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The experience time given by Professor Fu was only four hours. In his suggestion, this was the perfect duration to avoid any arguments, and the model training could relatively create a realistic atmosphere; after that, the sense of artificiality would gradually creep in. Several scenes were synthesized based on photos, but because Jiang Huan hadn’t been home for so long, she had forgotten what her home looked like—she only remembered the afternoon sunlight streaming in. As soon as she entered the scene, the sound made her shiver.
“Bai Jingchuan, it feels so real. I knew the modeling was strong, but I didn’t expect it to be this immersive. For a moment, I thought I was really home.”
“There must be differences. Let me remind you again, don’t get too immersed in these scenes. Holograms don’t mean she’s your real mother.”
“Are you worried about me?” Jiang Huan’s smile couldn’t hide her unease, but she said something Bai Jingchuan couldn’t refuse: “I’ve already met you. If I believe hard enough, pretending she’s my mom isn’t a big deal, right?”
「Jiang Huan’s affection towards you +200.」
Originally, Jiang Huan should have seen her mother busy cooking at home. But before she even reached home, she saw her mother at a fashion store on the way back. Her mother was inside the shop, browsing through clothes while secretly checking price tags. The styles in her hands were clearly meant for Jiang Huan. Jiang Huan tightly gripped Bai Jingchuan’s arm and quickly choked up: “How am I supposed to talk to her?”
“Just pretend you’re on vacation and visiting her.”
“I haven’t seen her in four or five years.”
Bai Jingchuan cupped Jiang Huan’s face: “Look at me. Treat this as an ordinary day, take me back in time to see someone important to you, okay?”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and Jiang Huan nodded forcefully. When she turned her gaze back, both the shop assistant and her mother were looking at the two of them. Seeing a drama-like scene in a small city wasn’t common. Jiang Huan glanced at the mirror next to her. Perhaps it was because of Bai Jingchuan, or the soft lighting, but they truly made a handsome couple. Even though Jiang Huan tried to reassure herself, she couldn’t help but marvel at how well the NPC dialogue and reaction mechanisms were designed. If not for the overly standardized appearance of the shop assistants, she might have thought she was really trying on clothes in a small-town clothing store.
“How did you come back? Perfect timing. Come try this on. I think the size should fit, and you’ll like it.”
Her mother hesitated as she glanced at Bai Jingchuan, especially since the girls in the shop were also stealing glances at him. When it came time to pay, Bai Jingchuan gentlemanly stepped forward to handle the payment. Under envious gazes, the three of them left the store. Her mother was proud: “Is this your boyfriend?”
“Yes.” Jiang Huan gradually relaxed—her first words were acknowledging Bai Jingchuan. With two people from different dimensions standing beside her, how could this not feel surreal?
Bai Jingchuan extended his hand: “Hello, Auntie. I’m Bai Jingchuan, her superior and boyfriend.”
“Well, today we’ll have to make some big dishes. Why didn’t you tell me beforehand that you’d be coming back? This is such a surprise.” Jiang Huan’s mother became emotional, pulling out her phone and then putting it away, instinctively wanting to call her father for help: “Why isn’t your father answering his phone?”
Jiang Huan began to feel that this scene was too realistic. Her mother always relied on her father and wasn’t good at socializing. She and Bai Jingchuan exchanged glances for a few seconds, neither saying anything—they hadn’t even considered bringing her father into the model, as creating one person already took too much time. The scenery along the way home was filled with random shops, far more upscale than reality. There were no blind acupuncture massage parlors, travel hotels, or fish grill restaurants combined with public baths. Jiang Huan slowly eased her worries. Everything was an illusion. She might as well pretend her mother wanted to see her too.
Bai Jingchuan quietly followed behind. Her mother’s pace was faster than usual, perhaps worried about neglecting her guests. She called her father more frequently than usual. If this scene were real, her father would be overjoyed, eager to drive home from work. Her mother wasn’t usually the type to call often—the clingy ones in the family were her and her father.
