Realizing he had spoken without thinking, Song Xu felt utterly desperate. He looked to his manager for help, only to find the man’s expression even more despairing than his own.
The two of them were a pair of hopeless, bitter gourds.
The manager really wanted to say something to lighten the mood, but his courage failed him. He didn’t even dare glance at CEO Su’s expression, resorting instead to stealing furtive looks at Mr. Chao from the corner of his eye.
Upon hearing Song Xu’s words, Chao Musheng froze for a moment before shaking his head helplessly, showing no signs of anger.
The manager’s tension eased slightly—at least Mr. Chao wouldn’t hold Song Xu’s slip of the tongue against him.
A soft chuckle broke the silence, emboldening the manager enough to finally lift his gaze toward CEO Su.
Su Chenzhu wore a rare smile. "Your imagination is quite entertaining. Is that a trait of people in the entertainment industry?"
Song Xu and his manager exchanged glances, puzzled. CEO Su didn’t seem angry at all.
Chao Musheng laughed as well. "Head back to the hotel early. Once you’re settled, remember to update your fans so they don’t worry."
"Yes, Mr. Chao," Song Xu quickly agreed.
The two stood rooted in place, only relaxing their stiff postures after Chao Musheng and Su Chenzhu had walked away.
"Next time, think before you speak," the manager hissed through gritted teeth. "If you really offend the big bosses, you can kiss your career goodbye."
"I didn’t expect CEO Su and Mr. Chao to have such sharp hearing," Song Xu muttered, his face a picture of relief. "Luckily, they were in a good mood and didn’t take it personally. Do you think… there might actually be something between them?"
"You’re still shipping them?!" The manager looked like he wanted to strangle him. "Naive. If the big bosses were angry, they wouldn’t show it in front of you. Someone like you isn’t even worth a glance if they decide to ruin you."
"Surely not…?" Song Xu swallowed hard, glancing nervously in the direction Chao Musheng’s group had disappeared. "But I really think CEO Su seemed pleased earlier, and Mr. Chao didn’t look upset either."
"Song Xu, wake up," the manager sighed. "If the film department signs Luo Yixuan, you’ll have another competitor for the top spot."
The Kunlun Film Division had been struggling since its inception, consistently operating at a loss. After a recent major reshuffle, the manager feared the already limited resources would be funneled toward Luo Yixuan instead.
Song Xu fell silent. He didn’t dare argue, but an inexplicable sense of security lingered—CEO Su and Mr. Chao wouldn’t hold it against him.
By now, all staff had evacuated the villa, even the rescue teams had retreated beyond the cordon. News of the extreme weather at Baiyuan Villa had already spread online.
Experts couldn’t explain the earlier meteorological anomaly, leaving the authorities scrambling to draft an official statement.
With everyone gone, the villa was eerily quiet. In the dark corners, shadowy figures flickered—players trapped in the game, unable to leave.
"They can’t escape until the instance ends," Xiaojuan murmured from the rooftop, watching the players who kept running into the invisible barrier. Her expression was unreadable.
"They’ll die once their health points hit zero," Old He said beside her. "Five or six more players were eliminated during that sudden storm."
Xiaojuan scanned the desperate crowd but didn’t spot the security guard who’d opposed her earlier.
She pulled out her phone and typed into the players’ group chat:
[Has anyone seen this player? (Image attached)]
The photo, secretly taken, clearly showed the guard’s face.
Five minutes later, a reply popped up:
[He’s dead. Some random guy killed him.]
Killed?
This was a world governed by laws. Players could be erased by the system or die during missions, but being murdered by a native was unheard of.
Murder was illegal—a fundamental belief in this world.
A cold, aristocratic face flashed through Xiaojuan’s mind. Could it be him?
"So the most disgusting one is already dead," Xiaojuan mused, raising her phone again.
Old He frowned. "What are you doing, Xiaojuan?"
"Saving their lives." She unlocked her phone and dialed the police.
