A Morning’s Peculiar Awakening

The alarm blared.

Zhou Yi threw off his covers and sat up. He haphazardly raked a hand through his bird’s nest of hair, then resignedly climbed out of bed, remembering the unyielding 8 AM class he had today.

Across the room, Jiang Chen, who had been organizing his backpack, paused abruptly. His peripheral vision had caught sight of Zhou Yi getting out of bed.

‘Hmm?’

The calves that flashed beneath Zhou Yi’s loose shorts were so pale they almost shimmered.

‘His roommate’s legs? When did they become so… slender and fair?’

This was entirely inconsistent with the typical appearance of a male university student, one who constantly pulled all-nighters gaming and subsisted on instant noodles.

Moreover, Jiang Chen couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhou Yi had lost a significant amount of weight recently. His entire presence seemed to have shrunk, as if he’d dropped a size. At this rate, he might just waste away into a wisp.

“I say, you…” Jiang Chen began, intending to remind his roommate to exercise more. However, his words caught in his throat as he suddenly froze, his gaze fixed on that slender back.

A strange impulse surged through him without warning. He instinctively wanted to reach out and place a hand on that shoulder. Deep within, a voice seemed to urge him, compelling him to pull that figure into his embrace.

This inexplicable flutter made him freeze, and in a daze, he was reminded of the vague figure he had once mentioned to Zhou Yi—the one he’d fallen for at first sight.

‘No, this isn’t right,’ Jiang Chen thought, snapping back to reality. He rubbed his temples vigorously, wondering if his recent training regimen had been too intense, causing him to experience déjà vu.

“‘I must be training myself stupid,'” he muttered, shaking his head helplessly. A corner of his mouth twitched.

Zhou Yi, still sporting his messy bedhead, turned his head, his eyes half-closed with sleep. “What’s up? Was my handsomeness so striking it woke you?”

“Get lost,” Jiang Chen laughed, tossing a towel his way. “Going to wash up?”

“Yeah, right away, Chen Ge… How about you help me save a—”

The word ‘seat’ caught in Zhou Yi’s throat, unable to escape. A sudden flash of the scene with Xiao Ju and the others from the simulator appeared in his mind. A strange heat immediately—

—rushed to his cheeks with a *whoosh*. He instantly ducked his head and darted into the bathroom as if fleeing.

After brushing his teeth, he yawned lazily.

Habitually, he reached for his razor, preparing to tackle the stubble that appeared precisely on schedule every morning.

His fingers fumbled along his chin for a few moments. Yet, the skin felt remarkably smooth.

“‘That’s odd,'” he mumbled, twirling the razor between his fingers. “‘Normally, by now my beard would be prickly to the touch. How come today there’s not even a single stubble?'”

‘Perhaps I’ve been too worried lately,’ he mused. ‘All these simps, one after another, giving me no peace. I suppose this is life’s way of beating me down.’

On second thought, a guy’s skin being occasionally good wouldn’t hurt, anyway.

Hrumming a tune, he continued dressing. Just as he pulled his shirt halfway on, a strange tightness suddenly spread across his chest, accompanied by a dull, throbbing pain.

“Tsk—” He winced, frowning as he looked down at the two spots on his chest. There were no bruises or redness, just a slight swelling, more prominent than usual.

“‘Strange,'” he murmured. “‘It was fine yesterday. When did I bump into something?'”

He mumbled to himself as he continued to pull on his pants.

Just as he pulled them halfway up, he froze again.

His jeans were stuck.

The fabric strained, groaning under the pressure.

“‘Huh?'”

He stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, twisting left and right as he struggled to pull the pants up.

“‘Damn, I didn’t actually get fat, did I?'”

He gave two more tugs, finally managing to pull the jeans on. The waistband felt noticeably looser, yet his hips were tightly constrained.

“‘Right, I’d better stop drinking late-night milk tea,'” he resolved.

Still not convinced, he pinched his waist in the mirror again.

From outside the door, Jiang Chen’s impatient voice called out. “‘Are you embroidering in there? If you keep dawdling, we’ll be late!'”

