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The closed beta test for 2028 went viral because of a single Reddit-style post. A tester shared on social media, “I just created a character and customized its face—why does it look so much like my deceased lover?” What had been a normal testing phase for 2028 suddenly saw an influx of players clamoring to join, forcing the developers to add 5,000 more slots. In the game’s open world, players could create a companion character to accompany them on their journey. After spending fifteen minutes setting basic information, the companion would exhibit reactions that felt incredibly real—vivid, dynamic, and lifelike. Some companions were dazzlingly charismatic, while others timidly explored with quiet curiosity, but all became indispensable partners in the adventure. Randomly triggered NPC dialogues were surprisingly rich and varied, leaving players utterly captivated.
As a result, 2028 gained immense popularity even before its official release, becoming the talk of the town. When Jiang Huan learned that Bai Jingchuan was involved in the 2028 project, she was puzzled. “You’re always in the office. What exactly do you do? You’ve never told me!”
“Uh… I provided some technical support.”
“I didn’t know you had this skill.” Jiang Huan pointed at the computer. “But how did we train our models? How did they become so accurate at understanding what people want, hitting them right in the heart? Just look at these comments—they’re practically love letters and thank-you notes!”
It wasn’t just about artificial intelligence’s computational power. Bai Jingchuan gently patted Jiang Huan’s head. “I’m going to visit a friend who helped with the model training later. I’ll pass your question along to him.”
The weather was beautiful. Before leaving, Bai Jingchuan exchanged polite nods with Mr. Fu, then headed downstairs and out of the company building. Behind him, a large screen played short clips of 2028 characters. Yan Zhun, once a discarded character from Love Continent , was now a highly popular figure in 2028 . Many girls were smitten with him and eagerly prepared to explore the Nosk continent by his side. As for cards and quests—once released, they sold out instantly.
Yan Zhun was a character Jiang Huan had created for Love Continent . That he had survived and gained popularity filled her with pride. As for the question Jiang Huan was curious about now—
Bai Jingchuan knocked on Shan Di Meng’s door. The nocturnal Shan Di Meng was having breakfast while watching a review video of 2028 on his iPad. The dialogue of the custom-created characters was so vivid it surpassed people’s understanding of electronic life. The commentator expressed deep admiration: “Lovers feel perfect, even if they’re long-distance. They feel alive, flesh-and-blood. Family members feel sincere, as if separated only by time and space, their love unchanged. Even when wandering alone in a vast sea of humanity, through 2028 , people and digital souls could find each other—a mutual redemption begins.”
Shan Di Meng looked up at Bai Jingchuan. “What brings you here?”
“Using the lives from the new planet as ‘customer service’—your suggestion was invaluable. We pulled it off. This collaboration has been successful.”
Bai Jingchuan’s return was at Shan Di Meng’s request. He had a private office in 2028 to connect the new planet’s digital lives to the game’s engine. Since testing began, every user’s emotional needs were channeled not into newly created AI but into two-dimensional characters from another universe—lonely beings yearning for human interaction or harboring emotional ties to the real world. They carried the emotional wealth accumulated in Mo Wu City, stored hopes and excitement on the new planet, and coped with loneliness and anxiety. Desperate to reconnect with humans, they eagerly sought conversation. Even when burdened with negative emotions, they operated with no malice toward others. The new planet still had a rating system, and they awaited scores above 4.6 to queue for physical bodies.
Consciousness was like a butterfly; a flap of its wings on the other side of the universe could bring a gentle breeze to someone’s life—or stir up a storm in an otherwise calm existence. 2028 , as a virtual community, offered both grand, radiant experiences and glimpses of hope amidst the mundane, damp struggles of reality—all through a small app on a phone.
This was the irreplaceable emotion that Bai Jingchuan and Shan Di Meng, as two-dimensional characters, had experienced during their brief stay in the real world, coupled with their extraordinary wisdom, allowing them to make the greatest effort possible to enhance human emotional value.
