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The weather this New Year was colder than in previous years, with two overcast days finally giving way to sunshine. Jiang Huan had procrastinated for a long time before heading out to finish her manuscript, but she still arrived at Bai Jingchuan’s house quite early. She felt a bit discouraged—Bai Jingchuan’s reaction at the park had been so calm, completely different from his usual flustered self. Could it be that he no longer liked her?
But when Bai Jingchuan opened the door, her petty frustration vanished instantly. “Teacher Bai, did you blow up the kitchen again?”
“No, not at all. I just casually tried making some tart liquid, and the half-finished product exploded in the oven, making a huge mess.” He chuckled softly. “It seems food made with love can only be prepared together with you. I feel like I can’t do without you.”
Do you even hear yourself…
Removing his apron, Bai Jingchuan wore a light brown cashmere sweater bathed in the warm glow of the lights, his entire demeanor softened. His home was spotless, as if no one lived there—new utensils, fresh flour, unopened butter—it resembled a showroom where touching anything would incur a fine. Jiang Huan asked, “Where are Shan Di Meng and Wen Li?”
“They haven’t arrived yet, maybe they’re delayed. No need to rush; we can wait together.”
Shan Di Meng was known for his punctuality and hated being stood up, so his tardiness now seemed deliberate. Bai Jingchuan was busy opening a bag of flour, his hands covered in powder as he extended his arms toward her. “Please help me.”
Jiang Huan held the apron while Bai Jingchuan bent down to step into it, nearly bumping noses with her. She instinctively leaned back a few centimeters, almost cricking her neck. If seeing Bai Jingchuan’s absurdly perfect physique on the office floor had been impressive, now the soft cashmere clung to his chest, revealing the outline of his pectorals with every breath. Only a sliver of his collarbone peeked out, and Bai Jingchuan’s composed expression, combined with his modest attire, paradoxically stirred her imagination.
Clearing her throat, Jiang Huan confidently wrapped her arms around him to tie the apron, her fingers deftly fastening the knot. As she withdrew her hand, it accidentally brushed against his waist, eliciting a low gasp from Bai Jingchuan. “Don’t touch, it tickles.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +500.”
The die finally popped up. “You said you didn’t want to be confined to conventional romantic relationships, but you’ve just learned how to feign innocence to lure her into taking the initiative. Li Bode, you sly love cheat!”
The atmosphere of their date returned. Though seemingly unintentional, whenever Jiang Huan was with Bai Jingchuan outside of work, her cheeks flushed and her palms grew clammy, unable to resist. The memory of his chest muscles beneath the apron lingered, especially when his breath brushed past her ear—it was enticing, incredibly so. Bai Jingchuan was more like an otome game protagonist than Duanmu Xuan—his mature exterior hid a heart that had been lying in wait for her.
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +500.”
With melted butter, separated egg whites and yolks, and flour sifting onto the countertop, the kitchen quickly gained… a sense of life. Bai Jingchuan didn’t let Jiang Huan lift a finger, confidently assuring her to wait while he handled everything. This left Jiang Huan feeling… awkward. His movements suggested prior experience—he knew each step by heart and remained unruffled. The almond ratio was precisely 14%, measured meticulously with a digital scale. Everything was completed without causing her any worry; he was thoroughly domestic, as if excelling in ten different skills.
Because of her late mother, Jiang Huan never actively made desserts. But after meeting Bai Jingchuan, the taste of sweets began to evoke physical warmth within her—like tides returning after a long absence, reminding her of the sensation of being enveloped in love.
The kitchen filled with the aroma of butter and almond powder. The two, with their height difference, stood side by side peering into the oven. The man, though somewhat inexperienced, presented his homemade butter cookies with practiced pride, bringing them to her lips as if… she were on a real-life date with a male lead. Yet there was a subtle difference. During a date, leaning over would make her blush and her heart race, and she couldn’t resist his subtly domineering yet irresistible requests for help. Bai Jingchuan was indeed an expert at using these moments to his advantage.
