Luo Yan stared at her slightly moist, rosy lips, his gaze lingering for a long time.
At some point, uncontrollable and beastly thoughts had begun to take root in his heart.
“How else do we test it?”
Wan Tong thought he was about to kiss her, but instead, his finger extended and gently poked her soft, bouncy cheek.
“…”
Then, he pulled her up by the hand.
Wan Tong stared curiously at their interlocked hands. This felt so real…
As she remained dazed, she realized her clothes had changed.
The projected image made her feel more tangible, and she could now clearly see herself—a red suspender dress that made her fair skin appear even more delicate. She could even feel the weight of the fabric.
Luo Yan seemed to enjoy this dress-up game, carefully selecting outfit after outfit for her.
“Master, haven’t we already tried these before?” Wan Tong stomped her foot in frustration, unwilling to cooperate.
Luo Yan lowered his gaze, scanning her from top to bottom before replying seriously, “Wanwan, you should stick to red.”
Wan Tong : “…”
In the blink of an eye, her outfit reverted to the original red dress.
But… hadn’t Luo Yan dismissed this dress before?
“Master, Wanwan is cold,” she said petulantly, switching to the doll dress he had previously chosen.
“…” Luo Yan cleared his throat. “Summer is coming, Wanwan is not cold.”
He tapped the red dress again, putting it back on her. Then, somewhat clumsily, he reached out and tucked her loose hair behind her shoulders.
With her collarbones and shoulders now exposed, his gaze darkened slightly.
Wan Tong : “…”
He was just eyeing her sexy collarbones.
Luo Yan adjusted the transparency settings, and the surroundings instantly returned to reality—only Wan Tong remained standing before him, vibrant and dazzling, as if illuminating the dim attic.
Wan Tong wanted to argue a bit more, but Luo Yan suddenly brought up serious business. “Wanwan, about that ten million—can we talk now?”
She turned to flee.
But Luo Yan caught her by the shoulder, pulling her into his arms.
His other arm wrapped around her delicate waist. Just as he was about to savor the moment, his embrace was suddenly empty.
He looked down and let out a silent chuckle.
Wan Tong had shrunk to just ten centimeters tall and was attempting to sneak behind the table leg to hide.
But before she could take two steps, Luo Yan scooped her up into his palm.
He turned, sat back on the bed, and carefully cupped her tiny figure. “Wanwan, be good. I’m not angry at you.”
Hearing this, Wan Tong pursed her lips, hesitant. “I hacked into the bank system, and you’re still not mad at me?”
Luo Yan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he asked, “Did you clean up the traces?”
Wan Tong nodded obediently. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but Shi shi had reminded her.
“They bullied you, so I stole all their money,” she murmured, watching his expression closely.
She had only taken back what rightfully belonged to him from the four traitors, but they hadn’t kept all their wealth in one place, so she had only managed to transfer ten million.
“Mhm, Wanwan is good,” Luo Yan said as he gently tapped her tiny head with a finger. His voice was low and firm. “But I don’t want Wanwan taking risks, not even the slightest bit.”
What was his would be reclaimed by him. But more than anything, he wanted to protect her.
After all, she was just a program. The internet, though seemingly calm, was full of hidden dangers. If she were intercepted, infected by a virus, or—if one day, she simply disappeared…
That would be more painful than anything he had endured in the past six months.
Wan Tong sensed his seriousness and earnestly raised her tiny hand, swearing, “Master, Wanwan won’t run around recklessly anymore.”
Luo Yan smirked and pulled up the menu, restoring her to normal size.
“Eh…” Wan Tong looked down at herself and found she was now sitting on his lap.
Luo Yan feigned composure, lifting her and placing her on the bed beside him. “Wanwan will sleep like this tonight.”
“But Wanwan doesn’t need sleep,” she reminded him softly.
Luo Yan pretended not to hear and, as he lowered his gaze, added, “Just in case you try to sneak off and cause trouble again.”
Wan Tong huffed. “And you said you weren’t mad—still nagging at me…”
Amused by her pouty expression, Luo Yan ruffled her hair. “Alright, I won’t say anything more.”
The slums had gone viral online, with waves of players continuing to flock there.
Strangely, though, in the following half month, players from all three games camped out day and night, but there was no further news.
The developers of <Wish Wand>, Songyu Games, issued a statement claiming that the beautiful Wish Ambassador in the slums was likely a bug, as no such character had ever been officially designed. However, they added that they might consider changing the character model in future updates.
