1
Chi XiaoChi leaned against the car, smoking. As dusk fell, the tiny flame illuminated half of his face, casting a faint glow.
Halfway through the cigarette, he glanced at his watch, then turned and slid into the car through the slightly open window. He took an almost-empty bottle of mineral water, flicked the half-smoked cigarette and its unbroken ash into it. Searching his pocket, he found a piece of chewing gum, chewed hastily, and spat out the residue into a napkin.
He intended to throw the trash into a bin, but just as he turned around, the person he was waiting for emerged from the software company.
The man, somewhat weary, first noticed the brand-new car parked by the roadside, then saw Chi XiaoChi. His expression became complicated. "...XiaoCheng."
In this world, Chi XiaoChi went by the name Cheng Yuan.
Upon seeing the face, Chi XiaoChi was momentarily stunned, forgetting to step forward.
At that moment, a semi-human, semi-mechanical voice echoed in his mind, reminding him in a businesslike manner:
"Mr. Chi, your target is calling you."
Ignoring the drop in the affection meter from 72 to 70, Chi XiaoChi snapped back to reality, commenting, "Not bad looking."
Then he straightened up, self-deprecatingly adding, "Guess I've been single too long. Even a turtle looks handsome."
The system: "…"
Chi XiaoChi then pretended to squint in the dim light before recognizing the person, his previously unfocused eyes suddenly brightening with joy. The dimples on his cheeks were so sweet they could make anyone want to smile along. "Lao Yang!"
System: "…" Acting skills on point.
Chi XiaoChi's target, Lao Yang, whose full name was Yang BaiHua, wasn't old at all. Four years older than Cheng Yuan, he was neat and tidy, with a refreshing air about him. His clothes were always neatly pressed, and he had a faint scent of wood. Underneath his white shirt, his well-defined yet not overly exaggerated chest muscles hinted at a quiet strength that could easily quicken one's heartbeat.
As Chi XiaoChi approached his target, he reviewed the information he had received about this world line.
This was Chi XiaoChi's first task since entering the system world. According to the system, to help task-takers adapt faster, their first mission would be highly similar to their original world, and set at an easy difficulty level—basically, a tutorial.
Yang BaiHua, a golden phoenix who flew out from a remote mountain village, supported by his entire family, studied software engineering. From not knowing how to turn on a computer to securing a postgraduate position, nearly seven years of studying away from home had polished away any rusticity. At first glance, he looked like a city-bred young man.
As for Cheng Yuan, he came from money.
How much money, Cheng Yuan never cared; that was his elder brother's concern.
Cheng Yuan had a passion for music, a deep and abiding love. He had talent, easily picking up instruments and possessing a voice of high quality, capable of singing, composing, and playing.
Cheng Yuan met Yang BaiHua while visiting an old high school friend at university. It was during his college days when he stumbled upon Yang BaiHua on campus. Yang BaiHua, in his final year, exuded a fresh and strong aura that captivated Cheng Yuan, leading him to relentlessly pursue him.
Initially, Yang BaiHua found it amusing, but gradually, he was moved by Cheng Yuan's earnestness.
Their relationship developed over three years, from acquaintances to lovers.
One day, Cheng Yuan, drunk, impulsively came out to his family.
His parents couldn't accept their son falling for another man, especially after investigating Yang BaiHua's background. They weren't prejudiced against someone who had worked hard to succeed, but they doubted whether Yang BaiHua's family, who had four daughters named ZhaoDi, PanDi, NianDi, WangDi, would ever accept a son-in-law who wouldn't carry on the family line.
Love made people blind.
Cheng Yuan, sobering up, ignored his parents' advice, fearing they would mistreat Yang BaiHua.
He rebelled, moved out, and lived with Yang BaiHua in a cheap apartment far from the city center. There, Cheng Yuan learned to cook, impressing Yang BaiHua with his skills, and started bringing lunch to Yang BaiHua's workplace daily.
