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Bai Jingchuan still had one more chance to exchange a prop for a three-hour return trip to Mowu City. This time, he directly arrived at the outskirts of the city, searching for the border where it connected with other regions. The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods seemed to deliberately instill a sense of crisis in him, fueling his growing curiosity—he had to uncover its purpose. The east, west, and south directions, once desolate suburbs, now revealed new lands unfamiliar to him from his previous visits to Mowu City. But the final direction, after passing through a long corridor, led to Snow Capital—the map of Love Continent .
Eager to explore Snow Capital, Bai Jingchuan took a step forward but was instantly repelled by an electric current. He was puzzled—while he had merely glanced at the other directions before leaving, memorizing their geography, Love Continent was still an unpublished project. If all adjoining maps were supposed to be abandoned ones… his theory collapsed.
And why had Snow Capital repeatedly resisted teleportation? He didn’t understand.
He no longer had any prop tickets left to exchange for another visit to Mowu City. After some thought, Bai Jingchuan walked forward. Though there was no visible wall or obstacle ahead, an electric current pierced through his body, searing every nerve with icy pain, forcing a cry of agony from his lips. He didn’t stop; in the final five minutes, he kept trying until a system prompt appeared.
“You have exhausted your stay duration in Mowu City. Please leave.”
No violation warnings popped up. Bai Jingchuan had been testing the limits of The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods with his body. If they deemed him breaking the rules, they could have made him vanish outright. Yet, despite repeated shocks, only physical pain remained—he still held value.
But he was utterly exhausted. Lying on the bedroom floor, he couldn’t even move a finger, his body teetering on the brink of shutting down.
He passed out.
When he woke again, the sound of slippers tapping echoed through the house. He was in bed, covered with a blanket, a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. Moving slightly, he felt half-restored, though fatigue lingered. Jiang Huan peeked in, blurting out a string of words: “Teacher Bai? You scared me! I couldn’t reach you by phone, and you didn’t call in sick, so I came straight over. HR and the interns wanted to come too, but I stopped them.”
“How did you know my password?”
“I didn’t need to—it’s six zeros. Neither thieves nor I can break into this fortress.”
The Executor truly feared nothing. Bai Jingchuan chuckled bitterly. “Thank you. I’ll rest soon.”
“You’re recovering poorly after just getting over chickenpox. Weren’t you once a shooting champion and physically fit? Why are you so weak lately?”
The die chimed in mockingly: “If you hadn’t insisted on trespassing outside Mowu City’s borders, you wouldn’t have nearly electrocuted yourself to death. Li Bode, reaching Level 60 might give you another chance. Or today, while Jiang Huan’s here, boost her affection to 60 and unlock new permissions to investigate. Rushing in like this will only get you killed.”
“Don’t you AIs know what The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods is doing either?”
“Sorry, Li Bode. Like you, there are things I don’t know.”
Bai Jingchuan, drenched in cold dampness, paled. “I’ll take a shower.”
“Are you okay?”
“What could possibly be wrong?”
“But you—”
Before Bai Jingchuan could take off his shirt, he stepped under the showerhead, soaking his back and chest. His body still burned, and the cold water sent shivers across his skin, reminding him this was a human body—unpredictable, uncontrollable, unable to act recklessly. From behind, a crisp voice called out: “Teacher Bai, do you only own two sets of pajamas? They look stylish, but clearly, you haven’t put much thought into your life—I can’t find a third clean set to change into…”
He used a prop to summon a fresh set of pajamas. Then the voice returned: “Found it! Strange, didn’t I just check here…?”
Bai Jingchuan considered kicking her out quickly, but he truly lacked the strength. Turning around, water droplets rolled off his hair as he brushed strands from his eyes. Alert, he turned fully to see Jiang Huan standing at the door, holding a towel, transfixed. The subtle lines of his body were unmistakable beneath his wet shirt, cold water tracing paths from his collarbone to his chest and lower. His throat parched, his Adam’s apple bobbed—all of which Jiang Huan noticed.
“Clothes—you can pass them to me now.”
Jiang Huan fled the bathroom: “Nothing! I walked in by mistake!”
