Chapter 52: Sorry, I’ve Decided to Take a Gamble and Uncover Your Secret

For the next ten days, Jiang Huan didn’t see Bai Jingchuan. He was nowhere to be found in the office, and he hadn’t responded to any requests for testing. The project manager (PM) and the planning team were fretting over the schedule: “The boss is already pressing us, but we can’t get in touch with Teacher Bai. He’s never gone off the grid like this before—where could he be?”

The writing team was the last group to notice something was off. News had to make its way through a few rounds before reaching Jiang Huan, but when it came to Bai Jingchuan, the PM came directly to her for help. The worry was palpable even from a distance. She massaged Jiang Huan’s shoulders and head with exaggerated enthusiasm: “I’ve already mapped out a four-month schedule for you, but could you somehow convince Teacher Bai to approve the testing? Otherwise, we won’t be able to proceed with the subsequent tasks.”

“I can’t reach him,” Jiang Huan said truthfully. “He hasn’t replied to my messages on Feishu for seven days now. Clearly, he’s completely disappeared—it’s not a matter of whether I can find him or not.”

“What should we do then?”

“Keep moving forward. In my mind, producing Love Continent is my top priority. If the producer isn’t up to the task, I’ve already mentally dismissed him.”

This remark startled the PM. Faced with the disappearance of the perfect producer, the lead writer’s resolve was far stronger than hers.

“Or, Teacher Jiang, how about you lend me some writers? I’ve been telling Akira’s team that each male protagonist needs an extra outfit. Our company is full of basic styles—it’s really embarrassing. Other games have all sorts of outfits for their female characters…”

Jiang Huan suddenly thought of something: “I have an idea. Let me give it a try.”

She called Wen Li. On the other end of the line, there was the noisy sound of a meeting. Wen Li stepped out of the office and answered promptly: “That’s easy. As long as it’s fashion-related, I can help you get in touch. I can also arrange for my contracted designers to authorize design drafts, as long as you’re willing to communicate with the modeling team—they’ll stay up late to dress your characters if needed.”

“It’s just internal testing, and there might not even be a budget…”

“A collaboration benefits both sides, right? I’m all about mutual exchange.” Wen Li chuckled. “Just credit my designers. I won’t ask for internal testing slots—don’t worry.”

Jiang Huan felt a weight lift off her shoulders: “Testing slots are something I have to secure myself—not everyone gets them.”

“Oh, by the way,” the call hadn’t ended yet. “I’m hosting a ball next week in Yanqing. I’ve sent complimentary tickets to your production team. I also have a new season of dresses—I can’t wear them all. Why don’t you come and join the fun?”

Without Bai Jingchuan around, life had slowed down noticeably. Jiang Huan thought to herself, at least attending would give her some material to work with. The entire production team received complimentary tickets, and more than half the girls showed up, some even bringing their boyfriends—no one wanted to miss such a romantic and high-quality event.

Jiang Huan didn’t have a particularly suitable dress. At the entrance of the venue, she saw Wen Li surrounded by people, taking photos and greeting guests. Compared to her earlier self-conscious and occasionally hysterical demeanor, Wen Li now posed confidently for photos, the small-town vibe slowly fading away. When she spotted Jiang Huan, she carefully led her backstage and pulled out a form-fitting champagne-colored dress: “Wear this.”

“This is too sexy…”

“Are you saying you don’t dare to wear it?” Wen Li glanced at Jiang Huan’s figure. “It’s a very simple dress, suits you perfectly. You’re not overweight—you’ve even got abs. Why can’t you wear it?”

Even without a partner, her heart skipped a beat when the music started—warm yellow lights paired with a porcelain-like multicolored floor, each tile changing colors as the light shifted. The music selection was impeccable, featuring scores from movies she loved and replayed endlessly. Even on her own, she imagined embracing Li Junzhu as snowflakes fell, resting on her head like hairpins, moonlight sewing the hem of her skirt. The air was cool, but her chest burned with warmth. Even without an embrace, she could imagine—he was real to her as long as she wanted him to be.

