Nan Jin slid the black dagger into Nana Toki’s chest, a raven feather sinking into snow. Shock froze her; then a thunderous blast roared by her ear, and white light surged like a tidal wave.

For two heartbeats, the world went still, like a lake under frost.

When her mind splashed back, the blast was gone. In its place, clamor rushed in from far to near, a beehive swarming her eardrums.

Blur and double images drew tight to a single point, like mist folding into a drop.

She opened weak eyes to a dim ceiling, dusk pooled above her like soot on ice.

“Captain, the girl in the nutrient pod is awake.” The voice cut through the room like a whistle on cold wind.

Nana Toki followed the sound and saw a decent-looking youth hurrying over, his steps drumming like rain.

“Move! Get her to the medical pod outside. If anything happens, I’ll have your heads!” His words cracked like a whip.

The man’s face tugged at her memory, a lantern glimpsed through fog. Before she could speak, two junior cops wrapped her in a blanket and hoisted her like a bundle of reeds.

Nana Toki: “...” Hey—this lady hasn’t said a word!

They jounced her toward the door like a cart on stones, and her stomach surged bitter, acid licking her throat like fire.

Just you wait. When I get my strength back, I’m filing a complaint with those unreliables from Moonlit West River. The thought bit down like a fox.

Settled into the medical pod, she accepted treatment in silence, her gaze cold as a winter brook.

Days later, she woke again. The cramped pod had become a wide room, and a white ceiling spread above her like new snow. Hospital, obviously.

The thick antiseptic smell rolled in like winter wind. She braced herself against the wall and sat up, her arms reeds in a current.

She looked around. No game-style décor, just a single patient room, modest as a plain bowl. A fruit basket rested by the bed like a small harvest.

She found a note, letters crooked as crab legs. “Since you’re awake, eat some fruit and build your strength.”

Probably the ones who carried her in. The thought drifted like a leaf.

She read it through, then tossed it back into the basket, the paper fluttering like a moth. She pinched her cheek.

Hiss—pain, a needle of ice. Real.

Rubbing her face, she found disposable slippers and tried to walk. Her body balked like a colt, each step jelly over gravel.

She fell several times, thudding like dropped laundry. At last, clinging to the wall, she took a few stubborn steps, a vine climbing stone.

Too weak. Three years in a nutrient pod would hollow even iron, like rust eating a blade.

In the bathroom, she faced the mirror with a still heart, a pond without ripples. The face was familiar and wrong, a mask she knew.

Not hers. Nan Jin’s. The body too, borrowed like a winter coat.

Is this really a low-tier plane? The doubt drifted like fog across a ridge.

Standing there, she wondered if the System had dropped her in the wrong world, a compass gone astray.

Otherwise why this heavy mist in her mind? The confusion fluttered like a startled sparrow.

From Nan Jin’s last words, it sounded like everything started because of her, and the original owner got trapped in the game, a moth in glass. If so, what was Nan Jin to Aotuo Games?

Zhao Qian said both she and Nan Jin were their test subjects, labels on jars. And those two strange daggers hung like moons in her thoughts.

More and more odd knots, a skein too tangled for her small head to spin. The headache pulsed like a drum.

Ugh. Tearing apart the main couple’s ship in some blockbuster game would be way more fun, a cat batting red string.

System: “...”

Host, are you here to wreck ships or do missions? The flat tone fell like a stone.

Wreck ships, obviously. Missions are side quests at best, confetti on the road.

Nana Toki pouted, a sour plum on lips. If you weren’t such a conscience-free junk System, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

“...” The air held its breath like a held bowstring.

A faint click came from the door, a leaf turning on a twig. Nana Toki started toward it to see who had come.

Her hand slipped. She pitched forward, a kite with a cut string.

“Careful!” Han Feng lunged on reflex, a shadow crossing firelight.

!!!

Her face rushed toward the floor, tile looming like a stone pond. Then, impossibly, she planted both hands and flipped, a clean arc of swan and moon.

