Chapter 65: As Long as You Like Him, He Will Firmly Choose You

Before the arrival of sad days, Jiang Huan chose to live life as usual. She was also a master at piecing together puzzles; every little clue in life helped her slowly piece together the reasons.

The girls in the office were all drawing lots for cosplay commissions. A top-tier cosplay idol from the old-school otaku community suddenly announced a commission event, and the entire office was buzzing with excitement. Jiang Huan had never considered herself lucky and refused to join.

“It’s really handsome! The moment he walks over from afar is breathtaking. My heart is shattered! It’s so hard to quit. I’ve been smoking, drinking, and crying late into the night but still can’t get over it. But the commission has already ended, so I can’t message the teacher anymore…”

Jiang Huan stared at her computer screen with an expression that screamed “completely incomprehensible,” thinking the copywriting intern had gone mad.

Offline commissions involved attractive boys and girls meeting clients for a fee per hour. They would prepare classic lines and character settings beforehand, acting as a boyfriend or girlfriend for the day. The main selling point was that love could break through the dimensional wall. Standard accessories included wigs, nose shadows, and colored contact lenses. They would accompany clients shopping, sightseeing, singing karaoke, or dining… Jiang Huan didn’t think such commissions would feel very real. However, with the popularity of games and idol card games in recent years, dreamy girls were willing to pay high prices to meet their favorite characters in real life. The most expensive cosplayers charged 500 yuan per hour, with an all-day package costing 6,000 yuan, including transportation and styling fees paid by the client. Photos shared on Xiaohongshu sparked envy and screams from other girls, making the trend increasingly appealing. Akira recently became obsessed with a dark-hearted, possessive male lead from a game and queued for a long time to book a cosplayer at 120 yuan per hour. Unfortunately, she sprained her ankle playing basketball. Even in a wheelchair, she refused to reschedule. The professional cosplayer brought a blanket to keep her warm while pushing her wheelchair, being both sharp-tongued and considerate, fully embodying the character’s contrast. Akira was so happy she joked that she wished her leg were really broken.

Jiang Huan sneered at this.

Then, she drew a date slot.

…There was no escaping it now.

The meeting place was a hub for otaku and subculture enthusiasts. A place where wearing Lolita dresses, cosplay outfits with fake boobs, colorful wigs, and heavy smoky makeup wouldn’t attract strange looks—no matter how they dated, they wouldn’t stand out. Jiang Huan waited at the entrance, feeling slightly uncomfortable at first. But upon seeing graffiti on the walls like “I’m XX’s dog,” “Bury me in XXX’s 104,” “Open to adding friends, same ships, same dreams, let’s do H”… she realized nothing had changed here. The men were all virtual, and the fantasies were wild. People were willing to die under the weight of eroge (erotic games). Jiang Huan’s four-hour date felt like an eternity. During those hours, she managed to do things like awkwardly sliding into the cosplayer’s lap when there was only one seat on the bus, accidentally pushing the cosplayer out of frame during a photo booth session, squirting cat treats onto the cosplayer’s chin while feeding stray cats, and even helping fans chase down the cosplayer for photos. Despite all the absurd incidents, the cosplayer still gave Jiang Huan a small gift—a sexy corset meant for a mature butler. Not long after, when Jiang Huan saw Bai Jingchuan’s toned body under his shirt, she sighed shyly. Well, even her strabismus was cured—how could anyone not stare?

Someone uploaded a video of the cosplayer and Jiang Huan’s one-day date to a website. Despite wearing a mask throughout, people still commented on her appearance, especially when she sat on the cosplayer’s lap riding a kiddie ride or took selfies without her mask. Some noticed her abs peeking out when she raised her hand: “This girl isn’t simple. She clearly works out regularly and is very disciplined!”

She didn’t care—the cosplayer was the absolute star, and whether she was beautiful or ugly, she was just a lucky participant. Others’ comments about her appearance had nothing to do with her; she had her own judgment.

Dating with the cosplayer was indeed thrilling, but Bai Jingchuan’s shameless Snow White prince was unforgettable. A charming and service-oriented cosplayer wasn’t anything special, but a cunning intellectual lover who lured her into a trap was a direct hit.

She missed him a little.

The rain fell soon after. Thick glass windows blocked the howling wind, yet the dense clouds still covered the towering buildings, except for one patch that revealed a curtain of rain, allowing a close-up view of localized rainfall.

Dark clouds enveloped the entire city. Wen Li posted a praying emoji on her social media, tagged at the exhibition hall on the west side. Jiang Huan frowned at the weather—if she encountered trouble, what could she do?

