Extra 1: Reunion |
“Waaahhh, Host!”
“Waaahhh, System!”
One person and one glowing ball bawled their eyes out, heads in their hands.
After the crying, the glowing ball flickered uncertainly. “Host, why are you crying?”
Xu Yanmiao sobbed, “A senior who loved me very much passed away. After I left that world, I can’t see any of the elders, juniors, friends, or colleagues I knew there anymore.”
The system was even more confused. “Then why did you leave? You could’ve stayed, you know. No matter how long you stayed, only one second would pass in the modern world.”
Though tears were still flowing, Xu Yanmiao worked hard to keep his voice clear: “They all knew I wasn’t the original person, and probably guessed I didn’t belong to that time and place. Now that His Majesty is gone, the court will become turbulent. They were afraid I’d be hurt, so they wanted me to go home—things had already gotten to that point. If I still stubbornly refused, it’d just be too immature.”
The glowing ball flickered again, deeply moved.
Xu Yanmiao collected himself a bit and asked, “Then why were you crying?”
Xu Yanmiao quickly comforted it, “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’ve recovered now, right? Or was there something really urgent you had to do, but it got delayed because you didn’t have enough energy?”
“No, not really.” The glowing ball flopped down into a flat disk of light, utterly deflated. “But before, some hosts used loopholes in the rules to bind over ten million people at once in order to complete their tasks. After that, the main system issued a patch to prevent binding too many people at once. Now, if there’s a need, you have to submit a request form first. I didn’t file a report and ended up binding over a thousand people, so now I’ll be penalized and have to write a self-criticism! Waaahhhhhh!”
Xu Yanmiao immediately grew worried: “Ah… how about I go with you and explain things to the main system? It wasn’t even intentional on your part…”
“No need!”
Pop! The disk bounced back into a bright, energetic ball again. “It’s just a written reflection! No big deal! As for the penalty, it’s just a few points deducted. Since you’ve completed your mission, I’m heading off! From now on, make sure you’re happy in the modern world!”
The glowing ball vanished.
Xu Yanmiao realized he really couldn’t contact the gossip system anymore and felt a bit lost.
—No more eating melons (gossip) anytime, anywhere…
Suddenly, a black hole opened in front of him. Before Xu Yanmiao could step back, a glowing ball rolled out with a whirr, bounced on the floor, and hovered in midair again.
“Host! It’s me! I forgot to tell you, I left you two gifts to make up for losing contact these last four years!”
“‘Left’…? Thank you, but—”
Before he could finish speaking, Xu Yanmiao was immediately teleported out of the system space, staring up at the ceiling of his dorm.
He lay on the bed, blankly looking upward.
He missed the old emperor. Missed the crown prince. Missed Lian Hang. Missed Gao Xiang. Missed so, so many people.
And the old emperor had passed away… He wondered how Da Xia, which the emperor worried about so deeply, was doing now.
“Meow~”
Xu Yanmiao startled and sat up. Peeking over the edge of his bed, he saw a huge lion-like cat sitting on a dorm chair, meowing at him affectionately.
“Guai Zai!!” Xu Yanmiao thought he’d never see his beloved cat again. “Come here, Guai Zai!”
As he called out, he patted the bed lightly, motioning for the lion-cat to come over.
The little white kitten had grown into a big white cat. With a graceful leap, it jumped up the ladder and landed on the bed. Xu Yanmiao scooped it up into his arms. “You’re the first gift the system gave me, right?”
The lion-cat meowed softly, who knew whether it understood or not.
Xu Yanmiao gently stroked its fur, speaking slowly to himself, “I’ll ask the other dormmates if we’re allowed to keep a cat. If not, I’ll move out and take you with me.”
“I need to buy a litter box, some litter, cat food, canned food… I don’t even know what you like. I’ll have to try feeding you different things. Luckily, we have food delivery now—otherwise, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
As he talked, he couldn’t help crying again. “Guai Zai… His Majesty is dead! Even if it was from old age, I’m still so sad!”
“And the others too… I’ll never see them again…”
The dorm was empty, just him, so he could cry freely without disturbing anyone.
But suddenly, someone kicked the door open and rushed in. Xu Yanmiao quickly lay back down and turned his back—he didn’t want anyone to catch him crying alone in the dorm. Too embarrassing.
His bed was the top bunk in a lofted bed setup, so the roommate, dashing in like a whirlwind, only saw his back.
“Hey, Old Xu! Still sleeping in broad daylight? So confident, huh? Weren’t you worrying just two days ago that you’d fail your practical exam?”
Xu Yanmiao moved like a zombie, slowly, stiffly sitting up. His face was rigid. His body was stiff.
“What exam?” Each word was squeezed out like it carried blood and pain.
His roommate pulled out a stack of papers from his pocket, checked one, and replied, “Network Security Skills and Intrusion Detection Techniques. You said it yourself. It’s scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
After three seconds of stunned silence, the dorm room of 310 erupted with a soul-crushing scream.