While Bai Jingchuan was in the shower, Jiang Huan ventured into his storage room, carefully examining the price tags of each figurine. The figurines and collectibles weren’t boxed up; they were crammed together messily. Large luxury Bearbricks were left to oxidize and mold alongside their logos. It was strange—limited-edition collectors typically flaunted or meticulously preserved their treasures, but Bai Jingchuan seemed utterly indifferent, letting them gather dust. She emerged covered in grime to find him extending his hand with a hair clip.
“Didn’t it fall?”
“No, I caught it for you. It’s a beautiful clip—suits you well.”
“Memory glitch? Did you use telekinesis to catch it? But wait, who even has such a basic power anymore?”
Bai Jingchuan raised an eyebrow, not explaining, his eyes devoid of deceit. His unbuttoned pajama revealed his collarbone and skin, but Jiang Huan didn’t look away. Instead, she stared as she tucked up her hair. Sitting on the couch, he looked unusually tense, eyes wide open. She peeled back his eyelids: “Bai Jingchuan, your eyes are so red—have you not slept for days?”
“Sleeping now would give me nightmares.”
“If you’re scared, I’ll shake you awake.”
“Why are you treating me this way? Do you like me?”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.”
“As friends. Whether I like you or not, I’d do these things for you.” Jiang Huan evaded the question. “The last person I knew who didn’t sleep was Li Junzhu… Never mind, it’s irrelevant. Anyway, I’m not tired now. Let me help you sleep—count sheep, read to you, or pat you?”
The tightly wound man was forcibly stuffed into bed. Bai Jingchuan muttered deliriously: “Would you treat Li Junzhu this gently?”
“The assumption doesn’t hold—he doesn’t exist in real life.”
“What if he did?”
“Make him collapse from exhaustion, kiss him until his legs go limp, then force him to close his eyes.”
“I envy him a little.”
“Dream on. You never could.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Bai Jingchuan yanked her arm, pulling her onto the bed. Jiang Huan flailed to escape but ended up straddling him, pinching his neck: “Bai Jingchuan, don’t push it—I’m not afraid of you.”
His hands, initially guarding her arms, slid to her waist: “Oh. But I’m just sleepless, not ill. If you’re this kind to me, I’ll want more.”
“I’m not this considerate with everyone. But hypothetically—if Li Junzhu were in the real world, I’d hope he wouldn’t just focus on me or be a workaholic. Loving himself a little would be fine too.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100. Level increased to Lv59. Reward: 50,000 gold coins.”
“Oh?”
“Maybe it’s a flaw in otome games—male protagonists only have eyes for their lovers, protecting them endlessly, rarely bringing joy through friendship. While lovers should gaze solely at their beloveds, having friends to care for—even if it brings complications—is natural. Reality isn’t an ideal vacuum; relying solely on a lover isn’t enough. And if Junzhu were in the real world, rather than him protecting me, I’d want to protect him. He carries too many responsibilities—I just want him happy.”
“What you say makes sense, but I think he’d wisely reserve all his time for you since he exists for you. Still, talking about loving Li Junzhu, your current position isn’t very convincing—are you this intimate with every friend?”
Jiang Huan lowered her head—she was indeed sitting astride Bai Jingchuan, earnestly articulating her views. Attempting to roll off the bed failed; Bai Jingchuan merely pulled her arm, causing her to collapse against his chest. Her hands touched his lean, resilient body, fingertips registering warmth and meeting his tender, moist gaze. Nothing about this pose screamed “friend.” Bai Jingchuan steadied her arms, concern etched on his face: “Sorry for letting you fall—but I did it on purpose.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +500. Level increased to Lv59. Reward: 50,000 gold coins.”
With her heart exploding, Jiang Huan slid to the edge of the bed, pointing at his nose: “If you don’t sleep now, I’m leaving.”
Initially intending to coax him to sleep, Bai Jingchuan closed his eyes after gently rubbing her fingers. He wasn’t physically weak—it was that since meeting her, he’d hardly rested. Besides himself, he had few friends.
