Why did it end up like this?

My first system. My first shot at the college life I dreamed of. These two joys merged perfectly. They should have brought endless happiness. I should have had dreamlike, blissful days.

But why... did it turn out like this now...

Cheng Yu felt dazed. His once-clear memories blurred suddenly. He couldn’t recall his choices or actions across 100 cycles. Only one thing stayed sharp.

The cleaver.

Killed by an opponent’s cleaver after a fight.

Killed by a fugitive’s cleaver during a class trip.

Tripped while running, crashed into a roadside cleaver, and died...

No matter his choices, he always reached a cleaver ending.

“...Wait. Could it be... like this...”

Cheng Yu sat up slowly, face still ashen.

“This system was never a reward system. It’s a risk system for cleaver deaths.

“The bigger the reward, the worse I get cleavered. Only the smallest-reward option might avoid it.

“It’s still a Galgame. But... a Cleaver Galgame.

“I have only 100 chances to clear it. Only the system can help me dodge wrong choices and win.

“But I... wasted all 99 chances... Aaah! Why didn’t I see this sooner!”

Cheng Yu lowered his head, ruffled his hair, and let out a frustrated “Aaah!” He sank into deep regret.

What now? Only one chance left.

Dozens of chances wasted.

No idea how many options or problems remained... With one life left, could he survive?

...No.

This wasn’t about surviving well.

...He must survive.

No matter the troubles ahead, he’d stay ultra-cautious. Always pick the lowest-risk option. Dodge every cleaver ending.

100 rebirths seemed wasted. But now, Cheng Yu could say confidently:

No one understood cleaver deaths better than him.

Cheng Yu clenched his fist, staring at the red “1” in the mirror. He resolved:

“Just wait... I will survive!”

Two months slipped by unnoticed.

Cheng Yu felt rock-solid these past months.

He skipped unnecessary social events. Avoided risky spots. Never got greedy with options. Always chose the smallest reward. With this mindset, he sailed through safely.

Even today, he’d avoid this golden ginkgo-leaf avenue for class photos—if it weren’t mandatory.

Unlike other schools, Capital Forest University had a famously skewed gender ratio. Except for the freakish Computer Science department, most majors were 30% male, 70% female. In Cheng Yu’s Law program, boys were pitifully few.

So for group events, Cheng Yu, as one of the rare males, had to join as free labor.

He glanced around. His female classmates huddled together, chatting and laughing about something.

“Photos are done. Should be fine now... Maybe head back to the dorm,” Cheng Yu muttered.

He wasn’t antisocial. He just valued his life too much.

No one wanted to leave campus with girls, eating hotpot and singing songs, only to get cleavered out of nowhere.

Sighing tearlessly, he checked his phone. A WeChat message popped up.

Lin Jie: [Here?]

Lin Jie: [Feeling sick. Grab fever and cold meds from campus clinic for me?]

Oh... his roommate.

Cheng Yu: [Call me dad.]

Lin Jie: [...Dad.]

Cheng Yu: [Good boy.]

Cheng Yu: [But I’m not going. Clinic’s too far.]

Lin Jie: [?????]

Cheng Yu: [What? I made you call me dad. Never promised help.]

Ignoring Lin Jie’s flood of curses, Cheng Yu stretched. He’d visit the clinic before returning to his dorm.

His six-person dorm mixed four Law and two Psychology students due to the boy shortage. Lin Jie, a Psychology major, rarely joined their activities.

Still, roommates needed good relations. Cheng Yu didn’t want a cleaver appearing beside his bed while he slept.

Walking slowly toward the clinic, Cheng Yu pondered the system.

After 100 rebirths, he only knew it helped dodge cleaver risks. Everything else was foggy.

Why did it exist? What did attribute points do? When would this cleaver-threatened life end? He had no answers.

With dozens of chances left—even just a few—he could experiment. But time was up.

Damn it. Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? Only two months in... What now?

Lost in thought, the short walk stretched endlessly. He took triple the usual time to reach the clinic.

At the entrance, a clumsy figure crashed into him as he turned. Startled, Cheng Yu stumbled. The girl yelped “Waah!” followed by a clatter of falling items.

He snapped back. Medicine packages littered the ground—mostly for bruises and sprains.

He looked up. A cute girl rubbed her nose, eyes shimmering.

Spotting his gaze, she dropped her hand and acted casual.

She seemed familiar.

Hadn’t he just seen her on the ginkgo avenue?

“...Suzhan Yue?”

He remembered. Those rowdy Computer Science guys had chanted “Suzhan Yue! Princess Yueyue!” nonstop. Impossible to forget.

Hearing her name, she stiffened and blurted, “Here!”

Then she gasped, slumped, and rubbed her lower back.

Cheng Yu smiled faintly. Kindly, he asked, “Hurt during photos?”

“You... saw?” Suzhan Yue tensed.

Cheng Yu shrugged. “Relax. I won’t tell. Bad injury?”

“Mmm... it still aches...”

“Why climb so high for a photo? That fall must’ve hurt.”

“Well... classmates insisted I stand on their shoulders. I didn’t want to disappoint them...”

...You call that enthusiasm? Cheng Yu bit back the thought.

Still, this Suzhan Yue seemed kind. She endured those idiots, hid her pain to spare their worry, and came alone for medicine.

Though they barely knew each other, Cheng Yu liked her.

“Um... classmate... ugh, I can’t bend. Help me pick up the meds?” Suzhan Yue asked shyly.

Cheng Yu smiled, about to agree—

[Faced with Suzhan Yue’s request, your response is:]

[Option A: Enthusiastically pick up the medicine and escort her to her dorm. Reward: 5% shares in Suxia Energy Company]

[Option B: Pick up the medicine and leave. Reward: National Scholarship quota for Law major]

[Option C: Call Computer Science boys for help. Reward: Superpower “C Language Mastery”]

[Option D: Refuse and say “My legs are stiff; I can’t bend down either.” Reward: 1 random attribute point]