Extra Story
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[1. Eternity]
People have always both yearned for and feared the word “eternity.”
Qiu Yu was no exception.
She worried that after a long time, she would feel bored. If she ever showed even the slightest trace of boredom, Chen Cebai would undoubtedly become anxious and overthink things.
And once he started overthinking, he would inevitably go insane. …Although Chen Cebai looked quite thrilling when he lost his mind, Qiu Yu felt that for the sake of sustainable development, it would be best not to provoke his madness so easily.
Qiu Yu voiced her concerns, intending to give Chen Cebai a heads-up.
However, Chen Cebai simply said, “You won’t get bored.”
Qiu Yu felt that he was talking big.
Who knew that when she reentered the “eternal space,” the feeling was completely different from before—this entire space possessed both the depth of a four-dimensional space and the occlusion of a three-dimensional world.
It was a sensation that was difficult to describe.
Shakespeare once had a famous quote: “I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space.”
Now, they were inside a nutshell that contained infinite space.
What surprised Qiu Yu even more was that she could now see the real world from within this “core,” yet the people in reality remained completely unaware and couldn’t even touch them.
…It was practically the perspective of a god.
Whenever Qiu Yu felt astonished, delighted, or discovered something novel or mischievous, her pupils would round out like a cat’s.
Chen Cebai couldn’t resist pinching her cheek lightly, swallowing up her breath of surprise.
Now, whenever his emotions surged, an abundance of pitch-black, sticky substances would bud from his body.
Like dense, viscous spider silk, they layered over her, wrapping and entangling her tightly, creeping and spreading across her skin, pulling out gelatinous threads.
Each time, Qiu Yu would break out in goosebumps.
But the more she resisted, the faster those sticky substances multiplied, binding her even tighter, as if they were an inescapable adhesive film.
She could only force herself to get used to the clammy sensation.
Chen Cebai lowered his eyes and saw the trace of pitiful bewilderment in hers—she seemed to be sinking into a tide of darkness, yet she had no strength to break free.
She didn’t realize that this expression wouldn’t invoke his pity. Instead, it would give rise to a terrifying urge to destroy.
It was a twisted, deranged, and chaotic impulse.
Clearly, this was the person he loved most, the one he would sacrifice everything to protect—yet he always wanted to hunt her, seize her, invade her.
To avoid being consumed by this impulse, Chen Cebai left her lips, released her cheek, and gently nudged her shoulder blade.
“Go take a look ahead.”
[2. Dream House]
It was like playing an immersive sandbox game—the world changed according to her will, using her will as the foundation.
She could make houses rise from the ground or cause heavy goose-feather snow to fall in an instant.
Qiu Yu had been dissatisfied with her apartment for a long time, so she immediately became excited about building a new one.
However, even in the “eternal space,” the basic laws of physics still had to be followed—before “creating,” all details had to be thought through, including the house’s foundation, materials, internal structure, overall layout, and more.
The two houses that Qiu Yu “created” casually collapsed almost immediately.
The reason was simple—when she “created” them, she hadn’t even thought about the materials in detail, nor had she designed a foundation. The houses were like piles of hastily stacked building blocks, so it was only natural that they collapsed.
Qiu Yu looked troubled. “…How is it even possible to build this?”
In real-world sandbox games, walls, floor tiles, and eaves were all pre-set by the system. She only needed to tap lightly, and a wall would stand up.
But here, she had to first envision the components that made up the building materials.
For example, if she wanted to create a brick, she first had to think of the brick’s chemical composition, then consider the chemical formula for each component.
But having only the chemical formula wasn’t enough—she had to account for everything from the number of atoms in the molecules to the weight ratio of each component, as well as the temperature, pressure, reaction rate, and the structure of the final product.
This wasn’t a game—it was an exam with an unimaginably terrifying amount of calculations.
Qiu Yu’s hair stood on end, and she almost had the urge to escape.
Chen Cebai chuckled lightly. “What kind of house do you want to build?”
“…Can I use a chip here?”
“You can.”
