[Ding-dong!]
[Congratulations, Player has cleared the instance “Post-Apocalyptic Escape”!]
[Points earned: 500. Survival ratio exceeds one-third → bonus points: 100. Instance loot value converted to: 624.6 points.]
Fu Changxun was back in his personal game space, with the black cat stretched lazily at his feet and the dandelion bouncing curiously beside him.
Instance loot… That must be the jewelry he’d looted from the rubble?
He frowned. “That little?”
The Customer Service system replied immediately:
[Loot from apocalypse-type instances is considered non-valuable. Exchange rate has been adjusted to 1000:1. Would you like to proceed?]
Fu Changxun: “……”
Robbery. Absolute robbery.
Still, it wasn’t like he could bring the jewels back into the real world. The Special Affairs Office wouldn’t allow it. With no other choice, he muttered reluctantly, “Exchange.”
[Current total points: 3062.9]
[Current inventory: Black Cat ×1, Dandelion ×1, Useless-Looking Doorknob ×1, Herbicide (Shop Item) ×1, Notebook ×1, Medical Case File ×1, Family Photo ×1, Razor-Sharp Knife ×1]
[Honors: Early Clear ×1, Fast Clear ×1, NPC Affinity ×2, NPC Fear ×1, “NPC Kindness” ×2 (Affinity and Kindness can be merged)]
Fu Changxun tilted his head. “Merge?”
He didn’t ask the system again—just checked the merge outcomes himself.
“NPC Affection”? That was… kind of unnecessary.
But the system seemed overly enthusiastic, recommending it at every opportunity.
Fu Changxun waved his hand, dismissing the suggestion.
He opened his personal panel to check his stats—and was surprised to see just how much his numbers had jumped this round.
[Name: Fu Changxun]
[Nickname: Doctor]
[Class: Player (Stealth Walker)]
[Gender: Male (temporary)]
[Age: 23 (still developing)]
[Points: 3062.9]
[Stamina: 53 (Great progress! Well done!)]
[Intelligence: 83 (Still rising)]
[Charisma: 98 (Highest among all players. Impressive!)]
[SAN Value: 92 (Stable)]
[HP: 100 (You’re in great health)]
Fu Changxun: “……”
This Charisma stat… is seriously unnecessary.
Plus, he’d already used his concealment item three times—it was now ineffective. He’d need to buy a new one for next time.
Totally not worth it. A waste.
He exited his game space, and as he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the Special Affairs Office—the place they’d entered the instance from.
Looking around, he realized he was the first one back. Everyone else was still in their own spaces. Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t over yet.
Fu Changxun pulled out his phone. The timestamp had been automatically corrected to real-world time…
It was already half a month later.
He blinked in surprise, then immediately pulled up the dialer and entered a memorized number.
Beep—click. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Fu Changxun,” he said. “Is this Lin Shu? I’m back in reality now.”
Lin Shu’s voice came through clearly: “I’m back too. My brother’s out looking for little Lu. We’ll head to the Special Affairs Office later. Send me the address.”
Fu Changxun exhaled in relief. “Got it. It’s at…”
As he hung up, his teammates finally began appearing—materializing from thin air.
He hadn’t realized before, but apparently, instance entry and exit really was game-like: they literally dissolved into air and re-formed again in it.
Dong Zi was the first to return. The moment he regained awareness, he rushed to Fu Changxun to confirm that he had returned safely.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Fu Changxun felt a little embarrassed and quickly changed the subject. “What took you all so long?”
“You don’t know?” Qiu Yi replied casually.
Fu Changxun raised an eyebrow. “Know what?”
“Customer Service suggested I decorate my Personal Game Space,” Qiu Yi said. “Said it’d be nice to have it set up so we can use it to rest once we’re out of instances.”
Lulu shrugged. “So I spent some points on a sofa, a coffee table, stuff like that. Pretty cheap too—everything was 90% off.”
Fu Changxun, who had unceremoniously booted Customer Service out: “…Ah.”
So there was more the system hadn’t told him? And it had run off so cheerfully, too.
Xiao Xiao chimed in happily, “Yeah! I didn’t have many points, but the bed only cost 10. So I bought one—it felt just like those life sim games I used to play.”
Fu Changxun recalled the layout of his Personal Space. Roughly the size of a bedroom… so it was meant for customization after all.
“I guess I’ll leave it for next time,” he said helplessly. “Customer Service didn’t mention a thing.”
Dong Zi chuckled. “I didn’t bother decorating either. Your place already has a bed and a sofa. No need.”
Fu Changxun shot him a look. “Hey. That’s my place, thank you very much.”
He’d already more or less accepted that the two of them were dating, but they hadn’t exactly reached the “your home is my home” phase—much less “til death do us part” or anything overly sentimental.
Dong Zi blinked at him innocently, like a wronged puppy being unfairly scolded. Under the weight of that pitiful gaze, Fu Changxun held out for all of sixty seconds before giving up entirely. He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Fine, fine. Our place. Happy now?”
Around them, Lulu, Qiu Yi, and the others: “?”
Everyone’s faces screamed “tell me everything,” but Fu Changxun’s skin wasn’t nearly thick enough for that.
