“……” Wan Tong tugged at the hem of her skirt and stood up. Meeting Lou Yan’s serious expression, the heat on her face finally subsided a little. Fortunately, he hadn’t laughed at her.
Lou Yan lowered his gaze, hiding the amusement in his eyes, but he didn’t touch her again, nor did his eyes linger on her.
Wan Tong noticed that the background behind her had changed. She had moved to the lower corner of the screen, where lines of code were rapidly flowing out of her body and arranging themselves on the screen.
Lou Yan found it impossible to concentrate. His lips were stiff from suppressing the urge to smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the little girl in a doll dress playing with the code emerging from her. The *duang duang* sound effects and her occasional soft exclamations of surprise made him want to scoop her up into his palm and toy with her at will.
The game <Palm Pet> got its name because players could adjust their created characters to different sizes. They could accompany them at their side or be projected into their palm. Most people preferred the latter.
Nowadays, if you walked down the street, almost everyone had a tiny figure in their hands, whispering words of comfort, acting as guides, and answering every question a player had.
This game had taken the world by storm. But it was no longer his game.
A dark, cold light crept into Lou Yan’s eyes, and the air around him grew heavy with suppressed emotion.
Hearing approaching footsteps, his first instinct was to glance toward the corner of the screen.
The little girl who had just been poking at code was now standing properly. But she was curiously peeking at something behind him.
The optical computer screen returned to a blue desktop, and the tiny figure in the lower right corner remained in place, obedient and still.
“A’Yan, I heard you haven’t left the house for two days. You can’t go on like this…” Lin Jielin approached Lou Yan, glancing at the screen without much interest.
But when her gaze swept past the cute figure in the lower right corner, she couldn’t help but pause. This girl looked somewhat like a character from <Palm Pet>. At the very least, that doll dress was a default system outfit. Why would Lou Yan put an icon like that on his screen?
Wan Tong didn’t like playing the role of a wooden puppet. She blinked and suddenly let out a soft “Hmph,” turning around to face away from the people outside the screen.
That delicate, petulant hum rang clearly in both of their ears.
Lin Jielin was stunned. “A’Yan, is this a new program you made? So… tsundere.”
She barely managed to come up with a neutral term, but deep down, she was displeased. What nonsense was this? Lou Yan was becoming more and more unfocused. Now he was wasting time on such a weird desktop icon?
Lou Yan didn’t answer. His gaze fell on the tiny figure’s slightly swaying strands of hair, and for once, his thin lips curled into a barely noticeable smile.
Lin Jielin frowned and called out again, “Lou Yan?”
He didn’t look as bad as Hei Pang and the others had said. Could it be that he had come up with a way to counter Sou Ben Corporation?
Lou Yan finally turned to glance at her. “What is it?”
Lin Jielin sighed. “Let me take you out for a meal. After that, you should get some rest. Some things… you just have to let go, okay?”
She had lost count of how many times she’d said this, but Lou Yan never took it seriously. Sometimes, he even got irritated and kicked her out. But now, he simply put away his optical computer. “You should go back. I’ll take care of my own meal.”
With that, he clomped up the metal stairs and went straight to the attic.
Lin Jielin didn’t follow. Lou Yan had always disliked others invading his personal space.
After a brief stroll, she left. The slums were too backward to even describe. Filthy and chaotic, as if time had stopped moving forward. If not for Lou Yan, she would never have come here.
And to avoid standing out, every time she visited, she carefully picked the most ‘down-to-earth’ outfit from her wardrobe, like today’s dull gray cotton dress.
Yet Lou Yan hadn’t spared her a single glance.
Up in the attic, the sealed space was small but not stifling, thanks to an air circulation unit installed in the corner. Without it, anyone living here would probably suffocate.
Lou Yan rummaged through the cupboard and realized that he had eaten his last self-heating meal the night before.
He ruffled his short hair and muttered a curse, preparing to head out.
“Master, it’s not lunchtime—it’s dinnertime.”
A small voice came from the optical computer. He glanced at the desk. The screen wasn’t even on.
Earlier, when he’d checked her program, he had found a line of code that intrigued him. Perhaps that was what had allowed her to break free from the game’s system and exist independently within his optical computer. And he suspected her intelligence far exceeded modern AI capabilities.
This time, maybe his misfortune had truly turned into a blessing.
“You can see me, hear my voice, and even think for yourself?” Lou Yan awakened the screen.