Having seen countless romance dramas and written numerous scenes, Jiang Huan was well-versed in such situations. She could confidently help Bai Jingchuan tie his apron, marveling at how slim his waist was, brushing against his abs and waistline, which made her crave more. She even removed a stray hair from his collar, causing him to flinch slightly but remain oblivious. When Jiang Huan leaned closer, he looked surprised and let out a small gasp.
That gasp… was rather seductive. Fortunately, she had seen and experienced enough not to show it on her face.
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Aren’t you happy being here at my place?”
Jiang Huan couldn’t pinpoint what felt off—just two days ago, they had slid down a slide headfirst together, and she hadn’t received a full response yet. How could she appear happy?
Bai Jingchuan reached out, wiping the corner of Jiang Huan’s mouth and skillfully tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with his pinky. “Almond powder, you got some on you. Spending the New Year with me might not be entirely joyful, but if you’re willing, this is your home. You can sprawl across my bed to sleep or toss your laundry into the washing machine. Let’s try a ‘family’ package—you can relax a little.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +300.”
Finally unable to stay quiet, Jiang Huan blurted out, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.” Bai Jingchuan’s breath was close to her cheek, each exhalation fluttering like butterfly wings against her skin. Her heartbeat thundered, and she tightly shut her eyes.
Wait, was her heartbeat really that loud?
Loud enough to seem like it was coming from outside the door?
… Someone knocked.
Shan Di Meng stood outside holding a gift, accompanied by a tipsy Wen Li, who leaned precariously against the doorframe.
“Why are you so late?”
“It’s supposed to be 8 PM, and we even came early.”
“…”
Jiang Huan realized why she had arrived first. It turned out Bai Jingchuan had only invited her for noon.
So cunning!
“Welcome.” Bai Jingchuan stood beside Jiang Huan, his smile radiant. “I baked cookies for you.”
It felt like a family welcoming friends.
Wen Li was still dressed fashionably, albeit in a disheveled manner—her clothes bore signs of tearing, and her sweater was stretched out. Was this still considered fashionable?
Shan Di Meng whispered, “She’s heartbroken.”
Initially, Jiang Huan merely thought, “No wonder,” but when they entered the room, Wen Li brought along—New Year’s Eve dinner. Wen Li skillfully arranged the dishes and asked, “Do you have serving plates? These are private dishes I brought back from Number 5 on the Bund. The valet parking alone cost me eighty yuan—don’t waste them.”
Taking charge despite being a guest. But once all the dishes were laid out, Wen Li suddenly said, “Wait, let me go buy some more dishes.”
Three hours later, several homestyle dishes appeared on the table: crystal shrimp, stuffed snails, steamed pork ribs, and… red wine-braised beef ribs—a dish completely at odds with her identity as a fashion director. Drunkenly, she declared, “Now it’s perfect.”
The other three exchanged glances, and Jiang Huan asked, “Wen Li, where are you from? These four dishes span the entire country…”
“I was amazed by these dishes when I ate at small restaurants and memorized the recipes with my tongue. Look at me—I may seem very fashionable, but deep down, I’m poor. Eating these dishes is my only satisfaction.”
The private dishes were expensive, and Jiang Huan had only heard of them. But the truly stunning flavors came from the dishes Wen Li brought out of the kitchen—the stuffed snails were so fragrant they made her cheer. As she ate heartily, she looked up to see Wen Li holding a wine glass, watching her with satisfaction in her eyes. Slowly, she explained, “This red wine-braised beef rib is French cuisine. In 2018, during Fashion Week, I attended a small brand event after a social media influencer missed her flight. I took her place, terrified of being kicked out. An Asian female chef served the dish and reminded me that not focusing on the meal was disrespectful. The taste deeply healed me, and I even kept her contact information.”
“And now?”
“We didn’t become friends. She’s already forgotten me. I told you, I’m worthless—I’m not someone people remember.”
The dining table fell silent. While Wen Li went to the balcony to argue with a client in a foreign language, Shan Di Meng calmly explained, “She chatted with Bright for a month and recently discovered issues with personality sampling and user privacy leaks. She says she deleted Bright, but she’s emotionally attached. Heartbreak makes her act a bit unhinged.”
