After dinner, everyone helped clean up, and soon the place was spotless. Shang Jinru brought out some fruit, desserts, and snacks, clearly intent on continuing the rare lively gathering for as long as possible.
Li Shuang turned on the TV and found a variety show. The group sat on the sofa, cracking sunflower seeds while watching, feeling like they were living in a world long gone.
Society’s development had come to a standstill, let alone entertainment programs.
All the celebrities in the entertainment industry had lost their jobs—not exactly unemployed, but they had switched careers, transforming from entertainers into players. “Horror Variety Show” had become the only form of entertainment left, but no normal person was willing or able to continue watching it as a fun show after leaving the game instances.
Except for the die-hard players and the official personnel who specialized in studying the instances.
Watching the cheerful, outdoor reality show on TV, Chi Yi and Lian Qinglin, who had once participated in the very same program, couldn’t help but sigh. Though less than half a year had passed, those days felt like they were long gone.
As they snacked on sunflower seeds, Grandma Luo came upstairs with her medical report.
She had taken the medication yesterday, and following Li Zhi’s advice, went to the hospital this morning for a check-up on her failing heart. Unsurprisingly, her heart had fully recovered. The doctor even said it was healthier than those of many young people who stay up all night regularly.
The appearance of the [Ghost] system had not only disrupted social order but also brought a deep sense of frustration to doctors who had devoted their lives to human medicine.
Since the live broadcasts began and special items appeared, many patients diagnosed with terminal illnesses had miraculously recovered. While doctors were happy for their patients, they also felt powerless about modern medicine and were plunged into self-doubt.
No matter how hard they tried or how much they dedicated their lives to their work, they could never restore an aging, failing heart to its youthful state.
Yet with [Ghost], all it took was a small pill.
This was the overwhelming power of a higher dimension.
Li Zhi had once seen a documentary where ants spent decades building a vast, majestic nest underground, only for humans to destroy it in a single moment by pouring cement into the entrance—just to create an artistic mold of the nest for studying ant behavior.
Now, the [Ghost] system must view humanity the way humans once viewed ants.
But at this moment, they were still happy for Grandma Luo.
They played until the afternoon, and Shang Jinru invited everyone to stay for dinner, extending the lively atmosphere into the evening. It was only before leaving that Chi Yi brought out the team card she had prepared in advance.
“Zhi Zhi, we haven’t teamed up in a long time. Let’s go together this time! I’ll show you how much I’ve improved!”
Li Zhi smiled, “Sure.”
Chi Yi then asked Lian Qinglin, “Do you want to join us?”
Lian Qinglin shook his head vigorously. “If I go in with you two, what’s left for me to do? Your couple popularity is off the charts. There’s no way I can compete. I’m not going!”
Hearing this, Chi Yi puffed up proudly. “Of course! Zhi Zhi and I make a pretty popular butterfly duo. But since we haven’t teamed up in a while, we’ve fallen out of the top ten!”
Since Lian Qinglin wasn’t joining, the team card wasn’t needed. Li Zhi told Chi Yi to keep it for later. “When the card arrives, I’ll call you.”
Chi Yi was curious, “Who’s sending you a card? And who else are we bringing?”
Li Zhi replied, “You’ll find out in a few days.”
Sure enough, a few days later, Yao Mingfeng arrived with the official newbie they were supposed to team up with. He was a young man named Qi Yongyi, and during introductions, he joked that his name meant “forever easy” (永逸, yǒngyì).
The moment Li Zhi saw him, she noticed the young man looked rather excited. His gaze toward her didn’t seem like that of someone meeting a stranger for the first time, but she was sure she had never seen him before.
However, Qi Yongyi had a similar aura to Li Feng—an aura unique to those trained in the military. Sure enough, when Li Zhi asked, Qi Yongyi readily admitted it. He had been one of Li Feng’s soldiers.
“One year, when you and your mother visited the base, I saw you both from afar! Captain Li would often mention his two sisters to us! It’s an honor to team up with you this time!”
When he spoke to Li Zhi, his tone was unconsciously filled with the same respect and formality he used when reporting to Li Feng.
Li Zhi chuckled. “We’re not that far apart in age. Let’s just treat each other as equals. Besides, once we enter the instance, you’ll need to conceal your identity.”
Qi Yongyi laughed heartily, flashing a wide grin full of white teeth. “Got it!”
Yao Mingfeng not only brought the team card but also some good news. “The evil cult base we destroyed this time was quite large. Even though about half of their members managed to escape, we still dealt them a heavy blow. They likely won’t be able to act as brazenly in the country for a while.”
Li Zhi was curious. “How did they manage to escape? Don’t you usually plan things meticulously?”
Yao Mingfeng sighed. “In military history, the evolution from cold weapons to firearms has always been straightforward. But who could have predicted that warfare would now evolve into battles of tools? The props from this system are truly bizarre—flying, burrowing, even walking right past us with invisibility cloaks. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think we were shooting a cultivation film. If it weren’t for the props brought by our official players, we might not have succeeded in the raid.”