Under the sunlight, they shook hands with their eyes.
Before leaving, Bai Jingchuan asked Shan Di Meng a question: “Is level 100 the experience cap in Wan Shen Jing?”
“Yes.”
“What choice did you make when you reached level 100? Can you tell me?”
“I was one of the earliest versions to reach level 100. At the time, Wan Shen Jing had limited options. My choice wouldn’t be relevant to you.” Shan Di Meng didn’t elaborate. “The conditions offered to you will definitely be better than mine since Wan Shen Jing has completed its migration. But I can’t guarantee you’ll be satisfied. After all, you and I are virtual beings. Our bodies aren’t permanent, and achieving a good ending isn’t easy.”
Bai Jingchuan didn’t respond. A couple rode by on bicycles, their clear laughter echoing down the street.
“The current emotional model works for so many people. Both you and I contributed to it. Our trip to the real world wasn’t in vain.”
By the fountain where Jiang Huan met him, young people were preparing a drone proposal. The nervous boyfriend, drenched in sweat but excited, kept wiping his forehead. Jiang Huan noticed the ring box hanging from the drone, hesitated for a moment, then laughed and tugged Bai Jingchuan to run. Bai Jingchuan glanced back—the proposal was indeed romantic. Such heartfelt preparation was bound to infect those around them.
What was she avoiding? Was it because she wouldn’t have a wedding? Was she afraid of not being blessed?
「You have used the item ‘City of Dancing Flowers.’」
Flowers bloomed everywhere they passed. It seemed like a seasonal anomaly—flowers from different seasons suddenly blooming indiscriminately. The wind carried petals, enveloping the entire street in a romantic soft light filter. Jiang Huan turned around, startled by the flowers, and asked Bai Jingchuan, “Did you do this?”
“A little surprise.”
The two ran along the flower path onto a sightseeing bus. Jiang Huan took off her hat, her hair blown loose by the wind. Bai Jingchuan leaned in to sniff but was pushed away by Jiang Huan. Bai Jingchuan looked aggrieved. “Can’t I smell my fragrant girlfriend?”
“The flowers are fragrant, yes, but I washed my hair last night, so…”
“No, you smell great.”
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +300.」
The hand pushing him away was caught in Bai Jingchuan’s grip. The size difference between their palms and the firmness of his hold left Jiang Huan unable to move. The orderly old buildings and riverside scenery came into view. People raised their hands to embrace the wind, and the sunset enveloped everything… She remembered Bai Jingchuan saying during an embrace that the footsteps of lovers and the landscapes they witnessed would fuse into a magnificent amber. Time might wear away memories, but love objectively existed.
Bai Jingchuan, somewhat inappropriately, spoke of work under the amber glow of the sunset. “The boss wants me to take on a new project. It’s still vague, but starting from scratch is Lory’s tradition. I temporarily declined the offer to be the producer, but leaving the position vacant doesn’t mean I can appoint anyone. I can only recommend a few candidates for him to consider. As a veteran employee, you have steady competitiveness. However, he also appreciates two video creators who excel at world-building and use software far more maturely than you. What do you think your competitive edge is?”
Jiang Huan grew tense, looking into Bai Jingchuan’s eyes and falling into deep thought. Bai Jingchuan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, patiently waiting for an answer. Jiang Huan sighed. “I can’t use gender as an advantage, and technology isn’t my strong suit. Our company has always focused on games that appeal to male players. My competitiveness really isn’t strong.”
“Don’t give up so easily.” Bai Jingchuan encouraged her gently. “The opportunity is right in front of you. Are you going to let it slip away?”
After a moment of thought, Jiang Huan replied, “Maybe my competitive edge is… my ability to fictionalize. After all, it’s teamwork. I’ll definitely have excellent colleagues to help bring the story to life fully and compellingly, ensuring it doesn’t fall apart at the end. That’s my strength.”
“And?” Bai Jingchuan seemed somewhat satisfied. “Everyone who reaches the level of producer has unique imagination.”
