“Of course, if you ask him directly—‘Which planet are you from?’ or ‘Are you an alien?’—he’ll flat-out deny it,” Li Liangzi said with a shrug. “My theory is that the game’s creators, when building his personality model, erased any related memories.”
“But through countless rounds of repeated questioning, we can always catch traces of something. After all, creating a personality completely detached from experience is practically a paradox—personality is inherently shaped by experience. There will always be remnants.”
She glanced toward the lab. “They should be coming out soon. All right, I’ll hand him back to you. Come again when you can—maybe we’ll dig up something new.”
He turned to look toward the lab door. After a long Q&A session, Q-chan still looked full of energy. As soon as he saw He Wuning, he bounced over enthusiastically: “Sweetie!”
“I did great, they said I answered perfectly!”
“I really helped this time!”
For once, He Wuning didn’t retort. He paused, then reached out to pat Q-chan on the head. “Yeah.”
Q-chan froze in surprise, then rolled twice in delight. “Huh?”
“Does that mean I actually helped a lot without realizing it?”
“Something like that,” He Wuning replied casually. “Let’s go.”
Q-chan obediently followed. “Where are we going?”
He Wuning shoved his hands in his pockets. “Borrowing someone’s dorm to shower and eat.”
Yi Luo raised his hand automatically. “That ‘someone’ is here.”
Xue Xun poked his head out of the room. “Hey, your little brother’s still inside—”
“It’s fine, I’ll head home later,” He Anan said with a smile. He turned to look at Qi Hong, who was half-hiding behind him—despite being slightly taller, he looked nervous and small, tugging gently at He Anan’s sleeve. “I’m glad I could help,” He Anan said softly. “If you ever need anything, you can come to me.”
His tone grew gentle. “What did you see just now, Qi Hong? Can you tell us? It’s okay to take your time—just say whatever comes to mind.”
Qi Hong hesitated, lifting his head slowly. “Everything?”
“I saw…”
He tilted his head back and pointed upward. “There—there were monsters coming down from the sky.”
Xue Xun blinked. “The sky?”
……
Yi Luo stepped out of the bathroom. The moment he did, a pillow flew straight at him from the sofa. “Pervert! Put some clothes on!” Q-chan shouted.
“Correction: shirtless, not naked,” Yi Luo said calmly as he walked toward his closet. “I just forgot to grab one. Why? I can’t go shirtless in my own room now?”
Q-chan clapped both hands over his eyes, then zipped over to cover He Wuning’s eyes too. “Sweetie, don’t look at him!”
He Wuning lazily withdrew his gaze, snorting. “Please. It’s a guys’ dorm—who hasn’t seen someone wandering around in just shorts?”
His expression didn’t change; the sight of Yi Luo’s damp skin, taut muscles, and narrow waist apparently made no impression at all.
“This counts as shorts?” Yi Luo glanced down at his loose pants, then slowly turned around. “I’m putting my shirt on—want to keep staring a bit longer?”
He Wuning lifted his eyes and looked him up and down, deliberately slow. Yi Luo didn’t even flinch, standing there nonchalantly. He Wuning chuckled. “If you like showing off that much, want me to take a photo and post it in the lobby downstairs?”
Yi Luo obediently turned away. “No, that’s unnecessary.”
He pulled on his shirt. “What are you looking at, anyway?”
“Skill tree,” He Wuning said simply.
They’d been too busy leveling up lately to allocate new skill points.
After receiving 6% of system fragment compensation, He Wuning now had 22% total. Adding the 4% and 5% fragments from the tree demon and old vine monster, he had accumulated 31% of administrator permission fragments.
First, he added points to the level-10 “Triple Brew” skill—this would reduce how many milk teas he needed to drink before battle.
Next came the skill he’d been eyeing for a while—technically not a healing skill, but a life-steal one.
Sticky Sweet Rice Milk (Blood Glutinous Rice Milk Tea)
Effect: Restores HP equal to 3% of attack damage.
Although it required attacking to restore health, it was still better than nothing — at the very least, it could greatly improve a player’s combat endurance.
Aside from that, He Wuning wanted to invest in another rather peculiar skill — something to prepare for the next area.
Once they reached level 30 and left the rainforest zone, they would enter the ocean zone.
Back when He Wuning had leveled there, it had been extremely difficult. The ocean zone only had a single damaged, narrow bridge spanning the sea. Monsters would occasionally leap up from the water to attack anyone on the bridge, and if a player was unlucky enough to be dragged into the ocean — that was almost guaranteed death.
Some field bosses could even destroy whole sections of the bridge.
A few players had chosen to grind levels in the rainforest until level 40, skipping the ocean entirely and crossing the bridge at dawn to reach the next area. The bridge refreshed every morning at 5:00 a.m., and early in the morning, it was fully intact — relatively safe.
Though people rarely went into the ocean itself, He Wuning planned to unlock a special skill — Fish Form: temporarily gain the ability to breathe underwater using gills.
