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Bai Jingchuan seemed to wear a mask of anguish. The dice of authority popped up: “Haha, Bai Jingchuan, she doesn’t know you overspent on card draws and used up all your coins—don’t let it show on your face, haha!”
Jiang Huan continued explaining the rules on her own: “You can choose to flip one card or ten at once. Usually, a ten-pull will net you an SR card, but it’s not necessary since after playing for so long, your SR cards are already maxed out, and seeing them just gets annoying.” Jiang Huan rested her chin on her hand. “It’s not very difficult anymore. We’re in a mixed pool with a guaranteed five male leads in 148 pulls—it’s just two decks of poker now.”
Bai Jingchuan frowned. “The planners are really heartless.”
Jiang Huan couldn’t help but laugh. “Aren’t you the producer?!”
“Mission 3-7: Please customize an SSR date and achieve a double-level increase in affection.”
The atmosphere grew sadder. Bai Jingchuan picked up a poker card—it wasn’t the one. He tried another—still no luck. After a moment of thought, he drew ten cards from the middle and flipped them open—nothing. He then drew ten more from the side—still nothing. Jiang Huan clapped her hands and laughed: “Oh my gosh, Bai Jingchuan, are you practicing some kind of gacha divination? You’ve even come up with a strategy!”
“You’ve already filtered through twenty-something cards; the rest must be among what’s left.”
The dice appeared again, secretly mocking him where Jiang Huan couldn’t see. She pushed the dozen or so cards back into the deck, shuffled them, and spread them out evenly. “Let’s continue.”
“Isn’t this going against the guarantee system?”
“Not at all. Li Junzhu only appears once every 148 pulls. Right now, we’re only at 130 pulls.”
Bai Jingchuan’s expression turned serious. Jiang Huan crossed her arms. “Draw honestly, no cheating.”
The dice chimed in: “Li Junzhu, why don’t you just use a prop to make him appear? Show off your powers, say it was good luck, and she’ll worship you. In such a perfect scenario, you could even kiss her right away…”
“You’re quite the schemer.”
The muttered voice was loud enough to startle Jiang Huan. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” Bai Jingchuan’s hands moved faster. Finally, on his fifth attempt at flipping ten cards, he spotted the marked poker card. After flipping through these monotonous cards five times, he asked, “If Love Forbidden Zone goes live, will you have to pull Li Junzhu from pools like this every time?”
“Of course.”
“Won’t that get tiresome?”
“Not at all. You wait a long time for each pool—it’s a date, after all.” Jiang Huan rolled her eyes. “Now that I think about it, it is kind of annoying.”
“It really is milking players for money.”
Jiang Huan looked at him incredulously. “And you’re supposed to be the producer!”
“Is he the SSR of your life?”
“You…!” Jiang Huan blushed. “Don’t go too far—he’s not.”
Bai Jingchuan picked up the marked poker card. “Alright, I’ve drawn him. Will you grant me a date now?”
Compared to drawing virtual cards online, the tactile satisfaction of Jiang Huan’s poker cards felt much more rewarding. And this time, there was no need to force Jiang Huan to accompany him on a date using game props—it was her idea to visit the amusement park. The white whale ride had already begun to anticipate their arrival.
After packing away the cards, Jiang Huan rolled her eyes mischievously. “Forget the amusement park. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“The place you’re taking me to… Bishui Temple?”
Bishui Temple, located in the suburbs, was famous for its lush greenery and blooming cherry blossoms. A line of tourists waited to enter, and the clear spring water was said to symbolize longevity, wisdom, and health. Prayers here were believed to be especially effective. Bai Jingchuan clearly hadn’t expected Jiang Huan’s SSR date to take place here. Seeing how often she played games and manipulated outcomes, he never imagined she’d believe in something like this. Nearby, a girl holding a pink amulet walked past with a friend, praying sincerely: “Please bless me to find a boyfriend this year. If not, a higher-paying job would do too!”
Another girl held a yellow amulet: “I’m definitely going to get rich this year!”
Their prayers didn’t seem particularly sincere. Bai Jingchuan tapped Jiang Huan’s forehead lightly. “If we don’t hurry up, it’ll get dark soon.”
“Bishui Temple is most famous for matchmaking. It’s said to be extremely effective. Most people here probably come to pray for that…”
Jiang Huan pointed to the prayer plaques nearby. Plaques wishing for promotions and raises were completely filled, while those for matchmaking and fertility were only half-covered. Jiang Huan dropped her arm. “As long as someone comes to offer blessings, it must be sincere. If you don’t believe, just stay here while I go pray.”