“Aaaahhh!! Minister Zhou, I miss you!!”
Xu Yanmiao couldn’t afford to be sad anymore. He dragged himself out of bed and started digging through the cabinet for his books.
The roommate was curious about who “Minister Zhou” was, but quickly got distracted flipping through his own stack of papers. He mumbled while reading, “That new Haidilao in the school just opened today. I gotta go line up—it starts in half an hour. Want me to bring you something?”
“Thanks! No need. I need to cram!”
Xu Yanmiao clutched a massive textbook. One glance at the contents left him completely bewildered.
“Wait… is the backlash this intense?”
He thought that after four years away, maybe he’d just forgotten a few concepts. But now, looking at the book felt like reading an alien language—he couldn’t even understand the terminology anymore.
Was his memory really that bad?
Never mind. Whatever the case, he had to memorize, study, practice—or else tomorrow’s practical exam would be a total disaster.
When he got hungry, he settled for a cup of instant noodles and studied until ten at night. Then his biological clock started nudging him—“You’re sleepy.”
“No… I’m not…”
He yawned. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier…
And before he lost consciousness, his final thought was—
“Is this karma for scoring 147 on the college entrance math exam and then subjecting the Da Xia officials to math tests?”
When he opened his eyes again, he was in a vast white space, facing a message from the system: “Host! This is your second gift! I applied to the main system to get you a temporary learning space. In here, one day equals one hour in the real world! Every time you fall asleep, you’ll enter this space. It’ll remain until you’ve fully regained your previous knowledge! Isn’t that touching? Plus, there are expert lectures, one-on-one tutoring, textbooks, learning resources, and more!”
Xu Yanmiao: “……”
Thank you, I guess. Now I have to study even in my sleep.
But… yeah, I really do need this.
Xu Yanmi: “I want to train in cybersecurity skills and intrusion detection technology.”
A training ground suddenly appeared.
Xu Yanmiao paused for a moment.
Xu Yanmi: “I want to learn perpetual motion machine technology.”
The ground remained motionless.
Xu Yanmi: “Then as a compromise? I want to learn controlled nuclear fusion technology.”
The space remained unmoved, but the light seemed to distort slightly, as if something was twitching its mouth in exasperation.
Xu Yanmiao hesitated for a moment: “…Then, can I learn holographic online game technology?”
A blank space in front of him began to display Simplified Chinese characters: [Host, do not try to exploit loopholes. You are only allowed to study knowledge relevant to your exams.]
[Oh, and by the way, if someone tries to throw in surprise exam questions like “Derive the formula and experimental steps to achieve controlled nuclear fusion,” it doesn’t count.]
[These loopholes have already been exploited and patched. Unless you think of something new, it’s useless.]
Xu Yanmi: “…”
Who was the senior that went ahead and blocked all these paths?
Left with no choice, Xu Yanmiao silently began studying “cybersecurity skills and intrusion detection technology,” hoping to scrape by the morning exam without failing.
Besides that, there were probably other subjects…
Xu Yanmiao didn’t even dare count them, simply collapsed onto the dorm bed, eyes hollow as he stared at the ceiling.
Retribution! This is retribution!
The exam began.
The exam ended.
Xu Yanmiao walked out of the exam room nervously, unsure how he had done.
If things really didn’t go well… maybe there would be a make-up exam?
Elsewhere.
The teacher in charge of this subject looked at the students’ results, sighed, and began efficiently “pulling strings.”
“This one’s operation looks decent—some mistakes here and there, but with some leniency, it can pass.”
“This one has solid basics, just a bit clumsy in the practical part. I’ll have to keep an eye on her and get her to practice more during class. Pass.”
“This one… come on, give me something to work with. From 55 to 60 I can manage, but 35? What am I supposed to do with that?”
“And this one…”
Meanwhile, Xu Yanmiao was casually strolling around campus when someone suddenly patted him on the shoulder from behind.
“Old Xu, how’d the exam go!”
“How else could it go—long live sixty points!” Xu Yanmiao maintained a calm exterior.
But in his heart, the internal monologue had already begun: I’m doomed, I feel like I didn’t pass. I only reviewed for one night. Even with top tutors in the system space, there wasn’t enough time to learn everything from scratch.
Dear heavens, please let me pass!
His roommate patted his chest and reassured him: “Relax, I’ve asked around. The lecturer for your course is famous at our school for being a good guy. As long as your score isn’t too far off, he’ll try his best to pull you over the line.”
Xu Yanmi: “…I’m just afraid I didn’t even hit fifty.”
“Ah… well.” The roommate gave him a sympathetic look. “I remember you used to do pretty well. You didn’t forget to review the past few days either—was it just nerves during the practical?”
Xu Yanmiao mumbled vaguely: “Maybe.”
The roommate was about to say something when his phone beeped.
