“Danmaku on livestreams?”
Xiao Li-ge practically sprang up as soon as he heard it. “Now this, I know!”
He’d been a streamer for years—he knew exactly what audiences liked. If he could interact with viewers now, his chances of getting items would shoot up.
Fu Changxun, however, immediately thought of certain shady streaming platforms—where the hosts begged desperately for gifts, only for the platform to take a massive cut.
His expression twisted slightly. He couldn’t help comparing the game to those platform CEOs—and honestly? The CEOs seemed more considerate.
At least they didn’t dump their streamers into horror survival games and call it “selection.”
Xiao Xiao tugged gently at his sleeve and whispered, “Ge, I got 150 points, tripled.”
Fu Changxun instinctively glanced at Dong Zi, who also spoke in a low voice: “Everyone survived, so it should be a triple for all. Look at them.”
Mr. Zeng and Ms. Hu aside, Xiao Li-ge and Xiao Zhang-ge were veteran players—but it was probably their first time experiencing a full-team survival. They were chatting excitedly, occasionally tapping their personal panels.
“No doubt about it. Mine tripled too.”
Lulu suddenly appeared behind them like a ghost. “It’s a system easter egg.”
All three of them jumped. “Lulu? How are you walking without making a sound?”
Lulu sighed dramatically. “This whole instance and I didn’t even get to use my ability. So boring.”
She completely changed the subject, but Dong Zi immediately picked it up. “What do you mean ‘not used’? We need it right now. Ah Xun doesn’t look too good—can you heal him?”
“Doctor?” Lulu finally noticed that Fu Changxun’s face was slick with a fine sheen of sweat.
“Okay, no problem. Leave it to me!”
When it came to healing, Lulu perked right up. She placed her hand gently on Fu Changxun’s back.
He watched as his HP stat climbed on his panel—from 50 to 51, 52… and in a blink, it shot back up to 100. The discomfort vanished instantly.
He paused, then muttered, “…Why does this feel a bit like, uh, charging a battery?”
Lulu: “……”
Lulu exploded. “Excuse me?! This is way faster than charging a battery!”
Fu Changxun raised both hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re the real doctor here. Way better than me.”
The grumpy Lulu was finally mollified.
But she didn’t notice at all—Dong Zi immediately pulled Fu Changxun into his arms the moment she finished healing him, casually thanking her like a family member.
Xiao Li-ge and Xiao Zhang-ge hadn’t gotten along with them during the instance, and now didn’t feel comfortable sticking around. They exchanged a glance and left quickly.
The Zengs also shared a look—clearly having come to a mutual decision.
Mr. Zeng stepped forward and bowed. “Thank you all. Without your help, my wife and I wouldn’t have made it out.”
Ms. Hu nodded. “That’s right. We just checked—both of us have powers now. The rookie instance has the highest death rate. We’re lucky to have cleared it—and early, too. That gives us a much better chance of surviving in the future. If you ever need help, just say the word.”
She wasn’t wrong. In the first instance, rookies only had the starter item—no points, no abilities. Their survival odds were the worst.
And Fu Changxun was their biggest reason for making it out alive.
He didn’t turn them down and simply said, “Alright. Let’s exchange contact info.”
Mr. Zeng gave him a phone number, then left with his wife. The two of them had been pulled into the game unexpectedly—they still had a lot of real-life matters to handle.
Only five people remained at the scene.
“Hurry up! We need to report this instance to the Special Affairs Office,” Lulu urged.
Fu Changxun had just responded with a “got it” and lifted a foot to leave when he suddenly heard Lu Qi’s panicked voice behind him—shouting his name.
“Wait!”
Lu Qi’s voice rang out behind him.
Fu Changxun turned his head slightly, his elegant profile expressionless. “What is it now?”
Lu Qi stood frozen, momentarily stunned, before stammering, “I—I don’t know what to do. Can I… can I go with you?”
Fu Changxun exhaled slowly, as if trying to hold back frustration. “Let me make this clear. Getting you out of that instance in one piece was already me being exceptionally generous.”
Lu Qi reached toward him, panicked. “But… you saved me. Doesn’t that mean… you still feel something for me? Even just a little?”
Fu Changxun didn’t reach back.
He looked at him silently, then said, “I saved you because I joined the Special Affairs Office. I made a promise to Director Qiu that I’d rescue as many players as possible. To me, you’re no different from anyone else.”
Lu Qi stared at him blankly. But Fu Changxun had already turned away, walking back to stand beside the tall figure of Dong Zi.
Only then did Lu Qi finally understand—the distance between them would only grow wider from here on out.
After being hurt once, Doctor Fu—who drew a clear line between love and hate—would never stand still, waiting. He would turn and walk away without ever looking back.
He had lost Fu Changxun.
Forever.
There was no undoing it.
***
Special Affairs Office HQ
Qiu Yi had just returned from clearing a brutal battle royale instance. His body was bruised and bloodied, and a teammate was currently bandaging his wounds.
“Lulu’s not back yet?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Ugh—having no healer really is the worst.”
