Confrontation and Retreat

As Zhou Yi’s figure vanished around the corridor’s bend, the fury churning within Jiang Chen’s chest could no longer be contained.

He spun around abruptly, seizing Li Yanze by the collar and slamming him against the wall. His fist, whistling with contained power, smashed into the other’s cheek.

Bang!

“That punch was for Zhou Yi.”

Li Yanze stumbled back, colliding with the wall, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. Yet, he made no move to resist.

Unprecedented fury blazed in Jiang Chen’s eyes, his self-control utterly shattered.

“How much time and effort did she pour into helping you build your confidence? Is this truly how you repay her?”

Li Yanze slid limply to the floor, tears mingling with the blood from his lips as they dripped onto the polished surface.

“She hasn’t slept properly for three consecutive days, pushing herself to the absolute brink for this project…”

“But what about you?”

Jiang Chen practically snarled through gritted teeth, “With a single word, one impulsive, ill-conceived decision, you betrayed every one of us!”

Bang! Another heavy punch landed.

Li Yanze’s cheekbone instantly swelled and reddened, yet he simply turned his head, enduring the blow as large, silent tears streamed down his face.

Through his blurring vision, he witnessed a despair bordering on brokenness etched across Jiang Chen’s face for the very first time.

“I… I’m so sorry… so sorry…”

“What meaning does ‘I’m sorry’ hold now?” Jiang Chen’s fist tightened once more.

Li Yanze flinched, but he didn’t dodge. Instead, he resignedly closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable next blow.

The fist, hovering in mid-air, trembled violently before finally dropping, spent and powerless.

“Give back what you owe her…”

Having uttered those words, Jiang Chen turned and departed, his footsteps receding into the hollow silence of the corridor until they were gone.

Li Yanze sank against the wall, sliding to the floor. His trembling fingertips brushed the searing pain on his face, and at last, he buried his face in his arms, releasing a series of choked, suppressed sobs.

****

Zhou Yi forced herself to walk out of the office building. It wasn’t until she reached an uninhabited corner that she finally allowed the tears, which had been brimming in her eyes for so long, to cascade freely.

Leaning against the wall, she slowly crouched down, burying her face deep into her knees. Her muffled sobs echoed with startling clarity in the quiet corner.

She sniffled, a wave of annoyance washing over her at her own sudden vulnerability.

“How pathetic…” a self-deprecating murmur, thick with a nasal congestion, escaped her muffled form. ‘It’s only being played for a fool… is it really worth all this?’

Yet, the more she tried to suppress her emotions, the more fiercely her tears streamed down.

Three days and three nights of relentless effort.

Unreserved trust in a friend.

The profound sense of accomplishment from fighting side-by-side.

And the nascent spark of team spirit.

All of it, in a single devastating moment, had been casually erased as if someone had pressed a delete button.

‘…This is so frustrating.’

Perhaps the cumulative toll of consecutive sleepless nights was simply too great.

Perhaps the expectations she had harbored were too vast, too all-encompassing.

Perhaps this particular wound truly pierced deeper, hurting far more than she could have ever imagined.

She desperately needed space to breathe. This thought grew increasingly insistent until, finally, she made a resolute decision: to decisively exit the current simulation.

****

Zhou Yi’s consciousness slowly began its return to reality.

As his eyes fluttered open, the familiar ceiling gradually sharpened into focus, though a dull, persistent ache in his chest refused to dissipate.

The room was so quiet that only the faint, steady hum of the computer fan could be heard.

His eyelids still carried a trace of dampness. He raised a hand to press against his chest, a bitter, self-deprecating curve twisting his lips.

He had, indeed, been far too arrogant.

Just because he had successfully pulled Chen Hao back from the precipice of an abyss once, did he truly believe himself to be a savior capable of delivering all beings?

It was laughable. The truth proved he was nothing of the sort.

A profound sense of powerlessness and self-doubt, like an icy tide, instantly surged forth and engulfed him.

Perhaps he simply lacked the ability to change anyone at all.

The haunting images of failure from the simulator continued to swirl in his mind, persistent as shadows.