The little girl in the doll dress was sitting atop a heart-shaped icon, her tiny feet swinging leisurely.
“Mn-hm.” Wan Tong responded, hopping off the heart. She hadn’t expected him to suddenly wake the screen, and she felt a little embarrassed, so she stood properly, waiting for him to speak.
Lou Yan’s gaze lingered on her bare little feet. He pressed his lips together, as if trying to fully grasp the reality of her existence.
Her image was so lifelike that he could even see her eyelashes clearly.
“I’m going out for a bit. Be good and stay quiet.”
“Okay, Master.” Wan Tong nodded but was a little puzzled. Even if she spoke, no one would suspect anything. After all, the optical computer contained all sorts of messy programs.
After getting her assurance, Lou Yan put the optical computer into his pocket. As he passed by a mirror, he caught sight of his haggard and disheveled appearance and frowned.
He glanced at the direction of his pocket, then leaned closer to the mirror, rubbing the stubble on his face and ruffling his short black hair. For the first time, he found himself disliking his own image this much.
Coming down from the attic, he stopped by the bathroom to shave before heading out.
The slums were bustling. Lou Yan stocked up on some self-heating meal boxes, had a quick bowl of noodles outside, and on his way back, got a buzz cut at Old Liu’s shop nearby.
By the time he returned, the basement was noticeably cleaner. During his absence, the worn-out cleaning robot, Old A, had tidied up the place, making the air feel fresher.
Lou Yan inspected the space, and soon, Old A’s mechanical voice chimed in, “Master, are you satisfied with Old A’s work?”
Old A was a 60cm-tall humanoid cleaning robot that Lou Yan had salvaged from a junkyard. After some tinkering, it barely functioned and had been his companion in the basement for six years. It had always called him ‘Master,’ but for some reason, hearing it now felt odd.
“Old A, from now on, call me Lou Yan.”
Although Old A’s programming had been optimized, it still took a moment to process his request. “Lou Yan, are you satisfied with Old A’s work?”
“Mm, it’s good.” Lou Yan replied casually.
Old A happily waddled back to its corner and started recharging.
Watching its single glowing eye, Lou Yan pressed his lips together. Old A’s battery life was getting worse.
Suddenly, a sharp scream rang out from the optical computer.
Lou Yan quickly activated the screen, only to see a small figure crouched next to a heart rate monitor icon.
“W-what happened?” His voice was a little hoarse, and the whole situation felt strange. He had never imagined himself communicating with a mere program, a 2D character, like this.
Wan Tong looked up pitifully and pointed at the heart rate monitor. “There’s a ghost…”
Shishi had told her it was a single-player game, so she went in to take a look. But to her horror, the world was full of terrifying ghosts, nearly scaring this little 2D character to death.
Lou Yan wanted to laugh but held it back, fearing she might get upset. Instead, he pressed his lips together and said, “That’s a horror game. Your current state is a bit special, don’t go wandering around.”
His tone became serious toward the end.
He was worried she might get trapped in a program or, worse, get lost.
“Okay.” Wan Tong slowly stood up, still sounding a little aggrieved. “But why does the horror game’s icon look so cute? It has no warning at all…”
As she spoke, she stretched out her foot and lightly kicked the silver heart rate icon, nudging it aside. Then, she quickly chased after it and dragged it back.
Lou Yan watched silently, rubbing his thumb and index finger together to suppress the urge to poke her.
The past two days had been the most relaxed and peaceful time Lou Yan had experienced in the last six months. The gloomy basement seemed to have gained a touch of warmth.
When Hu Ming and Hei Pang stepped into the basement, they saw Lou Yan tinkering with a software program, seemingly something new.
Compared to two days ago, he looked much more energized. The two exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up.
Lou Yan had quite a reputation in the slums. Young women were always drawn to him, but after <Palm Pet> was released by Sorben six months ago, he had shut himself away and become despondent.
They had been worried that the setback would crush him, making him abandon game development altogether. But now, it seemed like he was working on something new. So why wasn’t he telling them? Did he not trust them anymore?
After some careful deliberation, they both became more cautious.
Lou Yan shrank the light brain into his palm before turning to them. “Why are you here?”
“A’Yan, are you developing a new game?” Hu Ming asked sincerely. “Seeing you like this, we can finally stop worrying so much.”
“It’s just a small program.”
“What kind of program? Let me take a look,” Hei Pang said, leaning in.
