Chapter 84: Do you also feel regret for the times you missed with me?

Bai Jingchuan naturally knew he would be repeatedly tested by Jiang Huan. After all, after three years of solitude, the muscle memory of being alone for so long had shaped Jiang Huan into an absolutely independent girl. Bai Jingchuan didn’t object to this. Jiang Huan spent her days diligently mentoring newcomers and working late into the night—it was routine. Under such pressure, she still managed to independently complete a game, purely through sheer effort. This rhythm had even drawn concern from other pretty, life-enjoying girls in the company, especially since Jiang Huan had dyed her hair but rarely wore makeup. When asked about it, Jiang Huan simply replied that she preferred to invest her time in things she loved and found joy in solitude.

He genuinely thought Jiang Huan was beautiful, and it had nothing to do with personal bias. He didn’t ask for much—being a listener was enough for him.

But whenever Jiang Huan leaned slightly closer, an overwhelming desire to embrace and kiss her would surge through him. Humans were indeed base creatures, greedy by nature. As long as there was desire, their minds automatically plotted how to seize what they wanted. The die floated near Bai Jingchuan’s ear: “Li Bode, time is running out. Are you really sure you want to restrain yourself like this? Maybe I’m too direct, but don’t be so noble. Just tell her you like her and want to spend more time with her—it’s not that hard, is it?”

Bai Jingchuan stayed up for three days straight to finish all the endings of the game and sent Jiang Huan a simple message: “I really liked it, and I guarantee others will too. As long as you can come up with a good name, we can continue discussing the signing and launch. The priority now is to find a good title. You know the process better than I do, so while waiting for the long approval cycle, we need to pick up the pace.”

Of course, Jiang Huan brought the most troublesome part to Renwu Road. Shan Dimon had just finished teaching: “He’s quite fast.”

“Nowadays, everyone uses codenames like ‘X.’ If I can’t think of anything else, I’ll have to settle for something like that, but it has nothing to do with my story. Should I polish it some more?”

“I’m afraid you’re too happy now, and all the pain you once poured into it has been erased. The work you bled your heart out for shouldn’t be delayed any longer. The sooner you name it, the sooner you can apply. Licensing takes a long time.”

Jiang Huan rolled her eyes: “No way. I need to be 100% satisfied.”

“Maybe you need to spend more time with others to come up with it.” Shan Dimon was seriously revising the map: “Creative blocks last a long time, but if you can overcome them, you’ll reach greater heights.”

“But Shan Dimon, as a maintainer, don’t you need to go to the new planet? Why are you still drawing maps?” Jiang Huan scratched her head: “Are they done with you? Did you retire?”

“Who told you I retired?”

“So, will you go to the new Magic Wasteland Continent?”

“No.” Shan Dimon smiled and changed the subject: “It’s late. Is Bai Jingchuan coming to see you?”

“Yeah. He said he’d call me when he’s done. I’ll rest here for a bit. The sleep pods at the company are filled with men’s scents—I’d rather walk fifteen minutes here. This place feels like home to me.”

“Alright, next time I’ll charge for lodging.”

“Do I have to put up posters again? Are you that allergic to tape?”

“You’ve known for ages that I’m allergic to tape.”

“Is this on purpose?”

Jiang Huan peeled off the poster from the glass inside and placed it on the floor, skillfully sticking up a new one. Shan Dimon knocked on the glass from outside: “It’s a bit crooked. Jiang Huan, did you do that on purpose?”

“It’s not the first time. Since you asked me to put it up, you’ll have to deal with however it turns out.”

Shan Dimon peeked over the poster and made a face at her, pretending to be angry and shaking his head. Through the poster, the image of Shan Dimon standing there with wet hair and clothes felt like it hadn’t been that long ago. Jiang Huan thought to herself, she needed to remember these moments vividly a few more times. At least while putting up posters, she could trace back to those blurry fragments she might otherwise never recall—the damp smile and the lingering lipstick mark.

As for the rest, neither of them needed to mention it.

“That…” Shan Dimon suddenly called her name from behind.

Jiang Huan tensed: “What?”

“I…”

Neither spoke for a few seconds until Shan Dimon finally said: “I want to travel for a few days. I’ll leave the shop keys with you. If anyone comes to pick up pre-ordered tapes or comics, could you help take care of it?”