“‘Coming, coming!'” Zhou Yi called back, complaining as he walked. “‘Seriously, 8 AM classes aren’t meant for humans. It’s an anti-human design, you know?'”

The two walked side-by-side towards the teaching building. The morning mist hadn’t fully dispersed, and students, half-asleep, crowded around them.

As they moved forward with the crowd, Zhou Yi suddenly jolted, stopping in his tracks.

‘Wait.’

‘He’d worked so hard, put in so much effort, endured such social mortification—hadn’t the simulator’s rewards been settled yet?’

Jiang Chen’s sudden embrace yesterday had left him so flustered that he’d completely forgotten about this most crucial matter.

“‘Hey, System?'”

`[Oh, player, you’re online~]`

“‘Cut the chatter. What about… the rewards?'”

`[Received! Settling your rewards immediately.]`

`[Basic reward for this mission: yuan.]`

`[Additional subsidy: yuan.]`

`[Total: yuan.]`

Zhou Yi’s footsteps halted.

“‘Wait,'” he said, narrowing his eyes. “‘What about the twenty thousand yuan champion’s prize? Did you swallow it?'”

`[Upon verification, the player chose to exit the simulation prematurely during the final reward claim phase.]`

`[This portion of the reward has not completed the settlement process and has not yet been disbursed.]`

“‘???'”

Zhou Yi almost choked, barely catching his breath. “‘Does that mean… the twenty thousand yuan is still pending?'”

`[Yes. The player needs to re-enter the relevant plot node to complete the subsequent confirmation.]`

Zhou Yi:

“‘…'”

He fell silent for a second.

“‘So… I have to go back in?'”

“‘And continue the unfinished plot from there?'”

`[Theoretically, yes, dear~]`

Zhou Yi:

“‘…'”

He instinctively looked up, his gaze falling on Jiang Chen, who was not far ahead.

The morning light illuminated that familiar back. A gentle breeze subtly lifted the hem of his white jacket.

Yet, his mind uncontrollably flashed back to the scene backstage. Jiang Chen’s low call, the sudden embrace, the almost out-of-control proximity… the sensation, mingled with his heartbeat, seemed to burst wildly from his chest.

Zhou Yi abruptly averted his gaze. His earlobes quietly flushed with heat.

‘Forget it, forget it.’

`[Player, are you giving up a high-value reward?!]`

‘This is… a strategic retreat. Don’t you understand the concept of safety first?’

`[…Don’t.]`

‘Never mind, you wouldn’t understand. Just settle the rewards you can.’

`[Ding—4000 yuan has been credited to your account.]`

A crisp notification sound came from his phone. This sum was enough for him to live comfortably for quite a while, freeing him from worries about living expenses.

Yet, the long-awaited joy was slow to surface.

He attributed the inexplicable flutter in his heart to exhaustion, consoling himself. ‘I’ve probably been too tired these past few days, and my emotions are a bit out of sync. Yes, that must be it.’

‘Anyway, twenty thousand yuan won’t just fly away for now.’

‘Probably.’

“‘What are you spacing out for? Hurry up!'” Jiang Chen called out. He had walked a few steps ahead, noticed Zhou Yi hadn’t followed, and turned back to urge him on.

Zhou Yi snapped back to attention, suppressing the strange stagnation in his heart. He jogged to catch up. “‘Coming!'”

The sun remained bright, and the sycamore-lined path was still bustling with students rushing to their morning classes.

Only, within his heart, something seemed to have subtly shifted.

****

In the following days, life reverted to its familiar rhythm.

Classes, part-time work, group assignments, the mentor’s constant prodding for progress… Everything was orderly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever occurred.

Yet, whenever the dead of night brought silence, he would find himself staring blankly at the ceiling. The extra numbers in his mobile banking app should have brought a sense of security, but his heart felt as if a corner had been chipped away, letting the wind whistle through.

‘Perhaps I’m a masochist,’ he thought, scoffing at himself. ‘I’ve grown so accustomed to the system’s torment that now, in peace, I feel completely ill at ease. I’m actually yearning for those chaotic, frantic days.’

“‘Well, that’s just how life is, isn’t it?'”