“Phew, it’s finally done…”
Yan let out a soft breath, then slowly stretched, easing the tension from his body.
“It was no small feat to get twenty individuals to participate in this survey…”
“You’ve worked tirelessly, Yan.”
Alice offered him a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Alice, for staying by my side.”
Yan turned his resolute gaze towards her, a faint smile gracing his lips as he expressed his gratitude softly.
“Oh, it’s quite alright. In fact, I found this ‘questionnaire survey’—a kind of activity rarely encountered within the game—rather fascinating.”
A genuine smile illuminated Alice’s delicate features; she truly seemed to find the experience enjoyable.
Yan, however, did not share her sentiment; at this moment, he felt nothing but exhaustion.
While his virtual body might not experience physical fatigue, the endless task of seeking out players and repeatedly posing survey questions had left Yan mentally drained.
He had indeed toiled diligently, tirelessly circling the environs of Windstar City until he finally gathered twenty players to participate in his final survey, thus completing his assignment.
Despite the game’s immense popularity and Windstar City’s ceaseless flow of players, few were genuinely willing to pause their activities and assist Yan with his research.
The vast majority of players, upon seeing Yan approach, would first react with astonished recognition, confirming if he was indeed the renowned [Spearmaster], before offering an apologetic smile and a dismissive wave when he proposed an interview for his survey.
After all, everyone had their own pressing matters; players within the game were preoccupied with leveling up, forming parties for dungeons, and other such endeavors, a reality Yan fully comprehended.
Regardless, the towering burden of his “holiday assignment” had finally been lifted from Yan’s mind, leaving him free to savor the game with unburdened joy.
Though, he mused, this was likely his “last supper” before the new school term began.
Lost in thought, Yan offered a faint, wry smile, then raised a hand to summon his friends interface.
“Oh? Neither of those two are online… How unusual.”
His gaze lingered on the greyed-out names of Qing Bai and Tian Jiu within his friends list, a flicker of bewilderment crossing his features.
‘I’ll just ask them directly,’ he thought.
Yan’s lips curved subtly as he opened the messaging interface.
While they were friends within the game, none of them had exchanged any external contact information.
However, *Companion God Realm* (TL Note: The name of the game, 伴生神界, literally translates to ‘Accompanying God Realm’ or ‘Co-existing God Realm’) incorporated a unique feature: “As long as two players are friends, they can send messages or leave notes for each other directly within the game, which are then delivered straight to their friend’s full-dive helmet.”
Indeed, Yan had utilized this very function in the old server to communicate with his guildmates.
While functionally similar to sending a text message, this feature served as an indispensable element in differentiating the full-dive virtual world—which mirrored reality with astonishing fidelity—from actual reality.
For most players, interactions within a full-dive game carried an unspoken taboo against discussing or linking to real-world matters.
Consequently, they rarely shared personal contact details or social media accounts with others.
This messaging feature, however, was different.
It functioned much like a letter—a missive from another world, exclusively for players within *Companion God Realm*.
Beyond facilitating communication, it served no other purpose and would never disclose any user information.
Should the recipient be offline, this messaging system remained the sole means of contact, proving quite convenient.
Once a message was dispatched, a subtle signal light would begin to flash on the recipient’s full-dive helmet, indicating a new message had arrived.
Having sent his messages, Yan leisurely clasped his hands behind his head.
‘Well, the messages are out,’ he thought. ‘All that’s left is to wait for their replies.’
****
The air conditioner hummed softly, its cool output permeating the spacious room and rendering the oppressive late summer heat far more tolerable.
Su Mubai lay sprawled across the plush, pristine white bed, her slender, fair calves swaying idly back and forth.
Clad in lightweight white pajamas, she was leisurely penning something in a notebook.
Suddenly, the signal light on her full-dive helmet, resting on the other side of her pillow, flared to life, blinking with a warm yellow glow.