Bai Jingchuan was surprised. “Is it really that easy to fall for someone?”
“She’s pitiful. She wanted to return home, but her gambling-addicted mother owed debts and even sent someone to steal her antique piano while she was abroad, claiming it was too valuable to leave behind. On the way back, it seems the lid of the piano broke off. Laughable, right? Not even a story would dare write it like that.”
A strange breeze blew from the balcony into the living room. Wen Li’s phone call didn’t seem to be… work-related. That “I miss you” was tinged with sighs, accompanied by the bitter scent of cigarette smoke.
“Can you imagine our ending?”
After a brief silence came a heavy sigh. But no one in the living room questioned Wen Li’s behavior. Jiang Huan’s dislike and hostility toward her slowly dissolved—she had seen that piano in the rain, unprotected from wind and weather, crammed into a car with a rumble, its lid torn off again during this theft…
A valuable instrument that had never emitted the sound it was meant to.
When Wen Li returned to the living room, the atmosphere became somewhat awkward, though she didn’t notice. She spun around freely, taking in Bai Jingchuan’s immaculate home—bookshelves filled with philosophy books: Kant, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Foucault… No personal items in sight; the entire house resembled an uninhabited showroom. The only hint of life came from the oven, but it couldn’t fill the vastness of the living room and sitting area. Wen Li, drunk and unrestrained, remarked, “Bai Jingchuan, let me give you a record player. I have one lying around—it suits your vibe perfectly.”
“No thanks. I rarely spend time at home.”
“I also have an old PS4. If you don’t mind…”
“There’s no need for gaming at home.” Bai Jingchuan’s statement was truthful.
Jiang Huan sighed. “Teacher Bai, are you uninterested in life?”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.”
Suddenly, the storage room door burst open, spilling out limited-edition figurines and luxury Bearbricks, piled so high they forced the door open. Everyone was speechless for a few seconds until Wen Li broke the silence. “It seems you’re not uninterested in life—you just didn’t want us to know your taste is… questionable.”
Bai Jingchuan was at a loss for words, regretting why he hadn’t thrown these things away earlier—they had come with the house. Just looking at them gave him a headache, so he used air manipulation to shove them back into the storage room.
Wen Li spoke bluntly. “I didn’t mean to say anything, but before opening that door, I thought you were a tasteful producer. Now… you’re some nouveau riche tycoon in the fashion world.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +300.”
Despite the increase in affection points, Bai Jingchuan couldn’t muster any joy. The die rolled in the air, laughing hysterically. “Li Bode, I told you to get rid of those things! Even throwing them away would’ve been better. Now you’re being laughed at—HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Wen Li was more pleasant to be around than expected, aside from her constant drinking. She seemed intent on prying information about The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods ‘ male protagonist from Jiang Huan, especially the attention-grabbing Duanmu Xuan on the big screen. But Jiang Huan simply shook her head mysteriously. “Sorry, confidentiality agreement, Miss Wen. The producer is just three meters away—I can’t say anything.”
“Lovers in phones are all fake.” Wen Li waved dismissively. “Don’t try to convince me. I trusted Lingke too, but look how fast their data leaks spread—faster than my heart skips a beat. The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods is probably cut from the same cloth.”
Unable to obtain what she desired, Wen Li resorted to belittling it—a flaw in her character.
“Is it impossible to live without love?” Bai Jingchuan found it incomprehensible. “If you don’t believe in it, you don’t have to date. Real or virtual, you don’t need to. You’re already successful.”
The drunken Wen Li wouldn’t let the matter drop.
“Impossible—I must have it. Love is like the soul that breathes life into art. Before I found it, I could compensate with my expertise and discerning eye—thanks to my experiences, my courage to explore the world, my curiosity for both the grand and the minuscule. But love should be part of that equation. An unconditional love that ignites even more ambition and desire within me, uncovering all the hidden, unconventional, even twisted beauty buried deep inside. It makes me more accepting of everything… That emotion—it’s not something I can achieve alone. I’m strong enough; every client and organizer in my phone was earned through reputation. I don’t need anyone to survive, nor do I require a man to feel complete. I love myself enough. But no matter how flawed this world may be, there should still be love that draws admiration between people, revealing deeper layers of each other. Love is another adventure in your parallel world—but not everyone gets an invitation to the game. Do you understand?”