“Dramatic pause—don’t talk like you’re closing the shop and leaving forever!” Jiang Huan felt relieved and awkwardly picked up the tape: “This isn’t the first time you’ve asked me. Take a good rest and leave it to me… Seriously, I thought you were leaving.”

“Where could I possibly go?” Shan Dimon squatted down to help pick up the tape. Jiang Huan said, “Move aside, aren’t you allergic?”

The wind chime rang as Bai Jingchuan and Wen Li pushed the door open. Seeing the two on the floor with their hands touching, Wen Li’s eyes darted around, quickly understanding: “You two are acting like a K-drama in here. So romantic—we feel like third wheels.”

Shan Dimon remained calm: “Three minutes earlier, and you’d be the one putting up the poster. Acting like a K-drama just from putting up a poster—what kind of gig economy documentary is this?”

Wen Li carried a stack of magazines, stepping under the air conditioner to warm her hands first: “The weather changes so quickly. Shan Dimon, do you have any hot noodles nearby?”

“There might be.”

“That would save my life.” She clasped her hands together in gratitude as Shan Dimon turned to cook noodles. Wen Li sat on the floor flipping through materials: “Such a stable support system. Shan Dimon, a youthful dad who looks delicate but is 100% reliable—Renwu Road’s anchor.”

Bai Jingchuan no longer got furious or darkened his expression like before. Instead, he calmly said, “It’s normal for people to admire him since he’s been here so long.”

“No, it’s different. Bai Jingchuan, even though everyone loves you and acknowledges your achievements, Shan Dimon is irreplaceable. For example, Jiang Huan. Over the past few years, while she was making games, Shan Dimon stayed up with her. That’s different from you suddenly appearing as a heartthrob.”

Jiang Huan discreetly observed Bai Jingchuan’s expression. He seemed to fully understand: “That’s right. I couldn’t make up for the many moments I missed with Jiang Huan. I never saw her in her school uniform, nor witnessed her toughest post-graduation period. But I can’t force myself to know her 100%. That wouldn’t be companionship—it would be stalking.”

The more Jiang Huan listened, the more she realized Bai Jingchuan was jealous and speaking sarcastically. How had he not changed after three years?

“Affection with Jiang Huan +200. Current level Lv 87, reward: 100,000 coins, loot boxes *20, muscle strength restored to 84% of original.”

Wen Li answered a call and nearly jumped up to respond respectfully. After hanging up, she hastily packed her things: “I have to go.”

“You haven’t eaten yet.”

“Forget it. It’s a rare opportunity. I must start my company, even if it’s just representing a designer brand—I’m confident I can do it well. I’m like a cockroach in the sewer: give me a chance, and I’ll be unstoppable.” With that, Wen Li left without eating, clutching her folder and rushing out the door.

“I admit I’m stubborn. Missing out on your earlier years makes me want to make up for it. I’m a bit greedy—I want you to give me all your private time.”

Jiang Huan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His messages were becoming shamelessly persistent. Before she could think of a response, she looked up to see an intern struggling to write copy, stressed about her thesis being randomly selected, and drinking herself drunk in the office. Most people had already left, so Jiang Huan decided to escort the intern back to her dorm. Feeling a little happy, she tried to comfort Bai Jingchuan: “I need to take my junior back. If you want to meet, let’s do it another day.”

Dan University had always been Lorry’s reserve base. Students often came to intern, hoping for full-time positions. Jiang Huan, as a senior, naturally became their idol. Thankfully, she hadn’t mentioned her late-night game development at the company; otherwise, their admiration or reporting might have been unpredictable. Though she had befriended Wen Li, Jiang Huan understood that focusing solely on work and keeping personal projects private was a basic professional ethic. As for how to come up with a suitable name, Jiang Huan thought, maybe walking around campus would spark some inspiration.

A drunk girl couldn’t walk back to the dorm alone. After rummaging through the intern’s pockets for her campus card, the security guard eyed Jiang Huan suspiciously: “Who are you?”

“I’m her supervisor—an intern.”

The two staggered into the school together. Jiang Huan felt a pang of sadness—she wasn’t a student anymore, and her worldliness must be hard to hide. On the way, the girl rambled drunkenly, expressing envy for Jiang Huan. Jiang Huan thought, truth spills out when drunk. Skipping levels to flatter her directly—such abilities were honed through societal trials. Who doesn’t become tougher after years of hardship? But the intern felt discouraged, thinking she wasn’t good enough. Even upstairs, delivering her to the dorm room, she was still sulking. The girl dragged out a bottle of red wine from under the table, startling Jiang Huan, who snatched it away and hid it deep in the communal living room cabinet. Patting her head, Jiang Huan said, “I’ll hold onto the wine for you. I’m leaving.”