The teammate—a burly, rough-handed man—fumbled clumsily with the bandages. He tugged a little too hard, nearly making their esteemed Director Qiu pass out from pain on the spot.
“FUCK—!”
The teammate instantly panicked. “I’m sorry, Captain! Are you okay?!”
“I swear you’re trying to murder me,” Qiu Yi growled, clutching his shoulder as he snatched the bandage and began wrapping it himself.
A gash on his shoulder, deep enough to expose bone, was bleeding profusely—an utterly gruesome sight.
All three teammates who had gone into the instance with him were also covered in cuts and scrapes. While not life-threatening, the damage was enough to make anyone wince.
Just as Qiu Yi finished wrapping the wound, the elevator dinged.
Lulu stepped out.
The moment she saw the battered and bloodied Special Affairs members, her expression sobered. She rushed over, unwrapped some of the sloppily applied bandages, and examined the injuries. Then she pressed her palms simultaneously against the two most serious wounds.
“Don’t move. Stay still.”
And right before everyone’s eyes—the bleeding stopped. The wounds began to knit, then scab, then close completely, all in mere seconds.
Color returned to the two men’s faces—clearly, their HP was rising too.
When Fu Changxun had been healed earlier, the effects hadn’t looked nearly as dramatic. But this… this was practically a miracle.
Xiao Xiao stood frozen, mouth agape.
“Waaah—Jie, you’re amazing!”
She looked at Lulu with starry eyes. “I wanna be like that too! Just touch someone and boom—they’re healed!”
Lulu finished treating half their injuries, then moved to the next pair.
She chuckled, a little weakly. “Jie’s power is still kinda limited. After I’m done here, I’ll probably have to sleep for, like, a whole day.”
And it was true—her face was pale, and she was visibly unsteady on her feet.
Once she finished healing them all, Lulu collapsed directly onto the couch, too drained to stand.
The team, clearly used to this routine, picked her up and carried her off on a stretcher to the resting lounge.
Less than a minute later, light snoring began.
Xiao Xiao: “……”
“Jie really can fall asleep anytime, huh.”
Fu Changxun asked, concerned, “Does this kind of healing do damage to the ability user?”
Qiu Yi—whose shoulder was now scabbed over—scratched at the itch and replied, “Nope. On the contrary, our data suggests that repeated healing may actually accelerate power evolution.”
Power evolution?
Fu Changxun immediately thought of his own ability: Cognitive Distortion (Upgradeable). That must be what the “Upgradeable” referred to. He perked up, intrigued.
“So if we use our powers frequently, that might help us evolve them too?”
“Maybe,” Qiu Yi said with a helpless shrug. “I can’t say for sure. And knowing my luck, I don’t want to jinx it.”
Fu Changxun quickly cut him off. “Alright, stop right there. You know you’ve got a jinxing mouth.”
Qiu Yi: “Hey—what’s that supposed to mean?!”
Dong Zi interrupted, “What happened in your last instance?”
He’d already seen the injuries. These guys were ex-military—they shouldn’t have come out looking like this.
Qiu Yi immediately shifted focus. “This time, we entered a primal world instance. Over 200 players. Pure battle royale. The enemies? Primitive humans.”
“They were insanely fast, with ridiculously sharp senses. Hiding didn’t help—once they caught your scent, you were done.”
Fu Changxun raised an eyebrow. “Hundreds of players in one instance? Are all battle royales like that?”
Qiu Yi shook his head. “There are two types. Small-scale battle royales—short, one-day duration, small maps, few players, and only one pursuer.”
“Then there’s the large-scale kind. These can last weeks, even months, and host hundreds or thousands of players.”
Dong Zi frowned. “So you have to survive that entire time without getting killed?”
“Exactly.”
Qiu Yi scratched at his healing shoulder. “Small-scale ones? You can hide. Play it safe and survive till the timer runs out. But in large-scale battle royales? No chance. You have to eat, sleep, move around—it’s not something you can cheese.”
Fu Changxun quietly committed that to memory—he and Dong Zi hadn’t entered any battle royale instances yet.
“Do you still have missions in those?” he asked. “Or is running for your life the whole point?”
“No missions. Just one objective—survive.”
Qiu Yi’s voice turned serious. “Don’t worry about saving points or using up your items. In battle royales, staying alive is all that matters.”
All three of them—two adults and one child—nodded in unison. They really did look like a family.
Then Qiu Yi started asking about their last instance.
Fu Changxun recounted everything, detailing their experience—and especially emphasizing the full-party survival.
Qiu Yi shot to his feet. “Everyone survives and points get tripled?!”
He was so excited he started spinning in circles. “This is amazing news—we need to spread the word fast! If everyone bands together, we’ve got a real shot at clearing this!”
True to form, he bolted out of the room without another word.
That left Fu Changxun and Dong Zi standing there in a daze. The two locked eyes, speechless, then silently took Xiao Xiao’s hands—one on either side—and decided to head home before doing or saying anything else.
The Special Affairs Office was in chaos again, and with their positions still technically unapproved, the two enthusiastic “volunteers” figured it wasn’t a good idea to linger.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
