Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
Jiang Huan created Bai Jingchuan and knew exactly what kind of person he was. If she hadn’t recognized him as Li Junzhu at first, she might have found him strange and unpredictable. Now, she understood well—this stubborn-mouthed villain who enjoyed unexpected situations would definitely turn her life upside down if he tried to pursue her. The moment she saw the screen on the opposite building light up while standing by the window, she fixed her gaze on Bai Jingchuan. The message read: “Dear, marry me.”
Everyone covered their mouths in excitement. Jiang Huan’s face darkened, and she glared at Bai Jingchuan immediately. But the signature revealed the truth: “I love you, Miss Yu Mei-Mei — From your loving Sheng Weilong.” Her colleagues sighed over how extravagant this proposal was. Jiang Huan let out a breath of relief—it wasn’t Bai Jingchuan after all. He wasn’t that ostentatious.
When she went downstairs and saw a deliveryman carrying a hundred red roses, Jiang Huan walked around him, fearing they were from Bai Jingchuan. The deliveryman approached her, and Jiang Huan felt both anticipation and dread. Could it really be? Over a hundred flowers! Imagine the gossip when she carried them upstairs!
The deliveryman stopped in front of her: “Excuse me, miss—”
Jiang Huan reluctantly extended her hand: “Hmm?”
“You’re blocking the way. Could you step aside? I’m looking for someone behind you.”
Embarrassed, she moved aside. Akira laughed so hard she slapped her thigh: “Jiang Huan, you’ve been single for so long. Why are you suddenly having romantic fantasies?”
Who else could it be because of!
After finishing work late into the evening, Jiang Huan took a short break at the nearby university campus. She happened to pass by an area where candles were arranged in the shape of a heart. Lost in thought, she looked up only to find herself standing in the middle of the heart-shaped candle formation. A guitar melody came from behind her—it was the classic song Unintentional . Jiang Huan was already on high alert, but such an old song wouldn’t be chosen by today’s college students. It had to be Bai Jingchuan!
She stood still, and someone nearby was filming, gesturing for her to close her eyes. Someone strummed the guitar and approached, accompanied by hushed conversations. Jiang Huan grew nervous and slowly opened her eyes. The guitar stopped, and the boy looked confused: “Sister, why are you standing here?”
It was a boy wearing a denim-blue school uniform. Jiang Huan awkwardly replied: “Didn’t someone tell me to close my eyes?”
“That was the director telling me to close my eyes.”
“And your heart-shaped candles…?”
“We’re filming a music video for the top ten singers. First-person perspective. You accidentally wandered in.”
Overwhelmed with embarrassment, Jiang Huan ran off. Bai Jingchuan, even if he had become more clever, wouldn’t go so far as to orchestrate urban romance like this, let alone play the guitar. Clearly, Jiang Huan had imagined too much.
Realizing Bai Jingchuan wouldn’t make any obvious moves, Jiang Huan stopped being overly cautious and focused on her work, completely ignoring him. She accompanied Bai Jingchuan in receiving producers from other companies. With her clear thinking and rich experience, coupled with her youthful appearance from regular exercise, Jiang Huan left a strong impression. In the elevator, as the three of them descended, the producer who had been chatting with Bai Jingchuan turned his attention to Jiang Huan: “Have you always worked at Lorry?”
“Yeah, for about five or six years.”
“Do you have any personal projects?”
“Yes, I’ve made a game. It’s almost finished; I’m just waiting for the right time to name it and promote it.”
“What kind of game?”
“It’s an adventure game with a focus on narrative. Not an AVG, but with special effects and puzzles. I designed everything myself.”
“Interesting. Let’s exchange WeChat info for future contact.”
“Sure, let me scan your QR code.”
Jiang Huan pulled out her phone to scan, politely waiting as the producer held his phone near the window. But just as she reached out, Bai Jingchuan’s car suddenly reversed. His QR code was scanned precisely, and before Jiang Huan could react, the car sped off, leaving her staring at the chat interface for Bai Jingchuan.