Crack!

She landed steady, and a sharp click came from her waist, a dry branch snapping in snow.

“...” Han Feng hugged empty air, arms full of nothing, the silence awkward as a stalled fan. He drew a breath and looked up at the girl a few steps away.

A bug in the game, fine. A bug in reality too? The thought flashed like lightning.

“You okay?” He smoothed his hands, his face settling like still water. He cleared his throat and walked over. “How’s the body feel?”

“Sti—still okay!” She bared a twisted smile, one hand on the wall, one on her waist, pain zinging like a harp string.

“...” Doesn’t look okay at all, more like reeds in a storm.

“You could’ve let me catch you. Why the backflip?” His mouth twitched, a line of ink. He helped her back to the bed with careful hands, a farmer setting fragile sprouts.

“Mm? Why didn’t you eat the fruit?” His eyes flicked to the basket, colors bright as little lanterns.

“The handwriting’s ugly. Killed my appetite.” She sat, baring teeth at her aching waist, a wolf with a thorn.

Han Feng: “...” Ugly letters, fatal blow. Sure.

“When can I be discharged?” Five minutes later, apple in hand, she munched, the crisp sound like snow under boots.

In the bathroom she’d decided: she needed to visit Nan Jin’s home and hunt for clues, a hound on a trail.

The side quest—escaping the Hundred-Ghost Reincarnation—finished when she left the game, the door shutting like dusk. But the main quest still hung there like a pale moon.

We were supposed to reveal the truth, right? She scowled. Damn it, I even collapsed the company. How does that not count?

“Long way to go. Don’t you care about Aotuo Games?” Han Feng narrowed his eyes, a blade sheathed. “Also, you’re using your friend’s body. Doesn’t that gross you out?”

When he found her body at Aotuo, he’d stared, snow caught on lashes. Only one body in the lab, or he’d think he grabbed the wrong one.

“What’s gross about it? If it got me out, I’d use a guy’s body too.” Her tone was flat as a stone.

“Besides, Nan Jin offered. I didn’t force her.” Because he was peeling fruit, she tossed him the explanation, a coin into a cup.

“Now that I wrecked Aotuo, what about that game?” A flicker of worry stirred like wind through bamboo. Nan Jin was still inside.

“No need to worry. Yan Group bought Aotuo Games this week. In a few days, your game will merge with another full-dive title.” His words fell steady as rain. “It’ll keep running. New staff, same river.”

Han Feng flipped a pear in his palm, a little moon tossing on waves. “That legend really is a legend. To stay with his girl, he just bought the whole game. When do I meet a rich sugar mama?”

Nana Toki: “...” Get used to it. Male leads in online romances are never poor, a rule carved in jade.

“Oh, right. Can you get a game pod delivered here? I’m not asking free. I’ll pay.” Her eyes lit like lanterns. If she couldn’t leave, she’d play.

Han Feng: “...” Yep, certified gaming addict, a fish back to water.

“You just got out and already want back in? And where’d you get money?” He remembered: her and Nan Jin’s parents vanished three years ago, and she had no support, no roots, a drifting boat.

“Hey, did you forget this little demon used to boost players through the Divine Demon Tower?” Pride curled like incense.

Dozens of runs a day. Cash out the gold, and I’m a small-time tycoon, a purse fat as a gourd.

Worst case, I still have the three hundred thousand gold I tragically blew on skins, a peacock of pixels.

So yeah. I’m not short on cash. Ego +1. Her grin flashed like a knife.

“...” “Alright. I’ll have a few buddies bring one over.” He peeled a pear, pale petals curling like shavings of moon, then rose to leave. “We’ve arrested everyone who took part in that human experiment. When you’re discharged, you can take a look.”

“Why would I?” Her brows arched like a bow. “To show them how well I’m living? Pass. Let them sit in a cell like stones in a well.”

She waved the thought away, a leaf on a stream.

“...”