C72 — A01

Mu Sichen held the little octopus in his arms, and in return, the little octopus pressed its tentacles against his neck. To Mu Sichen, this was a warm and comforting scene.

 

However, in He Fei’s eyes, it looked completely different.

 

One moment, Mu Sichen was discussing serious matters, and the next, he had completely abandoned the conversation to cuddle and nuzzle the octopus plushie, looking oddly emotional; his usually cold and indifferent roommate even seemed on the verge of tears.

 

He Fei stared at Mu Sichen in shock, feeling as if he had been rendered invisible in his own dorm room.

 

For a moment, he even had the illusion that he was intruding, like Mu Sichen had brought a significant other back to the dorm, and he, the third wheel, needed to step out to give them space…

 

Wait! What was he thinking?!

 

He Fei shook his head hard, forcing those ridiculous thoughts out of his mind.

 

“Cough! Cough! Cough!”

 

He Fei let out a series of exaggerated coughs and even stomped his foot loudly to bring Mu Sichen back to reality.

 

Only then did Mu Sichen remember that there was still another person in the dorm and hurriedly refocused his thoughts on Zhuo Huaichu.

 

Since the little octopus had said he wasn’t contaminated, Mu Sichen believed himself to be normal. But then, why was he unable to remember Zhuo Huaichu? Had he really met this person before?

 

Mu Sichen recalled that he had supposedly met Zhuo Huaichu during his freshman year while working a part-time job. But… that wasn’t right. He had never become friends with that senior. They had parted ways once the job ended.

 

So when exactly did he meet Zhuo Huaichu?

 

Mu Sichen scrolled through their chat history, going all the way to the very first message Zhuo Huaichu had sent him.

 

Zhuo Huaichu: “I saw your roommate He Fei starting his internship at our company today.”

 

Mu Sichen had replied: “Really? How’s he doing?”

 

Zhuo Huaichu: “He’s working very diligently, very rational, and well-liked by the colleagues.”

 

There were no older messages beyond this, but Mu Sichen found the friend request notification.

 

It had been sent six days ago in the afternoon, the exact time when he had first left the game and posted a warning on the forum, advising other players against participating in the beta test.

 

At that time, Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo had both added him as friends, and he had accepted two friend requests that day.

 

However, as Mu Sichen checked his phone again, he realized something shocking—he had never actually added Cheng Xubo as a friend.

 

In his memory, after contacting Chi Lian through the game forum, Chi Lian had then reached out to Cheng Xubo.

 

Chi Lian had created a group chat, and the three of them had been communicating there. But Mu Sichen and Cheng Xubo had never been direct friends.

 

Since Mu Sichen had disabled the ability to add friends through group chats, Cheng Xubo had never even sent a friend request in the first place.

 

Yet, in Mu Sichen’s recollection, he and Cheng Xubo had always been friends.

 

The person who had actually sent a friend request that day was Zhuo Huaichu.

 

The moment he traced his thoughts back carefully from the beginning, everything became clear—he had never met Zhuo Huaichu.

 

He had merely taken his vague memory of the senior he had once worked with and mistakenly applied it to Zhuo Huaichu, assuming that they had a long-standing connection.

 

And since Zhuo Huaichu had spoken to him in a familiar tone from the very beginning—casually updating him about He Fei’s work—Mu Sichen had never suspected anything.

 

At that time, he had been deeply worried about He Fei, who seemed to be possessed, so he naturally continued chatting with Zhuo Huaichu.

 

Everything had unfolded so smoothly that Mu Sichen hadn’t even realized there was something wrong.

 

That was, until the little octopus furiously messaged Zhuo Huaichu.

 

Now, holding his phone tightly, Mu Sichen, just like the little octopus, typed out a single question:

 

“Who are you?”

 

The other party immediately sent a message: 【So it’s finally you replying.】

 

Zhuo Huaichu actually knew who sent the message!

 

Mu Sichen quickly handed the phone to the Little Octopus and said, “Ask him what his goal is.”