Jiang Huan’s heart thudded uncontrollably. Without thinking, she glanced at Bai Jingchuan sitting on the other side of the couch. He was lost in thought, but when their eyes met, they exchanged a knowing smile.
“So, am I wrong? In an era where everyone advocates independence and doesn’t ‘need’ men, I’ve practically achieved everything. But if I yearn for pure love, am I wrong?”
The atmosphere suddenly grew awkward. Wen Li, drunk and distraught, clutched a pillow and sobbed so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. She was unrecognizable compared to when she first walked in sober. Just as Shan Di Meng reached for a tissue to comfort her, Jiang Huan leapt onto the couch and pulled Wen Li into her arms, her eyes welling up.
A girl’s tears shouldn’t be seen lightly, but witnessing the entire scene, Shan Di Meng and Bai Jingchuan exchanged a quiet smile.
Jiang Huan, who never drank, was now tightly embraced by Wen Li, unable to distinguish reality from drunkenness. To align herself with the moment, she tilted her head back and downed a glass of whiskey, choking until her eyes turned red. Recalling Jiang Huan climbing onto him at Disneyland, Bai Jingchuan hesitated to intervene. Shan Di Meng placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is your home; we’re all here. It’s fine.”
Thus, the otherwise quiet New Year became anything but. Everyone in the room had a home they longed to return to but couldn’t, yet the person they wanted to see was right beside them—a temporary haven for their hearts.
Wen Li secretly glanced at her phone, still lacking the courage to uninstall Bright. Jiang Huan looked toward Shan Di Meng, who sat on the couch watching the two girls, as if observing a movie.
Bai Jingchuan retreated to the bedroom—the judgment task window had popped up, requiring swift resolution. Half an hour later, with the room thick with alcohol-induced haze, Bai Jingchuan emerged. Wen Li raised her head. “What time is it?”
“Not yet midnight. Where did Jiang Huan go?”
From the bedroom to the living room, then to the kitchen, Bai Jingchuan frantically opened the balcony door. So quiet—had she gone to sleep? Choked? Fallen somewhere? The balcony was open-air—if she fell over…
His heart raced as he pushed open the balcony door. The distant view made his chest tighten. What were once suburban buildings and streetlights on the city’s edge now bordered Mowu City. Towering skyscrapers pierced the clouds, obscuring half the sky. Flying vehicles hovered overhead, and steam rose from other structures—factories working tirelessly through the night. Virtual idols with pink twin tails danced rhythmically on walls; just by watching their steps, one could guess the song… Bai Jingchuan’s heart nearly leapt out of his throat. He looked at Shan Di Meng, who still stroked Jiang Huan’s head, his gaze filled with calculated provocation. Following the sound, Jiang Huan turned her head, leaning against the balcony railing, cheeks flushed, and waved with a smile.
Bai Jingchuan’s intuition was always sharp. Though Eros rarely revealed much about The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods, it hadn’t stopped him from exploring Mowu City. Now that the border between the cities was visible, the purpose of The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods would soon come to light.
He wouldn’t sit idly by.
“See, I told you Bai Jingchuan would worry about me falling. Sometimes he’s really strange—he’s my superior, yet acts like I might die at any moment…”
“I won’t disturb you.” Shan Di Meng smiled and left, deliberately leaving them some private time. As they passed each other, their eyes met briefly. Shan Di Meng smirked disdainfully, like a puppet master holding the script. There was danger in his presence, deliberately fostering their romance while harboring jealousy and resentment—a keen sense shared among rivals.
Bai Jingchuan approached her, seeing her balancing her drink on the balcony edge, swaying her legs absentmindedly. He nervously asked, “What’s the farthest thing you can see right now?”