"Hello, officer? I was passing by the villa and saw the cordon still up," she said, the night wind tangling her hair as she stared into the darkness below. "There are still a dozen or so young people inside. Are they staff?"
"Yes, yes, they refuse to leave."
"How many?"
Xiaojuan activated a scanning tool. "Hard to tell in the dark, but at least fifteen or sixteen."
Hanging up, she found Old He gaping at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked, amused. "They’re stuck. I called the police to help. Problem?"
Old He stayed silent for a long time. Reactivating his skill, he checked Xiaojuan’s stats again—and saw NPC data.
His throat went dry. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he subtly edged toward the exit. "You’re not Wang Xiaojuan."
"What’s that supposed to mean?" Xiaojuan tilted her head as Old He shrank away. "If I’m not her, who am I?"
"You’re a mimic—a disguised entity." Old He’s hand found the rooftop door handle. "You’re good, but you forgot my skill reveals NPC data."
"You’re saying I have NPC stats now?" Xiaojuan finally understood why Old He had stared at her earlier. Her mind buzzed, recalling Wan You, who also had NPC data.
If Wan You was recognized by this world, then what did that make her?
Had the world accepted her as one of its own?
Instead of fear, a strange euphoria washed over her.
She wasn’t an outsider here after all.
"Why are you smiling?" Old He’s instincts screamed at him to run, yet he couldn’t bring himself to distrust her fully.
"Am I?" Xiaojuan touched her lips, surprised to find them curved upward.
"Relax, Old He," she said, too pleased to tease him. "I’m Wang Xiaojuan. No one replaced me."
Old He knew he shouldn’t believe her, but his heart overruled his logic. "Then why are you like this?"
"Maybe this world embraced me."
"What does that mean?"
Xiaojuan just smiled. "If you trust me, come with me."
Old He’s thoughts spun. "Where?"
"To the hotel." Xiaojuan waved her phone, which contained the hotel room number sent by Chao Ge's assistant. "The organizers arranged rooms for the staff. Are you coming with me?"
She walked over to Old He, who stepped aside to let her pass.
Xiaojuan pulled open the rooftop door, turned on her phone's flashlight to illuminate the dark staircase, and began descending the steps.
Footsteps echoed behind her—Old He was following.
When they stepped out of the villa's main gate again, a gray car was waiting outside.
"Passengers, welcome aboard. Please fasten your seatbelts."
The villa was quite remote, making it impossible to hail a driverless ride. They had to splurge on a premium car with an actual driver.
Xiaojuan winced at the expense. Fortunately, she had received a bravery award from the hospital for her heroic act last time—otherwise, she wouldn’t even have been able to afford the ride.
Five minutes after the car left, two police cars pulled up outside the villa, presenting the remaining players with a pair of rose-gold bracelets (handcuffs).
The car stopped outside another villa, its interior brightly lit. Secretary Liu stood at the entrance, anxiously peering outside.
Chao Musheng stepped out of the car and was about to retrieve his suitcase from the trunk when Su Chenzhu beat him to it, lifting the luggage himself.
"Boss, Xiao Chao." Secretary Liu visibly relaxed upon seeing them. "I heard there was a strong wind at the villa—are you both alright?"
"Thank you for your concern, Brother Liu. I'm fine." Chao Musheng smiled at him. "Sorry to worry you. You should get some rest."
Secretary Liu quickly glanced at the suitcase in the boss's hand and nodded. "I’m just relieved to see you both back safely. I’ll head to bed now. Goodnight."
Su Chenzhu gave a slight nod.
Secretary Liu hurried back to his first-floor bedroom. The days of the boss staying up late while he had to wait were finally over—now, he could sleep first and even earn the boss’s praise for being considerate.
In the past, Xiao Chao would always press the elevator button for the boss. Now, he could casually let the boss carry his luggage without a second thought. The boss’s good days were truly on the horizon.
"Get some proper rest in your room." Su Chenzhu placed the suitcase inside. "If you need anything, I’m right next door."