 

The Little Octopus excitedly waved its tentacles and sat in Mu Sichen’s lap, typing rapidly with a “shoo shoo shoo” sound.

 

Its small suction cups were just about the same size as the phone’s buttons. By pressing its tentacles against the screen and controlling the suction cups through tiny tremors, it could type an incredible number of words in an instant.

 

Zhuo Huaichu: [Don’t try to test me like this.]

 

So, Zhuo Huaichu really could sense who was messaging him, even through the same phone.

 

Mu Sichen stopped testing him; he took back the phone, and asked: [What did you do to me?]

 

Zhuo Huaichu: [Just a little transfer of emotions and impressions. This kind of ability should be quite familiar to you.]

 

Transfer! Every player who entered the game gained an ability related to “transfer.”

 

Mu Sichen: [Are you a player?]

 

Zhuo Huaichu didn’t answer directly but replied: [Mu Sichen, I’ll be waiting for you to come find me.]

 

[Who are you?]

 

This time, Mu Sichen’s message didn’t go through. A red exclamation mark appeared, and the chat app notified him that he was no longer friends with the other party.

 

Zhuo Huaichu had deleted him.

 

Mu Sichen remained silent for a moment and then looked at the Little Octopus. “What messages did Zhuo Huaichu withdraw?”

 

The Little Octopus’s circular mouth shrank into a dot, as if it couldn’t say anything.

 

“Why can’t you tell me?” Mu Sichen was confused. “I can already guess his identity. In fact, I already know his identity, so why are you still hiding your conversation with Zhuo Huaichu from me?”

 

Zhuo Huaichu possessed a player-exclusive “transfer” ability and wielded it far better than Mu Sichen and the others. After being exposed by the Little Octopus, he didn’t conceal his identity but instead openly revealed the information to Mu Sichen.

 

He—or rather, It—was Mu Sichen’s previously researched topic, A01. After entering the game world, It endured countless hardships and finally became a Hidden Star level god-tier monster.

 

But the moment It reached that level, the system abandoned It.

 

The system severed Its connection to the real world and left It stranded in the game.

 

The system was ruthless. If Mu Sichen had chosen Option 1 back then, he too would have been left behind in the other world upon gaining control of Tongzhi Town.

 

Mu Sichen had a little less courage but a little more luck than Zhuo Huaichu.

 

“Is it something I can’t handle?” Mu Sichen asked.

 

The Little Octopus nodded firmly.

 

“I understand. I won’t ask anymore. I won’t make things difficult for you.” Mu Sichen rubbed the Little Octopus’s head.

 

Its dot-like mouth returned to a circle, looking relieved.

 

“Is It in the real world or the game world?” Mu Sichen asked.

 

The Little Octopus tapped on the game app on Mu Sichen’s phone.

 

Mu Sichen understood its meaning. “Zhuo Huaichu is in the game world but still has a way to talk to me in the real world.”

 

The Little Octopus nodded.

 

Mu Sichen felt overwhelmed. He had just completed the beginner quest, and now he had already caught the attention of such a powerful existence. Was his trouble-attracting ability really this strong?

 

Why had Zhuo Huaichu added him as a friend from the first time he left the game? What was his goal in lurking around him?

 

What kind of emotions did Zhuo Huaichu have toward him, the A02?

 

Was it envy, jealousy, or something else?

 

Mu Sichen wasn’t a god-tier monster and could not comprehend their thoughts.

 

He asked the game’s customer service through the app again. The customer service representative stated that ever since A01 was abandoned, it had not been monitored anymore. However, they could confirm that god-tier monsters absolutely didn’t exist in the real world.

 

Mu Sichen was baffled and could only stare blankly at his phone.

 

He Fei grabbed a knockoff plush toy from under the bed and threw it at Mu Sichen, saying, “If you can’t figure it out, then stop thinking about it.”

 

Mu Sichen looked at his roommate.

