonate with small details rather than the plot highlights we expect.”
“How do you know…? Right, you’re the author of Emotional Tide .”
The faint smile tugging at Bai Jingchuan’s lips puzzled her—had he seen through her admiration? What trick could she use to counter this? Unexpectedly, he continued: “Don’t exclude yourself. You’re part of this achievement. Be proud—your efforts contributed to this collective memory.”
“Thank you. It’s the first time someone has praised me so positively.”
“If such scenery could be mass-produced someday, would you be happy?”
“It’s impossible.”
“Human-computer interaction is already common, and our technology for expanding images and scene modeling is strong. The era of player-generated content may soon arrive.”
Indeed. The magnificent castle before them had initially been just five circles drawn by Akira on a whiteboard. Though Akira joked and spoke harshly, he was a skilled artisan with impeccable sense. Jiang Huan felt a sharp realization: “Scenery can be generated, but true happiness comes from being with someone you love. Loving someone transforms ordinary landscapes into something special, filling you with joy. Even a flower feels vibrant and alive.”
“You can also be alone.”
“But I’ve been in the project group for so long. Seeing such scenes makes me accustomed to having someone by my side. That expectation was embedded in its creation, and now I hope this place can offer eternal companionship.”
Bai Jingchuan paused and didn’t respond. The two stood side by side in the holographic testing room, now standing in a rainforest under falling rain. A rainbow reflected on the large glass dome, its seven colors climbing upward—it was truly a dreamlike wonderland. Watching Bai Jingchuan’s seemingly indifferent demeanor, Jiang Huan suddenly became curious: “You don’t seem to like it much.”
“To be honest, I’m used to it. Living inside feels normal. Your reactions are more interesting.”
“That’s what someone with broad experience would say.”
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: +30.]
“It’s true. I’ve seen a lot in games, but everyday things feel fresh to me—I haven’t experienced them.”
“You’re strange. Hasn’t real life ever given you genuine emotions or touched you?”
“No.”
“Keep talking like this, and I’ll start doubting how you created Emotional Tide . A producer in name only, unworthy of testing scenarios with me. My male leads know how to make people happy—your entry qualification might be revoked.”
They stood in the wilderness, the wind blowing through distant trees, carrying the sound of wind chimes. The two resembled travelers walking together in a bleak landscape. Under the bright moon and sparse stars, Bai Jingchuan noticed her reaching her hand toward the sky, peering through her fingers—the moon was far away, rolling from one gap to another. She was playing with a silvery opal. He found it amusing—though he wasn’t good at being a male lead in virtual scenes and even resisted it, the girl before him seemed adept at playing the heroine, and… quite lively. He adjusted the setting to sunset—not wanting to fall for the temptation of moonlight, which often seduces people into surrender.
Jiang Huan squinted: “What’s this? Such a beautiful night. If it were my male leads, they’d surely create romantic moments now—like blooming a sea of flowers or shooting an arrow into the sky as a meteor…”
“I can take you flying.”
“…Too unromantic. Besides, what are you thinking? We haven’t developed that feature yet. Wait a moment!”
Bai Jingchuan wrapped his arm around her waist and gently lifted off the ground. Inside the holographic projection, the two stepped off a hillside. There was no sensation of weightlessness, but the visual of sliding down the valley startled Jiang Huan. Instinctively, she clung tightly to Bai Jingchuan, feeling a sense of falling—they were indeed crossing the valley mid-air. Below them lay dense jungles and valleys, the wind whistling past their ears, yet she felt surprisingly calm. The vast sunset enveloped everything, and when she took in the grandeur of the scenery, trivial concerns faded.
Though it slightly ruined the mood, Jiang Huan couldn’t help but ask: Do you have superpowers?
“…”
“This definitely shouldn’t count as a superpower. What kind of weak superpower is this—only hovering a little bit?”
“…”
“I understand now. Do you have qigong? Or is there some device on your feet? Let me see? Technology has really advanced!”