Li Zhi imagined the chaotic scene he described and couldn’t help but feel both frustrated and helpless.
He handed her a list, a trophy from the raid on the cult’s base. It contained the profiles of over twenty organization leaders, complete with names and photos.
“Take a good look at their faces and remember their names. If you come across them in an instance, you need to be cautious.”
Li Zhi nodded and flipped through the pages. When she saw one of the names, her eyebrows raised slightly. “Qiao Junyuan? Twenty-two years old?”
Yao Mingfeng nodded. “That’s right. Xiang Ling’s guess was spot on. He must have used a shrinking prop to enter the instance and confuse other players. He’s a leader, and his rank is not low. Members of these cults are required to hand over a portion of their props after bringing them out, so the leaders have quite a collection of props at their disposal.”
Fortunately, she and Li Feng had permanently trapped this person in an instance, helping the authorities eliminate a major threat.
After Yao Mingfeng left, Li Zhi made a call to Chi Yi, inviting her to use the second spot on the team card. Bringing along an official player was part of a covert mission, so Li Zhi didn’t explain much to Chi Yi, only mentioning that it was a distant relative.
Chi Yi, hearing that they were bringing a newbie on their first instance run, became excited. “Finally, it’s my turn to guide someone! I’ll make sure to take good care of the newbie! By the way, Zhi Zhi,” she asked, “can I post about our upcoming team instance on the forum?”
These days, it wasn’t unusual for players to team up for instances. Several pairings had even survived on sheer CP (couple pairing) popularity. Whether their bond was real or just a publicity stunt, audiences loved it. Chi Yi understood these dynamics even more deeply than Li Zhi. If you can ride the wave of popularity, why not take advantage?
Li Zhi had no objections. “Sure, go ahead.”
So Chi Yi happily went off to make her post.
Players could register verified accounts on the forum. Once verified, their profile picture would have a small crown, and many players shared their instance experiences and insights with followers. Some interacted with fans, sharing jokes and chatting. In reality, all of this was to accumulate fans and increase their popularity.
The old entertainment industry had died, but in essence, the player community wasn’t much different.
Chi Yi also had an account on the forum, where she often posted under her real name, letting her true personality shine. Fans who once saw her through the lens of a “first love” filter were often shocked by her candidness.
Who would have thought that the nation’s sweetheart would turn out to be like this?
Yet her popularity hadn’t diminished. In fact, as she grew and proved herself in the instances, especially after breaking away from Li Zhi, her performance had only become more outstanding. Her fanbase was now even more loyal than before.
As soon as she posted about teaming up with Li Zhi for their next instance, her followers flocked to the forum, excited by the news.
Second Floor: “Is my ‘Butterfly CP’ finally reuniting?!”
Third Floor: “Our first love has returned as a queen after all these years! This time, she’ll definitely make her CP partner proud!”
Fourth Floor: “When I saw Li Zhi team up with Lian Qinglin last time, I knew this day wasn’t far off. Haha, looking forward to it!”
Fifth Floor: “You’re finally teaming up again! Have you seen the CP popularity rankings? ‘One Butterfly’ has dropped so much! You two are the real deal, standing strong from the newbie instances, surviving through thick and thin, unlike those manufactured industrial CPs thrown together for popularity!”
Sixth Floor: “Come on, you might as well reveal your ‘perfect match’ identity card already.”
Seventh Floor: “Isn’t this Chi Yi’s post? Why are other couples being brought into this? Don’t stir up drama!”
Eighth Floor: “Exactly! Even if ‘One Butterfly’ doesn’t team up, they’re still the undisputed popularity champions! Separate, they’re kings; together, they’re unbeatable!”
Ninth Floor: “Just observing, but let me say something—how are you calling ‘Perfect Match’ an industrial CP? Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean others don’t! Du Jia and Chen Tianran have supported each other through so many instances, way more than your ‘One Butterfly’!”
Tenth Floor: “Exactly! They can’t generate any hype unless they team up. Of course, they have to work together to stay relevant, unlike ‘One Butterfly,’ who remain fan favorites even when they go solo!”
…
Where there are fans, there are arguments. This was true in both the entertainment industry and the player community. Fortunately, Chi Yi quickly deleted several inflammatory replies before the situation escalated, keeping the overall atmosphere of the post focused on excitement for her and Li Zhi’s reunion.
However, some troublemakers still took screenshots of the heated comments and sent them to Du Jia and Chen Tianran. Chen Tianran didn’t care—she had seen plenty of such remarks when she was in the entertainment industry, where pairing for popularity was common. The criticism that she and Du Jia were an “industrial CP” wasn’t wrong. They had initially bound themselves together for survival and popularity.
But Du Jia, on the other hand, was sensitive to the jab about lacking popularity when entering instances separately. He resented Chi Yi for being the source of the post that sparked the comment, as it hit too close to home.