He awkwardly forced a change of subject. “I’ve already called Lin Shu and the others. They should be here soon. Let’s wait a bit and see if they want to join.”
For the Special Affairs Office, the more the merrier. Unity mattered. Any skilled players they met in the game were worth recruiting.
Of course, people like Dagong and Zhang Feifei… were probably best left alone.
Those two had enough charisma to build their own grassroots teams that could rival the Special Affairs Office.
Twenty minutes later, after much urging, the Lin siblings finally arrived—bringing Lu Zhaodi with them.
Lu Zhaodi looked a little nervous, stiff and uneasy. But when she saw so many familiar faces, she gave a shy smile.
“Xiao Lu doesn’t want to go back to her grandparents’ place,” Lin Shu explained. “Her family’s… pretty heavy on the whole ‘sons are everything’ thing. I figured I’d bring her along. She’s Awakened now, and her ability’s not bad.”
“That’s even better!” Lulu said enthusiastically. “Look at Xiao Xiao—young as she is, she’s one of our top members. You two should totally join!”
She was a little too enthusiastic, and Lin Shu—confined to her wheelchair—looked a bit overwhelmed.
“What’s with the hard sell?” Qiu Yi narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on in that little head of yours?”
Lulu pouted. “I’m not scheming anything! I just want to see if my evolved Healing ability can treat injuries that existed before the game… like Lin Shu’s legs.”
She was completely serious—dead earnest.
Before Lin Shu could reply, Lin Ze’s eyes lit up with sudden, desperate hope. “Really? You… you think you can? My sister’s injury happened years ago. I went to all the best hospitals, found top specialists. They all said it was hopeless—at best, she might get by with a cane…”
His voice cracked. He was already choking back sobs.
Lulu panicked. “Hey! Don’t cry—what are you crying for, big guy? I’ll do my best, okay?”
Faced with the chance at a “Miraculous Healing Skill,” the Lin siblings immediately agreed to join.
Once the instance wrapped up, everyone went their separate ways—back to their own homes, their own lives.
It was already six in the evening by the time Fu Changxun got home. The sun was nearly down, and the place had been empty for half a month. They hadn’t even thrown a dust cloth over anything before leaving—now it was covered in grime.
Xiao Xiao had fallen asleep on the way back, exhausted. Dong Zi carried her to bed and tucked her in.
Even the black cat didn’t whine for food. It simply curled up beside the girl like a proper guardian.
The potted dandelion had been placed on the balcony, pot and all. It seemed very satisfied with the arrangement—though it did grumble that it’d be nicer if it were daytime.
After two exhausted adults finished cleaning, they finally retreated to the master bedroom. Alone at last.
Fu Changxun was still damp from the shower when Dong Zi pulled him close.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
The question was purely rhetorical—Dong Zi was already leaning in.
Caught off guard, Fu Changxun instinctively flinched away, just a little.
But even that faint retreat seemed to awaken something in Dong Zi. Whatever restraint he’d been clinging to snapped. His movements, previously tender, suddenly turned forceful, pressing Fu Changxun down completely.
Fu Changxun could hardly breathe. He hurried to respond—awkwardly, a little clumsily—softening his stance and giving in.
Under the dim lighting, their shadows overlapped on the wall—like a single flower blooming in the dark.
The kiss lasted a long time. When it finally broke, Dong Zi pulled back, gentleness returning to his voice.
“Ah Xun… how was it?”
Fu Changxun was still dazed. “Not bad.”
Dong Zi hesitated, then mumbled, “So… how did that compare to Lu Qi?”
He’d expected the question to be a death sentence—half-prepared to be kicked out of the bedroom and forced to sleep on the couch. But instead, Fu Changxun blinked, stunned… then promptly burst into barely suppressed laughter.
If not for the fear of waking Xiao Xiao next door, his laughter might’ve rattled the entire apartment complex.
“You… you really didn’t notice?” Fu Changxun wheezed. “I was way worse than you. That was my first kiss!”
Dong Zi looked completely stunned. “You seriously never…? I thought you were messing with me…”
“I wasn’t.” Fu Changxun laughed so hard he nearly cried. “Back when I was dating that dumbass, we didn’t even kiss. Hell, even holding hands felt like crossing a line.”
He exhaled, breathless from laughter and relief. “Maybe it was instinct. I never really wanted to get close to him.”
Dong Zi’s expression shifted unpredictably. He looked… a little jealous.
Well, of course he did. Anyone would be thrown off balance hearing about an ex right in front of their face—especially when that ex had wasted years of Ah Xun’s youth.
Why did someone like that deserve years of Fu Changxun’s time?
And why hadn’t he, Dong Zi, taken the initiative back then?
They’d lost five whole years.
How many five-year stretches does a person get? From seventeen, eighteen, to twenty-two, twenty-three—those golden years had slipped past them. They’d missed their chance, drifted apart, lost touch.
Fortunately, it still wasn’t too late. They hadn’t waited another five years. They hadn’t missed each other again.
Dong Zi even felt a flicker of gratitude toward the game. If not for it, maybe they really would’ve passed like strangers in the night—forever parallel, never intersecting.
But now, at least, he’d grabbed hold of him.
At least… tonight, before they fell asleep, he could look at Fu Changxun without holding back.
Even if it made him feel a bit like a creep.
