Chapter 70: “Although the flower language of tulips is forgiveness and preciousness, I’ve divined with tarot cards—it suits you two perfectly.”

In mid-March, a rare total solar eclipse occurred in the Southern Hemisphere. Many people captured the celestial phenomenon where the sun was obscured at 3 PM, plunging the sky into night, and excitedly uploaded their photos to the internet. The geomagnetic storm caused insomnia and anxiety in some, while those whose brains occasionally short-circuited simply felt drowsy. No one in their daily lives suspected that their memories were being rewritten; forgetting was normal amidst the busy, chaotic rhythm of life.

As an executive, Bai Jingchuan was habitually suspicious of everyone’s motives, always on guard against potential dangers from the geomagnetic storm. He remained hyper-vigilant, barely sleeping, and would even teleport near Jiang Huan’s home to “patrol.” The edges of many buildings began to exhibit mosaic-like textures and dreamlike qualities—a sign of the immature modeling in The Realm of Myriad Gods. Virtual structures and characters had infiltrated this city. Bai Jingchuan had spent 40 hours in Wucheng without sleep, feeling no fatigue but still affected by the geomagnetic storm. The entire continent was undergoing data migration; Wucheng was both quiet and restless, as if experiencing a major transformation—no pedestrians on the streets, an unusual lack of noise and congestion; lights flickered, screens flashed violently, and power outages followed by restarts emitted eerie sounds. At this moment, Wucheng’s data was like boarding Noah’s Ark—those with higher priority ratings would be better protected. Eventually, on the new planet, the first batch of data would become true humans and begin building homes. These once-abandoned, never-online data streams would finally start their own lives.

He could have become one of them, but he didn’t care now. His sole focus was finding the list that recorded Jiang Huan’s life and death, pinpointing the exact method of her next demise, and preventing it from happening so he could finally end these days of constant anxiety. The die showed a hint of self-blame: “The geomagnetic storm should be part of the migration process. The target planet is approaching Earth, causing the storm. This is the opportunity Wucheng has calculated for years to achieve. Right now, what I can find for you is very limited. All I know is that Jiang Huan’s data is in the slums. Sorry.”

“Shan Di Meng must know, but he won’t let me find out. His permissions are high, and he’s determined to make this migration succeed.”

“Li Bode, geomagnetic storms are natural phenomena. We can’t stop them.”

“I just need to delay Jiang Huan’s survival.” Bai Jingchuan was stubborn: “Isn’t it unreasonable to take the life of someone who is healthy and still has dreams?”

“Your current level isn’t even 80 yet, but if you go from B to A rank, you’ll gain higher permissions in The Realm of Myriad Gods, and maybe you can rewrite what can be transmitted during the geomagnetic storm. But Li Bode, having control is important, but it doesn’t mean you have to risk your life. Have you forgotten that when you first arrived in the real world, your goal was to reach Level 100 and break free from the persona of living for love?”

“You used to tell me to date the girls I liked more often, and now you’re reminding me to escape that persona?” Bai Jingchuan laughed: “And here I thought you were the God of Love.”

“My priority is to keep you alive so you don’t get a GAME OVER. I’m not eager enough to quickly assist the next person with an experience card.”

Bai Jingchuan couldn’t find any information about the life-and-death list anywhere. Standing at the station in New Capital, he let the cold wind blow over him. Dust swirled up, carrying leaflets—cold, soulless advertisements. People weren’t encouraged by ads; they were merely anesthetic for life—this was how it felt in the real world. Bai Jingchuan looked up and saw a twin-tailed girl singing and dancing on the big screen. Her hair was pink, and she wore a short skirt full of energy, seemingly tireless.

He stared for a long time and asked the die: “Has this celebrity been around since Wucheng appeared?”

“Yes, she’s a character from a manga. The story’s setting is that she’s a girl returning from the future, but it got scrapped and ended up in Wucheng.”

“But does she have a life? I mean, does she exist in Wucheng?”

“Not really.” Eros checked the system records: “She’s from the future, so she doesn’t have a physical form. If we rewind time, her birthdate is April 1st of this year, at 11 AM… which is fifteen days from now…”

Bai Jingchuan watched the girl dance, his furrowed brows gradually relaxing, and he smiled. He continued asking: “Does she have a love interest in the manga? A boyfriend or something?”

“No. Bai Jingchuan, your questions are strange…”

He could temporarily leave Wucheng.

At 10:55 AM, Bai Jingchuan returned to the real world and sent a message to Jiang Huan: “Where are you? I’ll come find you.”

“Can you come at 11 instead?”

The wind on Renwu Road was stronger than usual. Jiang Huan looked up and smiled at him as Shan Di Meng’s car drove past behind her. She didn’t notice, but Bai Jingchuan saw the unease and sadness on her face. Those two must have talked about something earlier.

