Chapter 7

The System emerged from the sea of consciousness, and Yàn Sǔn had already fallen asleep. It was the first time the little fellow had played so wildly that he had no strength left, dozing off with his head bobbing as he squatted in the corner. Mù Yú had carried him to bed.

Yàn Sǔn slept soundly, without needing to be coaxed. His entire small body was tucked into Mù Yú's jacket, and he embraced one of the sleeves, curling into a ball by himself. The System drifted over to Mù Yú's side, then plastered itself onto the window.

It lost control of its direction, sliding down the condensation with a "swoosh," drawing a dragon. Mù Yú smiled, pulled out two tissues, and wiped away the remaining blurred condensation. The Production Crew had sent a temporary notice: there would be a blizzard that afternoon, and all segments had been moved to the evening, to be continued if conditions allowed.

The window was wiped clean, revealing the scenery outside. When it snowed here, you couldn't see the clouds at first glance. The sky outside the window was very bright, the entire sky a sort of grayish-white, with the sun reduced to just a glowing white dot.

It was warm inside, with a suitable temperature, and a flue in the center of the room connected to a small stove outside. Mù Yú placed the hazelnuts and wild sour dates that Yàn Sǔn had collected on the stove to roast. He hadn't finished all the mushrooms, so he also laid the rest out to dry together.

The firewood in the hearth crackled, and the fire was stoked vigorously with an iron poker, hot and red, the flames both scorching and bright, clearly distinct from the howling cold wind outside. Mù Yú had nothing to do, so he leaned by the window, passing the time, idly drawing boxes everywhere in the room. The System stole a sour date from the stove and watched for a while, almost deforming with envy.

Although Mù Yú insisted on considering himself just an "ordinary person with a bit of extra money," this God-tier Snail Skill, where he didn't have to clean the room himself, could just draw a box wherever something was out of place, and the entire room would instantly become tidy, clean, warm, and comfortable… frankly, it was no less impressive than conjuring a helpless Transformer from another world with a casual wave. Housework is something only those who do it truly understand.

Sweeping, mopping, wiping windows, washing clothes, organizing a room, rearranging furniture – just like that, a day disappears. It looks like nothing was accomplished. It's infuriating.

The System, gnawing on the sour date with tears in its eyes, remembered the main issue and floated back: "Host… that scoring." It actually had a vague feeling that the Host already knew the answer, but it still brought up the organized information: "Yàn Sǔn's experience, in the final analysis, should be because of this."

The Yan Family was cold-blooded, the Xu Family was absurd, and countless evils were hidden beneath a façade of peace. What was strange was Yú Mù's motive for being employed. The Yan couple didn't seem like parents who attached such twisted importance to their son, viewing their children as their life, to the extent of using despicable means to cover up their children's crimes.

The System watched the previous episodes of the show and didn't see much affection from Father Yan towards Yàn Xī. If anything, the couple seemed more like those who were solely focused on their careers, with maintaining their family being a secondary concern. According to the normal development, the subsequent events should have been Yàn Xī digging his own grave, his antisocial personality completely exposed.

Father and Mother Yan, realizing it too late, would likely try to cover it up for the sake of their reputation and careers, but they wouldn't be able to stop the gradually growing and sensible Yàn Sǔn. Yàn Sǔn intended to protect himself and made all possible attempts. In the end, Yàn Sǔn might have to pay a rather terrible price, but he would also have the chance to escape the Yan Family forever.

…But this possibility was completely extinguished in advance because Yú Mù was employed as Yàn Sǔn's 'teacher.' Trapped in Yú Mù's script, Yàn Sǔn appeared to the outside world as malicious, cold-blooded, selfish, and impulsive. Everyone he encountered couldn't wait to get rid of him, and no one would offer him help.

Yàn Sǔn didn't know this; he struggled upwards time and again, reaching out his hands, practicing saying, "It wasn't me." He didn't know he had no way out; even if someone briefly touched his hand, it was only to push him back into that bottomless ice cave. Mù Yú took the thick stack of information.

He walked to the bedside, casually lifting a small fleece blanket to cover Yàn Sǔn: "Such great pains were taken." A child who was clearly innocent, yet inexplicably detested by everyone, was inherently illogical – unless there was some kind of warped social system or environment that forced people into this dead end. The Yan Family doing this should have a more direct logic.

Father and Mother Yan did not have such deep affection for their children; in comparison, they valued their careers more, unless— "Unless Yàn Xī is their career." Mù Yú said, "In this world, parents have to take an exam." The ten-thousand-word thesis the System had prepared was summarized in just a few sentences: "…Yes."

That's why the Yan Family hired Yú Mù and went to great lengths to falsify and alter the exam results. That's why the Xu couple missed the exam; they knew they couldn't answer a paper that was destined to be a failure. Yàn Xī was a born antisocial personality; he couldn't be taught and would only cause trouble…

These things would eventually be impossible to hide, so Yàn Sǔn, sent over as an apology by the Xu Family, became the perfect scapegoat. As long as Yàn Sǔn's reputation was ruined, all of Yàn Xī's misdeeds could be blamed on him. By stepping on Yàn Sǔn, Yàn Xī could live his perfect life.