The fitted waistline of the dress, the light fluttering of the skirt, and the sparkling sequins drew unwanted attention. People’s gazes made her uncomfortable. Someone approached to invite her to dance. She waved them off, and disbelief spread across their face: “Then why are you dressed like that?”

She understood their unspoken question.

Imagination couldn’t save her in the real world. Dressed in this gown at such an event, she was waiting for someone to rescue her.

She felt like she was inside a music box, swaying along with the music, trapped under a glass dome. The expressions of those around her mirrored her confusion—whether paired up or dancing alone, no one truly belonged at this strange ball. But Jiang Huan wandered through the venue as lightly as she could. She didn’t need to please anyone, nor wait for a prince. Simply dressing up was reason enough to dance for herself.

Even if her steps were slightly off, so what? Not knowing how to dance didn’t mean she couldn’t spread her arms and move freely.

She closed her eyes slightly, widening her steps, accidentally bumping into a nearby couple. Just as she retracted her arm, her back collided with another pair of flirtatious dancers. It was a bit awkward, but nothing worth dwelling on—she kept going.

Then she heard voices behind her.

“Look, isn’t that Bai Jingchuan? Oh my god, why does he look like he’s glowing? Is he a god?”

Bai Jingchuan walked toward her, his gaze naturally falling on her, as if he had come specifically for her. Jiang Huan admitted to herself that even though she didn’t need to please anyone, seeing Bai Jingchuan made her genuinely happy.

“The writing team is so important—I had to come personally to ensure quality. Who knows, maybe one of these boys will become a reference for our character designs. I have to take responsibility for our male lead.”

“Oh.” Jiang Huan pointed her fork toward a room full of men, most of whom looked like they were about to fall asleep. “What do you think? Any references here?”

It wasn’t that there weren’t handsome men—the business guys were all clean-cut and fresh-faced—but… they didn’t seem to like women much. Still, Bai Jingchuan seemed satisfied with the scene.

I tried to keep my distance from you, and now look—at a room full of couples, only Bai Jingchuan stands closest to me. He extended his hand: “Miss, would you care to dance with me?”

Jiang Huan knew she should resist, but she craved the feeling of the moment. All the tenderness in the world seemed concentrated in him. Just the brush of his fingertips against her palm melted her, warmth spreading through her body.

A step and a half away—just a little closer, and she’d touch Bai Jingchuan’s body. His beige suit jacket with gunmetal lapels paired with a light khaki shirt carried the faint scent of grass. Being near him made her want to surrender. Most magical of all, it was snowing outside… As someone from the north, no one understood better than her how silver-white flakes would glide past window sills, leaving tiny droplets behind.

It rarely snowed in Shanghai.

As Jiang Huan grew increasingly suspicious, Bai Jingchuan stood calmly beside her: “Still not accepting my invitation? Everyone’s dancing—only we two are left.”

“Whoever invented such an awkward moment deserves blame.” She wanted to extend her hand but couldn’t help being stubborn.

“If you don’t dance soon, the host will call your name over the microphone. Social death is terrifying.”

Jiang Huan quickly grabbed Bai Jingchuan’s hand. A static shock passed between them, making Bai Jingchuan chuckle: “See? There’s still chemistry between us.”

Jiang Huan’s nose stung with emotion, tears threatening to spill. Her eyes betrayed her hurt.

“You chase after me to deliver materials and even help me write dialogue. Should I just give you my salary instead?”

He didn’t respond, seemingly enjoying the music. The background track was Scent of a Woman , graceful and gentle. The crowd shuffled awkwardly, but Bai Jingchuan danced flawlessly. His hand rested politely on her waist, barely touching with just the wrist. He didn’t smile, looking somewhat troubled. Still, he asked: “When you wrote about Li Junzhu’s dates, did he dance too?”

“Yes.”

“So, what’s it like dancing with me now?”