Streams of radiant sunlight poured through the clouds, illuminating the ordinary yet worn streets of the small city. Jiang Huan alternated between immersing herself in the scene and stepping out of it, but she held her mother’s arm tightly. The sensation wasn’t real, but she didn’t mind. After her mother passed away, she often recalled things from a detached perspective, as if her mother were a stranger who occasionally visited—unless she had vivid dreams. Now, being able to converse fully with her mother, hearing her scold her gently—she felt incredibly happy, especially with Bai Jingchuan standing nearby holding shopping bags.
Though the modeling of the house was rough, it felt authentic. It was based on photos taken before her mother passed away, when Jiang Huan meticulously photographed everything inside and out before leaving home. Later, her father moved out half of the belongings, and the beds were covered with sheets—it no longer looked the same as before. Her mother habitually rushed into the kitchen upon entering. Jiang Huan’s voice pleaded: “Mom, don’t cook. Neither of us are hungry. How about we try on clothes instead? The new clothes look so nice…”
“That won’t do. We have to treat our guests well. Xiao Wan, don’t just sit there. Pour him some water. If he likes soda, grab one from the fridge.”
“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home, so how did we end up with soda in the fridge?”
“Your father and I always keep some stocked. Strange, why hasn’t he come home yet? He told me he wasn’t working overtime.”
The two of them sat on the couch, leaving her mother to busy herself in the kitchen. Jiang Huan had no interest in watching TV. She stood up and went to the kitchen: “Do you need help with anything? Honestly, you don’t have to cook. I’m not that hungry. Why don’t you sit and chat with us?”
“You’re not hungry, but he might be. It won’t take long to make something. Get out of the kitchen, you’re annoying.”
Chased out, Jiang Huan stuck out her tongue and returned to the couch, her head still turned toward her mother in the kitchen. Her mother, whom she hadn’t seen in so long, looked much younger and prettier than in the posthumous portrait photo, which was taken shortly after their last argument. Her smile in the photo seemed forced. Bai Jingchuan squeezed her fingers: “Your nickname is Xiao Wan?”
“Yes.” Jiang Huan sighed: “After I learned to speak, I couldn’t pronounce ‘Huan’ for a long time and could only say ‘Wan.’ The older generation thought it was because my mahjong-playing grandmother named me, simply due to my unclear pronunciation.”
“It’s kind of cute.”
“Don’t mention it again.” Jiang Huan’s ears turned red: “This is absolutely the last time I’m bringing this up. Every time I talk about it, I have to bring up my childhood stutter.”
Time quietly passed. Jiang Huan frequently checked her watch—four hours weren’t very durable. Bai Jingchuan watched his mother bustling about in the kitchen, different from what he imagined. Jiang Huan was independent and career-driven, while her mother was a woman confined to the kitchen making soup. She must have been beautiful in her youth, appearing more devoted to family life—gentle and virtuous, capable of whipping up four dishes and a soup within half an hour. At the dining table, she seemed a bit uneasy: “You came back so suddenly. It’s just a simple meal, don’t be picky.”
Bai Jingchuan obediently picked up his chopsticks: “No, I really like it.”
The dining table was filled not only with the aroma of food but also awkwardness. Jiang Huan subtly nudged Bai Jingchuan’s shoulder: “Bai Jingchuan.”
“Hmm.”
“Can you figure out a way to send a message to my mom? Otherwise, she’ll keep staring at her phone. She might be waiting for my dad to return so she can interrogate you. Say something polite. If she doesn’t receive any messages, she might keep looking at her phone.”
「You have used the item “Transparent Radio Wave.”」
Her mother picked up her phone, anxiously tapping it on the table: “It seems your father is really not giving me face today, leaving me to deal with you two alone. My daughter rarely comes back, and he can’t even make it home. He never works overtime, not even once in eight hundred years… Where were we?”
“We were saying how delicious the food is. This is the first time I’ve felt the warmth of home.”
Her mother’s expression became subtle, as if she had already envisioned Bai Jingchuan’s difficult past and understood why her daughter could find such an excellent boyfriend. Jiang Huan muttered internally, it’s true, I don’t deserve him, but he’s something I created. What’s wrong with dating him? Without me, he wouldn’t even exist!