Through the door crack, Bai Jingchuan slept peacefully, while Jiang Huan’s cheeks and ears still burned. Something was off about Bai Jingchuan—normally detached and calm, his attention elsewhere except for occasional rants, today he radiated charm, deliberately drawing her gaze, exuding sexiness. Just moments ago, when she collapsed onto him, those warm hands lingered on her arms and back. Jiang Huan understood the vague ache—it was a mix of familiar longing and newfound curiosity, a strange exploration guided by muscle memory. Dependence and protective instincts flowed out reflexively, prompting her to temporarily mask her feelings under the guise of “friendship.”
Both adults, Jiang Huan knew exactly what staying would lead to. Her last shred of rationality told her Bai Jingchuan was special—a rare creature like a giant panda, precious things to be cherished and protected.
Bai Jingchuan hadn’t deliberately tried to increase her affection—right now, he was a tinderbox of hormones, brimming with possessiveness and competitiveness. Forcing an increase in Jiang Huan’s affection would open the floodgates of desire, disrespecting her and clashing with his gentlemanly persona. Until he uncovered The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods’ conspiracy, he wouldn’t make a reckless move. The rum-soaked cupcakes dusted with powdered sugar, coffee still steaming, dice chimed loudly beside him: “Smells good, Li Bode—I want some too!”
“No, all junk.”
“This isn’t your fault. You’re not truly human, so Jiang Huan and Wen Li can remember recipes with their taste buds, but you can’t.” The die paused. “Wait, Li Bode, you’re not starting to worry because you’re not really human, are you?”
Bai Jingchuan mechanically shoved cake into his mouth, devoid of the joy he felt eating sweets with Jiang Huan.
A text arrived—it was Jiang Huan. “You don’t like the figurines and big pieces in your storage cabinet?”
“Mm. They weren’t mine to begin with.” A faint smile appeared on his face.
“Why not explain this to Wen Li? She cares deeply about aesthetics. Leaving these at home makes her think you’re tacky.”
“It’s fine. Besides you, I don’t care much what others think of me.”
“How about I sell them for you? Just a 5% service fee!” Jiang Huan sent an emoji of a bunny counting fingers, winking playfully at Bai Jingchuan: “No middleman markup.”
“You already seem like one with that smug look.”
“Not important. Your luxurious apartment costs twenty thousand per square meter. These ‘junk’ items occupy at least ten square meters, amounting to two million in losses. With my 5% fee, it’s like I indirectly earned you two million!”
“Then trouble you to sell them.”
“You said it! Don’t regret it—5%!”
Excitedly, Jiang Huan arrived over the weekend, skillfully photographing and listing items, asking Bai Jingchuan for detailed purchase information. Bai Jingchuan was momentarily speechless—the system provided no response to sudden inquiries. He dodged: “I don’t remember. Truly no impression. Price them accordingly.”
“Such expensive things bought on a whim, now sold just as casually. Are your funds fabricated out of thin air? Do you just add zeros to your bank account?” Jiang Huan eyed the price tags indignantly. The die popped up: “You guessed right—they are system-provided.”
With her hair tied back, Jiang Huan calculated transactions earnestly. Looking up, she saw Bai Jingchuan watching with interest, waving casually: “Pack these. Will the shipping boxes fold?”
For the entire night, Bai Jingchuan paid for that statement, sitting on the floor packing nonstop. Whatever Jiang Huan dragged out, he obediently packed—completely baffled by spiky bears, logo-printed suitcases, and graffiti-covered long-nosed monstrosities priced at twenty thousand apiece.
Worried Jiang Huan doubted his taste, he asked guiltily: “Do you think these are nice? Surely you’re questioning my preferences internally.”
“Not at all. Great taste—these are popular figurines, some even appreciated in value. I listed them for auction, and two bidders fought fiercely. The final price multiplied fivefold! How can you remain expressionless? Five times, five times! Is there anything in this world you care about?”
“I do care about these.” Bai Jingchuan neatly sealed the last package: “What I care about is priceless; the rest I can discard without hesitation.”