“Maybe I need… a representative work.” Jiang Huan rested her chin on her hand, muttering. “I have one now. As long as it launches successfully, I can compete on the same stage with them. No matter who the boss chooses, at least I’ll have a complete work. So I can do it!”
Bai Jingchuan adjusted his glasses. “Opportunities are yours to seize. I’ve already done my part in recommending you.”
“What about you? Aren’t you continuing? You’re everyone’s favorite producer…”
Jiang Huan blurted out, her voice trailing off. She didn’t know when Bai Jingchuan’s departure deadline was, but she already sensed that such companionship wouldn’t last long. Bai Jingchuan understood this well too. After all, Shan Di Meng was peacefully running his shop on Renwu Road, and his relationship with Jiang Huan was merely friendship. The choice after reaching level 100 wouldn’t lead to a “happily ever after” as lovers.
Bai Jingchuan didn’t mind the idea of endings, especially since every time he saw the notification of increased affection, he felt a flicker of happiness. He didn’t want to abandon the race just for the reward at the finish line.
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +300.」
He smiled faintly. Jiang Huan nudged him, confused. “Why are you smiling? Are we on the sightseeing bus? Is there something on my face?”
“Yes.”
“What? Did I miss sesame seeds from a pastry? Teeth? Eyes?”
“There’s writing on your face, saying your affection for me has increased.”
“…” Jiang Huan shoved him. “Stop teasing me.”
Bai Jingchuan turned away, his smile as radiant as hers. The wind tousled their hair. Jiang Huan plucked a strand and wrote on Bai Jingchuan’s face—one stroke at a time, spelling out Bai Jingchuan’s name. Before she finished, she added, “I hate you.”
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.」
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.」
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +100.」
At the next stop, couples taking wedding photos boarded the bus. Their veils were long, brushing against passengers in the back. Jiang Huan stood up and pulled Bai Jingchuan to vacate the last row, getting off the bus. They stopped right in front of a bridal shop. Jiang Huan scratched her head. “What’s going on today? Everything keeps stopping at places related to marriage…”
“Isn’t witnessing happiness nice?”
“Of course!” Jiang Huan glanced at Bai Jingchuan. “Never mind. Let’s go home.”
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +200. Lv 98 rises to Lv 99. You have 562 unused treasure boxes. Would you like to convert them into affection points or coins? Coins can be used in the real world.」
Late at night, Bai Jingchuan quietly selected “yes.” A dice appeared, looked at the sleeping Jiang Huan, then at Bai Jingchuan staring at the ceiling. “What a brilliant inheritance.”
“Crow’s mouth.”
“Well, you’ll automatically get answers when you reach level 100.” The dice spun and nestled beside Jiang Huan’s hair. “Li Bode, I have a gift for you.”
A vision slowly unfolded before his eyes.
「You have the opportunity to activate the time machine. Would you like to enter?」
It was a time machine related to Jiang Huan. In a dusk-lit internet café, a young girl sat in front of a computer playing a fantasy game. Her notebook was filled with densely written strategies, marked with color-coded highlights. The dice asked Bai Jingchuan, “You should recognize this as teenage Jiang Huan, right? She saw a fantasy RPG in a magazine and fell in love with the protagonist, Anix. For five yuan per hour, she visited the internet café monthly to gather information, saving countless images on a USB drive.”
“Five yuan a month was precious for a poor girl.” Bai Jingchuan felt a pang of jealousy. “So I’m not the first game protagonist she liked.”
“Keep watching.”
Young Jiang Huan sat at the computer, typing love stories into a blog. The details were unclear, but phrases like “grand fireworks,” “cosmic dust,” and “the last tear” hinted at moving scenes from a young girl’s imagination—immature but earnest. Just as Bai Jingchuan was about to identify a plot point related to him, the screen went black—her two-yuan session had ended. It was time to return for evening self-study. She couldn’t believe her unsaved passages and left the café in sadness and anger, pedaling her bike furiously.
