When Wan Tong left this world, she earned 50 points, higher than in any previous world, likely due to Chu Yuanxun’s achievements.
She also noticed that Shishi seemed to have become much more intelligent, with a more flexible way of speaking.
In the blink of an eye, Wan Tong entered a new world. However, something was strange—she was surrounded by complete darkness and couldn’t even sense her own existence.
Gradually, floating lines of code appeared before her eyes. It felt as though she was endlessly spinning, spinning.
Information seemed to be input into her mind bit by bit. In this world… she was actually… a 2D character.
The development level of this world is slightly more advanced, with the entertainment industry being particularly prosperous. Celebrities are cultivated like crops—one wave rises, another falls, and their shelf life is extremely short. Every TV drama takes no more than a short period from planning to airing. Theaters release new films daily, and towering screens on the streets alternate between movie promotions and game advertisements.
Everyone here indulges in comfort and pleasure, adhering to the philosophy of ‘entertainment to death.’ Each person owns a real-name-registered optical computer, which can fold and resize freely, essentially a hybrid of a computer and a smartphone. The omnipresent high-speed network keeps them deeply immersed, unable to extricate themselves.
The boss in this world is Lou Yan, a powerhouse in the industry, who was born in the slums and was once obsessed with all kinds of games. Later, he and a few like-minded companions from similar backgrounds ventured into game development.
They created a simulation game called <Palm Pet>, playable anytime via optical computer. Initially, those accustomed to violent and bloody games mocked it as childish. After all, 2D paper-doll-style games had long been obsolete. But before long, they had to admit they were hooked.
Lou Yan’s team then released a revolutionary smart wristband that, when linked to the game, could project 3D holograms of the in-game characters into the real world. Soon after, they developed a VR suit that allowed players to interact seamlessly with these 3D projections, even touch them.
In a world overwhelmed by fragmented information, where people are constantly chasing sensory pleasures, <Palm Pet> unexpectedly struck a chord, offering them a sense of emotional healing. The game exploded in popularity.
The success catapulted Lou Yan to fame. Major gaming corporations sought to recruit his team, but he refused. Instead, he founded his own gaming company, gathering talent and growing stronger. Every game he developed thereafter became a global sensation, earning him unparalleled prestige.
In this world, Wan Tong was originally a character Lou Yan personally created during <Palm Pet>’s internal testing phase, her name was Wanwan.
She was crafted by his own hands, designed precisely to his liking. Unfortunately, during the testing phase, a data loss incident wiped everything out. When Lou Yan re-logged into his account, Wanwan was gone.
No matter how many times he tried afterward, he could never create another character that satisfied him the same way.
As the game’s developer, aside from the internal testing phase, Lou Yan barely played it himself.
These memories were transmitted to Wan Tong by Shishi, but she herself had no recollection. She even felt as if she had lost the emotions a human should possess.
[Tongtong, hold on. This world is on the verge of collapse, so Shishi sent you in early.] Shishi’s voice was urgent, and at the same time, it transmitted another data package.
The situation was indeed dire, the Raider Lin Jielin had entered this world much earlier and had disrupted everything.
During <Palm Pet>’s internal testing, Lin Jielin secretly stole all development data from the team. Using it as a stepping stone, she joined the largest gaming company—Sou Ben Corporation.
Now, <Palm Pet> had already been released under Sou Ben’s name, leveraging the smart wristbands and VR equipment to captivate countless players. Meanwhile, Lou Yan, upon discovering his game had been stolen, had been tirelessly fighting for his rights.
This era had strong intellectual property laws, if he could present evidence, justice would be served.
But he had none. All his data had inexplicably vanished.
In reality, it was his own four teammates who had sold the game to Lin Jielin at a dirt-cheap price. Knowing Lou Yan would continue developing hit games, she instructed them to stay by his side and monitor him.
Now, Lou Yan was still in the slums, unaware that the four traitors around him were watching his every move.
His fortune had been entirely stolen by Lin Jielin, and his favorability rating toward her had already reached 50—because during his most desperate times, it was Lin Jielin who ‘helped’ him by introducing him to a senior lawyer. But what he didn’t know was that the lawyer had been bribed by her as well, merely putting on a show.
Floating lines of code crashed into Wan Tong, though she felt nothing. Before long, darkness engulfed her surroundings once more.
Lou Yan’s optical computer had been hacked, and all game-related data had been deleted. But he was still trying to recover it.