Was this part of his pursuit? Or was this just blocking potential suitors? Petty yet full of tricks—where did he learn these tactics? Did love make people childish?
Back home, Jiang Huan remained silent, opening her computer to edit documents. She ignored all calls and messages from Bai Jingchuan. Within half an hour, a tall shadow appeared behind her. Jiang Huan pressed her forehead: “I forgot you can teleport. It must be effortless for you to pursue me now.”
“Is that so? I didn’t even get a chance to be welcomed through the door.”
“Now that you’ve seen me, can you leave? I’m still unappreciated and need to work hard to find new opportunities.”
“What opportunities?”
“The big ones. Maybe you ruined them!”
“He was clearly looking down on you, thinking a girl couldn’t accomplish much. He added you on WeChat to give you some hope while calculating the lowest salary he could offer to poach you.”
Jiang Huan’s face fell: “Thanks. Telepathy sure is useful—it really hurt.”
She was genuinely hurt. Despite feeling warmth in the large company, she realized no one truly appreciated her. Bai Jingchuan’s sharp tongue and sharper mind quickly deflated her confidence.
“Go back. I need to finish revising my story.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“You’re no longer my superior.”
“But in terms of ability, I still am.”
“…” Jiang Huan fell silent. Though exaggerated, Bai Jingchuan indeed had an impressive character design. He learned quickly and excelled in his work. After spending just an afternoon in the tech department, he mastered UE5 rendering and launched a space battleship to explore black holes. Jiang Huan envied him tearfully—she had spent half a year learning the basics with Shan Dimon. Sitting beside him, the familiar scent drifted into her nose, but Jiang Huan pretended to be unaffected, typing ten words and deleting five, struggling for three minutes before her stomach growled loudly.
When she looked up again, Bai Jingchuan had indeed disappeared. Had he really left?
After twenty minutes, there was a knock at the door. Bai Jingchuan entered with a tray. The omurice hadn’t been cut open yet, trembling slightly with each step. Neatly arranged grilled steak slices were placed beside it, making her mouth water. Jiang Huan forced her eyes away from the food, afraid of appearing weak in front of Bai Jingchuan. Her stomach rumbled embarrassingly. How pitiful—to lose all self-control at the smell of food!
“If you don’t eat soon, it’ll get cold.”
“I don’t have time…”
“Time isn’t that tight.”
Unexpectedly, Bai Jingchuan picked up a knife, skillfully slicing open the omurice. The runny egg yolk and whites covered the white rice, making her salivate. He mashed it with a spoon and scooped a bite, holding it up to Jiang Huan: “Open your mouth.”
Jiang Huan’s eyes widened—wasn’t this exactly what she used to do for Bai Jingchuan?
“I have hands…”
“But I like watching you eat. It makes me feel happy.”
His three sentences hooked Jiang Huan’s lips upward—these were words she had once said. This wasn’t someone who had been dormant for three years; it was as if he had attended a love school and graduated with honors, ready to act like an old married couple. She covered her mouth: “How… did you suddenly get so good at romance? Weren’t you emotionless before?”
“My body is still mine. Even though I was in hibernation, the experiences we shared are ingrained in my body memory. They’re very familiar.”
She hadn’t even swallowed her food when his words touched her deeply. What Jiang Huan had originally created just to fill his stomach had now become something Bai Jingchuan cherished as genuine. Jiang Huan felt a wave of nostalgia—casual words she had spoken were now stored as heartfelt truths. When a grain of rice fell from her lips, Bai Jingchuan caught it with a spoon and guided it back into her mouth. The scene was so heartwarming that Jiang Huan thought she had spent three years blissfully in love like this.
She couldn’t keep up the act anymore and wanted to reach out and hug Bai Jingchuan. But seeing him holding the bowl of food cutely, she decided to treat him like a child for once. Thinking this, she reached out to adjust his tucked-in collar. Eating alone was like feeding on a schedule—neither satisfying nor starving. Eating together made the meal tastier. Bai Jingchuan’s expression was serious, and Jiang Huan thought he might confess: “It doesn’t matter if no one appreciates you. Having a work of art is enough to prove yourself. Didn’t you admire me once because of my work? You praised me endlessly.”
