Chapter 64: Can You Pretend to Be My Boyfriend for Now?

Jiang Huan felt nervous as she knocked on the door. Outside the window, it was a season in the north when the trees hadn’t yet sprouted tender buds. She stood in front of her father’s new home and swallowed nervously before glancing at Bai Jingchuan. “I’m a little nervous.”

The reason Jiang Huan had asked Bai Jingchuan to come along was unexpected—she’d had a nightmare and needed to personally confirm her father’s safety. This likely stemmed from the sudden death of her mother. Bai Jingchuan naturally agreed, especially after hearing the dice say, “Meeting the parents is the highest form of acknowledgment in Chinese society—it proves you’re family.” After knocking and receiving no response, they were about to call when a stern voice came from behind them: “Who are you looking for? Did you get the wrong place?”

The elderly man, clad in a windbreaker and with his fitness tracker still counting wrist movements, looked confused. Jiang Huan turned around: “Dad.”

“How did you end up here?”

Still looking puzzled, Bai Jingchuan respectfully extended his hand: “Sorry to disturb you. I’m Jiang Huan’s boyfriend.”

The hand he extended wasn’t met with a friendly grip. Bai Jingchuan had read the situation perfectly; within seconds, the old man already had countless thoughts running through his mind: “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? The house isn’t even tidy. Luckily, Huiqin isn’t here today. And who is this? Did my daughter find such a handsome boyfriend? Is she being scammed? She doesn’t deserve someone like him. This boy seems inexperienced; I need to teach him something.”

What an agile mind, showing no signs of aging.

The house in the north was bright and airy, much like Jiang Huan’s father’s straightforward personality. He sat down, then got up again, brushed off his pants without saying anything, went into the bedroom to change into formal clothes, and came out with one side of his collar tucked inside. Without hiding anything, he walked to the mirror, adjusted his collar, and sat back on the couch, addressing Bai Jingchuan: “You said your name was what?”

Jiang Huan sighed behind him, rolling her eyes. Bai Jingchuan, always perfect at managing his expressions, sat on a low stool by the coffee table, intentionally appearing shorter than the older man, maintaining proper posture and keeping his legs out of the way, engaging politely. He introduced himself clearly while tactfully avoiding mentioning his background. Jiang Huan’s father’s hands trembled slightly as he prepared tea, speeding up: “Would you like some tea? What’s your last name again?”

“Uncle, my surname is Bai.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly there was silence. The living room was quiet, except for the sounds of street vendors passing outside, filling the awkwardness. The dice whispered to Bai Jingchuan: “Li Bode, her father seems quite nervous too.”

Her father’s face remained calm, even dignified, but the teacup shook violently, spilling half its contents onto the tea tray. Before anyone could take more than a sip, he glanced out the window: “The weather’s nice. Let’s go for a walk by the lake. I just bought a hammock.”

Bai Jingchuan looked at Jiang Huan in confusion. Jiang Huan obediently stood up. Bai Jingchuan understood; this was a decisive old man, and once he made up his mind, no one could stop him. He emerged from the bedroom wearing a western-style cowboy hat. Jiang Huan closed her eyes in despair, took three deep breaths, and pulled Bai Jingchuan aside: “Don’t praise him. He’s just showing off.”

Jiang Huan and her father bore a striking resemblance, even Bai Jingchuan could see it. Jiang Huan had a small nose with an upturned tip, peach-shaped eyes paired with prominent ears. Her father, being male, had a slightly rounder nose tip, but both shared the same short nose, making neither appear imposing. However, his demeanor was far more authoritative than Jiang Huan’s. Bai Jingchuan guessed his profession—likely a retired cadre accustomed to giving orders. There were traces of exercise on his body, and the hat atop his head seemed intended to look cool, though his fingers weren’t nimble, often slipping as he tried to tie knots, which loosened at the slightest tug, throwing him off balance twice. Frustrated, he exclaimed: “I refuse to believe I can’t do this today!”