The wooden prayer plaques covered the entire wall, especially the ones for wealth and prosperity. They were stacked so thickly they almost took on a three-dimensional shape, ready to host dragon and lion dances. Bai Jingchuan leaned closer to examine them. “Look at all these typos. Even the gods would find this absurd.”
“You have used the item ‘Malice Remover.’“
With a simple gesture, Bai Jingchuan erased the malicious alterations and blackened wishes on the plaques.
Streams of worshippers passed by continuously. Bai Jingchuan washed his hands and stood aside, not intending to disturb Jiang Huan. He didn’t believe in deities, nor did he rely on praying to change predetermined facts. Trying not to bother others, he retreated to a corner, accidentally bumping into a passing monk. The monk didn’t look at him, merely saying: “You don’t belong here.”
“Where?”
“In the mortal world.”
Bai Jingchuan paused, then smiled. “So, will my wish come true if I make one here?”
The monk held prayer beads in his hand. “If you are sincere, your wish will come true. But if you harbor doubts or ulterior motives, your path will be fraught with obstacles… Those who entrust their hearts know best how certain things stand.”
“Is that so?”
As an executor from another world, he respected gods and Buddhas but didn’t blindly worship them, nor would he voluntarily visit places like this. Far away, a girl clasped her hands together in prayer, bowing repeatedly. He could easily guess the contents of her wish. He had never been a lucky person, and no matter where he went, the outcome was always the same.
Jiang Huan waved at him. He walked over, and two red threads fluttered loosely, brushing against his fingers like strands of her hair.
“Are you planning to hang the red threads?”
“Mm-hmm!”
“You’re answering so decisively—it’s unlike you.”
“How can I lie here? It’s said the higher you hang them, the more effective they are. We can’t hang them on treetops, but we should aim as high as possible… Bai Jingchuan, I’m going to climb up. Wait for me.”
Before she finished speaking, Bai Jingchuan lifted her off the ground. “This is high enough.”
“That won’t do. It has to be as high as reaching for the stars.”
“If you don’t hang them soon, I’ll let go. Just a reminder—you’re wearing a short skirt.”
While tying the threads, Jiang Huan muttered, “Bai Jingchuan, you weren’t like this before. Shouldn’t you say, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll hold you steady and make sure you don’t fall’?”
“After spending so much time with you, I’ve started to pick up your scent.”
“…”
Escaping from Bai Jingchuan’s embrace, Jiang Huan pulled her skirt down and brushed off some injured bark. “I tied your thread together with mine too.”
“What’s the meaning of that?”
“They’ll be more secure tied together.”
“Didn’t you say lying isn’t allowed in a place that requires sincerity?”
The temple was filled with young girls seeking love. The sound of wind chimes rang melodiously, creating an atmosphere different from the smoky haze typically associated with temples. At the souvenir window, prayer plaques and wind chimes were sold. Objects inscribed with sincere wishes gathered together, forming walls of red and pink—a living landscape. When the wind blew, it rustled like the hems of girls’ skirts. Bai Jingchuan found the imagery beautiful yet powerless as a way to寄托希望 (entrust hope). Many things in reality couldn’t be achieved, especially when even giving your all fell short. In the moment of tying the red threads, he unconsciously tied the two threads together. Jiang Huan patted his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Can I ask you to pick some amulets for the office girls?”
“Huh?”
“A lot of people are buying small sachet-like amulets. Maybe we can give them as little gifts. It’s not about entrusting hopes in them…”
“I understand.” Jiang Huan didn’t call out his shyness. “Akira definitely needs love fulfillment—she cares deeply about her boyfriend. The copywriting team is all about career goals, so give them ‘Victory Luck.’ As for business, I’m not familiar… but attracting wealth sounds like a safe bet.”
Bai Jingchuan quietly watched Jiang Huan pick out amulets. Her newly dyed hair made her look much livelier, as if she had regained vitality. When her hair got messy, she tucked it behind her ear and focused on counting the number of amulets. When paying, she took out a safety amulet. “Let me pay for this.”
“Why?”
“It’s a gift from me to you.”
“…I don’t need safety. You should give me a charm for romantic luck instead. I don’t feel secure around you.”
Jiang Huan was both amused and exasperated by this joke—where did this cheesy, affected man come from?! But she knew Bai Jingchuan was simply trying to hide the fact that his fate couldn’t be fully controlled by himself. She also understood that seemingly lighthearted romance was sweet on the surface, but every word of affection was a prelude to saying goodbye.
She recalled Bai Jingchuan looking up under the tree tied with red threads. The threads were blown in the same direction by the wind, yet he lingered, staring for a long time. A person who relied on talent and physical prowess to win in arenas believed in himself alone and didn’t trust wishes to come true. Coming here seemed entirely to accompany her in prayer.