Friends mocked him, saying he was crazy for giving up a good life for a country bumpkin. Cheng Yuan smiled, insisting Yang BaiHua treated him well and they planned to have hotpot tomorrow.
Cheng Yuan was a romantic idealist, recording every small goal on sticky notes, as if writing poetry.
"Write songs in the morning; cook lunch; write more songs in the afternoon; take evening walks with Lao Yang; buy two cups of Sun's soy milk, add sugar to Lao Yang's; sleep with the air conditioner on, under a quilt."
He never wrote down anything negative, believing he led a happy life.
He refused help from his elder brother, except once when accepting a new car to alleviate his motion sickness on long bus rides. But Yang BaiHua disliked the gift, considering it charity, and Cheng Yuan, thinking it reasonable, returned it.
This hurt his brother deeply, leading to less frequent communication.
Cheng Yuan hoped that showing his happiness with Yang BaiHua would eventually win his family's acceptance.
Yang BaiHua, a certified systems analyst, worked at a software company, while Cheng Yuan, who once didn't need to worry about livelihood, now had to earn a living through music. His experimental music, once supported by his parents, no longer had a market.
But Cheng Yuan adapted, writing various genres of music, though he remained particular about quality.
After three months, he crafted three pop-style demo songs and sent them to several record companies. Unexpectedly, a small company accepted them, offering five thousand yuan per song.
Overjoyed, Cheng Yuan signed a contract without reading it. He meticulously planned how to spend the fifteen thousand yuan, each plan involving Yang BaiHua.
If only he could go back and warn himself.
The company's production quality disappointed, but Cheng Yuan was thrilled seeing his songs, "Autumn Thoughts," "Words of Heart," and "Love You," climbing charts.
Until he read a comment: "Doesn't 'Autumn Thoughts' sound like Tang Goddess's 'Thinking of Mortality'?"
Soon, others agreed, noting similarities between "Words of Heart" and Tang Huan's new song.
…Tang Huan?
Cheng Yuan's phone screen went dark. Shaken, he replayed Tang Huan's songs, recognizing the melodies.
…Who copied whom?
Cheng Yuan knew he was innocent, having barely listened to Tang Huan before. Critics often described Tang Huan's music as bland, lacking soul.
Yet her album cover bore the same title as his song, "Words of Heart," which expressed his love for Yang BaiHua, now twisted into a saccharine tune.
Cheng Yuan felt humiliated.
He called Yang BaiHua, sobbing, "Lao Yang, come back." Like a child seeking comfort.
Naïve, sheltered Cheng Yuan didn't notice Yang BaiHua's fleeting panic.
Nor did he realize this was just the beginning of his nightmare.
Now, standing before Yang BaiHua, Chi XiaoChi smiled up at him, eyes shining.
Yang BaiHua, frowning, asked, "Did you buy this car?"
Chi XiaoChi turned to look at the car, boasting, "Isn't it beautiful?"
"How much did it cost?" Yang BaiHua asked.
Chi XiaoChi grinned, "Guess?"
Up to this point, everything followed the original script.
Yang BaiHua sighed, the affection meter dropping further.
He began lecturing, "XiaoCheng, we're in this for the long haul. I appreciate your sacrifices, but you must learn to live within our means. Spending extravagantly..."
The original script called for Cheng Yuan to admit it was a joke, a gift from his brother.
Instead, Chi XiaoChi feigned hurt, "It's from my brother. I get carsick on buses."
Yang BaiHua gently stroked his hair, "XiaoCheng, grow up. Don't rely on your brother. He's interfering in your life, spoiling you."
Chi XiaoChi remained silent, watching him.
Yang BaiHua felt confident.
Previously, Cheng Yuan had distanced himself from a friend after such a talk.
...XiaoCheng is naive, better to listen to me than be led astray.
Chi XiaoChi spoke softly, tenderly, just as he used to when whispering sweet nothings:
"...My brother cares for me, what's it to you?"