Jiang Huan glanced at Bai Jingchuan. His expression was telling—he had read her mother’s thoughts clearly. Sure enough, while her mother went to prepare the soup, Bai Jingchuan leaned over: “I know who you inherited your imagination from.”
The meal was eaten quickly. Jiang Huan and Bai Jingchuan playfully pushed each other at the table, and her mother seemed to enjoy watching them, even becoming starry-eyed: “Xiao Wan, you have great taste. Bai Jingchuan has the charm of Bae Yong-joon from Hotelier and Won Bin from Summer Scent … All those Korean dramas I watched when I was young weren’t wasted. Your prenatal education paid off—you’ve picked such a wonderful boyfriend.”
“He’s not only handsome but also smart. Unfortunately, I’m useless. I’m a musical idiot, and even cats don’t want to come near me.”
Her mother seemed to recall something: “But I can play now. I can play complete pieces.”
She was a bit excited, gently lifting the lace curtain of the keyboard to turn it on: “I remember taking you to piano lessons after the college entrance exam. We found a piano class, and you cried as soon as you touched the piano.”
“I cried because my first love friend could play the piano—it triggered memories.” Jiang Huan thought about this embarrassing incident and figured it didn’t matter if Bai Jingchuan knew.
Her mother, however, got lost in nostalgia and self-deprecating humor: “Back then, we couldn’t afford extracurricular activities for you, so I ended up learning instead.”
“How could that be? Now that I have money, I can sponsor you to learn the keyboard—or even the piano. You can study as long as you want. Don’t listen to Dad’s nonsense about senior universities teaching skills to grandchildren. Ignore him!”
“I can indeed help babysit, though I may not teach well. But I’m much more patient now.”
“Then play something nice so I can hear the level of a seasoned artist.”
Her mother stumbled through a rendition of The Four Seasons . Jiang Huan squeezed Bai Jingchuan’s hand, wanting to introduce him. Her father always liked military songs and disco, bullying her aesthetic severely. If it weren’t for learning the piano, she wouldn’t have known her mother liked gentle Japanese-style melodies. Jiang Huan reached for the keys and played a line of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star . Her mother instinctively praised her: “When did you learn this? It’s quite difficult.”
Difficult? I just found where ‘Do’ was, Mom. I’m thirty years old—stop unconditionally praising me. I’m not that great. I couldn’t keep you, and I’m insincere. Being my mom must have been tough.
Her mother flipped through the sheet music: “Is there any sheet music for this song? I want to learn it too. Strange, I need to follow the score, but you seem to pick it up just by looking. My daughter is truly smart. Do you really like this nursery rhyme?”
No, Mom. It’s because after you passed away, I always looked for songs that weren’t too sad to remember you by—to avoid recalling funeral music when I thought of you. The actual lyrics to this song are: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, like your body hidden among lonely stars, shining brightly in the sky, reflecting my past, reminding me I’m no longer a lonely star.”
“Have you and your daughter always been this peaceful and quiet?”
“Of course not. We have to argue loudly to communicate. My mom loves seeing me angry and flustered—it reminds her of when I was little.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it makes her feel closer to my childhood. My dad has a loud voice too—you’ve met him. Our trips to the supermarket are always noisy.”
“It seems the system’s model still needs optimization.”
“Ah…” The smile in Jiang Huan’s eyes slowly faded into sadness: “I forgot she wasn’t real.”
The mother playing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star was still enjoying the simple melody. If this interaction were stored, this digital mother would surely remember that her daughter liked this song and reasonably retain the memory that her daughter was gifted, picking things up instantly. Jiang Huan originally wanted to tease her mother for being too indulgent, but this melody seemed magical—even listening to the simplest seven notes made her drowsy.
I can’t fall asleep. How could I fall asleep…
When she opened her eyes again, Jiang Huan was leaning on Bai Jingchuan’s lap. The living room was bathed in sunlight, the old hardwood floor warmed by the sun, with a black sweater spread out, seemingly the one she had changed out of. She anxiously asked: “How did I fall asleep? How long was I out? Where’s my mom?”
“She’s washing your pajamas. I offered to help, but she said she’d finish quickly.”