"Mr. Su, there are other vacant rooms on the second floor." Chao Musheng removed his wristwatch. "Why am I the only one staying up here with you while Secretary Liu and the bodyguards are all downstairs?"
The room fell silent.
A flicker of panic crossed Su Chenzhu’s usually composed face. "You... you’re a key technical asset for the company. Having you nearby puts my mind at ease."
"Oh—" Chao Musheng drew out the syllable, watching as Su Chenzhu’s gaze darted away. With a knowing smile, he nodded. "I see."
He held up the watch in his palm. "Such a beautiful watch—was this also a gift for me?"
"Yes." Su Chenzhu’s ears flushed crimson. "It doesn’t suit me. But it looks good on you."
"Then I’ll gladly accept it." Chao Musheng closed his fingers around the watch and stepped closer to Su Chenzhu with a playful grin. "Mr. Su."
"What?" Su Chenzhu took half a step back, though his upper body leaned slightly toward Chao Musheng.
"Nothing." Chao Musheng’s eyes curved into crescents as he moved so close their chests nearly touched. Watching the redness spread down Su Chenzhu’s neck, he chuckled and retreated. "Goodnight. See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight." Su Chenzhu turned gracefully, the chain of his glasses tracing a silver arc in the air.
Staring at the now-empty doorway, Chao Musheng laughed softly and tucked the extravagant watch under his pillow.
After washing up, he lay in bed and quickly drifted into sleep.
Once again, he dreamed of the glass box filled with tiny figures. This time, he seemed closer to it—but before he could touch it, a howling gale swept him away.
Song Xu had barely slept five hours before his manager shook him awake.
"Xu-ge! The film department just notified me—Luo Yixuan has officially joined Kunlun!"
"I’ve gained another competitor, and you’re celebrating?" Song Xu frowned at his manager’s beaming face. "Don’t tell me the company assigned Luo Yixuan to you?"
"Of course not." The manager handed him his phone. "The business department just confirmed—you’ve been chosen as the spokesperson for this month’s new smartphone launch!"
"What?!" Song Xu was instantly wide awake. "Isn’t that the premium series?"
"Exactly! The business team said your clear logic and willingness to help those in distress last night perfectly align with the phone’s brand image." The manager was practically vibrating with excitement. "Xu-ge, your luck has finally turned!"
Song Xu grabbed his phone and opened his social media—comments flooded in so fast the app lagged.
[Congrats, Xu-dog. Your blessings are just beginning.]
[I admit I used to criticize you too harshly. For the next two weeks, I’m spoiling you unconditionally.]
He was baffled. Had these netizens been eating hallucinogenic mushrooms in Yunnan? Since when were they this nice?
Then he discovered the viral video—him in a bathrobe, hair a mess, butt sticking out as he desperately yanked at a rug, face contorted in effort. His world shattered.
His past "hotel lounging" photos had been mocked for a whole year. Wouldn’t this video haunt him for life?
But when he checked the comments, not a single insult appeared.
[Today, Xu-dog may be disheveled, but he’s oddly charming.]
[You can tell he was genuinely trying to help—his toes were practically clawing the ground.]
[That bystander was stunning. Xu-dog looked more subdued around them than I do in front of my homeroom teacher.]
Song Xu was confused. Song Xu was lost.
His meticulously staged airport photos got nitpicked, yet this unflattering clip had people finding ways to praise him?
"Don’t overthink it." His manager patted his not-too-bright head sympathetically. "You helped save lives alongside Mr. Chao and the others. Even your haters won’t dare attack you right now."
Song Xu muttered, "But this video’s hype won’t last more than a couple of days. It can’t possibly be why I landed the phone deal."
"True." The manager also seemed puzzled.
Netizens’ affections were fickle—today’s praise could become tomorrow’s scorn. The video might trend briefly, but unless they paid for promotion, it’d soon be forgotten.
A deal this big wouldn’t hinge on a single viral clip.
