A Simp’s Dilemma and a System’s Revelation

The three of them ate their meal, each lost in their own thoughts, a silence hanging heavy between them throughout.

When Zhou Yi finally set down his chopsticks, he looked up at Chen Hao, his lips parting as if to speak. Ultimately, however, he merely shook his head, the words dying in his throat.

This hesitant gesture was not lost on Jiang Chen, who sat across from them, and it only deepened the questions stirring within him.

If Zhou Yi had known that his good friend was currently scrutinizing his recent peculiar behavior with such an odd gaze, he might very well have coughed up three liters of blood on the spot.

Upon returning to their dorm room, Zhou Yi darted into the bathroom with the speed of an arrow, slamming the door shut and locking it with a resounding click.

“Such a rush?” Jiang Chen, who had just entered the room, gazed at the closed bathroom door with a puzzled expression, growing increasingly convinced that his roommate had been acting truly peculiar lately.

Utterly oblivious to the strange, unnerving gaze his roommate was casting upon him, Zhou Yi quickly shed the jacket that had almost steamed him alive, his entire body glistening with sweat.

‘Phew…’ The blissful sensation of finally being able to breathe freely lasted but a fleeting second.

Inadvertently, his gaze fell upon the small mounds reflected in the mirror once more; their distinctly raised curves, stark against his slender frame, were exceptionally jarring. Zhou Yi closed his eyes in despair.

‘Damn it, why are they still so obvious…’

After his shower, he cautiously pulled the door open just a crack, ensuring Jiang Chen was still facing away from him, busy organizing his sneakers. With cat-like stealth, he scurried out and swiftly burrowed under his covers.

“Sleeping so early?” Jiang Chen’s voice suddenly emanated from beside him, causing Zhou Yi to flinch.

“Ah… yeah, a bit of a headache.” He mumbled in response, pulling the blanket higher until it covered his chin.

Jiang Chen cast a thoughtful glance his way. Suddenly, with a sharp *snap*, he switched off the overhead light. “Alright then, get some sleep.”

The abrupt descent of darkness and silence brought a wave of relief to Zhou Yi, yet inexplicably, he felt even more tense.

He lay stiffly, holding his breath, until he heard the rustle of Jiang Chen settling back into his own bed, only then daring to release the air he had been holding.

He rolled over, intending to quickly catch some sleep and recover his energy.

Truthfully, being suffocated by that thick jacket all day had left him feeling lightheaded and dizzy; the ceiling above seemed to spin, making him suspect he truly had suffered from heatstroke.

Yet, the moment he closed his eyes, Chen Hao’s haggard face swam before him, truly resembling a living Ning Caichen.

It wasn’t that he was being overly sensitive; it was just that the entire situation was so preposterous, so utterly unbelievable, that he simply couldn’t stomach it.

How much cement must have been poured into Chen Hao’s brain for him to worship Lin Yating—a master of manipulation, exuding ‘tea fragrance’ from every pore—as his ethereal, untouchable ‘white moonlight’?

His memory suddenly flashed back to an afternoon during his freshman year, when Chen Hao’s wild pass had slammed directly into his nose.

Before the blood even reached his chin, Chen Hao had already rushed over, frantically using the hem of his own clean T-shirt to staunch the flow from Zhou Yi’s nose, all the while muttering, “Sorry, Yi Ge, so sorry!” He then helped Zhou Yi up and practically dragged him towards the infirmary.

Once at the infirmary, Chen Hao, without a moment’s hesitation, immediately covered the medical expenses.

When the school doctor suggested an ice pack, Chen Hao spun around and sprinted out to the convenience store, returning with three old-fashioned popsicles.

What truly stuck in Zhou Yi’s craw was that afterward, Chen Hao never once asked him to repay the medical fees, even refusing the money when Zhou Yi tried to transfer it to him.

‘Tsk…’

Could that clumsy, sincere fool truly be the same person as this ‘simp’ who would borrow usurious loans for a few sweet words?

The more Zhou Yi dwelled on it, the more unsettled he became. He tossed and turned restlessly in bed, but the soft sensation against his chest only served to heighten his vexation.

Just then, Xiao Qi’s irritating voice exploded untimely in his mind:

[Ding dong~ Dearest player! Your Xiao Qi has suddenly appeared! Reminding player of remaining time: 4 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes]

[Current Simp Index: 92% (Approaching critical point!)]

‘Damn it…’ He despairingly raked a hand through his hair, staring up at the pitch-black ceiling, feeling as insignificant as a speck of dust.

Who was he, anyway? Just an ordinary male university student, easily lost in a crowd within three seconds.

He was neither a sixteen-year-old genius high school beauty nor one of those emotional gurus with millions of followers on Bilibili. What’s more, he had never even been in a real relationship; his one self-proclaimed ‘romance’ was nothing more than a fleeting ambiguity Xu Yao had indulged in out of boredom, something she likely hadn’t even taken seriously.

With his meager experience, how could he possibly presume to save another ‘simp’ who was even more deeply entangled? What if he failed to pull them out, only to find himself dragged in instead? That would be a truly monumental joke!

So, what *could* he do?

“‘Provide emotional value’?” Zhou Yi chuckled self-deprecatingly.

He was already so emotionally distraught that *he* needed comforting; how could he possibly offer it to someone else? Was he supposed to bawl his eyes out with Chen Hao, comparing whose tears were saltier?

In the darkness, he let out a silent sigh.

“Xiao Qi, why did you choose me for this task? Do I really look like such a convenient scapegoat?”

[My dear~ Of course, it’s because your hand slipped, and you clicked ‘agree’ to that twenty-thousand-word user agreement and disclaimer!]

‘That happened?’

Only then did Zhou Yi vaguely recall that when he had downloaded the program, a lengthy user agreement pop-up had indeed appeared, its dense text filling the entire screen and making his eyes swim.

Impatiently, he had scrolled straight to the bottom and clicked “Agree” without even glancing at the content.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you might as well not have told me!” Zhou Yi yanked the blanket over his head. Should he chop off his hand, or chop off his hand?

[Because… only those who have truly stood in the rain know how to hold an umbrella for others.] Xiao Qi added, its timing impeccably precise.