Players didn’t buy it, especially those still stationed in the slums. They frequently pulled up videos of the Wish Ambassador to prove that it was definitely not a bug!
Meanwhile, Sou Ben Games released an update regarding <Dragon’s Source>, also dismissing the mysterious hatchling found in the slums as a bug and claiming it had been patched.
<Dragon’s Source> was never that popular to begin with, and now that Sou Ben had solidified its status with the success of <Palm Pet>, there was no way they would waste effort promoting a game that had already lost its momentum.
Players of both games were furious and disappointed when they heard the news, feeling like they had been deceived. As a result, both games and the companies behind them were bombarded with harsh criticism.
Only Ruili Games, the company behind <Forest Elves>, remained completely silent. From their perspective, the sudden appearance of high-level elf in the slums had caused a surge in both player activity and in-game purchases. Even if that elf wasn’t originally part of the game, the company would make sure to create some.
And having seen the disastrous missteps of the other two companies, they certainly wouldn’t be foolish enough to admit there was a bug. Instead, they had their developers working around the clock to release a high-level elf as soon as possible!
Lou Yan had been keeping a close eye on all three games, so naturally, Wan Tong was aware of the situation as well.
She didn’t like Sou Ben, so at a critical moment, she logged into <Dragon’s Source> late one night. Sure enough, the next morning, Sou Ben was trending at the top of the headlines for all the wrong reasons.
Hadn’t they claimed the bug was fixed? Then why were players still receiving hatching notifications? Even worse, someone had recorded a video, showing a bear cub!
Of course, no one realized that it was just Wan Tong wearing bear cub pajamas. And this little operation had only been approved after she playfully coaxed Lou Yan into allowing it.
Sou Ben was unable to pinpoint the issue and could only continue to insist it was a bug. Yet, soon after, the bear cub appeared in the slums again.
This cycle repeated twice more, and with angry players and rival companies’ hired trolls piling on the backlash, Sou Ben finally had no choice but to remain silent and swallow their frustration.
Just as Sou Ben was about to smooth things over by introducing a random hatchable creature into the slums, a crisis erupted in their most popular game, <Palm Pet”.
On the same day, all players reported that the virtual companions in <Palm Pet> had suddenly stopped responding—entering a sleep-like state, unresponsive to any player interactions.
The entire gaming department at Sou Ben went into full-blown emergency mode. The real disaster, however, was that they discovered a hidden self-destruction program embedded in the game!
And worse, it had already started executing. No matter what the developers did, they couldn’t stop it. That was when Lin Jielin was summoned.
Lin Jielin knew a little about programming, but faced with such a complex system, she was completely out of her depth.
“Where are those four kids from the slums?” A balding man glared at her. “Find them. If they can’t fix it, then bring in the original developer of the game.”
He had looked into what Lin Jielin had done before, but since it hadn’t caused any trouble for the company at the time, he had turned a blind eye. But now… the company had no choice but to seek out those people.
And he was certain that this matter wouldn’t be resolved so easily.
“I’ll contact them.” Lin Jielin left with a grim expression, inwardly asking the system if it could help.
[This players of this game accounts for 87% of the total population. If the system intervenes in the repair process, the impact would be enough to destabilize this world, resulting in your complete annihilation.]
Lin Jielin cursed under her breath and had no choice but to reach out to Hei Pang and the others.
She knew all of this was Lou Yan’s doing.
This game was his creation, yet he was willing to destroy it?
Or… was he trying to make a demand?
On the bustling streets, Lou Yan wasn’t in a hurry to hail a ride. Instead, he strolled leisurely, his hand held out flat in front of him. Sitting cross-legged in his palm, Wan Tong looked completely at ease.
Unlike the usual scene where everyone smiled warmly at the tiny figures in their hands, today, the streets were eerily quiet. There were barely any pedestrians, and those who were around stared sorrowfully at the unmoving figures in their palms.
Whenever someone looked at Wan Tong, she would freeze like a wooden doll, staying perfectly still.
At first, she did it for fun, but soon she got bored. When a young man glanced at Lou Yan with a look of shared misery, Wan Tong suddenly flashed him a playful ‘V’ sign.
“Holy crap—it moved!” The man was stunned. He immediately looked down at the girl in his own palm, but she remained completely unresponsive.
When he looked up again, the mysterious man across from him had already disappeared.
But wait, hadn’t Sou Ben announced that the game was under maintenance?
Then why was that man’s character still responsive?
No matter how he thought about it, it seemed like Sou Ben was hiding something!