This was a world that seemed to have perfect rules. If no one cheated on the exam. With a highly developed technological and medical system, the population was extremely overpopulated, and resources were severely insufficient, making it impossible to accommodate everyone in a natural state.

New populations had to be sufficiently outstanding and excellent, so corresponding rules were born – newborns were sent to incubation pods, and their consciousness grew up in a virtual space constructed to be almost identical to the real world. This virtual space was called the "Greenhouse." The authorities stipulated parental time, requiring parents to import their consciousness into the Greenhouse daily to accompany and guide their child's growth.

Simultaneously, parents' social ratings were directly linked to their children's performance. If a child was outstanding and achieved extremely high scores, even ordinary parents had the opportunity to be promoted to A-class or even S-class, enjoying superior social treatment. If a child performed poorly, parents would also be demoted and deprived of certain resource allocation rights.

There were many scoring categories: intelligence, talent, athletic ability, moral level… The most popular and effective method was to have them participate in various programs and competitions from a young age, living under the spotlight and receiving audience scores. If they truly lacked relevant talents or aptitudes, they could also attend classes and study diligently, taking unified exams and moral standard tests at the age of fifteen.

As long as the scores were good enough, the rating would not be too low. In the original world line, Xǔ Sīchéng, using the money the Yan Family had paid for Yàn Sǔn's life, achieved academic success and a smooth career – his subsequent scores were quite good. Therefore, the Xu Family was also logically promoted to B-class, living the good life they had never dared to imagine.

"The profession of screenwriter is very lucrative in this world," the System said. "Yú Mù's job is not an isolated case." In this world, before becoming parents, one had to undergo training and exams, and the process of raising a child was another exam.

The former was easy, just a good answer sheet. The latter was much more difficult, so gradually some people began to devise wicked schemes. Human nature is far more complex than "rules."

Just as there are honest and rule-abiding people, there are those who will resort to any means. Regardless of the type of exam, someone will cheat. "Screenwriters" like Yú Mù emerged, expertly crafting stories, whether brilliant or cliché, cold and cruel without self-awareness.

Those stories became fragmented lives, both true and false. … Mù Yú finished reading the information and nodded.

He opened the backend and clicked on an interface. The System felt inexplicably nervous: "Host, what are you looking up?" Mù Yú flipped a page: "Which Transformer is available."

System: "…Host." The System had hesitated for so long before daring to present the information it had gathered precisely because it was worried about this: "What do you want Transformers for?" Mù Yú's right hand was held firmly, and he paused to look at the System, replying softly, "To give to the child."

System: "…" It felt that Yàn Sǔn probably had no interest in Transformers. It was true that boys were easily attracted to big robots.

But in the world Mù Yú was browsing, the shortest Autobot, after transforming, was still thirty-five feet tall, over ten meters. It wasn't suitable as a gift for a child; it was suitable for destroying a world. Shattered into pieces, fifty systems picking up world line fragments all over the place, taking a full three days to piece back together.

"Host, World S03 exists objectively because our headquarters has a good relationship with their high-level intelligent AI, which is why they allow assessors to enter." The System clung tightly to Mù Yú's hand, which was about to draw a box: "Collapsing the world will incur a penalty…" Mù Yú's eyes lit up: "How much is the penalty?"

System: "…" It was doomed. The System's buffering circle was spinning out sparks.

It finally managed to explain to Mù Yú the basic setting that "such objectively existing sub-worlds, even if collapsed, will not disappear, only reset." "In fact, this world's system is on the verge of collapse." The headquarters transmitted the world line, and the System frantically found it and sent it to Mù Yú.

"According to the original world line, Yàn Zhú mò's complete loss of control was the last straw that led to the system's collapse." The advanced intelligent AI algorithm responsible for constructing the "Greenhouse" received an increasing number of self-incriminating reports with jumbled and incoherent speech. These reports were accompanied by terrified cries and pleas, as if submitted under some fatal threat, yet the lie detector results indicated they were true.

And all the cheaters who completed their self-incrimination, without exception, died of neurogenic asphyxiation due to extreme fear, with no one surviving the sleep pods. Before this turmoil, the "Greenhouse" had been sufficiently safe. This was why there were no staff members specifically watching over the children when they played in the children's waiting area – children in the Greenhouse could get hurt or sick, but those were results of automatic AI calculations, and their bodies in the incubation pods were not affected.

The only thing that couldn't be completely avoided, and which could cause the virtual world to synchronize its effects with reality, was drowning. The brain generating the sensation of drowning, the larynx spasming, unable to inhale oxygen, the body would stop breathing synchronously with consciousness. This was what this world had taught Yàn Sǔn.