After all, when he had decided to enter an instance alone, misjudging his popularity, the audience taught him a harsh lesson. He barely made it through, clearing the instance right on the verge of elimination, thanks to scraping by on the lowest rung of popularity rankings.
The forums had roasted him for it, until Chen Tianran came to his rescue by explaining that they hadn’t been able to get a team card, and that was why Du Jia had gone in solo. Her post helped restore their “Perfect Match” CP’s popularity.
Since then, the incident had become a sore spot for Du Jia, and every time it came up, he’d be furious. This time was no different.
He complained to Chen Tianran several times, until she finally grew annoyed and said coldly, “If you’re upset about it, then surpass them in popularity and prove them wrong. Talking about it won’t change anything.”
Du Jia’s face twisted with frustration, but then a sly idea lit up his expression. “Do you remember? My friend has a prop that can force someone into the same instance as you.”
Chen Tianran frowned. “You’re thinking of forcing them into our instance? I’d advise against it. Li Zhi is ranked in the top 20 on the overall popularity chart. She’s more popular than both of us individually.”
Du Jia disagreed. “Sure, they have high individual popularity, but their CP ranking has only reached as high as tenth place. Our CP has consistently been in the top two! Why wouldn’t we have a chance?”
Chen Tianran thought he was deluding himself, letting his anger cloud his judgment.
But Du Jia was the kind of person who wouldn’t stop until he hit a wall. Chen Tianran knew that reasoning with him was pointless. After all, he had saved her in an instance, tying their fates together. There was no turning back now.
So, she let him proceed. Du Jia excitedly arranged to exchange for the designated prop from his friend. This item was considered somewhat useless compared to a team card, as it required the target to be an opponent rather than an ally.
Why would anyone intentionally bring an opponent into the same instance? It was asking for trouble. That’s why the item had been left unused. But Du Jia eagerly exchanged for it, and once activated, the targeted players wouldn’t even realize they’d been “bound” to the same instance.
Li Zhi and Chi Yi, experienced players, would be given early warnings of instance entry, so there was no risk of being suddenly pulled in without preparation. For now, they were unaware that they’d already been bound to another team.
Li Zhi remained calm, training Meng Yuhan and Li Shuang at home every day. She focused on improving their physical strength, reflexes, combat skills, and creative thinking—all vital survival skills.
After a while, Meng Yuhan’s progress was astonishing. She could now hold her own in sparring matches with Li Shuang, who was seven or eight years older. Each time, Li Shuang couldn’t help but marvel at how much sharper the mind of a newer player seemed to be. Even though she wasn’t participating in instances herself, she happily joined the training sessions to serve as a sparring partner for her sister.
Half a month passed just like that. One evening during dinner, Li Zhi once again sensed the upcoming instance entry.
She called Chi Yi, “We’re entering the instance in six hours.”
Chi Yi was astonished. “Six hours? You can sense it that far ahead? My earliest was only an hour before!”
Li Zhi thought for a moment. “We used to think the time you could sense before entering was related to how often you go in, but now I believe it’s connected to popularity value. The higher the popularity value, the earlier you can sense it.”
“It applies to props as well,” she added. “Once your popularity value reaches ten million, not only does the quantity of props increase, but the quality improves too. The tools I’ve received recently are more powerful and versatile, clearly indicating an upgrade.”
Chi Yi felt her brain buzzing. “So, you’re saying our popularity value… isn’t just about being popular?”
She felt like she was tying herself in knots trying to understand.
Li Zhi, however, smiled. “Exactly, our popularity value is more than just popularity.”
It wasn’t just a currency for converting points or determining rankings.
If you peel back the surface to see the core of things, the [Ghost] system was running these live broadcasts for what purpose, if not to cultivate popularity? Li Zhi had long realized that the system deliberately elevated high-popularity players.
It was creating gods.
There were no gods in this world, but this so-called “god” was none other than high popularity.
What did gods in the past survive on? The faith of their followers and offerings of incense.
And the “gods” of today? They thrived on popularity.
Popularity value was faith.
So that’s what the [Ghost] system wanted—a belief system rooted in this world.
At that moment, a critical understanding dawned on Li Zhi, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Yi Yi, you’re really smart.”
Chi Yi, suddenly praised: “…?”
She had been so confused by her own thoughts, and yet here was Li Zhi calling her smart? Wow, Zhi Zhi really had some thick rose-tinted glasses on when it came to her. She must really like her!
After hanging up, Li Zhi shared her new insights with Tan Manyu, who would, in turn, pass it on to the higher-ups.
With that done, it was time to prepare for the instance.
Qi Yongyi was ready as well. Of course, there wasn’t much he could bring along—just his courage and determination.
Six hours later, they were both pulled into the same instance from different locations.
After the brief disorienting sensation of teleportation, Li Zhi opened her eyes and saw colorful lights twinkling in the night. Not far away, a magnificent Ferris wheel was slowly turning.
They were in an amusement park.
—
Translator’s Note:
The next instance is a bit longer and the theme is the title 👀