Li Yanze’s eyes, momentarily clear and enlightened when Zhou Yi had awakened him on the basketball court, had turned out to be nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

In the end, Li Yanze still gravitated towards Su Xiao, plunging headfirst back onto that familiar, self-sacrificing path of a devoted admirer.

His deeply ingrained ‘devoted admirer’ instinct had effortlessly crushed all of Zhou Yi’s painstaking efforts and meticulous plans.

[Player Alert: Negative behavioral tendencies detected. Should ‘slacking off’ persist, the second phase of the punishment mechanism will be triggered. Please choose wisely~]

Zhou Yi, jolted as if by an electric current, snapped out of his reverie. “You’re back again,” he muttered.

A clear, sweet voice, distinctly feminine, slid out of his throat.

[Xiao Qi is just worried about you~ A prolonged negative state can affect data stability, you know.]

“You’re worried about me?” The female voice, still beyond his control, erupted again, laced with annoyance. “Then why didn’t you consider my feelings when you dragged me into this wretched game?”

[… (A mournful whimper)]

[Activating ‘Heartwarming Comfort’ Mode]

[Please take a deep breath. Failure is the mother of success, and every task analysis will provide the optimal path for your next attempt…]

“Shut up.”

[Current analysis indicates that Li Yanze’s behavioral motivation stems from a long-term, dependent emotional pattern towards the target individual…]

“I said, shut up!”

[If you were to disrupt his emotional projection at a critical juncture, the outcome might have been…]

“I said, that’s enough!” He couldn’t help but let out a low growl, his voice still tinged with the feminine pitch.

[Wuwuwu, don’t be so fierce~ I’m just a weak, helpless system, you know~]

“You goddamn…”

Click.

Just then, the dorm room door swung open. Jiang Chen walked in, clutching a basketball, his hair still damp with the sheen of recent exertion.

He looked at Zhou Yi, who was sitting on the bed, with a puzzled expression. “Who were you talking to just now?”

Zhou Yi’s entire body stiffened, his heart nearly seizing in his chest.

How much had Jiang Chen heard? He had been so engrossed in his argument with the system that he hadn’t even registered someone entering the room.

The most damning detail was the persistent, distinctly feminine voice still lingering in his throat…

A cold wave of terror instantly seized him.

He absolutely could not let Jiang Chen hear this cursed “senior sister voice”!

In a flash of lightning-fast panic, he snatched up his phone. With the practiced dexterity of years spent navigating hidden folders, he swiftly tapped open an app marked by a pink icon.

The moment ambiguous, suggestive gasps wafted from the phone’s speaker, he abruptly shoved the device beneath his pillow.

“N-not talking to anyone…” he stammered, his voice barely a breath.

Jiang Chen gave him a questioning look.

He hastily lowered his head, deliberately deepening his voice, yet his earlobes flushed an uncontrollable crimson. “I… I was watching a film.”

The mumbled syllables, accompanied by the indistinct, indescribable sounds of intimacy faintly emanating from beneath the pillow, were startlingly clear in the quiet dorm room.

Jiang Chen’s arm, still clutching the basketball, froze mid-air.

“Ahem…” Jiang Chen cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance as he walked in and stowed the basketball in his locker. “Well, look at you… quite spirited for the middle of the afternoon.”

Zhou Yi’s entire face burned scarlet. “Y-you… why are you back so suddenly?!”

“Training finished early today,” Jiang Chen replied, walking to his desk and taking several long gulps from his water bottle.

In truth, the training hadn’t ended early at all.

He had simply taken leave.

He couldn’t quite explain it, but that afternoon, a sudden, stifling pressure had built in his chest, making him so agitated he wanted to smash something.

Noticing his unusual state, the coach had simply waved him off to get some rest.

Even some teammates, always eager for drama, had crowded around, winking conspiratorially. “Brother Chen, is this… a case of lovesickness?” He had silenced them with a single, sharp glare.

His mind was a chaotic mess, and for reasons he couldn’t articulate, he suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to see someone. Yet, who exactly, he couldn’t say. Ultimately, as if guided by some unseen force, he found himself wandering back to the dorm room.

The instant he pushed open the door and saw Zhou Yi, his restless, agitated heart suddenly found an inexplicable calm. He couldn’t even begin to explain the source of this peculiar sense of peace.