Chapter 4

The system glanced vaguely at the time.

Some hosts arrived with a goodwill rating of minus five and left with the same score, but its host had only been here for two hours, barely exchanged a few words with Fu Xiuning, and had already plummeted from minus five to minus fifteen.

Meeting for the first time and ending up like this—could the goodwill rating ever recover?

Xing Shi had no idea he had set a new record.

In the dead silence, he said, “Teacher, I’ve finished singing.”

The trainees were reluctantly subjected to a soul-cleansing ordeal; their vacant expressions barely moved as they mechanically clapped, the applause sparse and soon drowned by silence again.

The vocal coach composed himself and asked, “What’s the name of this song?”

Xing Shi replied, “I forgot. It’s a folk song everyone around here knows. They say it’s their spiritual totem.”

Everyone was speechless…

Well, sure, we believe you.

Putting aside the totem talk, this song definitely had some spiritual connection—perhaps it was an ancient war chant used by their ancestors.

The vocal coach asked, “Is there an original version?”

Xing Shi said, “I sang exactly as it is, no rearrangement.”

The vocal coach fell silent, reluctant to recall his singing skills and the song. The dance instructor beside him asked, “Have you studied dance before?”

Xing Shi answered, “No.”

The two instructors then signaled that he could leave.

Xing Shi returned to his previous spot, and the system collected itself emotionally.

“It’s fine,” it thought. “After dividing classes, training will begin. Anything the host doesn’t know, he can learn.”

But then it reconsidered: this guy was stubborn as a mule; he might not be willing to take it seriously. The punishment protocols didn’t work on him, the newbie lottery had just given a ‘thank you for participating,’ so what else could it do?

Tentatively, it requested to draw the lottery again from the main system but was denied and sank into a slump.

Xing Shi didn’t wait for it to lose control; he asked, “Did my singing make you crash?”

The system gloomily replied, “Still online.”

Xing Shi studied the tone and said, “I’m curious. Are you an AI product or something else?”

The system perked up. “I’ll tell you everything if you answer a question truthfully too.”

Xing Shi readily agreed.

The system explained, “We are high-dimensional intelligence, half machine, half biological. We have powerful computation, can think independently, and possess some emotions.”

Xing Shi understood—this meant they could be dismantled or destroyed.

The system continued, “Now it’s my turn. There are multiple routes to win over Fu Xiuning: romance, friendship, being loyal and acting like his dog, being tamed by him and acting like his dog, even a father-son relationship—you can choose any. Which path would you take? Be honest.”

Xing Shi pretended not to notice that the system took “he will cooperate to be won over” as an established fact and didn’t argue.

Since all hosts shared the same target, Fu Xiuning was a key figure. He would inevitably come into contact with him, so the system didn’t need to waste effort persuading him.

He answered candidly, “It depends on his attitude. If he’s nice, then friendship.”

He wanted to dismantle the system; if Fu Xiuning cooperated, they could be comrades, fighting these things together.

The system recalled Fu Xiuning’s achievements and asked, “What if his attitude isn’t good?”

Without hesitation, Xing Shi said, “Then I’m his father.”

If he single-handedly destroyed these things, Fu Xiuning would have to call him father at least once.

The system was puzzled.

Although a father-son relationship was an option, he certainly dared to dream—he had no idea how many hosts Fu Xiuning had ruined!

But since the host finally talked seriously, it wouldn’t dampen his spirits and happily found their next course of action: “Alright, let’s try the friendship route first.”

***

Fu Xiuning listened expressionlessly from start to finish, watched the sixth contestant’s performance, then stood and left.

He came today because he thought the system needed new recruits and wanted to see if any new hosts were among the trainees. Having seen someone, he didn’t linger.

The trainees exchanged glances, sneaking looks at Xing Shi.

The boss had stood beside him before the assessment and left after watching only one person finish. It was hard to say there was nothing between them.

Feng Zifan, knowing Xing Shi and Fu Xiuning had just met, felt even more regretful, thinking if he hadn’t left midway, maybe he could have gotten along better with Fu Xiuning.

Sixteen people completed their assessments one by one, with Xing Shi unsurprisingly ranking last.

The assessments in the other two practice rooms ended as well. Combined results placed him firmly in last place.

However, the instructors were optimistic about him.

Trainees must undergo rigorous training before debuting; a weak foundation at first didn’t matter—they could learn everything later.

Today’s purpose was simply to separate those with and without basic skills for easier teaching. The assessment a month later would be comprehensive, including vocals, dance, acting, image, and camera tests.

Xing Shi’s looks were excellent; with hard training, he would eventually rise to the top class.

Next came dorm assignments.

Dormitories were two-person rooms, bunk beds with a desk underneath, private bathrooms, and slightly larger than student dorms. The extra space housed a refrigerator, two floor-to-ceiling wardrobes, and dance mirrors, creating a small training area. The apartment also had shared laundry, gym, and leisure areas.

Dorms were assigned randomly but allowed swaps if reported to the company.

After initial and second-round tests and class divisions, some trainees already knew each other and wanted to room with familiar faces.

Xing Shi needed a bed here for training convenience. He didn’t mind whom he roomed with, but by chance, his roommate was also a “preselected” trainee, unrelated and unfamiliar, so they paired up and didn’t swap.