「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +200.」

Thankfully, though not much, she still seemed happy about his arrival.

Jiang Huan pretended nothing had happened and looked at her phone: “It was so scary. I heard a friend’s plane almost couldn’t land because the signal was disrupted. When it landed safely, stuff was scattered everywhere, and the overhead compartments burst open. Everyone was terrified.”

“Hmm?”

“The geomagnetic storm’s impact is huge, and it’s going to last 15 days… That’s a long time… Bai Jingchuan, this phenomenon won’t separate us, will it?”

“You’re making me a little scared.” Bai Jingchuan pretended to be frightened, actually joking with her: “Is this another one of your wild imaginations?”

“Then—can you carry me on your back?”

“Huh?”

“I can’t walk anymore. I want to rest.”

Though it seemed like mere coquetry, Bai Jingchuan saw through it clearly. Something unpleasant must have happened earlier, and she needed immediate intimacy. The die reminded him from the side: “Bai Jingchuan, remember to maintain her affection. The higher your level, the more control you’ll have.”

But Bai Jingchuan stood still: “I don’t want to carry you.”

“What?” Jiang Huan pulled out her trump card: “Don’t you like me anymore?”

Jiang Huan’s vision spun, and in her panic, she instinctively grabbed Bai Jingchuan’s collar. By the time she regained consciousness, she was already cradled princess-style in his arms. She blushed: “Put me down!”

“Aren’t you the one who said you couldn’t walk?”

The scent of dust and cold wind mixed with the heavy cedar aroma emanating from Bai Jingchuan’s body. When she leaned closer, it was warm. The two laughed as they walked forward, and Bai Jingchuan showed no intention of putting Jiang Huan down.

「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +1000.」

Work proceeded smoothly. The boss was stationed in the office, and Bai Jingchuan diligently reported: “New developments have expanded the scenes in New Capital. The details of the dome skyscraper have been refined. Players who enjoy exploration will love the multiple pathways for navigating the towering buildings. Aside from the slide rail descent method, there’s also…”

Suddenly, the projection screen melted and flowed, and liquid forms with heads and hands emerged from the floor—similar to the unformed life seen in carpets. Bai Jingchuan quickly raised his hand to turn off the projector, and the scene of spreading liquid disappeared. Everyone in the conference room was staring at him, and celebratory music continued to play in the background. He didn’t need to think twice to know his expression was grim.

The boss tapped the table: “What happened?”

“Nothing, it was my mistake. Sorry.” He turned the projector back on, and the views of tunnels and dome skyscrapers in New Capital reappeared. The main tone of gray-green was oppressive, and Bai Jingchuan disliked the gloomy hues of New Capital, even though the slums had some light. Snow mountains and islands were better than New Capital—at least visually, they didn’t evoke a sense of oppression.

He felt he had changed a lot. Li Bode, the creator of Wucheng’s dark side and originally designed as the antagonist, now found himself drawn to places with sunlight and the natural warmth of clothes dried under the sun.

Not far away, Jiang Huan bit her pen and pondered deeply, paying little attention to him. Immersed in her work, she was focused and wouldn’t look up just because the screen went blank. This production team had found joy in their work and wasn’t entangled in personal emotions. After everyone left the office, Akira bent over and tilted her head to ask: “Teacher Bai, are you okay? You looked terrible just now, like you saw something dirty. Is there a ghost in the office?”

Jiang Huan promptly raised her head, her expression clearly skeptical and… jealous. Bai Jingchuan smiled and said: “I’ve been pulling all-nighters. Even ghosts standing in front of me would make me think I’m dying.”

“Too much pressure from going online? Take some melatonin?” Akira gestured: “You can’t collapse. The public beta test for Lovers’ Continent is coming up, and we’re planning to make you the male lead for a day offline!”

“What schemes are you cooking up now? Who do you want me to cosplay this time?”

Akira left with a smile, and the last ones to leave the meeting room were Jiang Huan and Bai Jingchuan. Feeling slightly guilty, Bai Jingchuan walked behind her and probed: “You were looking at the screen during the meeting. Did something happen?”

“The male leads are too charming. I’m struggling to choose which one to marry.”

So she was jealous. Bai Jingchuan didn’t give her a chance to suspect: “Like Li Junzhu, my heart only moves for one person.”

“You two are still quite different.”

“Oh? How so?”

“You’re not as cruel or charming as him. Li Junzhu can directly sentence people to death—utterly ruthless. But usually, he’s extremely gentle, accepting everyone’s kindness and empathizing with the weak. He’s the kind of person who’d buy all the orchid bracelets from an old lady on the street.”

“And what else?”