Wen Li glanced out the window. The exhibition she planned, Unreachable Lover, was set to open in three days. The exhibition space had just been painted, and they needed to finish setting up within two days. If it rained continuously, the schedule couldn’t be adjusted, and the event might be forced to cancel.

“It won’t keep raining like this forever.” Wen Li gritted her teeth. “Let’s call the workers to bring the exhibits over before it starts raining again.”

Twenty sealed cardboard boxes were delivered overnight and unpacked at the venue. Before the delivery team could leave, strong winds swept through, knocking over electric bikes and bicycles at the entrance. Someone chased after a lightbox that almost blew away… Soon, it would rain again. A subordinate stood by the window, filming the thick clouds when lightning struck her phone. She shrieked and threw it far away, trembling. After calming down, she said, “That was scary! Boss, don’t you think we’re blessed? The goods arrived just in time, and now we’re stuck here. It’s like fate wants us to open on schedule.”

Wen Li found it strange too.

The heavy rain lasted seven hours. Together with the delivery team, they arranged the exhibition. Besides paintings and seating, they had to number the clothes backstage, separate the dressing rooms, and set up the makeup area. The exhibition space was entirely white. A few girls dressed in black worked until dawn but still felt something was missing. Wen Li checked the time: “Go home and rest. I’ll stay here.”

The girls left barefoot to avoid dirtying the carpet, their giggles echoing as they went. Wen Li felt a bit lonely. If only Duanmu Xuan were here… it would have been nice. Though his words could be harsh, he was someone who made her happy just by seeing him. Thinking back to the crazy days she spent playing Romance Continent, she looked up at each exhibit, each one expressing her nostalgia.

Well, if Duanmu Xuan were here, he’d probably step on the carpet she worked so hard to clean.

“Hey.”

Was she hallucinating?

“Hey, how rude! I came to visit, and you don’t even greet me?”

Wen Li looked up. Beside the window stood Duanmu Xuan, wearing the clothes she had given him last time but topped with an unfashionable red wool hat that ruined the entire outfit. She frowned: “That hat is ugly. Who gave it to you?”

“I bought it from a small shop on Old Street. I like wearing hats.” Duanmu Xuan jumped down from the window and chuckled at the room full of white exhibits: “You’re really hard to find. If I weren’t patient, I wouldn’t have seen you again.”

“You’re not in danger, so why are you here?”

Wen Li asked sarcastically—he hadn’t called her, and he disappeared from her life on his own. He sat next to her, picked up a flower that hadn’t been arranged yet, and sniffed it, getting pollen on his nose: “Why doesn’t it smell?”

“Are you here on purpose?”

“Yes.” Duanmu Xuan scratched his head: “I wanted to see you, so I came. Are you busy?”

His eyes looked pitifully sincere, completely without guile. Wen Li laughed: “If you knew I was busy, would you not disturb me? Since you’re here, stop pretending.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Setting up the exhibition. This is a gallery my team and I personally arranged. Don’t step on the stairs—it’s something my team and I worked hard on, but now it feels soulless.”

“I don’t really understand what an ‘exhibition’ is.”

If it were a normal man, Wen Li would have sharply criticized them for being uncultured and unwilling to explore deeper worlds. But Duanmu Xuan walked to the steps and obediently took off his shoes, genuinely looking confused. If it were Duanmu Xuan from Romance Continent, dealing with mechanical beasts in the snow mountains and being ostracized by humans, he wouldn’t know what an exhibition was, let alone one that might not attract many visitors. She tugged at his sleeve: “Come, I’ll explain. This is an exhibition about falling in love with virtual characters. For example, if a girl places her emotional寄托 (寄托 means emotional reliance) in a virtual character on her phone, will the virtual person reciprocate feelings? That’s what this exhibition aims to explore…”

The exhibition featured works by many young artists. A girl stood on a ladder holding a puzzle piece. On the wall was a large puzzle of a man in wedding attire, but the final piece of the face was blank, leaving room for imagination. A mechanical artwork shaped like a human-sized phone had tears sliding across its keyboard as buttons were pressed, pearls rolling along tracks into a 3D dress model, forming a wedding gown. A hand reached into a wallet to pull out coins, but the coins were strips of dialogue. A coin-operated machine had a speech bubble as its input slot; each coin inserted increased affection points. At the center of the exhibition was a computer with a hollow monitor, surrounded by bouquets, lace, and veils, with chairs on either side, symbolizing two dimensions… Each piece was hopeful yet deeply sorrowful, lovers both near and distant. Duanmu Xuan walked past each work, stopping to smile before moving on to the next.

“Isn’t this supposed to be an exhibition about believing in love? If so, no one believes in it anymore.”

“Do you find it frightening?”

“No. Is this the reality you see?”

“Yes.”

“I really like it.”