Jiang Huan attempted to help but was mercilessly rejected. Bai Jingchuan stepped forward politely, offering to let him rest. The father retreated, commenting: “Young men have more strength and brains.”

“I would’ve been smarter if you gave me a chance.”

“Don’t embarrass a man at a time like this.”

Jiang Huan moved far away, squatting by the riverbank to pick up stones with a twig. Even after the hammock was set up, she didn’t return. Bai Jingchuan approached her. The grass had just begun to grow, emitting a fresh plant aroma that was invigorating. He was somewhat perplexed: “Why aren’t you happy?”

“Can’t you hear the gender bias? He’s used to belittling me, thinking I’m incapable.”

“What if he’s just worried about you?”

“In the future, you might hear more of these remarks praising you while putting me down.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll intervene promptly.” Bai Jingchuan gently patted her head: “Since you came back to see him because you missed him, why not make yourself feel at ease before returning to work?”

Jiang Huan perked up, smiling as she returned to the hammock. She wobbled at first, awkwardly settling in, and cautiously lay down. Her father, satisfied, zipped up the mosquito-proof hammock design. Jiang Huan complimented him: “You chose well; protection against mosquitoes by the river is important.”

“This is for your child. Why don’t you have kids?”

Jiang Huan’s face turned green: “Dad, I’m feeling hot over here. You should go somewhere shady to cool off.”

After entering the real world, Bai Jingchuan had picked up some colloquialisms, understanding what “giving someone an out” meant. But Jiang Huan’s attempts to smooth things over were clumsy, and it was clear that communication in the household had been strained since her mother passed away. Hearing “cool off,” her father likely felt annoyed. His rarely visiting daughter had returned, and his way of expressing loneliness and grievances was misguided. He stormed off to make a phone call, gesturing angrily. Under the dappled sunlight, Jiang Huan sat by the riverbank, frustration bubbling like a caged bird. The shimmering river scenery was beautiful, but she was unhappy, feeling trapped. The sweeter the birdsong, the more irritated she became. Bai Jingchuan found the scene challenging, wondering how to resolve it. He squatted beside her. Jiang Huan’s cheeks were puffed up: “I suspect when we first met, he didn’t recognize me.”

“How could that be? You’re his own daughter.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken. Fathers only remember their baby girl as a chubby bundle or the obedient daughter who excelled academically. Do you think they know what grade their daughter is in, how tall she is, or her favorite color?”

“Is there any theoretical basis for this?”

“Yes, during the 2028 Plan, the production team conducted this survey. We weren’t surprised by the results. Here’s a joke: When my mom passed away, I flew back to handle the funeral arrangements, and he happened to be out. I wore a mourning ribbon and busied myself for a long time. When he returned, he didn’t even notice and mistook me for a distant relative.”

“But they certainly don’t love you any less.”

“Of course not. But Bai Jingchuan, you were set as an orphan, so you wouldn’t understand. Family is like a dish—when all dishes taste good, the light ones at least look appealing. The heavy, sticky ones, would you want to get close to them?”

The suburban scenery was no less enchanting than a fairy tale. Jiang Huan took photos of the lakeside with her phone, her expression unenthused. Bai Jingchuan smiled: “Leave the rest to me.”

Standing up, Bai Jingchuan walked over to the distant father, bending down to speak a few words. The old man was coaxed into standing, strolling back to the hammock area with leisurely steps. They chatted about the weather, fortune, and even delved into celestial bodies and physical laws. The father, now smiling freely, finally stopped looking gloomy, and drove the two youngsters to a restaurant. In the bustling three-story restaurant, every dish… stuck together. Jiang Huan and Bai Jingchuan exchanged glances, but her father remained oblivious, seemingly trying to bond with the man who wasn’t officially his son-in-law over drinks. Jiang Huan reached out to stop him: “He can’t drink alcohol; he’s allergic.”

“A little won’t hurt.”