…She could actually justify it herself. Bai Jingchuan didn’t explain further, instead swiftly gliding over a few hills, nearly brushing against the treetops, then retreating backward to gain elevation. Jiang Huan gripped his collar tightly, eyes wide as she gazed at the scenery below—palaces hidden amidst the jungle, crumbling ruins perched above a deep ravine with a rushing river; on the opposite side, dry land cracked open dramatically. The low-hanging sun wrapped everything in amber hues, and the scene transformed into a complete gem in her eyes. Her heart beat powerfully, resonating through her palm. He had always been someone who stood high, overlooking everything. Without him, she would never have imagined finding comfort from such an angle.
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: +30.]
“Do you want to try flying on your own?”
“Wait a second, I’m not ready… wait…”
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: +100.]
She floated in midair, the lightness making her feel like she was flying. Though it lasted only a few seconds before landing, the sensation of floating was so wonderful that turning off the test equipment afterward left her feeling endlessly hollow. If fantasy was life’s anesthesia, that moment must have been the maximum dose, inducing unexpected hallucinations.
“Did you have fun? My ‘qigong.’”
“Yeah!” Jiang Huan tucked her hair behind her ear: “How did you do it? What new technology am I unfamiliar with? When did this room get upgraded? It’s so immersive—I feel like I’ve experienced being a martial arts male lead…”
[Your current level does not support prolonged use of talents. Your body is exhausted. Please find a place to rest within two hours, or your body will crash again.]
“That’s enough for today.” Bai Jingchuan looked troubled: “It’s late. I have something to do at home.”
“Do you dislike holding me?” Jiang Huan stepped forward and grabbed Bai Jingchuan’s sleeve, throwing caution to the wind!
“What?” Bai Jingchuan turned around in shock, the air conditioner blowing his hair lightly, strands drifting across his face as if his eyes were speaking.
“After holding me, you said it’s late. Anyone would overthink…” Jiang Huan’s voice trailed off, her face turning tomato-red. She couldn’t tell whether this was a deliberate attempt to deceive Bai Jingchuan or heartfelt confession: “I rarely have intimate contact with others… So far, I’ve always felt that ‘whoever gets close to me will become unlucky.’ I enjoy spending time with you—you have qualities I can’t figure out, but I really like them. But if you don’t like me…”
She let go of his sleeve after saying this. She expected a warm touch above her head, at least a comforting pat—but nothing came. Feeling disheartened, she realized she’d been played, left empty-handed. This was fitting for the true ending where a handsome guy shows mercy. Bai Jingchuan remained silent, only speaking just before leaving, instantly filling Jiang Huan with joy again.
“Sorry, I didn’t anticipate this. Of course, I’m reluctant to let you go. Sharing the scenery together felt nice. This time, I wanted you to experience the joy of flying alone—I guessed you might like that sense of accomplishment.”
“…”
“If you like it, I won’t let you go next time.”
His gentle smile mirrored the amber sunset in the room. After saying this, Bai Jingchuan turned and left, leaving Jiang Huan to stare blankly in the testing room.
[Jiang Huan’s affection towards you: +100. Would you like to redeem the right to live next to Jiang Huan?]
Reliving the scene, the surroundings were silent wilderness, the background music fading from loud to soft, enveloping her like an embrace mixing familiarity and strangeness, impossible to push away. Sweating profusely from nervousness, her side pressed against his arm… incredibly warm. Wanting the crystal ball to spin longer by her side, she took a step forward, genuinely wishing to be loved once… how could she possibly say this aloud?
[You have chosen “Yes.”]
[You have obtained the right to live in the house next door. Since the real world lacks Magu City’s one-click layout function, only basic furniture necessary for survival is provided. Please purchase household items according to your preferences. The first phase of the task is complete. Please move into your new home for a short rest.]
The first phase of the task was over. The sunset enveloped everything, like a gentle cage opening its door, offering him freedom he had never felt before. He was powerful, confident, and had never needed anyone’s help—even before nearly drowning, it was to prevent the girl from getting hurt—but he wavered.
Thinking about the phrase “Do you hate hugging me?” felt like being unexpectedly struck in the knee hollow. Accustomed to defending himself in the arena, where he could handle any attack smoothly, he suddenly stumbled. His heartbeat raced irregularly again, breathing painfully, his whole body soaked and fingertips cold—but he felt none of it, only a tight chest and burning fever. This feeling… uncontrollable, dangerous, and absolutely not something he should experience.