And she—was merely a fragment of incomplete data.
Lou Yan had only just recreated her form. He hadn’t even had the chance to refine her settings, leaving her mind blank.
A beam of light shone on Wan Tong. She opened her eyes and saw that, apart from the small illuminated area she stood in, the rest of the space was pitch black.
[Shishi, what should I do now?] Wan Tong asked blankly. The clearest memory in her mind was Lou Yan calling Wanwan over and over again. But now, the original world’s storyline had been completely derailed.
[I’ll help restore your data first. Lou Yan won’t notice.] Shishi replied.
[Alright.]
In a damp, cramped basement, a haggard young man stared at the glowing optical computer screen, his fingers flying across the virtual keyboard. His chiseled face was lined with exhaustion, his bloodshot eyes evidence of days without sleep.
Four young men entered together, exchanging knowing glances as they looked at Lou Yan’s back.
The first to speak was Hei Pang, a burly, dark-skinned man with sharp, narrow eyes. “Lou Yan, stop wasting your time. It’s useless. Even if you recover the data and restore the program, you still can’t prove we developed the game first. We can’t fight against the capitalists. Sooner or later, they’ll turn the tables and accuse us of plagiarism instead…”
“Yeah, Lou Yan, let’s think about developing another game. Real-world adventure games are really popular. Maybe we should go in that direction!” Li Zi chimed in. His oversized T-shirt only accentuated his gaunt frame.
Xiao Nuo nodded in agreement. “Li Zi’s right. We can’t keep dwelling on this. Let’s just forget about Sou Ben.”
The young man with chestnut-colored hair on the far side was the only one who remained silent, staring intently at the screen.
Li Zi nudged him. “Hu Ming, say something too.”
“No need to convince me. I know what I’m doing.” Lou Yan didn’t even turn his head. His voice was so hoarse it sounded like it might crack.
“Jielin said she’s worried about you. She’ll be here soon.” Hu Ming stepped behind Lou Yan and spoke in a low voice.
Lou Yan glanced over briefly but quickly turned back. “Tell her not to come.”
“What? You don’t want to see her?” Hei Pang was the first to react with concern.
“I’ve already consulted the lawyer about everything I need to know. Right now, the most important thing is this data.” This time, Lou Yan truly turned his head to the side.
His bloodshot eyes, for some reason, seemed even sharper than usual.
The four others fell silent and left the room.
Once they were some distance away, Xiao Nuo spoke. “What now?”
“That guy wants us to stay close to Lou Yan. Probably because of his development skills. We’ve already taken the money, so we just do as we’re told,” Hei Pang said indifferently.
“But Lou Yan still holds a grudge about that incident. If he finds out…”
“Did you forget how we deleted the data? No matter how skilled he is, he can’t recover it.”
“Do you think he already suspects us? I feel like he’s been colder to us lately.”
“Doesn’t matter. Worst case, we cut ties.”
The group continued their conversation as they walked away.
Inside the room, Lou Yan let his hands fall weakly, staring at the screen without blinking. His fists clenched inch by inch.
No one could truly understand how much he resented this situation.
This scene, like a mirage on a watery surface, was projected into the pitch-black space before Wan Tong through a camera. She could even hear the sound of his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists.
Wan Tong tilted her head slightly and reached out, trying to pat his head.
As she extended her hand, she realized she had passed through the darkness. She was now standing on the edge of a black platform. Looking down at her own feet, she found it rather fascinating.
[Tongtong, I’ve fixed your body’s code. You can move freely now.]
[What do you mean?]
[It means… you can move around inside this optical computer as you please. But to avoid detection, it’s best if you don’t go online.]
[Alright.] Wan Tong tugged at the hem of her knee-length white doll dress and nodded.
*Clatter!*
The sound startled her.
Wan Tong looked up to see Lou Yan suddenly standing up from his desk, staring at her in shock.
Right, she was now displayed on his screen. No wonder she had scared him.
She wanted to say something, but the first words that came out of her mouth were, “Master, I’m Wanwan!”
[Shishi, why can’t I control my own mouth?] Wan Tong was speechless inside, but the smile on her face remained bright.
Shishi : [… You’ll have to get used to it. After all, you’re just a 2D character now—sometimes, you won’t have a choice.]
[…] Wan Tong felt like she was standing too low. She stepped onto the lines of code beside her, treating them like stairs, and climbed up a few steps.