“It really can’t.” Jiang Huan blocked his glass firmly, her expression leaving no room for refusal: “Do you trust the local hospital?”

Her father paused, drinking the remaining liquor in his glass, then addressed Bai Jingchuan: “Finally, I’ve caught a flaw in you, young man—you can’t hold your liquor!”

Though the sticky dishes were delicious, their appearance was indeed lacking.

That night, Bai Jingchuan slept on the sofa, unsurprisingly forbidden by the old man to share a bedroom with his daughter. But Bai Jingchuan enjoyed it—the living room sofa was soft, the small city’s night was quiet, and the scent of old cookies nearby was pleasant. He restrained himself from sneaking a bite, checking his phone when a message came through.

“Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“This bedboard is so hard it’s impossible to sleep.”

“Want to switch places? I don’t mind sleeping on a hard board.”

“Forget it, you’re an executive officer who can adapt to any harsh environment.” The other party was typing: “Have you noticed? My dad’s bed has a mattress and freshly aired bedding. Looks pretty comfy.”

“That means he’s taking good care of himself. You can rest assured.”

“Yeah. I originally thought he’d wallow in self-pity and continue exhausting himself. I didn’t expect him to still maintain Mom’s habits. It shows he’s capable of doing chores and doesn’t necessarily need someone else to take care of him. Of course, he doesn’t need me—I should feel relieved. Did you see the pink hairdryer and Dove shower gel in the bathroom? Men wouldn’t choose those.”

No more messages came through; Jiang Huan had fallen asleep. The dice leaned on Bai Jingchuan’s head: “Li Bode, what’s it like to have parents in a harmonious family?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more noisy, but also less cautious.”

“Your guess seems accurate. How did you figure it out?”

“Because she can now relax and be herself around me, things she could only do in front of Monodramon before, I’ve gained that privilege too.”

“That statement feels a bit bittersweet. But Li Bode, if you reach level 100, maybe you can choose to stay by her side forever. Sure, your body might not cooperate, and you can’t go to the hospital, but at least you’ll always be with her. Isn’t that better than removing your character setting?”

“Removing my character setting to contribute to humanity’s development is more valuable.”

“Yeah, when you and Jiang Huan kneel to propose, you don’t need to give her diamonds—just give her your mouth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mouth’s so stubborn, why bother with diamonds?”

Bai Jingchuan pretended not to hear, quietly observing the living room. The wallpaper was newly applied, the bookshelf empty, presenting the image of a clean, solitary elder. The father rarely smiled, his stern face evoking fear. Yet, in the moments recorded in his eyes, when he looked at his daughter, there was joy hidden beneath. Was he happy to see his daughter return? Or was it because Jiang Huan resembled her mother?

He felt a sense of guilt—this father and daughter from a broken home were interrogating each other with their gazes and tone. He was secretly picking up fragments of familial warmth, torn between feelings of mutual indebtedness, blame, and longing. That night, he couldn’t sleep, overwhelmed by a mix of heartache and yearning. Of course, he could hear the old man’s restless thoughts loud and clear, buzzing incessantly, preventing him from resting.

“The hammock wasn’t tied as well today as usual. Why does this keep playing in my mind whenever I close my eyes? I forgot to buy the barbecue I saw by the riverside earlier. Who knew she’d suddenly return.”

“She doesn’t look overweight. Is she eating well in Shanghai? If her mother were alive, she could cook something she likes. I’ve always told her to come back after graduation. Struggling outside only leads to misery for everyone. She’s leaving tomorrow. Should I introduce her to Huiqin? Never mind, she’s only here for a day; no need to cause trouble.”

“What’s she working on now? I forgot the company name she mentioned last time. But what can you achieve by working? She’s still making games, and we can’t relate. Can you search for games on TikTok? Let’s look up something and talk to her tomorrow. I still need to give her a lecture.”