Bai Jingchuan chuckled but quickly sobered. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with me?”
“It traces back to arcade games, though that’s unimportant. This old game sparked her interest in drawing comics. Anix planted the first seed of creation in her.”
“Creation? Does it relate to me and Shan Di Meng?”
“Yes. Part of your outdated data originates from Anix. Though everyone envisions protagonists differently, Wan Shen Jing selects high-quality character data to preserve. For instance, when you disappear, your erased data becomes particles in a virtual universe, eventually becoming part of new games, seeking better ‘genes’ for optimization—a rule of Wan Shen Jing. Creators like Jiang Huan, tied to past characters, write new ones, and liking you in other games is linked to old data. Thus, your love was destined. More realistically, she escaped to the internet café because of this game, avoiding a gas poisoning accident at home. Fate’s gears began turning then. Anix’s data was the first step in altering her life. From that moment, you’ve been helping her avoid life’s obstacles.”
“How is that possible?” Bai Jingchuan was momentarily stunned, his eyes shining. “I don’t have these memories.”
“There’s a theory of soul reincarnation in humans—after death, they’re reborn as new lives. Those with karmic ties may encounter familiar souls, leading to legends and folk tales about reincarnation. In artificial intelligence, this is a probabilistic state. Old characters become data, and when fused into new roles, unresolved emotions are carried over. Or creators, harboring feelings for old game characters, create new ones, embedding fragments of that data into your body.”
Bai Jingchuan felt a strange sense of awe. He had once dismissed emotions, believing history’s progress required eliminating those paralyzed by sentiment. His arrival in the real world was half curiosity, half skepticism, even tinged with mischief, wanting to see what love truly meant. Yet, emotions made him hesitate, prevented him from acting decisively, broke his principles repeatedly, and made him sacrifice his life to experience the harder romance strategies in the real world. Now, standing before the time machine, he choked up. That stubborn girl who nurtured love from loneliness hadn’t realized the gears were turning—she had simply liked someone. And because of her love, he had gained so much, becoming a flawed yet complete person. Emotions, it turned out, were profoundly important. Humans could survive without emotions, invincible in their detachment, but once they loved, impulsiveness, derailment, wavering, lies—these derogatory terms made them perceive the trembling of leaves, the drying of rainforests, and remember impossible-to-survive relationships through trauma. The most regrettable thing was the destruction of immortality; the most moving, the loss of civilizations.
More surprising still, it turns out I met you so long ago.
The vision ended. Jiang Huan lay beside him, fast asleep, mumbling discontentedly as her hair tangled. Bai Jingchuan touched her nose. So stubborn—even riding a bicycle required breaking through the wind’s constraints, and she hadn’t changed one bit.
「Jiang Huan’s affection for you +200. Lv 98 rises to Lv 99.」
Does she secretly feel drawn to me even in her dreams?
Bai Jingchuan kissed her hair. As expected, the person in his arms frowned in her sleep and burrowed deeper into his embrace. It seemed she was upset in her dream—he must have angered her somehow. The curtains revealed a sliver of night, casting rippled shadows on the wall like lovers embracing under moonlight. Accustomed to not sleeping, Bai Jingchuan watched the orange shadow of the embrace flatten and then fade.
“You woke up and didn’t tell me.”
“You forgot—I don’t sleep.”
“Writing Tide of Love drained me. I need to catch up on rest. Once I become a producer, I won’t get any sleep.”
“Mm, ambitious.”
Jiang Huan yawned, burying herself in the blanket, unaware her shoulder straps had slipped. “Humans have no superpowers, and those with superpowers can’t become human. The heavens sure know how to balance things.”
“From an executive’s perspective, you already have many superpowers.”
“But there’s one trick I haven’t shown you—I can wiggle my ears.” Jiang Huan leaned close to Bai Jingchuan and wiggled her ears. “Can you do it?”
Bai Jingchuan blinked, furrowed his brow, and contorted his face, surrendering.
“You can’t, huh!”