“Li Junzhu loves giving flowers. Those small bouquets often include pearls, lace ribbons, and shells. Speaking of which, I’ve always wanted to experience receiving a bouquet from Gu Qingxiao. Every gift of his is grand and passionate. I imagine even the wedding dress he gives his bride would have a train ten meters long…”

Jiang Huan wrinkled her nose, as if challenging him. Bai Jingchuan exhaled, waiting for her to continue. Jiang Huan understood Bai Jingchuan’s meaning well—he was helpless against her teasing.

「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +500.」

Bai Jingchuan seriously considered how to be both kind and generous. On his way home from work, an enthusiastic girl was selling flowers at a stall in the neighborhood. Fresh blossoms adorned with dewdrops were delicate and vibrant, hitting Bai Jingchuan’s sweet spot. Occasionally, bursts of yellow popped out, brighter than the sunlight above—nothing was more uplifting than seeing flowers in winter. Driven by competitiveness, Bai Jingchuan bought some flowers and instructed them to be delivered to Lowry Games on Renwu Road that evening. They were to call him personally upon delivery, ensuring the recipient signed for them. The flowers were to be mainly white and yellow, evoking the scent of sunshine—light, airy, and clever in design.

The girl waved goodbye, thanking him for the opportunity to design the bouquet herself. She promised to create the most perfect arrangement possible. Ordering flowers from a neighbor felt more human and less distant, right? Following the routine of meetings, reporting progress to the boss upstairs, and even becoming slightly assertive, Bai Jingchuan was questioned by the boss about whether he was dating someone. Returning to the 14th floor, he acted nonchalant toward Jiang Huan, repeatedly interrogating the storyline without intending to cut her any slack. Watching her bite her pen in concentration, he remained calm, waiting for her to write something that would make him proud. As for the evening—he was already planning a surprise for Jiang Huan. Pretending the flowers were casually bought, he would let her guess who they were for before revealing, at the right moment, that they were meant for her… Just imagining her adorable blush made him anticipate it.

When the flowers arrived, Bai Jingchuan deliberately carried them into the elevator and brought them straight to the office. The large bouquet made him seem smaller, drawing astonished looks from everyone in the office.

“Jiang Huan, did you see what Bai Jingchuan just carried in?”

“Huh? I didn’t see anything.” Jiang Huan was indeed engrossed in reviewing the new main storyline.

“But it doesn’t seem like something Bai Jingchuan would send. Was he delivering it for someone else? It doesn’t look good…”

In the office, Bai Jingchuan placed the flowers on the sofa and messaged Jiang Huan: “Come to my office at noon.”

In his mind, the scene played out like this: Jiang Huan would walk into the office and be delighted to see a large bouquet of tulips on the sofa, paired with a French-style ceramic teacup and the plush rabbit she had given him. He would wear a beige shirt, finish his work, and casually look up as sunlight filtered through, creating a cinematic filter… Like a film by Rohmer.

The die floated nearby, murmuring: “Li Junzhu, do you feel… like it kind of looks like a wreath?”

“…”

“Ninety-nine tulips squeezed together—it’s quite solid as a wreath.”

“…Is it unlucky?”

“What do you think? You’ve always had good taste. These flowers don’t seem to match your aesthetic…”

Bai Jingchuan looked at the large bouquet of tulips in his arms, frowning. A simple request—”a beautiful bouquet suitable for confession, with a sunny scent, mainly yellow and white”—had resulted in this. Especially considering the potential consequences of the geomagnetic storm, he felt cursed and wanted to throw the flowers away immediately. The die tried to stop him: “Don’t throw them away! Why don’t you rearrange them? Flowers need to stay fresh; put them in the fridge for now.”

Unconvinced, Bai Jingchuan placed the refrigerator shelf in the sink and arranged the flowers one by one inside. A subordinate coming to fetch a lunch box recoiled in shock—the visual impact of a large bouquet of white tulips was overwhelming, each circle neatly tied, emanating a somber aura from the netherworld.

Bai Jingchuan had no choice but to transfer the flowers back to the office. After several rounds of fussing, the entire office witnessed his plight.

“Did you see Teacher Bai running around with that huge bouquet?”

“So silly.”

“But seeing a god descend is really cute. Who is he doing this for? So envious…”

Li Junzhu in Forbidden Love Zone had given his girlfriend flowers many times—not grand bouquets to be held in her arms, but small, delicate bunches that could serve as bridal bouquets. Cornflowers, sometimes accompanied by a string of pearls or a few reflective mother-of-pearl accents…

Just as Jiang Huan pushed the door open, Bai Jingchuan realized that sending flowers had been a complete failure. From the initial purchase to the current situation, nothing had gone as expected. Jiang Huan walked in cheerfully, half her ear burning: “You called me, but there’s no response. Are you preparing a surprise for me?”