“This young man is decent. I couldn’t intimidate him today. Will he treat my daughter poorly? Never mind, someone as handsome as him probably won’t last long. As long as she doesn’t suffer, it’s fine. But she’s almost thirty. If she doesn’t have kids soon, will she be too old? Women over thirty aren’t wanted…”

It’s tough being an executive officer, especially dealing with elders like this. Enforcing the law is difficult, but now he realized human emotions were messy, hard to explain in black and white, more like sticky paste tangled together, pulling at which causes pain, leading to endless arguments.

He couldn’t resist anymore and ate a piece of the old cookie.

The next day, Bai Jingchuan followed Jiang Huan to the old house in the old district. Unlike the picturesque new buildings, the old district looked run-down. The windows of each building were mismatched, painted unevenly gray, with many shop signs using puns. A few steps later, firecrackers startled them, adding a unique festive atmosphere. The old house was spacious, but thick layers of dust covered the floors, showing no signs of cleaning. Jiang Huan sighed: “This will be hard to clean.”

「You have used the item ‘Renewal.’」

When she opened her eyes again, the desk and floor were spotless. Jiang Huan clapped lightly: “Forgot you’re a qualified cleaning robot.”

…Rather fitting.

Bai Jingchuan had only seen the tiny loft Jiang Huan worked hard to buy, never the house she grew up in. As they walked, Jiang Huan explained: “This was my room in middle and high school. There might still be certificates, books, and magazines inside, though I can’t remember clearly after so long…”

The old-fashioned bedroom had a low step. Unprepared, Bai Jingchuan bumped into something hard and painfully lowered his head. Jiang Huan cupped his face: “Sorry, I forgot! Everyone who comes here bumps into this light. Now it proves you’re part of our family.”

“…”

Jiang Huan, who had been suppressing laughter, finally burst out: “Getting hit, then looking at things I used to use, counts as showing you my ‘roots.’”

Jiang Huan pulled out a diary, the first page written in colorful pens with “Anix” and a heart drawn beside it. Bai Jingchuan was alert: “Who’s this?”

“Uh, the male protagonist of an RPG game I used to play obsessively.”

Without waiting for her reply, Bai Jingchuan frantically searched. A tall, blond, high-IQ knightly character, romantic prince type, often compared to Tuxedo Mask. Suppressing jealousy, he said: “So initially, you didn’t like my type. I don’t have golden hair, nor am I a knight.”

“Who would like your type from the start? Consider yourself lucky I don’t have a taste for delicate princes. Besides, you’re too delicate to be a knight. A knight must unconditionally protect others.”

In just a few sentences, Bai Jingchuan’s face darkened. Next, Jiang Huan pulled out a thick folder containing complete drawings and settings. She couldn’t help but boast: “These are character designs, called ‘OC’ nowadays. I drew many before selecting the most suitable role. Later, in college, I finished an entire comic book! But I can’t remember where I put it. I sent it back to avoid losing it, strange…”

Bai Jingchuan just stared blankly at her. Like Jiang Huan, he was searching for his “roots.” Please, Li Junzhu was created after she had endured societal hardships and played numerous domestic and international games. These characters, flawed by their era, couldn’t compare. Jiang Huan sensed something was off: “You’re not planning to kiss me in my bedroom, are you? Even after helping clean, that’s not allowed…”

Before she finished, Jiang Huan pushed Bai Jingchuan’s forehead with her finger: “No jealousy allowed! Comic characters only love one person their whole life. I’m human; my teenage heart changes!”

Resistance was futile. He kissed her forehead and tapped it as a warning. Sunlight didn’t reach the shaded room, but the old furniture, airborne particles, and faded wall hangings formed a dreamlike core. Bai Jingchuan could almost see the young girl sitting at the desk, pencil in hand, drawing frames and learning joyfully from the computer. Was that comic still around? He really wanted to know what kind of male protagonist was in her first original comic. Such a room must have been sad, filled with memories of both parents. Dreamcore and hurtcore truly were nostalgic soft spots for adults. Bai Jingchuan hadn’t understood before, but now he did. In this room, one could always hear warm yet eerie electronic keyboard tunes—sometimes slow-paced “Four Seasons Song,” sometimes slightly off-key “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” But stepping outside, other rooms had none of it. The old electronic keyboard, covered with lace, sat quietly on the study desk. Bai Jingchuan waited for the electronic soul inside to appear, but nothing happened.