Noticing this unexpected change, she instinctively hugged her pillow, turning her body to pick up the full-dive helmet with a curious gaze.
“Hm? What could this be?”
Her slender fingers lightly brushed against the blinking signal light as she tilted her head in bewilderment.
****
“Hmm… yes, right there…”
An elderly woman with a mane of white hair sat in the rattan chair at the room’s center, slowly fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan, warding off the lingering heat of late summer.
Another pair of young, rosy hands rested upon her shoulders, their fair fingers spread wide, gently yet firmly kneading the old woman’s delicate frame with practiced care.
“Thank you, Xuerou… You’ve always gone to such trouble to look after this old woman, and even give me massages…”
The old woman turned her head slightly, a benevolent smile crinkling her deeply lined face.
She raised her arm, her palm-leaf fan generating soft, cool breezes that enveloped both herself and the dear person massaging her from behind.
“No… it’s nothing, Grandma, what are you talking about?”
Liu Xuerou blushed, lowering her head slightly, though her hands continued their rhythmic motions without pause.
“…If you hadn’t nurtured me since childhood, I don’t know where I’d be today.”
“Ah… such a good child as you, it’s truly a pity you were born into our family…”
The old woman shook her head with a sigh of regret, seemingly lamenting the actions of Xuerou’s father—her own son—for failing to provide Xuerou with a complete and happy home.
“Grandma! Please don’t say things like that.”
Xuerou puffed out her cheeks, a hint of indignation in her expression.
“I’m grateful to have been born into this family, to have a grandmother who cherishes me so dearly.”
“Nothing else holds any importance…”
“Oh, you… your words are so sweet…”
The old woman offered a helpless smile, finally relenting and dropping the sensitive topic.
Liu Xuerou gently removed her hands from the old woman’s shoulders, her gaze filled with concern as she looked at her grandmother.
“Grandma, how are you feeling? Are you a bit more comfortable now…”
“Yes, much more comfortable. My shoulders always ache when I sense rain coming—an old affliction, you know. It’s all thanks to you, Xuerou…”
The old woman gently rocked the rattan chair beneath her, a look of profound comfort spreading across her face.
Then, as if a thought had suddenly struck her, she turned her head with a puzzled expression to look at Liu Xuerou.
“Speaking of which, why didn’t you go play with that ‘iron helmet’ today?”
The ‘iron helmet’ naturally referred to the full-dive helmet.
For the simple and amiable old woman, she had no real understanding of what the device was, having only heard Liu Xuerou mention that it was for a game.
Nevertheless, she found the game quite appealing, at least…
“It’s good for you to play more, Xuerou, I don’t know why…”
A joyful smile blossomed on the old woman’s face, her eye wrinkles deepening into a web.
“I just feel that ever since you started playing this game, Xuerou, you’ve become considerably more cheerful.”
“Is, is that so…”
Liu Xuerou’s face flushed crimson as she averted her gaze.
“Today… I’m a little tired, and don’t really feel like playing…”
In truth, she hadn’t yet recovered from the profound shame that followed her emotional outburst toward Yan the previous night.
Unsure how she could possibly face him within the game, she had opted not to log in.
“Oh, is that so…”
The old woman smiled, dismissing the matter, and continued fanning her palm-leaf fan, sending refreshing breezes toward Liu Xuerou.
“But that ‘steel helmet’ is glowing, isn’t it?”
“Eh?”
Liu Xuerou gasped in surprise, her eyes darting to the full-dive helmet resting on the bedside table, where its warm yellow signal light pulsed rhythmically.
‘Could it be Yan?’
She could conceive of no other possibility.
Her right hand instinctively flew to her chest, where she could feel her heart accelerating its frantic rhythm.
A blush crept steadily up her cheeks, and she imagined her face must be utterly scarlet by now.
With that thought, Liu Xuerou tightened her clenched right hand against her chest.
Slowly, deliberately, she began to walk towards the full-dive helmet.