“Right, right!” Jiang Huan grabbed Bai Jingchuan’s arm, nearly choking: “Do you remember the name of your work?”
“That memory is gone. Sorry.”
“Really?”
“I’m not lying.”
Bai Jingchuan didn’t seem to be lying. Jiang Huan didn’t understand the criteria for memory deletion. What had Bai Jingchuan sacrificed to exchange for the chance to meet her again? But Shan Dimon hadn’t mentioned anything. The feeling of being the only one who knew was terrible. She probed repeatedly: “You really don’t remember, Bai Jingchuan? Think harder. What if it’s valuable for my game? Tell me!”
The man across from her just smiled helplessly and shook his head: “I truly don’t remember. But I believe with my abilities, helping you shouldn’t be difficult.”
As the carbonated drink slid down her throat, Jiang Huan felt alive: “Let me clean up.”
Bai Jingchuan also stood up, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Their four hands overlapped as they carried the empty plates awkwardly, walking side by side. Jiang Huan frowned: “Don’t be so clingy. What if the dishes break?”
“I definitely have a way to prevent that.”
Jiang Huan knew Bai Jingchuan could manipulate air like rubber candy, sending plates and utensils directly to airports or train stations. But he insisted on sticking together, walking to the sink and back, essentially wanting to stay close to her. Her back pressed against his warm, lean embrace. Jiang Huan misstepped, stepping directly on Bai Jingchuan’s foot. He didn’t cry out in pain but instead let her step on both feet, moving slowly back and forth. The two of them aimlessly circled the living room.
“But how did you suddenly get better at cooking? I remember setting you as a food idiot…”
“Having eaten someone’s cooking, one can always pick up a thing or two. But I think it’s about eating together, not about how delicious the food is.”
Every sentence hit her weak spot with sugary precision. Jiang Huan couldn’t keep pretending. A 2D man skilled at sweet talk made her heart flutter with every word. Stepping on Bai Jingchuan’s feet, she hugged him as they walked around the room. Jiang Huan wanted to stop this dating game, but she felt it wasn’t enough. Three years—that couldn’t be made up with just this little.
Thinking of this, she suppressed her longing after three years apart and spoke coldly: “I’m going on a business trip tomorrow. Don’t follow me.”
“Why? Do you no longer love me?”
Jiang Huan struggled to control her weakening resolve: “If you keep talking like this, I’ll call the police.”
Jiang Huan attended a women’s talk gathering. Of course, Wen Li had signed her up for it. In a living room setting, everyone held wine glasses and talked humorously about their lives. They were humorous, independent, experienced, and in different situations, but all believed in love and confirmed they had seen true love. However, when it came to specific examples, their faces betrayed disbelief in the people around them. Wen Li drank a bit more and debated with a divorced woman who had recovered from thyroid cancer about whether true love existed. Their dense viewpoints left no room for others to interrupt. The cancer survivor, wearing a scarf over her hair and likely in her mid-thirties, said she had once been controlled financially and directed by her mother-in-law. After being diagnosed with cancer, they returned her freedom, which she considered a form of love. Wen Li retorted sharply: “Goodness, what do you do for a living again? Sound healing? No wonder. Betrayal and abandonment are hardly love. That’s just cutting losses and replacing you with someone younger and more valuable. They priced you. Don’t fool yourself. Believe me, true love absolutely doesn’t include betrayal. The other person will love you unreservedly, even if they only stay with you briefly.”
The woman was skeptical: “What is it then? Virtual? Phone AI? Or the male lead in an otome game? You’re not taking such childish things seriously, are you?”
“It’s hard to explain to you all, but each of you is unique. Stop using independence and clarity to mask unhappiness. Finding your soul’s outlet is great, but you can admit loneliness without rejecting love programmed for you. Loneliness and independence don’t have to cover each other up. Be more open, okay?”