“Gotta reply to a message!” He pulled out his phone, opened a chat app, and sent an emoji to the person on the other end.
Then, after typing a few words, his face clearly lit up with excitement. While typing, he asked Xu Yanmi, “By the way, Old Xu, any ideas about your internship?”
Xu Yanmi: “Not yet. It’s hard to find an internship in cybersecurity. I’ll see if I can get a referral from a senior—this field really depends on connections. A lot of companies prefer internal referrals over open hiring. Worst case, I’ll just get a certification and teach calligraphy.”
His roommate was stunned: “I didn’t know you had that talent!”
Xu Yanmiao paused subtly: “I picked it up during a summer job.”
“You worked as a tutor at a coaching center?” The roommate asked casually, then quickly moved on: “Oh right, I saw that Wanggu is hiring cybersecurity engineers. Want to try applying? But their entry selection is pretty strict.” He pulled out a small notepad, flipped through it, and handed a note to Xu Yanmi: “Here, look, this is the date.”
Wanggu, full name Wanggu Online Network Technology Co., Ltd., was one of the most well-known search engines in Huaguo—if not the world.
But Xu Yanmiao didn’t have much of an impression anymore.
Probably because he had been in the other world for too long—his memory of modern things had become blurry.
—After all, there were so many search engines out there, it’s not like he remembered every one.
“Then I’ll give it a shot! Whether I succeed or not, I’ll treat it as experience.”
Xu Yanmiao was quite open-minded. Then he returned the favor: “What about you, Old Bao? You’re in accounting and finance—any internship plans?”
His roommate proudly raised his phone, showing a chat interface with a smug expression: “There’s a senior from our department—super impressive—he’s now the CFO of Wanggu. That’s Wanggu, man! He’s coming back in a few days to give a lecture. I spent months getting close to one of the accountants under him—said they might introduce me to the guy. If the senior likes me, hehe, forget internships—even my future job is set!”
Xu Yanmiao gave him a thumbs-up: “Awesome!”
Then the roommate enthusiastically threw an arm around his shoulder: “Old Xu, don’t say your bro doesn’t help you. Want to come to the lecture with me? I heard this senior knows Wanggu’s CEO, their eldest daughter, and the young master personally. If you manage to make an impression, your internship might be in the bag!”
Xu Yanmiao was tempted: “Thanks! I’ll treat you to a meal later!”
“Nice!” Bao, the roommate, snapped his fingers. “The day after tomorrow, 10 a.m., school auditorium. Better get there half an hour early—if you can’t get a front-row seat, you’re done for.”
Xu Yanmiao nodded solemnly.
That day, he arrived 40 minutes early, but seeing the packed auditorium, he fell into deep thought.
His roommate was sweating: “Miscalculation. Didn’t think so many people would arrive early.”
Xu Yanmiao groaned: “This… we can’t even get in.”
First step to impressing the senior—failed before they could even enter.
Xu Yanmiao and his roommate exchanged looks. The roommate let out a breath: “Good thing I know someone inside.”
Xu Yanmiao looked at him with admiration.
His roommate confidently took out his phone: “Just wait! I’ll get us in!”
Three minutes later…
Xu Yanmiao waved a finger in front of his roommate’s face: “Bro? You okay, bro?”
The roommate was not okay: “We’re done for, Old Xu. My guy said there are so many people, he can’t sneak us in either…”
Suddenly, a voice chimed in beside them: “Don’t even talk about having connections. My dad is the principal, and even I can’t get in now.”
Xu Yanmiao and his roommate turned to look—and saw someone with a very distinct vibe, from the clothes to the posture to the tone—everything screamed of that kind of student who always got punished back in middle and high school.
The person crossed their arms and grumbled: “Damn, it’s just a lecture. He couldn’t even save me a seat—said the speaker didn’t like it. You’re the principal, who cares if he likes it or not!”
Happiness is relative.
For example, at this moment, Xu Yanmiao and his roommate suddenly felt a lot happier and lighter.
The roommate lowered his head, tapped a few times on his phone—ding—and Xu Yanmiao got a message.
Roommate: “The privilege dog lost his privileges. I feel so much better.”
Xu Yanmiao quietly typed back: “But if someone with a principal dad can’t get in, we’re even more screwed.”
Roommate: …
They both raised their heads in unison, stared at the packed auditorium, and felt a chill wash over them.
Then, Xu Yanmiao heard a hesitant voice behind him: “…Xu Lang?”
He whipped around—and saw the Minister of Revenue’s face, albeit twenty to thirty years younger, but still unmistakably familiar. Xu Yanmiao stumbled, nearly pulling a full-blown dramatic collapse on the spot.
“You, you—”
Xu Yanmiao and the Minister of Revenue stared at each other, eyes wide.
Instinctively, he blurted out: “Why are you here!”
His roommate glanced between the two of them, and his gaze turned increasingly strange.
Xu Yanmi… actually knew their super-legendary finance senior?