Wen Li was surprised: “I never expected that. I thought you’d hate it since you’re a man.”

“I don’t really understand. But these are all beautiful. The most beautiful thing is you girls organizing the exhibition—you shine brighter than the exhibits.”

Touched, Wen Li reached out to pinch Duanmu Xuan’s cheek. He retaliated playfully, pinching hers back gently, teasing her. She chased after him for revenge, taking off her shoes at the stairs and catching up to him on the first floor. Duanmu Xuan was unusually delighted and chased her back… Running around like children, laughing and complaining about how childish they were. After two or three rounds, she leapt and tackled him to the ground. Gasping for breath, he giggled: “You’re not吃亏 (not losing out) at all! You started by pinching me, and now you’re seeking revenge?”

The side of his face and neck glowed with a pleasing hue. Looking up, the view outside the entire window was mesmerizing. After the typhoon passed, the sky was clear, and the morning sun shone into the white exhibition hall. Strange morning clouds reflected on the ceiling. Wen Li took out her phone to snap a picture—she wanted to secretly photograph Duanmu Xuan but hesitated and put her phone away.

Her mood was a bit low. Was it presumptuous to want Duanmu Xuan as a lover? Hadn’t she already received so much?

Duanmu Xuan gazed at the empty exhibition hall, its walls painted pure white, its partitions invisible. Paintings hung on the walls at varying heights, creating a sense of mystery between the frames and the floor. After discussing repeatedly during the day, the team felt the setup lacked vitality. Wen Li patted Bai Jingchuan’s shoulder: “The exhibition opens tomorrow, and I still haven’t figured out the soul.”

“What soul does it need?”

“You don’t need to understand, after all—you—never mind.” Bai Jingchuan was tall and slender, with delicate features but deep black pupils. His pale skin didn’t lose against the white walls, making him look utterly otherworldly. He wouldn’t understand how difficult it was for girls to find ideal love.

If it weren’t for that opportunity she’d received, she would still be an ugly duckling, a frog at the bottom of a well, a rotten lotus flower caked in mud beside the pond.

She remembered having two rolls of red ribbon in her bag. Perhaps she could decorate the paintings with them and give them as gifts to young visitors. She retrieved the ribbons from her car, and Duanmu Xuan obediently followed, not understanding what she intended to do, returning to the empty computer. Holding the red ribbon, she had the illusion of walking toward him, pulling the red thread of fate.

Duanmu Xuan stuck his head through the hollow frame of the computer: “Is this what breaking through the dimensional wall feels like?”

Annoyed yet amused, Wen Li nearly threw the roll at his head: “You could interpret it that way.”

Not wanting to waste words with him, Wen Li moved the flowers to the third-floor balcony to rearrange the layout. The most beautiful Cattleya orchids hadn’t bloomed yet, but by noon, when they blossomed, they would welcome the first wave of visitors.

Thump-thump-thump—the red scroll rolled down the stairs. She held one end of the ribbon, and the red thread rolled down to the second floor, weaving through the pristine yet lifeless white staircase like a path cutting through a pure-white cage. She had never imagined this. Most people would rush to tidy it up to preserve the beauty of the exhibition, perhaps thinking it was a last-minute creative touch by the curator. The moment it fell, it stirred something in her—even from a distance, the red thread seemed to forcibly create a connection.

What surprised her even more was Duanmu Xuan chasing after it. At the staircase landing, he pivoted gracefully on his heels, leaping down two or three steps to gather the unraveling red thread. With the thread wrapped around his arm, it was difficult to unwind, but he handed her the roll: “It’s tangled. Let’s sort it out together. Have you decided how to design it?”

Stunned, Wen Li asked, “Duanmu Xuan, do you know what the red thread represents? The matchmaker ties suitable people together with it. You just helped me pick it up.”

“So, am I the matchmaker or the person tied to you?”

How could he ask such a question! But Wen Li still smiled. Duanmu Xuan held the red thread, swinging lightly from the overhead rack while sighing rhythmically: “Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not…”

“What are you doing?”

“This isn’t an exhibition about love? I’m just voicing my doubts.” Duanmu Xuan didn’t stop, his face showing childishness, defiance, and an eagerness for answers.

Wen Li didn’t respond. On the way to the airport, frantically replaying Romance Continent, she had never fallen in love so quickly in such a short time. She missed Duanmu Xuan like crazy but completely doubted that anyone in this world would love her unconditionally, not even Duanmu Xuan—he knew that too. If the person standing in front of her playing around was Duanmu Xuan himself, then as the hero guarding the earth’s veins and snowy mountains, he certainly wouldn’t be constrained by petty emotions. Joking about the red thread with him probably wasn’t a good idea. With that thought, she shook out the red thread and answered lightly: “You’re just a mischievous kid.”