“Senior, I really want to fall in love too!”

“Too?”

“You and Teacher Bai—you exchange glances like you’ve known each other for ages… But we’ve only just met. Is your chemistry something you earned in a past life?”

“Of course not.” Jiang Huan replied helplessly: “We really have known each other for a very long time.”

Coming out of the building, she looked at the fallen leaves on the ground. Shanghai had trees that shed leaves in spring. After rain, stepping on the leaves signaled the quick arrival of summer.

She hadn’t meddled in others’ affairs for a long time.

Walking out of the dorm area, Jiang Huan saw a familiar figure again. Bai Jingchuan was waiting for her downstairs on an old bike with a crossbar. Jiang Huan sniffed—ridiculous. What else could it be? Probably because Shan Dimon had laughed at her through a poster earlier, and Bai Jingchuan had remembered it. His telepathy was too convenient—he could pinpoint whose thoughts involved him and locate them. This trick seemed to occur frequently after his reboot, but Jiang Huan didn’t mind. After all, Bai Jingchuan was clever and calculating, so actively seeking her out felt like a contrast. She realized she wasn’t attracted to his struggles and anguish but to the pure affection hidden beneath his cunning heart. She raised her chin: “Where did you get the bike?”

“A doctoral student who didn’t want to ride it asked me to bring it back. He went to the lab instead, saying he needed to catch the shuttle bus tomorrow. I briefly heard his thoughts—not very flattering toward his advisor.”

“How do you even know about this? Are you worried I’ll secretly date young boys at school and betray you?”

“I’m not worried. Which type do you like?”

“Who knows? Young boys are full of energy, obsessed with loving someone 100%, and physically fit. Who wouldn’t be tempted?”

Bai Jingchuan fell silent, staring at Jiang Huan as she tugged on his tie. Such a gesture resembled a newly arrived teacher rushing to see his favorite student—the gaze alone could draw people in. Mesmerized, Jiang Huan took a few steps forward, snapping out of it to tug at his tie. Bai Jingchuan almost lost control of the handlebars, looking adorable in his panic—a bit like an inexperienced upperclassman.

“Your bike skills are terrible.”

“It’s the bike’s fault. Do you want me to crash into you?”

“Why do you keep finding me?”

“If you have stress and don’t tell me, I’ll keep seeking you out.”

“I won’t do everything for you. If I get too involved, you’ll lose your sense of accomplishment and happiness, and you might even blame me. You’ve worked hard on this game for three years. Every little progress you make makes me happy as a spectator.”

“Don’t you think you’re also a participant in this story?”

“I’m just a small source of motivation. How can I be considered a participant? Boss Shan has done far more than me. But if there’s anything I can do to help you even a little, I’ll be glad.”

“The two of you—one gave me a bike, the other helped steady the back seat—but after I learned to ride, you both told me I didn’t need a bike, just to remember the feeling of riding against the wind. Where do you find such divine beings?”

Bai Jingchuan didn’t speak, gesturing for Jiang Huan to get on the bike. She looked at the front bar and rear seat: “Against traffic rules, huh?”

“It’s 2 a.m. on campus—who’s going to know?” Bai Jingchuan pulled a small item from his pocket: “Here, play with this.”

It was a camera-shaped bubble machine. Jiang Huan sat on the crossbar of the old-fashioned bike: “I haven’t seen this kind of bike in a long time.”

“Really? Sitting in front is great.”

Jiang Huan fiddled with the bubble machine, replying to Bai Jingchuan: “Yeah, bikes like these are usually stolen. Sneaky ones repaint them, and they become second-hand bikes on campus.”

“...So the students’ market is full of thieves and cheats, huh?”

Pressing the button on the bubble machine, colorful transparent bubbles flew backward, sticking to Jiang Huan’s glasses in half-circles. Inside, an ear-piercing children’s song played loudly in the quiet school streets. Bai Jingchuan blinked, and the sound quickly disappeared—the prop worked as usual. Jiang Huan watched the blinking lights on the bubble machine, humming a tune to replace the music. The die on the bubble machine flickered with the lights. Bai Jingchuan didn’t mind its disruption of the atmosphere, so the bike rode through the school paths, strings of bubbles wrapping joy, dependence, and unspoken thoughts, bursting under the curiosity of the night. The rustling leaves eavesdropped on the whispers wrapped in iridescent bubbles.