Initially planning to challenge five more tasks consecutively, he was inexplicably softened by a few words… Well, having a home wasn’t bad either. Once he got the house, he might as well stay. The standby space showers had time limits—he was tired.
Pushing the door open, he saw only an empty bed, sofa, table, and kitchen. The windows were wide open, letting in cold wind, making it feel wilder and bleaker than ever. This harsh reality-life had just begun. Life wouldn’t offer the conveniences of Magu City—no automatic suites in self-selected styles. From large lamp stands and wardrobes to small toothbrush and towel colors, everything required his effort. Other things didn’t matter since he didn’t sleep, but when cravings hit, he absolutely needed—oven. Real-world props could only be bought in the real world, and online shopping wouldn’t arrive until the next day. Bugs seemed to crawl under his skin, so he went to the supermarket, bought cheese, butter, and a bag of flour, carried the oven home, determined to spend a cozy night.
Jiang Huan entered the elevator with a roasted sweet potato, spotting a huge box following behind. Kindly, she made space. Butter and flour nearly fell to the ground but didn’t make much noise, as if held invisibly by air. She peeked: “Turns out it’s you. So you really do know qigong.”
“…Could you press the elevator button for me? Thanks.” Using air to press buttons would expose him, so Bai Jingchuan had to ask for help.
“The urgent matter you mentioned was coming back for the oven?” Jiang Huan glanced at the oven: “Our neighborhood offers delivery to your door.”
“I couldn’t wait.” Craving sweets, Bai Jingchuan swallowed: “All my belongings.”
“Huh?”
By the time they exited the elevator, Jiang Huan still didn’t understand. This person didn’t seem particularly fond of gourmet food—was his entire possession really just an oven?
Walking to their doors together, Bai Jingchuan remarked that this fated feeling was indeed peculiar. Seemingly coincidental, yet somehow fate pushed them here.
“Is living next to me also destiny?”
Bai Jingchuan smiled: “When it comes to you, it seems I have no other choice.”
The corridor was quiet, the motion-sensor lights blacked out due to prolonged silence. Jiang Huan cleared her throat and stamped her foot, almost bumping into Bai Jingchuan’s chest. Pretending to peek, she noticed the room contained almost nothing but a simple bed and sofa, and Bai Jingchuan’s entire luggage consisted of a single suitcase: “Why no other choices? This city is full of real estate agents. With a producer’s income, you could easily afford a luxurious apartment, right?”
“I’m new to this city. Compared to ostentatious places, I prefer living near someone special. Didn’t you say—loving someone turns ordinary landscapes into something extraordinary, fills you with genuine happiness, and even flowers grow lush and vibrant?” Seeing Jiang Huan’s expression, Bai Jingchuan looked somewhat pitiful: “Do you dislike me? Would living next to you bother you?”
Jiang Huan frowned slightly and remained silent. This person seemed invincible, yet his sudden coquetry was baffling—it was the second time recently.
The corridor smelled fresh with mold. Coins earned from tasks could only buy such a place, completely mismatched with his true abilities. But for now, his capabilities and level were indeed limited. Bai Jingchuan politely smiled and turned to leave temporarily.
“Wait a moment.” Jiang Huan touched his fingertip from behind, glanced at the suitcase and the minimalist wabi-sabi-style empty house, and handed over a white pillow and an air-conditioned blanket: “Take these.”
Bai Jingchuan, who didn’t sleep, reacted slowly and accepted them: “Actually, I don’t need them.”
“They’re just promotional gifts with the bed—don’t stress too much.” Before finishing in the elevator, Jiang Huan ducked into her room and popped her head out again: “You know, when you have no choice, the path ahead becomes fate. Being tied to me and unable to escape… probably counts too.”
Jiang Huan wrinkled her nose and chuckled mischievously. She closed her door faster than anyone, her ears red as if about to split.
Using the cleaning tool, everything was spotless. The blanket and pillow remained unopened, the oven unused, and the butter exposed to air awaited its owner’s arrangement. Bai Jingchuan sat beside them, holding his phone, carefully typing his first search query: “How to sleep on a white blanket without dirtying it.”
After this search, his hand accidentally slid into an unclosed educational video. A kitten trotted toward humans, tail tucked. Bai Jingchuan sighed, rubbing his forehead—he was done for.
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