Duanmu Xuan stopped mid-action, unravelling the red ribbon, and smiled: “Oh.”

After tidying the red thread, she looked up. The rosy glow faded, and the sky was a clear blue, so vivid that the surrounding buildings appeared more colorful than usual. The city, swept clean by wild winds and rain, had a fresh clarity, as if nature had polished it. Rarely had she seen such weather—it felt like the world had turned into a game scene. Behind the thick clouds of Castle in the Sky hid a castle; perhaps it had fallen to the ground during extreme weather, explaining why the buildings were so vibrant. Excited, she turned around and said: “Maybe the computer connecting the two dimensions has already happened…”

Duanmu Xuan had already left. The two rolls of red thread weren’t neatly wound, reminding her that everything that just happened was real. Was the fleeting sadness she saw in his eyes earlier also real?

The fashion exhibition proceeded as scheduled, and reports quickly spread across platforms, maintaining unexpectedly high热度 (popularity). The exhibition colors were reflected in the clothing. Aside from the audience, the clothes were almost the only bright spots in the venue. Some garments were vibrantly colored, while others used colorful decorations to highlight a black-and-white theme, symbolizing the transformative power of love on a parched soul. The keyword was virtual lovers, and materials were primarily reflective fabrics and metallic textiles, with accessories often made of PVC to create a dreamlike, surreal effect. Given that many players of virtual games enjoyed lolita-style outfits, models in plain lace dresses paired with berets were seen, bathed in dreamy spotlighting that added color to their appearances. In lovers’ eyes, players were unique colors, and players gained a more fantastical experience through love. The most unforgettable detail was that each model had a red thread tied around their little finger. When the audience prepared to leave, they discovered the threads were tied to a tree beside the stairs, crafted from resin, resembling a couple embracing from afar.

Images of the exhibition were released on social media, sparking exposure from fashion bloggers. Creative cross-dimensional artworks on a white background went viral, prompting players to comment with requests to visit. As the number of comments grew, the exhibition hall and WL PRESS confirmed: “Would you like to keep the works on display for a week?”

Wen Li was, of course, thrilled. Another successful exhibition she had curated, further cementing her reputation in public relations. The fashion show venue had transformed into an art exhibition, and colleagues had begun calling her an artist.

However, the first day of the exhibition didn’t go smoothly. Too many players gathered, forming queues that stretched dozens of meters, severely affecting traffic and pedestrian flow. Staff threatened to cancel the event if the crowd continued to grow. Less than half an hour later, the event was indeed canceled, and the exhibition was likely to end prematurely. Wen Li felt speechless after receiving the call in her office—were players really that poorly behaved?

She browsed online and found that players were celebrating the birthday of a male protagonist from a game at the venue. The large gathering attracted uncles and aunties who liked queuing, turning the scene chaotic. Before she could negotiate with the exhibition hall, players had already started filing complaints, insisting the exhibition shouldn’t end early. Jiang Huan voiced her opinion in the group chat: “Why should it end early? I haven’t even gone yet. Are players’ genuine feelings not valid?”

Seeing players spontaneously rallying online to protect their rights, Wen Li was unexpectedly moved. She had once reported Romance Continent and sincerely disliked otome games, but now she was melting again.

After five hours spanning two days, the players’ complaints succeeded, and the exhibition resumed. Jiang Huan stopped by the empty computer frame and teared up: “I’m bringing Bai Jingchuan over.”

“How childish,” Wen Li said, crossing her arms with a hint of pride. Before Jiang Huan left, she asked, “What kind of person is Duanmu Xuan?”

Jiang Huan laughed: “Right? Isn’t he adorable?”

“Is he the type to leave when angry?”

“No, definitely not.” Jiang Huan spoke firmly: “He must have gone to do something important. He wouldn’t just leave when angry—he’s such a sentimental boy.”

“But isn’t he a hero? Heroes aren’t confined by emotions, right?”

“But players moved him. Once moved, he’ll do everything to see them again. That’s just who Duanmu Xuan is.”

Wen Li’s eyes sparkled as she listened intently. Jiang Huan found it odd: “Only a seven-day beta test, and you’re already this obsessed?”

“Actually, I only played for two days,” Wen Li admitted, a bit frustrated but still probing: “Would he be content with just being friends?”

“Of course not.” Jiang Huan pointed behind her incredulously: “Those exhibits are yours. How could you ask such a question? As long as you love him, he will firmly choose you.”

“Really?”

“Duanmu Xuan is hard to shake off. Being chosen by the lonely guardian of the snowy mountains—do you think it’s as simple as being friends? Even after just two days—” Jiang Huan said seriously: “As long as you like him, he will firmly choose you.”