"I think…" Song Xu ventured cautiously, "Do you remember what happened last night?"
The manager stiffened.
"Is it possible," Song Xu’s eyes gleamed, "that after hearing what I said, CEO Su made this decision?"
He knew it. This time was different—Assistant Chao and CEO Su were the real deal.
Online, some staff-recorded videos of the violent winds were exposed, sparking heated discussions among netizens. Some claimed it was "supernatural wind," while certain antis of celebrities went even further, insisting it must have been caused by the bad luck of certain artists.
The organizers were also under fire, criticized for not having a single representative show up when staff were in danger, leaving it entirely to the guests on-site to carry out rescues.
The most heavily criticized was Pumpkin Video. Well-versed in online PR tactics, Pumpkin Video immediately issued an apology, followed by promising to cover all medical and nutritional expenses for the injured. They even sent care packages to the staff who participated in the rescue efforts the previous day.
Pumpkin Video’s swift and considerate response left netizens with little room to continue their outrage, so they turned their attention to the next target—Time Magazine.
An artist who had been rejected for collaboration by Chao Yin held a grudge and leaked photos of her having dinner with friends at a restaurant the night before.
While low-paid employees nearly lost their lives in the violent winds, the high-and-mighty editor-in-chief was enjoying a lavish meal at an upscale restaurant—what a perfect topic for outrage!
Independent gossip accounts, like sharks smelling blood, eagerly rushed to edit and post videos. But when they finished, they noticed that many marketing accounts affiliated with entertainment companies had mysteriously avoided the topic altogether.
Such a juicy scandal, yet they weren’t jumping on it? That wasn’t like them at all.
Confused but cautious, most independent accounts saved their edited videos as drafts instead of publishing them.
Chao Yin received calls from numerous collaborators and artists, all offering to help clarify the online rumors on her behalf.
The winds had come without warning. Upon hearing about the incident at the villa, Chao Yin rushed back and spent the entire night ensuring the staff were settled.
Ironically, it was Pumpkin Entertainment that ended up clearing up the misunderstandings for Chao Yin.
[Pointing Fingers: Pumpkin handled this well. Time Magazine, take notes.]
[Pumpkin Video’s reply: Dear, the winds struck without warning. Many management staff and artists were out for dinner at the time. The editor-in-chief of Time Magazine returned immediately upon hearing about the natural disaster at the villa. The hotel we’re all staying in now was arranged through her personal connections.]
After responding, Pumpkin Video also posted photos—Chao Yin helping staff clean up the site, as well as images of the hotel rooms and breakfast provided.
Netizens quickly forgot about criticizing Time Magazine. First, they marveled at how well the staff were being treated, then grew suspicious of Pumpkin Video’s unusual behavior.
Since when did Pumpkin Video, always hungry for clout, go out of its way to defend a collaborator? Was the sky falling?
The sky might not be falling, but the Pumpkin Video executive knew one thing for sure—early that morning, the Kunlun representative, Mr. Chao, had shown up with breakfast for Chao Yin.
And he’d accidentally overheard Mr. Chao calling her "Mom."
The Kunlun representative was Chao Yin’s son!
While everyone in the industry knew Chao Yin was married with children, no one had expected her son to be this impressive.
Thinking of his own good-for-nothing kid, the executive felt a mix of envy and bitterness. If he had a child like that, he’d wake up smiling every night.
Not only were netizens puzzled by Pumpkin Video’s actions, but industry insiders were too.
Sure, Chao Yin had a good relationship with the Kunlun representative, but not enough to warrant Pumpkin Video bending over backward like this. When questioned, the executive simply replied that it was "the right thing to do."
The right thing? Since when?
Everyone knew Pumpkin Video’s usual shameless tactics.
Chao Musheng, having returned from Chao Yin’s room, was preparing to leave for the capital with Su Chenzhu.
"Brother Chao!" Xiaojuan called out to him. "Wait for me!"