“Fish Form” required 30% administrator authority fragments to unlock. If he chose it, he wouldn’t have enough to continue upgrading the milk tea car — which he had hoped to modify into an amphibious vehicle.
He Wuning frowned slightly. Then the sofa beside him suddenly sank — Yi Luo had sat down next to him.
“What’s got you frowning?” Yi Luo asked.
“Going underwater,” He Wuning replied simply.
Yi Luo chuckled. “So, how exactly are you planning to stir up the Dragon King’s sea palace, Your Highness?”
He Wuning caught the faint scent of Yi Luo’s shampoo — the same as his own.
Which made sense — after all, he had borrowed Yi Luo’s bathroom. But for some reason, maybe because they smelled alike, He Wuning found himself strangely less on guard around him.
That alone should have been a warning sign.
He Wuning forced himself to tense up again, turned his head, and glared coldly. “Move over.”
“Can’t see from over there,” Yi Luo said stubbornly, refusing to budge.
“With a sniper’s eyesight, and you’re telling me you can’t see?” He Wuning raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the excuse.
“So what if I’m a sniper?” Yi Luo slouched deeper into the sofa. “Even snipers need to rest their eyes at night. I haven’t done my eye exercises today — hurry up, let me finish watching this so I can start.”
He Wuning closed the skill tree. “Nothing much to see. Still short on fragments. See if you have any skills that could make the milk tea car amphibious.”
Yi Luo instantly perked up. “Now that wakes me up! Yeah, there is one — but it’s expensive.”
“How much?”
“Twenty percent,” Yi Luo sighed, slumping back again. “Feels like a long way off.”
He only had the initial 3% He Wuning had given him, plus 3% from the game’s compensation — a total of 6%. With boss drops averaging 4–5% each, it would take at least four or five more to reach 20%.
“It shouldn’t take too long,” He Wuning said, glancing at Q-chan. “Haven’t you noticed? Our fragment drop rate’s been a lot higher lately.”
Yi Luo lifted his eyes and nodded. “We’re not the only ones hunting those bosses. They’re hunting you, too.”
“So those monsters can communicate with each other,” he added quietly. “They’re probably planning to kill you while you still have fewer fragments.”
When the topic turned serious, Yi Luo’s usual grin faded. His eyes lowered, and his fingers moved slightly — a subconscious trigger motion.
He never smiled when sniping. The rare seriousness sharpened his jawline, making it look cold and hard — like a drawn blade.
But soon enough, he sheathed it again, smiling as usual. “Well then, guess that means the next few fragments are mine. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t look sorry at all,” He Wuning said dryly. “At least it’ll give the milk tea car some extra firepower.” He turned his head toward Q-chan. There was still something he wanted to ask.
Q-chan noticed his gaze and tilted his head. “Hmm? What’s up, sweetie?”
He Wuning hesitated. If he asked directly, Q-chan would probably deny it — so he had to go about it sideways. “Do you remember… whether you ever had parents?”
“Parents?” Q-chan blinked, then laughed.
“Oh, sweetie, what are you saying? I’m a system, not something that’s born! I was manufa—manu—manufac—”
He suddenly seemed to freeze — his small, black-bean-like eyes widened sharply, then just as quickly returned to normal. He Wuning heard the familiar voice of the world: “Hello, esteemed administrator candidate.”
“A keyword related to the search for the truth of this world has been detected. I will now provide an answer.”
He Wuning narrowed his eyes. “You plan to answer?”
“Verifying administrator permissions. Current detected administrator authority — 31%, 6%,”
The voice of the world replied emotionlessly. “Apologies. You do not yet possess the authority to know the full truth of this world. But I would like to know — what is the reason for your question?”
“The system’s parents — is there any meaning in asking that?”
He Wuning didn’t hide his intent. “I want to know whether he’s ever lived.”
Q-chan’s eyes flickered several times before the voice of the world responded: “Yes.”
“System personality simulations are constructed using data from players who died within the game. These are the traces they left behind. He once lived.”
He Wuning pressed his lips tightly together.
The voice of the world continued: “However, to prevent database conflicts, we do not select lifeforms from the same star system to create systems. Therefore, you and he have never met — you are separated by billions of light-years.”
“He is not even a carbon-based organism. Esteemed administrator candidate, what emotion are you feeling right now?”
He Wuning tilted his head back, uncooperative as ever. “None of your business.”
The voice of the world did not pursue the question. Q-chan’s eyes flashed again as the voice continued on its own: “Administrator authority has reached 30%. Unlocking background archives. Logging into administrator database. Default administrator name — Mercy. This can be changed.”
“‘Mercy?’” He Wuning raised an eyebrow. “Change it.”
“Please enter a name.”
“BUG.”
“……”
-----
The author has something to say:
He Wuning: ‘Mercy’? Are you mocking me?
Rabbit: Maybe it’s asking you to have a little mercy and stop breaking things, Mr. BUG.
Xue Xun: Huh? Who’s this ‘Eighth Prince’ you’re talking about?
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