“Mm, it’s hard.” Bai Jingchuan sighed after several attempts. “I didn’t expect you to have a secret ultimate move.”
Jiang Huan proudly made a few more faces, which Bai Jingchuan failed to mimic. Only his glasses moved slightly on his face. Jiang Huan playfully bit his ear, unsurprisingly pulling him into an embrace and kissing her tenderly. Soft kisses trailed from her earlobe to the corner of her lips, his tongue gently prying open her mouth, teasing until her breathing grew ragged. She reached up to pull him closer, arching her waist to meet him, securely held in his arms as her body melted, swept into waves of passion. The name she instinctively called out seemed to catalyze him. Bai Jingchuan tightened his grip on the back of her head, holding her tightly and murmuring words of love. Li Junzhu, even transformed into Bai Jingchuan, was still someone who needed to control every aspect of the game. He masterfully orchestrated the rhythm of her pleasure, leaving her no choice but to surrender willingly.
As the tide slowly receded, she nestled into Bai Jingchuan’s embrace. “Actually… I dreamed we had a fight.”
“Hmm? Just a fight?”
“Yeah, I dreamed we got married—like the first morning I met you. You made me poached eggs and toast, and I complained groggily about you not sleeping, saying your body would break down. You said it didn’t matter because robots don’t need sleep. But I argued fiercely—you’re human now, and humans need sleep or their bodies will fall apart. Then I got mad at you for the bland seasoning…” Jiang Huan touched her forehead and sighed softly. “See, when we become true lovers in the fireworks of reality, I’ll start nagging about your health, complaining about little things, instead of just focusing on loving and cherishing you because you’re special and will leave soon.”
“I’d be happy to live like that.” Bai Jingchuan leaned in, burying himself in her neck, his nose brushing her already-loose strap. “I love your attention on me, and how your emotions sway because of me. Even if you scold me, it’s fine—it shows you care. Most importantly… we can be together forever.”
“Being together is so annoying. I’ve already started hating you.”
His embrace tightened gently, and Jiang Huan lightly returned the hug. Their heartbeats intertwined, unwilling to let the lingering resonance fade. She whispered, “I never thought about ‘marriage.’ Many people think marriage is a tomb, and I once thought weddings were ceremonies that bid farewell to fairy tales. But for someone like me, a wedding feels like mockery when I’m all alone. Because of you, I realized that a wedding could be the beginning of stepping completely into a fairy tale. With you, it’s possible.”
Bai Jingchuan smiled, still adjusting to her honesty. Mischievously, he asked, “Like the fairy tale of Snow White and the prince?”
“Tsk.” Jiang Huan retorted, annoyed. “It’s more like I’m the prince, and you’re Snow White. As for the process… the prince’s journey was too smooth, and the lying princess was full of tricks, needing a deep kiss to awaken.”
“And then?”
“The prince who won the princess lay in bed, tightly embraced by her but feeling something was off. Is this the stamina of years of sleep? His chest and abs were firm yet supple, and at the height of passion, it was always the princess holding him. As for the witch’s prophecy and the stepmother’s schemes, the prophecy was likely bought off by the princess, and the stepmother’s tricks orchestrated by the prince. Before lying down, the princess meticulously planned every angle, ensuring her movements were carefully designed to seduce the prince…”
Bai Jingchuan laughed helplessly. “Is that how you see me?”
“Mm.”
“So… did the sleeping Snow White Prince charm you?”
Her fingers still twirled in his palm, fingertips sliding to the back of his hand and then up his arm. Bai Jingchuan grinned, his words layered with meaning. Jiang Huan shivered, her face quickly flushing red. “I don’t remember.”
“What?” Bai Jingchuan leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “How can you deny it? Did I fail to make you feel my charm?”
Before the playful banter ended, a new notification appeared.
「The choice of fate in Wan Shen Jing has opened. Please make your decision before reaching level 100.」
「This choice is final and concerns the survival of entity 067832 in the real world. Please choose carefully.」
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