Lou Yan, however, pressed the light brain against himself. “Just a stress-relief gadget, nothing interesting.”
Hei Pang clicked his tongue dismissively. “So, what’s the plan? Are we still making a new game? Should we register a company?”
When they had been preparing <Palm Pet>, they had planned to register a company before releasing the game. But then, everything fell apart.
“Put it on hold for now. I have something else to take care of.” Lou Yan’s thumb rubbed the screen lightly as his dark eyes lowered, glinting faintly.
To Hu Ming and Hei Pang, it was obvious. Lou Yan was hiding something from them.
He must have already developed a game but wasn’t telling them!
The two exchanged a few probing remarks, trying to coax him outside, but Lou Yan refused every attempt.
Left with no choice, they eventually departed, planning to find another way to test him later.
After locking the door behind them, Lou Yan returned to his desk, enlarged the light brain screen, tapped it lightly, and called out in a deep voice—
“Wanwan.”
“Master?” Wan Tong instantly appeared beside a pink heart—it was her default spawn point.
Lou Yan remained calm, pointing at a software icon featuring a chibi-style little girl. He spoke in a low voice, “Here, this is for you to play with.”
Wan Tong was momentarily stunned. So this was what he had been busy with these past two days?
She walked toward the chibi icon and noticed that it resembled her a little…
Moreover, the software was named “Wanwan’s Little Home.”
That name was… very much a straight man’s choice.
Since Wan Tong didn’t react for a while, Lou Yan took the initiative and tapped on the screen. The interface changed instantly.
A girlish bedroom appeared—bed, wardrobe, desk, bay window… all decorated in soft shades of pink. But instead of looking tacky, it actually felt quite uplifting.
Lou Yan really understands a girl’s heart, huh?
Wan Tong felt an incredibly soft, cloud-like sensation beneath her feet. She looked down and found that the carpet was unbelievably thick!
“Thank you, Master~” Wan Tong lifted the hem of her dress and stepped in place a few times.
When she looked up again, she saw that Lou Yan still maintained his cold and indifferent expression, as if all of this was just a trivial pastime, nothing worth mentioning.
But in the next second, the environment changed again.
Lou Yan had opened the biggest online shopping platform. The dazzling array of products left Wan Tong momentarily overwhelmed.
“What do you want?” Lou Yan rested his chin on one hand, his handsome face leaning slightly closer to the screen, while his fingers lightly swiped across it.
“Master, are you buying things for me?” Wan Tong moved to a corner, her shopping instincts slowly awakening.
“Mm.” Lou Yan responded coolly. Watching the tiny figure in the corner, already on the verge of losing herself, the corners of his lips couldn’t help but curve up slightly.
“Wait, Master, even if you buy them, I can’t use them.” Wan Tong was a little troubled. She turned back to look at him, her eyelids drooping, long dark lashes fluttering.
“Just pick.”
“Oh…”
For the next few hours, the voices of a man and a woman occasionally echoed in the basement.
In the corner of the light-brain interface, a silver shopping cart sat with a small girl perched cross-legged inside, pointing at different items. The young man was responsible for adding them to the cart.
“Master, Wanwan wants that teddy bear~”
“Mm.”
“Master, Wanwan also wants that red dress, the one with suspenders~”
“…Alright.”
…
Wan Tong had no sense of time, nor did she follow any human biological clock. It wasn’t until she had browsed nearly the entire store that she noticed it was already past midnight.
And Lou Yan… he hadn’t eaten dinner.
“Master, I’m done now.” She obediently climbed out of the shopping cart, looking at the [308] total at the top, suddenly feeling that she might have gone overboard.
“Mm.” Lou Yan acknowledged nonchalantly.
Wan Tong hesitated, then said, “Master, you should go eat.”
Lou Yan glanced at the time and finally realized it was quite late. His stomach did feel uncomfortable.
“Mm, go play.”
“…Okay.”
In reality, even if she stood still all day, she wouldn’t understand what boredom was.
But she figured Lou Yan was probably tired of seeing her. After all, he had been facing her almost every moment these past few days. He needed his privacy too…
So, Wan Tong waved at Lou Yan and then disappeared.
Lou Yan was briefly stunned. He hurriedly returned to the desktop, her figure was no longer there.
—Did she… go play?
He stared at the chibi icon and, without thinking further, clicked on it.
Inside the pink little house, it was completely empty.
He forced himself to control his hand, resisting the urge to check every single one of his programs.