So, if there truly are gods, please bless him.
From Bishui Temple to the restaurant, and then to the Ferris wheel nearby, Jiang Huan refused to ride, saying she’d just stand for a while before heading home. The wind blowing through her hair felt itchy. Bai Jingchuan thought, absolutely don’t try to make up for regrets—such a stubborn girl.
The Ferris wheel slowly ascended. Under the glowing night lights, the words “Love is Magic” lit up.
Bai Jingchuan felt a pang of emotion. “The other day, during the theater performance at Minnie Castle… Why did your Sad Fairy Tale end so sorrowfully?”
“Because I’m not someone surrounded by happiness.” Jiang Huan gazed into the distance. “During the Disney collaboration, I was at my poorest. I asked my parents for money to pay the down payment, but I still fell short by 100,000 yuan. For parents in a small city, even gathering 60,000 yuan was difficult. I didn’t ask again. Instead, I patched things together with loans, but I still came up 60,000 short. It felt bleak at the time, and I resented my parents a bit, thinking how much easier it would’ve been if they were wealthier—at least I wouldn’t have had to struggle so much. Later, I realized that out of habit, they would save on medical expenses, treating minor illnesses until they were ‘good enough’ and then stopping, which eventually worsened into chronic conditions as they aged… I often felt like I shouldn’t have been born.”
“Don’t think like that. Fairy tales are meant to build dreams.”
“But those fairy tale endings—’The prince and princess lived happily ever after’—not every girl dreams of living happily ever after. The ending summarized by happiness and joy is actually a life of self-sacrifice, bound by duty. There’s another kind of happy life for girls—to become the protagonist of their own stories.”
“As long as it ignites dreams, fairy tales are yours to write. Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll acknowledge your worth.”
Jiang Huan paused, and suddenly the entire wall transformed into a neon light display. A twin-tailed anime idol danced passionately, surrounded by cheering fans—it looked no different from usual at first glance. This virtual idol only appeared in Mowu City. Jiang Huan asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing you need to tell me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Warning: Be careful to conceal your identity and not leak the secrets of the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods.”
“This 2D girl is the image of Mowu City—I’ve seen her more than once. Bai Jingchuan, changes are happening in real life too. Can’t you sense it?”
Bai Jingchuan remained silent—any explanation would expose his identity. Time was like a progress bar, and they were now at least at 85%. The later stages should move slower, allowing him to do more to keep her safe before leaving. On the street, several young men and women dressed in cosplay ran past, one wearing an animal-shaped mask, playfully draping their arms around friends’ necks. In such an inclusive city, it seemed as though nothing had changed. Jiang Huan smiled and said, “I’m a little scared.”
“Don’t be.” Bai Jingchuan paused. “I’m by your side.”
Sitting side by side in the backseat of a taxi, Jiang Huan’s fingertips danced between the seats. She stared out the window, random music playing through her earphones. She didn’t care enough to listen, yet she refused to take them off. Outside was darker than inside the car, reflecting only the stiff fabric of his suit and his moonlit silhouette. Still, Jiang Huan felt something bright shining beside her—no need to guess; it was Bai Jingchuan’s eyes gazing at her. Wherever one star twinkles, it’s hard for another not to be drawn. Slowly turning her head, Bai Jingchuan suddenly leaned down, his nose brushing hers, his lips hovering close: “What are you thinking about?”
“…”
“Jiang Huan’s affection for you +200.”
Bai Jingchuan seemed to enjoy getting close to her in the dark, as if relishing her unguarded nervousness and the barely audible quickening of her breath. Yet he refused to kiss her, letting his hair lightly brush her cheek, savoring their ambiguous connection. Stubbornly, she refused to make the first move, pushing him away and focusing on listening to music or scrolling through her phone. She seemed to be posting on Weibo. Opening the car window, the night breeze dispersed her panic and frustration. Her heart raced like rapid rainfall, then like the rhythmic clanging of bamboo being struck by water, finally melting into fragments of ice tapping against glass, echoing softly.
The dice whispered in his ear, “Bai Jingchuan, she posted on Weibo. Do you want to know what it says?”
“No.”
“Just one sentence. You’ll regret it if you don’t read it.”
“It’s her privacy. I won’t look a second time.”
“But you have to read this one…”
Bai Jingchuan waved it off.
Jiang Huan posted on Weibo, and Bai Jingchuan deliberately kept his distance, respecting her personal space entirely—it was overly polite. But she… felt a little disappointed.