“Our heights are similar—it’s easy to imagine.”

Suddenly, his hand pressed against her waist for a second, sending a jolt through her. She jumped back, her face flushing: “What are you doing!”

“To make your immersion stronger.”

Jiang Huan found herself caught in his arms, his grip gentle but difficult to escape. “That’s hard to imagine. Teacher Bai is everyone’s idol—Li Junzhu has short legs and small eyes, probably not even 184 cm tall. It’s all lies. How could he compare to you?”

“In your eyes, is he really that unworthy?” Bai Jingchuan teased sarcastically. “You might as well like me instead—he sounds far worse than me.”

“You’re really bold to say that.” Jiang Huan pretended to step on his foot deliberately: “Sorry, I don’t know how to dance.”

A faint footprint appeared on his leather shoes. He looked at her, torn between amusement and irritation, making her blush again. Jiang Huan thought bitterly: With so many memories between us, it’s hard to confront him angrily. But she held onto her grievances and anger—she had to ask.

His fingers brushed lightly over her waist like water, startling her. She lost her balance and fell into Bai Jingchuan’s arms. His body heat hit her like a wave, raising goosebumps on her skin. She panicked and tried to escape, but before she could take two steps, his hand pulled her back. She spun around and fell into his embrace again. The music and lights created a sweet, intoxicating atmosphere. That strange sense of overlap returned, and the crisp scent of snow filled her nose. Jiang Huan stole a glance at Li Junzhu. This peculiar pull, this hypnotic allure, wrapped around her like a shadow of possessiveness she couldn’t shake off.

Jiang Huan pushed Bai Jingchuan away forcefully: “Do you always tease girls like this?”

“Don’t wrong me. This was a sincere invitation.”

[“Jiang Huan’s affection for you -500.”]

The die glowed softly beside them, accompanied by a sigh: “Foolish girl, he needs to confirm you won’t be taken away immediately after the test. These past few days, he’s been running endless calculations. Just like now—your Li Junzhu moved the clouds above your head just for you.”

[“You have used the item ‘Abnormal Weather Yeast.’”]

Outside, it was indeed snowing heavily. The wind blew the snow sideways, forming icicles on tree branches. Large snowflakes drifted past the windows like feathers. What kind of magic was this? Snow almost never fell in Shanghai. Outside must have been freezing, yet Bai Jingchuan elegantly enjoyed the dance, as if he knew it would snow. The unusual weather felt like a whispered secret meant only for them.

More real than any date, more captivating than any card illustration she’d ever drawn. His hands were so gentle, as if cherishing something precious and hard-won.

In the distance, sand trickled steadily through an hourglass, time taking on a tangible shape. Quantity transformed into quality, and eventually, the sand would flow entirely into another hourglass.

But Jiang Huan didn’t want to be kept in the dark.

“Bai Jingchuan.”

The clump of snow on the windowsill was blown away by the wind. Inside, the two stood a step apart, Jiang Huan retreating to draw a clear boundary. She spoke firmly: “Can you tell me who you really are?”

“I’ve always been your superior and friend.”

[Warning: Critical situation alert. Prevent exposure of identity.]

“The producers of Love Continent in the past weren’t like this. Every male producer I’ve seen working on female-oriented projects has been arrogant, conceited, domineering, treating emotions as disposable and viewing women as inferior. But you—polite, humble, trusting female creators unconditionally, caring for everyone—it’s as if you were created by a woman. Even meeting you only at the company leaves me constantly awestruck and moved. Even an embrace feels surreal. I’ve grown greedy, hoping you’ll give me more illusions of romance… After careful thought, I’ve reached a shallow conclusion—you’re the producer of Emotional Tide . You have advanced production capabilities, so… are you using me? Am I part of your game? Are the fantasy scenarios I’ve experienced just your experiments? Am I your test subject?”

All wrong guesses. But Bai Jingchuan couldn’t correct her. Jiang Huan said: “About what happened in the recording booth last time—I recorded it. Was your reluctance to kiss me because you don’t like me?”