Standing one and a half steps apart, Jiang Huan stretched her legs, nudging Bai Jingchuan’s knee, wrinkling her nose playfully: “Oh, shouldn’t I see something priceless?”
She looked up, the translucent wall reflecting like a clear mirror. Bai Jingchuan gazed at the wall, but his focus was on her. Her ears warmed as she loosened her hair clip, letting her hair fall, lowering her head to tap the calculator: “There are a few unsold ones—I sold them at a discount.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.”
“Alright, I’ll trust your judgment.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.”
Wrapping paper tore with a sharp crackle. Maintaining a surface calm, the rhythmic sound of folding boxes lulled Jiang Huan into serenity. Stacking everything by the entrance, she sighed on the couch: “Bai Jingchuan, the treasures you neglected are worth more than the down payment on my house seven or eight years ago. Such waste!”
With that, she fell asleep. Hair tickling her face, she fidgeted several times, rolling over with a thud, only to be caught in Bai Jingchuan’s arms. He gently lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom. In her sleep, Jiang Huan instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +50.”
Bai Jingchuan tucked her in, startled by the affection notification. Hesitating near her cheek, he kissed her hair lightly, holding her fingers: “Understood. Rest well, okay?”
The die popped up, ready to comment, but Bai Jingchuan clenched it tightly, silencing its chatter. In rare moments, he could be “Li Junzhu.” If only there were props to extend this time. Sitting in the living room, surrounded by delivery boxes, he watched as the girl cleaned up belongings unrelated to him. Though the house now felt emptier, it resembled “Li Junzhu” more.
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +50.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +50.”
It seemed her dreams were about him.
Half a month later, Bai Jingchuan received a spreadsheet from Jiang Huan, accompanied by a notification: “A payment has been credited to your account. Please check.”
Opening the sheet, he found a detailed list of all figurine and limited-edition toy sales, ranging from hundreds to tens of thousands. Notes explained that numerous transactions had frozen the funds automatically, releasing them only after fourteen days. One cell humorously described a buyer’s tantrum when refused a discount, marked by Jiang Huan with colorful annotations: “He reported me for refusing a lowball offer, but luckily, my reputation is impeccable, and I had all the evidence… Turns out he’s a reseller flipping goods…”
The amount in his bank account matched the total sales perfectly. Jiang Huan hadn’t taken a single penny. By the door stood a large delivery box and a smaller gift box. Bai Jingchuan hesitated briefly before squatting to open the larger one first—a pair of handmade leather shoes gleamed in rich black-brown hues, exquisitely crafted, styled almost as if tailored specifically for him. Pausing, he reached to touch the heel, finding it specially treated to avoid chafing. The small gift box contained an orange flowerpot filled with soil, accompanied by a handwritten note, making no mention of the shoes.
“Emptied your storage room; bare walls are pitiful. Here’s a tasteful little gift—remember to water it.”
Abandoned game characters from The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods , unable to adapt or violating rules, were expelled, shattered into scattered code and fragmented images, becoming ineffective particles in the universe. Even the ruthless judges of Mowu City instinctively feared seeing their kind lose lives before their eyes.
Without Jiang Huan, he wouldn’t fear leaving so much. But without her, he wouldn’t have chosen to enter the real world. Initially disdainful, he thought love could never justify his stay. Now, investigating the truth of Mowu City and The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods , he sought to modify the rules before danger arrived.
He hadn’t anticipated… actively seeking to increase affection, akin to grinding levels and spending currency in games, where affection grew incrementally but never reached Level 60.
The seed buried in soil had yet to sprout—what kind of flower would bloom remained unknown. Carefully, Bai Jingchuan carried the pot to the window, watering it. Amidst the night view, the small pot became another tether in the otherwise gray, empty room. He snapped a photo and sent it to Jiang Huan: “Thank you. Besides the sapling you gave me last time, this is the second piece of furniture in my home.”
Within seconds, she replied: “Just a random add-on, Bai Jingchuan. How childish of you.”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +500. Level increased to Lv60. Map exploration unlocked, limited to three hours per session. You have lost the identity of Li Bode in Mowu City. Do not disrupt Mowu City’s rules; violations will incur punishment.”
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