Her post garnered many likes from fans:
“The SSR of my life that will never be replicated because there are no regrets. If there are none, then it doesn’t matter if it’s not repeated.”
The entire office received small gifts from Bai Jingchuan. Unsurprisingly, Akira was the first to comment: “Teacher Bo, are you really trying to get away with just giving us amulets? We’re collectors of protective charms, you know. How about treating us to a nice group dinner for all our hard work?”
The dice popped up and sighed. “Bai Jingchuan, do you still have any coins left? You’ve almost used them all for upgrades, haven’t you?”
“I have an annual salary.”
“Oh, right. It’s a good thing real-world money can’t be used for coin upgrades, or you’d be completely broke by now. You’re such a miser in the eyes of your employees.”
The production team charged from Renwu Road to Dongwu Road, filling up an entire barbecue restaurant. Amidst the smoky environment, Bai Jingchuan leaned back casually, drinking wine. Only when the owner brought out bowls of white rice did he perk up, mimicking Jiang Huan’s earlier technique of arranging vegetables and sizzling meat on top of the rice, sprinkling sauce, and stirring vigorously with a spoon before happily shoveling a large bite into his mouth.
He couldn’t forget how he initially scoffed at this method of eating but also couldn’t erase the memory of the astonishing aroma when he first tried the mixed rice. Taste could form memories, and this moment was defined as his first sense of belonging to this world.
“Teacher Bo! Let’s toast!”
Hurriedly raising his glass, Bai Jingchuan’s cheeks puffed out as his subordinates noticed. “Wow, Teacher Bo, I didn’t expect you to eat like this. I thought you were the type to chew slowly like a gentleman.”
“Yeah, yeah, this is quite a demystification…”
Bai Jingchuan shrugged indifferently. “The food is so delicious—if you don’t eat like this, it’s disrespectful. But no toasts. I hope you all enjoy your meal. Toasting isn’t necessary; I don’t agree with that culture.”
The girls clapped their hands until they turned red. “Teacher Bo, are you an alien? You don’t have a trace of ‘dad vibes’!”
“I do have wishes for you all. I hope you work efficiently, leave on time to do what you love, breathe in new inspiration outside the office, and connect with nature. It’s much better than being cooped up in a stuffy office.”
The girls were slightly tipsy. “Such a humble wish. But we have a small gift for you too.”
A velvet cloth was placed before him. Bai Jingchuan pulled it down to reveal a painting on the wall. It depicted him standing in a black suit in front of another painting, holding a small microphone, just like during the “Big Bang” sharing session. Surrounding him were many audience members, their hairstyles matching those of the production team’s girls. Both Bai Jingchuan and the audience’s hair blended into the background—a dazzling starry sky. They appeared to be floating in the universe, searching for inspiration and resonance in the night. Akira explained, “This was painted collaboratively by the art team. Everyone has solid oil painting and sketching skills. They almost argued over the theme of this piece.”
Bai Jingchuan stood still, hesitantly reaching out to remove the frame. After a long pause, he decided, “Never mind, I’ll take a picture. Let the boss help me take it down later—I’m afraid I’ll damage it.”
Laughter erupted around him.
“So, do you have an ultimate wish for us?”
“Of course.”
“Then tell us. It must be something like hoping we’ll work hard and not quit, or not badmouth the project after leaving…”
The girls burst into laughter, reminiscing about the “deep pits” they’d encountered in previous work experiences. Akira waved her hand dismissively. “How could we? After all, it’s Teacher Bo. We’re curious about the ultimate wish of such a special producer.”
The entire restaurant was filled with their own people—those who had worked overtime together, argued, left, been replaced, or started projects anew. Each generation of producers respected Bai Jingchuan and waited for him to say something to change the mood. Amidst this silent anticipation, Bai Jingchuan slowly opened his mouth.
“I hope you are never burdened by emotions, never constrained by worldly expectations, forever creative, forever inspired by yourselves, and forever free.”
The girls from the copywriting and art teams were momentarily stunned, moved by Bai Jingchuan’s sincerity but also feeling a bit shy. Spending long hours in the office, they rarely paid attention to appearances. Brainstorming and occasional arguments were part of their work rhythm, and they often went without makeup. But they all shared high aspirations, pursued the texture of their dreams, and were willing to invest time in refining their craft, accumulating experience to create unprecedented works. They dared to be pioneers. Bai Jingchuan’s words came from the heart, unfiltered, because he knew nothing was stronger than the will and ambition of women.
“Mission 3-7 completed. Current level: Lv 77. Reward: 180,000 coins, 20 item boxes. Note: Your current rank has increased from C to B. The dimensional channel between the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods and the real world has opened.”
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