"…" The System watched as Mù Yú went to the backend again, sparks flying as he burrowed into the fleece blanket, digging the little villain out of his jacket: "The AI database will not be reset with the timeline. This system will still be abolished, it just needs time for transition."

"Before then." The System held up the drowsy Little Snowball, "Host, you can teach him new things, teach him many, many new things… teach him how to live."

Yàn Sǔn had learned many ways to die; he had learned them all and remembered them well. No one had taught Yàn Sǔn how to live. No one had taught him how to live like a human being, how to grow up.

No one had taught him what parents and teachers were like; these beings should have been the primary guides for a child's growth. Children are not born voluntarily. Those who brought him into this world, those who held his hand and walked with him, should have been an unshakeable shelter and support.

The world, vast and open, a place to belong, should have been home. "I know." Mù Yú, with some doubt, purchased a Recovery Card through the backend and used it on his right knee.

"I'm going to teach him to skate." System: "…" Mù Yú was naturally peaceful and seldom had the inclination to destroy a world; he was also not someone who couldn't be reasoned with.

"There's an indoor ice rink nearby." He knew what kind of place this was. Although the "Greenhouse" was a virtual world, under the AI's architecture, it could be almost perfectly synchronized with the real world.

This was a subsidiary of the Berghead Ice and Snow Club. The last time Mù Yú was brought here for an assessment, his assumed identity seemed to have a small grievance with Cumberland. During the three months he was drugged blind and confined here by Cumberland, he often took walks nearby out of boredom.

Mù Yú could recognize most of the roads here even with his eyes closed. System: "…" It was guilty.

It really wanted to see the Host's previous script. Yàn Sǔn woke up, his soft short hair all tousled, looking like he hadn't fully woken up, sitting dazedly, still clutching Mù Yú's jacket. Mù Yú touched his forehead, gave him some water warmed on the stove, and helped the little fellow get dressed.

The System, in its haste, lifted him up and felt a bit guilty, floating over to help pull on a sleeve: "Host, Host, do you have a big feud with Cumberland?" Mù Yú knew it was asking about the role he had received last time, but he hadn't paid close attention then and actually knew very little: "Probably." The last time he came to World S03, he and all the involved characters were already adults, so he hadn't encountered the "Greenhouse" setting.

However, after filling in the world settings, some of the things Cumberland had done to him back then now had a reasonable explanation. Incubation pods were not used indefinitely. High-level incubation pods had an expiration date of eighteen years, and ordinary ones had a fifteen-year validity.

If the expiration date passed and the scores were still insufficient, the nutrient supply to the incubation pod would be stopped, which was what the assistant director had meant by "no longer having a chance to grow up." This applied equally to everyone; there were no exceptions for wealth or power. Mù Yú's starting script last time was very explosive, and he was often tormented by Cumberland while he grumbled, overhearing quite a bit.

He remembered that Cumberland had a close friend with whom he had been very intimate in his youth, but who had disappeared after they became adults. Now it seemed they hadn't achieved sufficient scores within the validity period. "Host," the System asked, "what happens if…

you can't get out in time?" Mù Yú thought for a moment: "I heard they get stuck in the Greenhouse." This was probably why Cumberland was so determined to kill him unharmed in the early stages.

After filling in the settings, Cumberland's previous ramblings, which he hadn't fully understood, all made sense. Cumberland, after all, was the previous villain BOSS; his thoughts were extreme and perverse, reckless, and he had strong execution capabilities, easily coming up with somewhat crazy ideas. For example, after Mù Yú died, he would infiltrate the "Greenhouse," extract the consciousness of that friend who was stuck there, and put it into a new shell…

Technically, it wasn't entirely impossible. Mù Yú actually didn't mind much, as it wasn't his body, just a temporarily assigned role: "He should have told me earlier." He had a lingering sense of noisy chatter from communicating too much in his mind.

Little Snowball blushed and insisted on putting on his pants himself, so Mù Yú, considerate as always, didn't help. He walked to the window and watched the snow outside intensifying. Standing far away, he made sure Yàn Sǔn couldn't hear him, and then chatted with the System: "If he had told me earlier, I would have given up jumping into the ice crevice and chosen the bathtub."

Mù Yú just wanted to force a retreat, not even minding being flushed down the sewer; he wasn't fixated on any particular way of dying. If Cumberland had consulted him earlier, he would have left him with a complete corpse. Mù Yú would be happy for him if he could reunite with his best friend, as he had learned in another world.

The System felt that if Cumberland heard these words, he would immediately perform a Level 10 cremation revenge spree of regret and unbearable pain: "…" Mù Yú didn't quite understand the concept of a cremation spree; he hadn't delved into such knowledge. It was just casual conversation.

The wind and snow were pleasant, so he prepared to get two more roasted hazelnuts to eat. As he walked to the stove, Mù Yú's steps suddenly stopped. System: "Host?"

""Snow Valley Gratuitous Transfer Agreement", transferor Cumberland William, effective immediately." Mù Yú looked at his backend: "What does this mean?"