“The wind’s picking up. It’s time to go.”
Jiang Huan, who had been forcing cheerful smiles, paused for a moment: “Mom, I have to go. I have work tomorrow.”
“Then we’d better hurry. Before you get in the car, do you want dumplings? It’s tradition to eat dumplings before departure and noodles upon arrival. Should we buy some rice cakes too? Would you like rice pancakes or braised eggplant?”
“No need. I’m in a rush.”
“You’re not staying overnight? Then I’ll go buy you some mung bean cakes—you like those.”
Bai Jingchuan felt uneasy watching this scene. The car stopped in front of her mother. She nervously wrung her hands, trying to call her father again, but his phone remained unanswered. Her daughter’s visit felt like a dream, even if it was only for a few hours. She felt guilty for not being able to send her daughter off with something. She looked at Bai Jingchuan: “Take good care of her when you get back. She has many little quirks—be patient with her.”
As the car slowly started, her mother’s shrinking figure remained in the rearview mirror—the intended ending of this experience. Jiang Huan lingered before getting in the car, suddenly jumping out to hold her mother’s hand, speaking incoherently but trying to convey all her parting words.
“Mom, if you feel unwell, don’t just tell Dad—call me. Let me know early if you plan to come to Shanghai, and I’ll accompany you to the best hospital for surgery. Buy whatever clothes you like—I’ll pay for them. Send me a message anytime if you miss me. I’m sorry, Mom. I love you so much…”
As the experience time ended, Jiang Huan collapsed into Bai Jingchuan’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Bai Jingchuan stroked her head, his fingers brushing away tears: “Xiao Wan did great.”
“But I didn’t finish… I know it’s all fake, but I didn’t finish…”
Bai Jingchuan’s words were heartfelt. As for Jiang Huan falling asleep earlier, he had briefly cast a spell. Her mother glanced at her, as if she had something to say. So, after Jiang Huan fell asleep, her mother earnestly asked: “Why does she always seem like she wants to cry? Did something happen? Is she sick? Or do you have bad news?”
“Nothing at all.” Bai Jingchuan was a man skilled at concealing emotions: “She just misses you too much and wanted to bring me to meet you.”
“Then I should thank you. She’s unusually quiet today, full of flattery—it’s not like her.”
She smiled as she spoke. Bai Jingchuan admired the mother’s intuition—it seemed reading her daughter was as natural as breathing. Her mother’s slender fingers rested on the piano—Jiang Huan had inherited her hands. Bai Jingchuan politely asked, “Were you happy to see her?”
“Of course! She’s like the tide rushing onto the beach. I can sense her coming—the waves are beautiful, tickling the calves and knees before retreating suddenly. Still, I’d gladly stand by the shore waiting for her.”
“Her romantic nature must have been inherited from you. Don’t worry—she lives well, is very smart, and passionate about her work. She’s your pride.”
“Of course, she’s wonderful. I treat every meeting with her as if it’s the last, so I often urge her to get married. Though living alone is fine, only those who’ve experienced companionship understand its meaning. Love is important, so seeing you makes me relieved. I’ve said too much. Should Xiao Wan lie down and sleep? I’ll wash her pajamas—they haven’t been worn in a while, and they’ll dry in two hours…”
He didn’t fully understand maternal love, but he recognized instinctual love—they shared that similarity. Her mother stood up and handed Bai Jingchuan the sheet music for Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star : “You’re reliable. I can tell from the way you look at her…”
Bai Jingchuan didn’t know if this conversation transcended time and space. He had no reason to fear, only feeling a wave of warmth. Dice whispered in his ear: “Li Bode, should we tell Jiang Huan about her mother’s gratitude?”
The tears of the person in his arms had soaked through his shirt. Bai Jingchuan gazed at the rising curtains and the equally radiant sunlight outside: “If it’s entrusted to me, it’s enough that I know.”
「Mission 5-1 Completed. Current Level: Lv 90. Gained 100,000 Coins, 20* Item Boxes. Emotional Level upgraded to A.」
「Congratulations! You have reached the standard of human emotion.」
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