Lou Yan stared at the tiny girl hopping on his code on the screen, unable to process what he was seeing.
But he knew one thing for sure—this wasn’t a hallucination, nor was it a dream.
The little loli character he had created in the game was now bouncing on his code inside his optical computer…
So cute.
Without thinking, he reached out his hand and slowly moved it toward her. But before he could touch the screen, the loli seemed startled. She turned to the side, clasped her hands behind her back, and tilted her head at him.
“Master, what are you doing?”
Wan Tong had resigned herself to accepting that embarrassing title.
Lou Yan, hearing the voice come directly from his optical computer, forced himself to stay calm. He sat back down, leaned closer, and observed her for a moment before tapping his keyboard again.
He strongly suspected that his system had been hacked. Even though no alarms had gone off, who knew if someone had planted a little program to mess with him?
The code beneath her feet shifted, and Wan Tong, caught off guard, nearly got pushed out of the screen.
She quickly crouched down. “No, wait! I’m afraid of heights…”
Lou Yan’s face remained serious, his red-rimmed eyes making him look especially intimidating. But as soon as she spoke, his hand froze in midair.
She slightly turned her body. Her light chestnut hair cascaded down her back like seaweed, smooth and silky. The white doll dress she wore was the default system outfit from his game. He hadn’t even had a chance to change her clothes yet…
His lips parted slightly, but in the end, he said nothing. His slightly furrowed brows only made him appear colder.
“Forget it. I’ll go rest now,” Wan Tong cautiously stood up, glanced upward, and then vanished.
She didn’t actually need to rest, she just figured Lou Yan needed time to process things, so she made her escape.
Around her, everything remained pitch black. The only source of light was the rectangular screen showing Lou Yan’s figure.
She crouched down, feeling a bit of despair.
At least in the previous worlds, she had a physical body.
Now, as a two-dimensional character, wasn’t she just useless?
[Tongtong, look!] Shishi’s voice suddenly turned cheerful.
Wan Tong looked up and saw on the screen ahead that Lou Yan had stood up, holding his optical computer and carefully examining it, his expression carrying a hint of urgency.
He shrank the optical computer down and folded it, flipping it back and forth in his palm.
“Wanwan?” He tentatively called out.
Wan Tong ignored him. As long as she stayed off the desktop, he wouldn’t be able to see her.
In the end, his gaze fell on a tiny <Palm Pet> icon on the optical computer’s desktop. He fell into deep thought, then after a long moment, reached out and tapped it, only to be met with a program error message.
Annoyed, he immediately tossed the optical computer aside and slumped back into his seat.
Just then, the now palm-sized optical computer suddenly showed movement.
The <Palm Pet> icon, a pink heart, now had a small figure beside it.
Compared to before, she was slightly smaller, seemingly scaled down in proportion to the optical computer’s new size.
“Master, were you looking for me?” Wan Tong gazed at him, her voice soft and sweet—the exact setting he had chosen, his favorite…
Lou Yan felt as if someone had gently brushed against his eardrum, sending an inexplicable tickle through him.
But he clenched his palm tightly, forcing himself to maintain a neutral expression. “Who’s playing a prank on me?”
Wan Tong blinked at him innocently for two seconds, then hugged the fluffy pink heart beside her. “I should just go back.”
“Wait.” Lou Yan called out, his palm also closing around the optical computer.
As Wan Tong waited for him to speak, she rubbed her cheek against the pink heart twice. Unexpectedly, the action produced a soft *duang duang* sound effect…
Shishi : [*Cough, cough, cough*…]
Lou Yan stared in a daze, completely forgetting what he had wanted to ask. After a moment, he murmured, “Are you really Wan Wan?”
“Master, you can check my attributes.”
Lou Yan hesitated for a moment, then moved his index finger toward her but couldn’t bring himself to tap down.
His lips pressed into a thin line, and after a long pause, he finally touched her.
“Ah—ouch…” Wan Tong hadn’t expected to actually feel an invisible force, knocking her straight to the ground.
Shishi : [Sorry, Tong Tong, I think I might have restored your data beyond this world’s limits…]
Meanwhile, Lou Yan hastily withdrew his finger. As he looked at the tiny girl sprawled beside the pink heart, a strange, tingling warmth spread through his chest. His tongue unconsciously pressed against the roof of his mouth, his throat felt dry.
Damn.
Too damn cute.