After spending so much time with Chen Cebai, Qiu Yu had learned to grasp the infinite meanings behind his brief words.
When he said “you can,” it meant that not only could she use the chip to access the internet here, but it was also completely safe—her neural system wouldn’t be harmed by the chip.
Qiu Yu activated the chip and sent her “dream house” to Chen Cebai.
It was a villa built in the wilderness, with a simple and refreshing overall structure. The bedroom was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows on all four sides, directly facing a vast expanse of cedar forest, allowing her to bask in the sunlight and listen to the sound of rain.
The balcony faced a snow-capped peak—beneath the high heavens, the land stretched far and wide, with pristine snow glowing brilliantly. Even through the image, she could almost smell the crisp, clean air, as if it could purge the impurities from her body.
Qiu Yu thought to herself—if creating a single brick was so difficult, then wouldn’t it be even harder to stack stones into mountains, plant trees into forests, and create a lush, thriving jungle?
Just as she was about to tell Chen Cebai to take it step by step, the surrounding environment changed.
Mountains rose, the ground cracked, and clear snowmelt trickled down from the mountain peaks, forming a crystal-clear stream. Tender green saplings stretched upward, gradually growing taller and stronger, spreading branches and leaves, and in an instant, they transformed into a serene and dense cedar forest.
Qiu Yu’s eyes widened.
She even saw deer and bighorn sheep—creatures that had long been extinct.
Chen Cebai’s computational power was terrifying.
Unlike creating a single brick, creating living organisms meant he had to construct them starting from their cellular structures, while simultaneously simulating their entire life cycle and living habits.
Take antlers, for example—if he wanted to create biologically accurate deer antlers, he had to determine their exact chemical composition, structure, shape, size, function, growth speed, and growth cycle, down to the calcium, phosphorus, and magnesium content, and up to the antlers’ length and diameter.
Just by thinking about it in her mind, her CPU was already on the verge of overheating—yet Chen Cebai had created a deer that could forage for food, drink water, and possessed visual perception and a sense of smell.
And this was only the beginning.
Next, a white villa rose from the ground. Unlike her “toy block house,” this villa had a beautiful and solid structure. Through the spotless floor-to-ceiling windows, she could even see the neatly inlaid wooden flooring, the pristine marble bar counter, and the crackling fireplace.
On the mantelpiece of the fireplace, there was even their wedding photo.
Chen Cebai had done this on purpose.
She remembered that when she took the wedding photos, she hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic. Yet in the photo on the mantelpiece, her smile was radiant and uninhibited, so bright that it spilled from the corners of her eyes into her dimples.
Qiu Yu originally wanted to tease Chen Cebai with a few words, but before she could speak, a surge of hot tears welled up.
She could only let out a light sob, turn around, bury her head in Chen Cebai’s embrace, and hug him tightly.
She should have known—how could she ever be bored with him around?
[3. Player and NPC]
Qiu Yu realized that Chen Cebai was practically omniscient and omnipotent—whatever she wanted, he could create for her with ease.
Recently, she had watched a video and become fascinated with a white Arabian horse that had been cultivated in a test tube. In reality, that horse was not for sale and had likely ended up in some wealthy tycoon’s private stable.
—Animals were not entirely extinct; they had simply become completely privatized.
Seeing that she liked it, Chen Cebai built a small horse ranch not far from the villa and created a few Arabian horses in different colors for her to ride.
Qiu Yu understood now—Chen Cebai was the player in this sandbox game, while she was merely an NPC who needed the player’s help.
Chen Cebai glanced at her, seemingly displeased with this analogy.
As time passed, he was no longer as anxious and insecure as before.
If it had been in the past, he would have already grabbed her by the nape and kissed her as punishment. But now, he merely cast her a cold glance.
Qiu Yu let out a laugh. “Why are you glaring at me? It’s not like I’m belittling myself…” She wrapped her arms around him, blinking as she slipped her hand into the pocket of his dress pants. “NPCs might not know anything, but they can ask the player for help—they can take control of the player.”
Chen Cebai grabbed her wrist, his straight nose bridge slightly lifting his glasses as the lenses reflected a faint glint.