The flowers still dripped with water, leaving wet spots all over the sofa. A perfectionist in front of Jiang Huan had completely “crashed and burned,” beyond redemption. Thinking of Jiang Huan’s inevitable death and the flowers before him, Bai Jingchuan pragmatically adjusted his approach: “These are for decorating the entire office. You came just in time—can you help me distribute them?”

To his surprise, Jiang Huan agreed: “Sure, I’ll help.”

Each girl received two tulips. Most had vases; those who didn’t used pencil holders or coffee mugs filled with water to place the flowers on their desks. The entire floor of women smiled brightly. Speculation about gossip turned into admiration for the producer willing to embarrass himself to personally bring back a bouquet for the office, even attempting to preserve it in the fridge. Their fondness for Bai Jingchuan grew even more.

Bai Jingchuan overheard many inner thoughts, momentarily overwhelmed by the gratitude and affection. Restraining himself, he walked another round through the office. Someone who had never paid attention to flowers in Wucheng now found having flowers on his desk a beautiful thing.

He took the initiative to message Jiang Huan: “I’ll take you home.”

Back in Jiang Huan’s neighborhood, he started reminiscing about the days when he lived next door and ate omelet rice, or when clothes fluttered onto his balcony. When he first arrived in the real world, he had been wary and resistant to everything. Now, he was nostalgic for the unexpected joys he had collected at the beginning.

Opening the elevator, the two encountered the neighbor who sold flowers to her. Bai Jingchuan felt awkward—wasn’t this the flower shop near his home? Why was it here! The girl was also surprised: “Ah, aren’t you the customer who bought my tulips?”

“…”

“How is it? Does your girlfriend like them?”

Bai Jingchuan thought, of course she likes them. If it weren’t for such a large bouquet of white flowers, he wouldn’t have gained a good reputation at the company, and he still hadn’t managed to give Jiang Huan a gift. His flaw was not showing his emotions on his face, making it hard for others to see he was unhappy.

On the contrary, Jiang Huan happily responded: “I love them. Thank you.”

The girl happily raised her hands above her head, forming a heart shape: “Although the flower language of tulips is forgiveness and preciousness, I’ve divined with tarot cards—it suits you two perfectly! Wishing you eternal happiness!”

As the elevator doors closed, Bai Jingchuan smiled sadly—it was quite fitting. Jiang Huan tilted her head and softly muttered: “Although I don’t believe in these things, the last time I consulted metaphysics was with a crystal ball. Could this be another prophecy…?”

Her hand was gently held and enclosed in his palm. Bai Jingchuan kissed the back of her hand: “For the next period of time, I might not be around. I need to ask you to do something for me.”

Jiang Huan looked up at him.

“If you see an unfamiliar cyberpunk city in your dreams, with traces of Lovers’ Continent, don’t be afraid or panic. Try to think positively. Lovers’ Continent might disappear, but the characters you’ve created and the landscapes Akira helped draw will surely be reborn in another world.” Bai Jingchuan spoke earnestly: “Also, no matter who asks you to leave this world and follow them, don’t agree.”

“I don’t understand.” Jiang Huan was confused: “Who would take me away, and where to?”

The man in front of her didn’t answer, as if it were something beyond his control. She reached out to touch Bai Jingchuan’s face, like caressing a treasure she was about to lose: “The things I see in my dreams… they’re what you’ll experience, right?”

“Emotions are the most important thing. Being able to see a cyberpunk city in your dreams proves your emotions are incredibly valuable, with energy strong enough to be harvested as a target for artificial intelligence. So no matter what happens next, just feel deeply and act on your intuition. And don’t underestimate yourself—you have many shining qualities. Like the crystal ball you mentioned, without realizing it, you’ve already built one.”

“Will I see you in the crystal ball?”

“If you wish, we will meet.” Bai Jingchuan smiled tenderly: “Goodnight, I hope you have sweet dreams.”

Jiang Huan thought about Bai Jingchuan’s cryptic hints, burying herself in the blankets without understanding. But when she saw the abandoned outskirts of Wucheng—Haidu—and Bai Jingchuan standing alone against the wind in Haidu while she was immobilized, she knew she had truly entered a dream. She was also one of Bai Jingchuan’s original world’s targets. Before her stretched a vast sea, the tides pushing Bai Jingchuan back. He stood in the coastal area of New Capital, the shimmering waves blinding, and the shore littered with ruins submerged in water. The scene unfolded directly before her.

「Task 4-1: In front of you are rogue data from the migration plan of Wucheng who violated the game rules and escaped into reality. Use combat or personal skills to push them into the Sea of Oblivion, ensure your safety, and avoid entering the sea together to lose your life. Time limit: one hour.」