"You were waiting for me?" Chao Musheng paused, glancing at Old He behind her. "Why stand outside? You could’ve just knocked earlier."
"You were talking with Auntie Chao. We didn’t want to interrupt." Xiaojuan asked, "How is she doing?"
"She was up all night working. She ate breakfast and is resting now." Chao Musheng said, "Do you want to go back to the capital? I can take you with me."
"Not yet." Xiaojuan shook her head. "Brother Chao, I want to take Old He home first."
"To see his wife and daughter?" Chao Musheng remembered Xiaojuan mentioning Old He had a three- or four-year-old girl.
"Yeah." Xiaojuan said. "He hasn’t seen them in so long, and I don’t know..."
"If you want to go, then go. What’s the hesitation?" Chao Musheng checked his watch. "The train station isn’t far. I’ll drive you."
Xiaojuan noticed the watch on his wrist—the same one he’d worn the night before.
Old He looked miserable. "No need, Mr. Chao..."
Even if he could board a train in this world, he couldn’t go back.
"Thanks, Brother Chao." Xiaojuan cut him off. "He always thinks he hasn’t earned enough to face his family. Don’t you think that’s messed up?"
Chao Musheng chuckled, pressing the elevator button. "Come on in."
Xiaojuan pulled Old He inside. "Brother Chao, aren’t you leaving with Auntie Chao?"
"Mom’s staying in Linhai for a couple more days. Kunlun’s headquarters has too much backlog, and Mr. Su can’t stay in Linhai for long." Chao Musheng pressed the floor button. "I don’t understand Mom’s work well enough to be of help here."
As the elevator descended, Old He’s mind was a mess, barely registering their conversation.
When they reached the underground parking lot, Xiaojuan’s excited gasp startled him.
"Brother Chao!" She pointed at the sleek luxury car ahead. "Is this yours?"
"It’s Mr. Su’s." Chao Musheng opened the door. "His personal car in Linhai. He let me borrow it this morning."
Xiaojuan climbed in, admiring the plush interior. She studied Chao Musheng’s expression carefully. "Brother Chao, Mr. Su treats you really well."
Chao Musheng smiled. "Even you noticed?"
Xiaojuan thought his smile seemed odd—not angry or displeased, but something else. She nodded.
The drive was eerily smooth—no traffic, no red lights, as if luck itself had cleared the way.
"We’re here." Chao Musheng parked at the train station. "Old He, I’ll walk you in."
"Thank you, Mr. Chao." Old He’s lips trembled.
"For a child, the most important thing is having their parents around." Chao Musheng led the way. "Money will come eventually, but childhood only happens once."
"Go home soon." He stopped, pointing ahead. "The ticket hall is just through there. Wishing you and your family happiness. Goodbye."
Old He knew he couldn’t return. But under the young man’s earnest gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He stepped through the doors.
The wind rustled against the gate, causing it to creak softly. As Old He stepped through, he glanced back at the smiling young man behind him.
Noticing his gaze, the youth waved at him.
The wind blurred his vision, and when he blinked, he thought he saw a familiar gate ahead—not the ticket hall’s entrance, but…
The gate of his own residential complex!
"Daddy!" His daughter, dressed in a pretty princess dress and carrying her little duck-shaped backpack, stood with one hand on her hip and the other holding her mother’s. "You promised you’d be the first to pick me up from kindergarten today, but you’re late again! At lunch, I dreamed you were fighting someone, and I called and called, but you ignored me. I’m so, so mad at you right now!"
He stared at his wife and daughter in a daze. Was this a dream?
"Daddy, why are you crying?" His daughter pattered over and wrapped her small, pale arms around his leg. "I forgive you. I got three little red flowers today, and I’ll share the bear-shaped cookies my teacher gave me. Don’t cry."
"What’s wrong?" His wife hurried to his side, concern in her voice. "Did something upset you outside?"
Ignoring the curious glances of passersby, he pulled his wife and daughter into a tight embrace.
So warm.
This time, it wasn’t a dream.