“You still want to ride horses?”
His vision had long surpassed human limits—his eyes processed frames at tens of thousands per second, capable of perceiving the frequency of a butterfly’s wingbeats from a hundred thousand kilometers away.
He had previously worn glasses because she had once admitted, without hesitation, that his glasses-wearing look was her particular kink.
When she said this, her face was bathed in sunlight, her eyelashes gilded into a semi-transparent white. The smile in her eyes was both charming and wicked, carrying a hint of mischief.
Chen Cebai tilted his head slightly, his glasses reflecting the sunlight, his gaze unreadable.
“Kink?”
Only then did Qiu Yu realize—she had never actually told Chen Cebai about her preferences.
So, she laid it all out.
After spending so much time with Chen Cebai, she had picked up a bit of his bluntness. Without any reservations, she told him that she liked his cold and restrained demeanor.
Chen Cebai frowned slightly, seemingly confused. “You like it when I’m indifferent to you?”
“Not that kind of indifference!” Qiu Yu laughed as she leaned closer, tugging at his tie. Her gaze slid from the tie’s texture to his shirt, then down to his sharp wrist bones, the metallic wristwatch, and the faintly raised veins on the back of his hand. “It’s this kind of indifference.”
Chen Cebai looked at her thoughtfully.
“What else?”
“And the way you smoke, the way you wear a watch, buckle a belt, tie a tie, put on equestrian gloves…” She lifted his hand, pressing it against her chin, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “And the way you take them off.”
The sunlight was bright and scorching, and floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded them on all sides.
They were encircled by snow-capped peaks, cedar forests, and wild animals, far removed from neon lights, towering skyscrapers, and the bustling traffic of the city.
Chen Cebai met her gaze and, reversing the roles, took control—his eyes locked onto hers with an almost forceful grip, not allowing her gaze to shift even the slightest bit.
Then, he raised his hand and began to unfasten his wristwatch.
Qiu Yu’s heart thumped heavily.
She knew him as well as she knew herself, yet she was still deceived by the cold and striking beauty of his face.
With a soft click, Chen Cebai removed the watch and placed it in her hand.
Their fingers and palms brushed against each other.
His body temperature was still cold, the metal watch strap was also cold, yet an overwhelming heat surged through her heart.
Next was the tie.
Qiu Yu didn’t understand how someone could look so cold and focused while deliberately seducing, as if conducting a highly sophisticated experiment.
When untying a tie, the focus wasn’t on the tie itself but on the man’s hands and Adam’s apple.
The line from Chen Cebai’s jaw to his Adam’s apple was exceptionally defined—every time she looked at it, it was a curve filled with tension.
His fingers were slender and well-jointed, with veins clearly visible, faintly revealing a few streaks of bluish-green like the first light of dawn.
Finally, he removed his glasses, revealing his narrow eyes, and his gaze—so sharp it was almost piercing—swept over her hand.
Then, with a soft snap, he unfastened the metal buckle of his belt.
It was as if his gaze had guided her hand to undo it.
At that moment, Qiu Yu felt a tingling numbness spread across her scalp.
In the most chaotic moment of her consciousness, she couldn’t help but sob and command him never to wear glasses again.
Chen Cebai raised an eyebrow slightly and asked why.
She shouted that she needed to quit this obsession.
But when he really stopped wearing glasses, she found herself unable to withstand the direct intensity of his scorching gaze and forcibly put them back on him.
Now, as he asked again, he deliberately angled his glasses to reflect the light, clearly seducing her once more.
—Everything in this world was under his control, as if it were a virtual world generated with him as the central mind. If he didn’t want his glasses to reflect light, he could prevent it effortlessly.
He was silently luring her in, igniting her, capturing her.
The Arabian horse was always ready to be ridden.
So was he.
Yet she still chose him without hesitation, removing his glasses, standing on tiptoe, and kissing him.
“I don’t want to anymore.”
TL: I’ve read a comment that said Biotech is a breeding ground for love-brained monsters LMAO