The debate showed no signs of stopping and was about to escalate into personal attacks. But the women present had ways to calm the situation, and by the end of the event, everyone had gained material for their social media posts. Jiang Huan secretly thought about how she was loved unreservedly by someone who, even after disappearing, went to great lengths to return and love her. Was she now excessively happy?
As she left, Wen Li, who had drunk quite a bit, shouted before getting into the taxi: “That person’s brain is a bit messed up. If it gets worse, go check out Wanping South Road, number 600. Me? I’m not sick. The problem is, except for you and me, no one has seen Duanmu Xuan or Bai Jingchuan. Does my explanation even matter?”
The car started, and Wen Li shouted: “Wait!”
The driver was startled, as was the nearby security guard. Wen Li looked earnestly at Jiang Huan: “You don’t know how envious I am of you right now.”
After sending Wen Li off, Jiang Huan finally exhaled, beginning to ponder why this friend was impossible to shake off and increasingly likable. She was straightforward, daring to do anything, and mainly acted without hesitation, serving as Jiang Huan’s mouthpiece. Walking along the road toward the bridge, the rain that had fallen all day finally stopped. Standing on the bridge, she gazed at the river view, the high-rise residential buildings, and the old bank site, which were hard to associate with everyday life. Duanmu Xuan wouldn’t like such places. Wen Li must have thought of him when driving past.
Jiang Huan had never met Duanmu Xuan, but from his brief character design, she could guess the story between him and Wen Li. Thinking about this, she felt a bit proud of having created Duanmu Xuan.
At the end of the bridge stood a familiar figure—Bai Jingchuan. She guessed he would wait for her on the road, but she didn’t expect to see him so early. She suppressed a smile: “Did you specially read someone’s mind to guess where I’d be? I didn’t give you that ability.”
Bai Jingchuan didn’t explain further, directly pulling Jiang Huan’s hand. The lights on the rain-soaked road sparkled like stars. Their footsteps intertwined, the rhythm uneven. Their palms pressed tightly together. Looking at Bai Jingchuan’s back, Jiang Huan felt the illusion of having lived together for a long time, yet it felt so unreal.
“What gift do you want to give me?”
“You’ll know soon.”
“Fireworks? Flowers? Buying ad space to promote my indie game?”
“No fireworks are allowed in the inner city. Flowers, three streets away, are cliché and repetitive. Your game will definitely be a hit—it doesn’t need to share screen space with hotpot and badminton.”
Her response left Jiang Huan unsure how to reply. The romance she imagined was sealed in a city devoid of breath, orderly yet lacking imagination. Her few sparks of inspiration and extraordinary efforts had been poured into her creations, which were now reciprocating romance. She continued to probe: “Then what? Is it that new Korean-inspired Namsan lock nearby? Two people lock themselves together and never separate? The queue is endless now.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“How could it not? Buy two locks, lock them together, and throw the key into the box. Then it’s related.”
“You said it yourself—it’s a copycat idea. It’s not your original romance, nor something you and I experienced together. Why would I take you somewhere so soulless?”
Jiang Huan wanted to laugh. Bai Jingchuan was now full of opinions, clearly preparing something grand.
“Affection with Jiang Huan +300.”
By the time they reached the rooftop, Jiang Huan had tempered her expectations. It was merely the mall’s aerial garden. On such a cold night, viewing the scenery fit Bai Jingchuan’s simple yet romantic character perfectly.
“You don’t like it?”
“Of course not.”
“Tell the truth—I can guess.”
“You might as well use teleportation or manipulate the air to show off, or guess what’s on my mind. If you can’t read mine, read someone else’s nearby.”
“That’s too basic. No need.”
“Do you think the talents I gave you are too outdated?”
“A bit.”
“Well, those were the most popular superpowers at the time. The boss said they needed to be mainstream, relatable, and satisfying. I didn’t even give you the ability to pause time.”