「Would you like to use the item to connect with the keyboard and communicate?」

“Yes.”

「Sorry, you currently lack the Dream Dialogue permission. Please try again after reaching A rank.」

Strange, why were past dreams in the keyboard? Why specifically these two songs? Why couldn’t he hear them immediately? Bai Jingchuan sat in place, rapidly searching through visual data, hoping to find clues about her mother to share with Jiang Huan. But due to insufficient rank, he achieved nothing.

The electronic keyboard’s music didn’t end. Whose intermittent sounds were these—her daughter’s or her late mother’s? Was there something they wanted to say to her daughter? Or was it you who summoned her return?

He never imagined he’d strive so hard to become human.

Jiang Huan said that when both parents were around, they initially accompanied their daughter through long security checkpoint lines until she disappeared from sight. Gradually, with her using a credit card to access VIP channels, the accompanying time shortened. Now, with only the father left, he simply said at the departure gate: “Xiao Bai, with you here, I won’t go in.”

Bai Jingchuan loved this nickname—”Xiao Bai,” like a little sapling, called by an elder, evoked a warm sense of being cherished. Originally disliking physical contact, the executive officer developed a strange attachment after being called a few times by the old man. Not long after saying goodbye, a voice called from behind: “Wait a moment.”

The old man retrieved a box from the glove compartment and handed it to Bai Jingchuan—a belt engraved with the national emblem. The retired cadre’s gift choice… likely what he considered most appropriate. Jiang Huan lightly pressed her forehead. Bai Jingchuan, however, accepted it solemnly with both hands: “Thank you, Uncle. I really like it.”

As the plane took off, Bai Jingchuan suddenly felt something akin to ocean waves surging inside him. Was this the sensation of blood flowing? He’d never felt it so distinctly before. Jiang Huan flipped through her photo album in airplane mode. Despite only a weekend visit, she had taken nearly a hundred photos. The thumbnails resembled the gradually shrinking view outside the window post-takeoff. Leaving an impression in just two days was challenging. Jiang Huan feigned indifference: “I didn’t plan to take photos, but since I rarely return, I figured I should capture a few to savor that he’s doing alright.”

On the screen was a photo of her father happily eating, his drooping eyes betraying aging and prolonged depression, yet he smiled genuinely in that moment. Bai Jingchuan stole a glance at Jiang Huan, who reminisced about the brief two-day visit through the photos, though she didn’t seem particularly joyful.

“I think… you two are very alike.”

“He’s my dad.” Jiang Huan forced a smile: “A man’s incompetence and indecisiveness can harm people. He appears authoritative but can’t make decisions. Otherwise, my mom…” She paused. “That’s why I’m afraid to meet him often. This issue… it can’t be avoided.”

The next photo captured the dishes on the table. Bai Jingchuan asked: “Are these your favorites?”

“Yeah. Since childhood, the recipes have always been sticky. Maybe I like making sticky-textured food to hold on to the people I love.”

Bai Jingchuan liked this metaphor. He reached out to hold Jiang Huan’s fingers: “Your father is interesting. Perhaps people of his generation don’t know how to express love.”

“Exactly. So they often say things like, ‘I’ll kill myself without you’ or ‘You’re my only emotional support,’ while secretly having girlfriends and claiming I’m useless, earning money through begging.” Jiang Huan sighed: “Having a girlfriend isn’t bad. At least I won’t worry about him. I hope he finds me annoying and wishes I’d leave quickly…”

Flipping to the next photo, the frame focused on the lake, but her father appeared in the corner, leaning against another tree, secretly watching her.