You can’t read my thoughts—that’s the greatest invention I ever designed. So I can fill countless bubbles with “I love you.”

Did you come specifically because you missed my school days? Back then, I envied others who could skateboard but hated riding bikes because I often forgot to lock them and got them stolen twice. Plus, I didn’t look good back then due to my inferiority complex, which made me even more invisible.

You would’ve been a heartthrob in school—smart, handsome, and refreshing. Everyone’s prince charming. Luckily, you only passed through my world. I’m petty—I’m afraid too many people would like you.

But now, I really feel like I’m eighteen or nineteen again, since someone is still willing to indulge my childishness. My youth wasn’t wasted—it was made of bubble machines, bikes, and sleepless nights. For nights like this, I’m willing to stay up many more times.

I hope you’re always here.

“Bai Jingchuan.”

“Hmm?”

“This time, you’ve returned with a deadline, right?”

“...Don’t overthink it.”

“Even though my memories are often erased, I’m good at guessing. You act nonchalantly but often slip out of my sight, quietly paving the way for my career and trying to make me happy. I feel like I’ve experienced something similar before—it ended with us becoming friends, and most importantly…I remember nothing. If you have a task to max out your affection for me, let me know when it’s time for you to leave. I’m afraid I’ll be too selfish and not cherish you enough.”

“How else do you plan to cherish me?”

“Shrink you down and pack you into a music box, placing you by my bedside. You can only talk to me when I turn the power on.”

“How cruel. Planning to keep me caged like that. But everything has a beginning and an end. I’m not truly human, so if I face a choice after reaching max level, it’s just fate. For now, I’m not leaving—don’t worry.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“What?”

“If you’re so powerful…can you…” Jiang Huan gestured: “Let me turn back time once? I want to see my mom from three years ago.”

Bai Jingchuan searched the video feed: “It might be difficult. If we could support such a function, I could freely rewind time to see you in the past.”

Jiang Huan smiled sadly: “You’re right. I once thought of creating an account for Mom after 2028 launches, helping her find a job she likes, signing her up for piano and oil painting classes. She had just started playing complete pieces on the keyboard after a year and a half, and her oil paintings were only halfway done. But could I really train a perfect model? How old should I recreate her? Should she age with me? And since it’s a model, isn’t it tragic to make her my mom again? Maybe she’d prefer to be an independent, young, and happy woman.”

“From my experience, once you’ve invested emotion, you wouldn’t want to forget a relationship. So don’t worry—she’d probably still want to be your mom. Human bonds are mysterious. There will be regrets and tears, but if given another chance, you’d still choose it.”

“Affection with Jiang Huan +1000.”

The wind brushed Jiang Huan’s cheek, light as her mother’s fingers. She didn’t speak, silently counting her regrets. Bai Jingchuan’s hand moved from her shoulder to her forehead, checking her face. Seeing no tears, he relaxed temporarily. After a moment, he said: “I have an idea. Although 2028 hasn’t launched yet, if we ask Elder Fu, he might help you train a model. Since everything will be deleted during the beta test, you could briefly have a chance to see her.”

“But the model wouldn’t be my real mom.”

“Do you miss her? It’s been five years already. Elder Fu definitely has more experience. His daughter is now a girl who argues with him through screens—she just turned twenty-five.”

Elder Fu never refused such requests, especially from Jiang Huan, who once refused to cut her hair like him. Jiang Huan provided photos, videos, and personality traits of her mom, along with many small details. After work, she followed Elder Fu to train the model. There weren’t many photos of her mom, so Jiang Huan set the model at 54 years old—two weeks before her passing. Bai Jingchuan’s previously modified projection room was restarted. Just as he was about to leave, Jiang Huan stopped him: “Stay. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Hmm? Won’t I disturb you two?”

“Think of it as meeting the parents.” Jiang Huan winked: “Another milestone I missed.”

“Affection with Jiang Huan +200. Lv 87 upgraded to Lv 88, reward: 200,000 coins, loot boxes *20.”

“Mission 5-1: Please assist Jiang Huan in completing the task of seeing her mother. Do not reveal that you are fake or nonexistent, allowing Jiang Huan to experience the most perfect emotional encounter possible.”