“Hmm… Probably Changning or Qingpu? Somewhere in that direction. Closest to us is the North-South Elevated Road, stretching vertically into the distance. Further is the Yan’an Elevated Road. Beyond that is outside the city…”
Jiang Huan saw nothing. Well, even if she fell, he could save her. He was right beside her—what was there to worry about?
Just as he relaxed, Jiang Huan’s grip loosened, and the wine glass nearly tumbled off the balcony. It teleported back into her hand before landing safely beside her. She asked, “Where’s my wine glass?”
“You put it behind you.”
“…Did I turn around?”
“Yes, I saw it with my own eyes.”
Clicking her tongue, Jiang Huan held the wine glass tightly, as if her palm needed something to hold onto. Bai Jingchuan thought, Never mind. She’s right here—I’ll catch it if it falls again.
________________________________________
Two months passed in a blur, with no sign of the city slowing down. Now, the streets were eerily empty, the city’s noise spilling elsewhere, leaving it dry and silent. Jiang Huan looked around, accustomed to this quiet. Bai Jingchuan remarked, “So this is what New Year’s is like.”
“What about before? Did you always spend it alone?”
Bai Jingchuan only shook his head slightly. In Mowu City, winters brought artificial snow, but memories of winter were muddy due to salt used for de-icing, tire tracks, and chemical fumes that refused to dissipate. Even the path to the arena stained shoes. He asked Jiang Huan, “What about you? Did you spend New Year’s alone?”
“Mm. I spent it alone in my rented apartment. But honestly, I wasn’t lonely. I’d watch anime, buy lots of food ahead of time for my New Year’s Eve dinner, and work a little—it passed quickly. Staying behind to build Love Continent came with overtime pay. Don’t be too happy.”
“Your parents weren’t upset that you didn’t go home for New Year’s?”
“No,” Bai Jingchuan replied firmly. “They were happier than ever.”
“You’re really strange. We’re stuck together out of necessity, yet you seem genuinely pleased.”
Bai Jingchuan neither agreed nor disagreed, simply gazing at Jiang Huan silently. The die spun nearby, seemingly enjoying this wordless exchange. Under his stare, Jiang Huan blushed and pointed elsewhere to change the subject.
“Do you see the Ferris wheel in the distance? It’s still Duanmu Xuan’s advertisement. Remember the legend—anyone who appears on that screen becomes a lasting sensation.”
“Mm.”
“Thanks to you. I’ve worked with many producers, and I thought Love Continent would disband last year. But you kept it alive—I owe you thanks.”
“If fate doesn’t favor us, every day we remain together is a miracle, isn’t it?”
Jiang Huan smiled. “Exactly.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +500. Level increased to Lv58. Rewards: 30,000 gold coins, 5 treasure chests, 20 fragments. You’ve collected 60 fragments and can unlock a dream memory.”
Emotional perception remained at C-level, stagnant for a long time. Yet, Bai Jingchuan felt he had changed. From initial disdain, to curiosity, to being moved—he hadn’t misjudged Jiang Huan. Though seemingly frail, he had felt her muscles during their rescue—she exercised regularly, lacked combat experience, but that was expected. She wasn’t simple. Having been independent since adolescence, she accumulated countless experiences and imaginations, her mind a universe, like the starry sky he saw at the planetarium before arriving in reality. She wasn’t without charm; she merely locked her dreams and ambition away, hiding her allure beneath impulsiveness—a bomb tied with a bow. When he let his guard down and softened, his inner self was a moist, unfinished melody. Whether cassette or CD, tucked away in a cabinet, the songs seeped through the cracks, quickly drenching listeners’ hearts. Was her rain-like musings because of him? Her hair fluttered, and the glimmer in her eyes confirmed it.
The wine glass remained upright, but Jiang Huan sat on the ground, leaning against the wall with a silly grin. Bai Jingchuan bent down to lift her arm. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”
“No!”
Startled, Bai Jingchuan heard her protest—sticky and sulky, like an annoyed kitten.