 

He Fei pointed at himself and said, “So what if you can’t figure it out? Just don’t think about it. Look at me—I know nothing. You always stop talking halfway through a sentence to start thinking, leaving me hanging, and I don’t even get mad at you.”

 

Feeling a little embarrassed, Mu Sichen said, “I just don’t know if I should tell you. I’m not sure if your sanity value can handle these truths.”

 

“Then that means if you can’t figure it out, it’s not time for the truth to be revealed yet.” He Fei comforted him. “Don’t overthink it. When the time is right, the answers will come. Until then, why stress yourself out?”

 

“You told me before, right? The more you think about those great beings, the more you understand, the higher the chance of being corrupted. I don’t know why you suddenly think we have a network technician lurking in our office building, but I do know this—when someone acts all mysterious and refuses to be upfront, they’re just trying to hook your curiosity and make you dig deeper. And that’s usually when the trap is waiting for you.”

 

The Little Octopus hadn’t expected He Fei to say something so profound. Its shiny eyes trembled violently in their sockets, utterly shocked.

 

Mu Sichen stared at the roommate who had suddenly transformed into a philosopher and asked, “You haven’t been corrupted by anything, have you?”

 

He Fei jumped onto Mu Sichen’s bed in frustration and shouted, “Ever since I was a kid, whenever my mom got all mysterious about something, it was always just to trick me into revealing something! Every time she got home from work, she’d ask, ‘Guess what your teacher told me today?’ And after enough guessing, I’d end up blurting out that I got a 20 on my test and forged her signature on the paper…”

 

“That does sound like a traumatic experience.” Mu Sichen relaxed. Being able to say something like that proved He Fei hadn’t been corrupted.

 

He Fei reassured him, “If someone’s keeping secrets for my own good, then I don’t need to overthink it, because whatever they’re hiding is for my benefit. And if they’re trying to trick me like my mom does, then there’s even less reason to overthink it, the more I think, the more I expose myself. Whether it’s good or bad for me, the answer is the same: just don’t think about it!”

 

He Fei’s words snapped Mu Sichen out of it.

 

He realized that Zhuo Huaichu was deliberately luring him into investigating the withdrawn messages.

 

If Zhuo Huaichu had sent something that Mu Sichen truly shouldn’t know, the Little Octopus was skilled enough at handling the phone that it could have deleted the messages. If that had happened, Mu Sichen wouldn’t have even known those messages existed.

 

But because Zhuo Huaichu withdrew the messages instead, the Little Octopus couldn’t erase them. This way, Mu Sichen became aware that something had been deleted. That awareness triggered his curiosity, pushing him to investigate.

 

And from there, he would spiral deeper and deeper, unknowingly becoming corrupted.

 

There was no need to think about it. He’d just treat A01’s message as a simple greeting. He could respond once he became stronger—there was no rush to ask questions now.

 

“Thanks,” Mu Sichen said to He Fei.

 

“What’s there to thank? We’ll be fighting side by side in the future, and I’ll be troubling you plenty of times. When that happens, you better risk your life to protect me!” He Fei said.

 

“I definitely will,” Mu Sichen replied with a smile.

 

With his worries put to rest, Mu Sichen started to feel hungry. After a long day of running around, it was already evening. Too much had happened today, and neither of them had eaten anything since breakfast—they were both starving to the point of exhaustion.

 

Though Mu Sichen was poor, he wasn’t stingy. He took out the wages he earned from his cleaning job today and planned to treat He Fei to a meal.

 

The small eateries outside the campus weren’t expensive, and this money was enough for two meat dishes.

 

Just as they stepped out of the dormitory, He Fei’s phone rang.

 

He checked the screen, then frowned and said to Mu Sichen, “I got this internship at the company because of my dad’s connections—he knows the general manager’s father. I just asked my dad to find out which bar the general manager usually goes to, but my dad told me that the general manager is allergic to alcohol. He never drinks and never goes to bars.”

 

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TN:

He Fei to the rescueeeee