The executor’s usual evasive response came again: “How do you want me to answer?”

“Is it true that whenever I’m with you, something unexpected happens? Am I really the unlucky girl everyone says I am, cursed by a comet, abandoned by my family, with no friends?”

“Don’t think like that.”

[“Jiang Huan’s affection for you -200.”]

“You sound like a jerk now—or someone hiding something, acting distant. You’re nothing like your former self. Am I some kind of disaster? Do I repel you?”

“Li Bode, don’t lose your temper. She’s angry—don’t provoke her! Be careful not to trigger a mission. Your current condition isn’t suitable for intense battles. Rest for a while…”

But Bai Jingchuan was serious. The phrase “I’ve mentally fired the producer” made him angry. Did I ever hold any significance in your heart? If you believe Love Continent is above everything else, am I just a tool, insignificant, merely something to be used?

At this thought, Bai Jingchuan took a deep breath and asked the question he dreaded most: “You don’t need me, do you?”

A flicker of surprise passed through Jiang Huan’s eyes, but she quickly regained her composure. Memories of the producer’s recent disappearance, unanswered messages, and Bai Jingchuan’s evasive gaze when she pushed him away hardened her resolve.

I’m sorry, but I need to take a gamble and uncover your secret.

Jiang Huan tapped Bai Jingchuan’s chest three times—a code she used with Li Junzhu to extract the truth and stop him from lying. Bai Jingchuan didn’t react much, but the warmth and heartbeat transmitted through his fingertips reminded her not to soften. Her voice trembled: “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m certain Love Continent is the collective effort of everyone in the production team—it’s everything to me right now. If I have to choose, I choose for you to disappear.”

[“You have used the video recording function to capture this moment.”]

The prop she had prepared to preserve this memory ironically recorded this exact moment.

The scene changed before her eyes. The Realm of Ten Thousand Gods capitalized on Jiang Huan’s anger, successfully sending him into a new trial.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have returned to the area of Mowu City where the most massacres occurred.

This was the slums’ underground district, which he had once helped plan. The deep parking lot was deserted, with only the sound of dripping water echoing. Bai Jingchuan walked for a long time through the cold, eerie corridors, circling until he finally saw the crooked word “EXIT” painted on the wall, emitting a strange green glow labeled “Emergency Exit.” He pulled open the door, and wind rushed into his neck and sleeves. Pale pink clouds revealed upward-leading stairs. Each step felt unstable, the cloud-like padding bouncing slightly beneath his feet. Bai Jingchuan calmly ascended, waiting for the moment he would reach the end. Soon, a tall figure appeared in the distance, gazing at him indifferently, like a mirror. The cloud staircase beneath his feet vanished, and the light filtering through the clouds was warm. Surrounded by pale pink clouds, the dream seemed blissful but offered no sense of security.

This was the area of Mowu City where the most violent crimes occurred. To prevent citizens from engaging in fights and violence, the space was adorned with childlike patterns, soft soothing music played regularly, and cloud-like cushions served as steps leading upward. Safety nets prevented falls, creating a pink fairy-tale atmosphere. However, located downwind from sweatshops, the dust carried rust particles, and the windows were coated with a gray film. The white safety nets bore traces of dark red, tainting the ethereal dreamlike world with a sickly yellow hue, reminiscent of dreamcore.

The characters on the panel were cold, as if this were just another normal instance mission; but Bai Jingchuan clearly understood what this mission meant.

[Main Mission 3-3: ID 076831, Protect Your Identity as “Bai Jingchuan.” Failure in this mission will result in the complete deletion of your data. Your current level and items will be inherited by the initial state of ID 076831, and you will be eliminated from the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods.]

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PS: Xiao Zhang is here! Yesterday’s chapter was expanded into two chapters, and the price has been balanced in this chapter. Whether you read it before or after, there won’t be any loss, so rest assured, friends. The storyline remains the same, but some details have been added to enhance the reading experience.