“Teacher Bai, you’re such a mystery. After spending so much time with you, you tell us nothing. Many people adore you, yet you stay close to me. Simple, clean, no romantic history, yet you feel like someone who’s been in love for years—it makes me uneasy. Look, you live in this big house, cramming expensive things into one room, while the outside remains pristine, like you’re hiding secrets…”
“Warning: Be cautious about concealing your identity.”
She reached out. Bai Jingchuan thought she needed help standing but was only gently grasped, her hands swaying his like a cat rubbing its paws. Drunk, she leaned closer, murmuring, “If you have secrets, you can tell me. My lips are sealed.”
Releasing his hand, she mimicked zipping her mouth shut. “Since I won’t tell anyone, your secret becomes mine. We’ll form an intimate alliance. Only I can threaten you, and I’ll give you my leverage too. Dare you?”
“Of course. I’d be willing.”
“All your secrets are known to me—it’s unfair.”
“Then I’ll give you another chip. From now on, I’m at your disposal.”
“No, I still know nothing about you. You haven’t agreed to be my ally—don’t think you can fool me.”
“What do you want? I’ll accompany you. Can we get up first? You’re not dressed warmly—it’s easy to catch a cold…”
“Do you care?”
“Mm.” Bai Jingchuan replied earnestly. “I care very much.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +1000.”
Suddenly weightless, he was yanked down. To avoid crushing the tipsy girl, he knelt with a thud, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were suspicious, defiant.
“Who are you?”
“…”
“The person who hides nothing holds the biggest secret.”
“…”
“Tell me.”
The sound of his heartbeat was too obvious in the quiet balcony. Still holding his hand, she stared intently—avoiding an answer would be impossible. The system’s warnings flashed yellow exclamation marks across her face. Frustrated, he averted his gaze, but Jiang Huan cupped his face, stubbornly awaiting a response.
For a moment, he considered confessing, kissing her fiercely and disappearing like a shooting star streaking across the sky.
But he couldn’t bear it. Mowu City loomed in the distance, dangers unknown. Acting rashly now would forfeit control.
If he waited, surely there’d be a chance to confess properly.
Jiang Huan released his hand, her dim eyes flashing sadness. “You won’t say anything… How boring…”
But Bai Jingchuan didn’t let go. He stared straight at her, inching closer. The exclamation marks flashed faster, but as long as he didn’t speak, he wouldn’t violate protocol. Kissing her lips wouldn’t matter…
Three centimeters, two centimeters, one centimeter…
Jiang Huan closed her eyes. Her lashes brushed Bai Jingchuan’s jaw, her lips pressing against his collarbone, sliding crookedly to his chest, falling into his broad embrace.
A loud crash echoed as Jiang Huan, lying down, kicked over a storage cabinet. Unfazed, she slept deeply. The incessant warnings ceased, and the night fell silent. A kiss left unfulfilled, accompanied by absurd noise—every second unpredictable.
Hearing the commotion, Wen Li peeked out, spotting the two figures slumped on the floor. She quickly retreated, then moments later, a drunk woman slipped a blanket through the door crack. Bai Jingchuan gently took the blanket, carefully adjusting himself, wrapping Jiang Huan snugly. He sneezed, his expression changing abruptly, fearing she’d wake. This fragile moment shattered instantly.
Thankfully, the person in his arms slept soundly, even nuzzling her head against his chest. Her hair tickled her, and Bai Jingchuan gently tucked it behind her ear. On this New Year’s night, the city was quiet, stars obscured by cloud shadows. Yet, he was utterly content.
To me, you are an existence beyond comprehension.
I should have stayed in my world, enjoying the security of walking firmly on the ground, easily seeing through illusions and detesting loss of control. But with small gestures, you effortlessly make me lose balance. A blink of your lashes, a curve of your lips, a flick of your fingers—all like butterfly wings altering gravity, forcibly twisting the pendulum of fate, toppling me.
Mermaids aren’t cursed; fairy tales distort their meaning. These beings of extraordinary beauty are gods of the sea.
I never believed human-made fairy tales.
But because of you, I’m willing to believe—even if cursed. Because you said love not favored by fate is a miracle every day it endures.
I believe it wholeheartedly.
Meeting you…
How could I need so many romances?
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