Feng Zifan and Da Zhuang glanced over but didn’t mention swapping rooms, instead calling friends to eat.

Xing Shi’s peripheral vision caught someone reaching for his shoulder; his muscles tensed, and he turned aside. The other’s arm missed, and before they could react, he asked what to eat, quickly diverting attention.

Evening had fallen.

Skyscrapers stood tightly packed, dazzlingly lit; streets buzzed with crowds and traffic.

Not far from the apartment was a mall. Xing Shi followed them forward, listening to car horns and shop music, smelling faint aromas of food, feeling as if immersed in a vast, peaceful dream.

He stopped at a roasted sweet potato stand.

The system warned, “This is quite filling; you’re having hot pot later.”

Xing Shi pulled out his phone. “What’s my payment password?”

The system gave up persuading and told him.

He bought a roasted sweet potato, peeled it apart, blew on it, and took a bite.

The hot, sweet flavor flooded his taste buds, incredibly real. He gazed at the bustling night scene and hurried to catch up.

The company gave them three days to settle in.

Except for the signed “preselected” and confident second-round candidates who brought all their luggage, others had to go home or have family send their things. Most stayed in hotels for now, returning separately after dinner. It was then Feng Zifan and others learned Xing Shi was a student at a prestigious university, and a group of underachievers looked at him with clear admiration and envy.

Xing Shi smiled, bid farewell, and returned to school.

Z University’s undergraduate dorm was a four-person room, also bunk beds with desks below.

Xing Shi identified his three roommates through the system and found his bed.

He pulled a professional textbook from the shelf, flipped through a few pages casually, then replaced it with another. On the title page, he saw the original owner’s signature—bold, sharp strokes, much like his own handwriting.

Same name and appearance, similar script—what were the odds?

Had he truly traveled to a new world, or… returned?

Since entering the magical world, his previous memories blurred, leaving only some common sense, enough to know he came from modern society. Now, after another crossing, he still couldn’t recall.

He called out, “System.”

“Hmm?” came the reply.

Xing Shi asked, “Do you know where I came from?”

The system answered, “No, that’s the host’s privacy.”

Xing Shi continued, “Then do you know why I crossed over?”

“Not clear. I’m only responsible for supervising the host’s missions…” The system recalled something, “You probably have amnesia, right?”

It explained, “Souls are energy bodies; transmission consumes a small amount, causing varying degrees of memory loss. Most hosts who cross over experience this. Some regain memories gradually; some don’t.”

“But don’t worry,” it enthusiastically promoted, “Our store has memory pills that allow you to retrieve all memories from birth onward. You can exchange points for them once you gain enough goodwill.”

Xing Shi quietly replied, “Hmm,” and put the book back.

Three days later, the trainees began training.

Besides professional skills, they studied language, arts, and other cultural knowledge with a packed schedule.

Among this group, only three, including Xing Shi, had to juggle academics. Two weeks in, one was already considering taking a leave of absence due to the strain.

The system feared the host might give up but hadn’t heard a single complaint.

More than that, he occasionally skipped unimportant classes to train at the company—quite touching.

The only downside was that they hadn’t had any contact with Fu Xiuning.

Fu Xiuning didn’t live on campus; he came only for classes or business. They rarely met at the company, so the friendship route made no progress.

One afternoon, after lunch, the system noted his habit of slumping somewhere and said, “The dorm is just ahead.”

Xing Shi closed his eyes and stayed still. “I’m full. Let me rest.”

The system asked, “…Then why eat so much?”

Xing Shi ignored it, basking in the sun.

The system knew no words would get a response and wisely fell silent. A few minutes later, it suddenly perked up, “Fu Xiuning is walking this way!”

Xing Shi pretended not to hear.

Seeing his deadpan attitude, the system couldn’t help but ask, “What’s on your mind? You didn’t go when I told you Fu Xiuning’s location before. What happened to the friendship route?”

This time Xing Shi replied, “If Fu Xiuning could be won over with just a few words, you’d only need to assign one host, not so many.”

The system asked, “Then what’s your plan?”

Xing Shi said, “First, don’t bother me.”

The system was speechless.

Frustrated, it muted itself. Noticing Fu Xiuning was about to pass by, it decided not to watch anymore to avoid further irritation.

In more than half a month, Fu Xiuning had seen Xing Shi four times.

The first was at noon after school; he saw someone sprinting toward the door from afar. When he drove closer, he realized it was Xing Shi, who wore a bright smile, running fast to get takeout.

The second was in the company cafeteria; Xing Shi’s table held finished plates and four boxes of desserts, having already eaten one and enjoying a second. Trainees had body requirements, and desserts were limited—this many must have been given by others on diets.

The third was near a back entrance of Z University; Fu Xiuning passed by and saw Xing Shi sitting at a crowded stall, slurping noodles without looking up.

The fourth was today.

There was a small park in the school living area. Passing by, he saw someone sitting on a double bench.

Xing Shi had his hands in the pockets of his baseball jacket; his hoodie pulled low, shading his eyes, legs casually spread, lounging lazily.

A stray cat squinted, tucking its paws beside him on the empty seat, basking together in the sunlight streaming from above. The scene was warm and cozy.

Fu Xiuning’s forward step froze, a surge of dark emotions bubbling up.

How could the host live more comfortably than him?

He strode toward Xing Shi.