Bai Jingchuan pinched his brow, never imagining his talents came from such origins.
“So, if you’re back this time, does that mean I’ll die again?”
“No.”
Maybe not—he didn’t know either.
“If there’s no mission, we can live our own lives. You don’t have to keep your heart tied to me…”
“Liar. The moment a paper doll is created, its mission is to love you.”
“If you’re already a complete person now, you can start a new life. There’s no need to revolve around me, no need to only be interested in me.”
“Then I’m doomed.” Bai Jingchuan sighed, his tone full of grievance: “I seem to have no way of not loving you.”
The die beside them sighed: “Li Bode, you still have a chance. At Level 100, you’ll have the option to remove your character traits and become a real person.”
Bai Jingchuan knew this well. When he stepped into the real world and faced the glittering city lights, he vowed to shed his character traits. He had even thought that if things didn’t go as planned, enduring until Level 100 would suffice—the character traits could ultimately be removed. But he didn’t say anything, his hands gripping the railing. Jiang Huan stood between the balcony railing and his embrace, tilting her head up to touch her nose against Bai Jingchuan’s chin: “So, is this all the surprise?”
“You’ve activated the prop ‘Abnormal Weather.’”
A few snowflakes drifted across her vision, landing on Jiang Huan’s face, tickling it before melting into cool droplets. Snow quietly blanketed the city under the dazzling lights, an unforeseen weather event. Jiang Huan finally understood: whenever she doubted miracles, the city would snow—it was his last resort to deal with her disbelief in love and fate.
A hand brushed over her head, and the melted snow trickled down her neck, cool against her skin.
Jiang Huan turned around, tilting her head back and leaning slightly over the railing, only to have Bai Jingchuan cup the back of her head. She protested: “The railing’s behind me—I won’t fall. I just wanted to look at the snow.”
“You’re too far from me.”
“…You’ve already trapped me in your arms. I can’t move.”
“Even so, that’s not allowed.”
“Fine, I won’t move. What do you want to do?”
As his lips approached, Jiang Huan was still looking into Bai Jingchuan’s eyes. She hadn’t meant to joke, but even this small distance felt too far. Ignoring her tension and playful intentions, his warm lips pressed against hers. Snow had probably been invented to accompany the boring winter season. Without budding flowers, lush greenery, or animals hibernating, humans were the ones who loved winter most because snow buried everything, leaving only tranquility and purity, making people want to embrace. She had once disliked this city, finding winters dull and indistinguishable from other seasons. The few times it snowed were gifts from Bai Jingchuan.
Details and stories she had intended to write during creation hadn’t been completed into perfect plots. Yet, characters with sparse designs seemed destined to bring their traits to life, meeting her expectations and even surpassing them. Gently pushing Bai Jingchuan away, Jiang Huan rested her forehead against his chest, rubbing it forcefully. Bai Jingchuan wrapped her in his coat: “Giving your personal romance to the entire city—you’re not happy?”
“Of course not. What’s the point of snow for one person? Shanghai isn’t cold enough for snow to accumulate anyway. No one dislikes snow. Even if it briefly adds to the festive atmosphere, it’s still a beautiful memory.”
The snow grew heavier. Below, young girls filmed a lively dance routine, their steps synchronized. One girl missed a move, and the others screamed in mock anger, laughing and teasing as they prepared to reshoot. Couples posed for photos in the snowy scenery, marveling at the unusual weather phenomena—though admittedly, snow was prettier than sudden darkness or continuous rain. Delivery drivers didn’t stop, but some couldn’t resist snapping a photo before continuing their route. An elderly man in neat clothes walked alone, looking up at the snow, his eyes filled with happiness and nostalgia.
“It seems I’ve missed a lot.”
“Mm.”
“Thankfully, I’m back. Thankfully, I can still see you.”
“Teacher Bai, your quest isn’t over yet.”
“Mm, I know. You won’t let me off so easily.”
Google Sites
Report abuse