August’s peak summer heat bathed the world in perfect sunlight. Only when the sun warmed his backside did Chunan finally stir awake. He yawned, stretching as he dragged himself out of bed.
Glancing at his phone, he saw it was nearly noon.
Still drowsy.
After all, he’d stayed up absurdly late last night—or rather, this morning. Probably from streaming too long.
Yes, Chunan was a full-time streamer now, gaming his days away. Eighteen months on the job had netted him a six-figure follower count. His monthly income kept him comfortably afloat.
Not a top-tier streamer, sure—but this world’s internet scene was still in its infancy compared to his past life. Plenty of room to grow.
*Past life?*
Because Chunan had reincarnated.
Or rather, been reborn.
From an overworked corporate drone on Earth, he’d woken up as a three-year-old in an orphanage on this alternate Earth. A second chance at life.
Yet this world lagged behind his memories. Industries operated differently—like live streaming, barely past its starting line.
Early on, he’d fantasized about becoming a "culture thief," recycling his past life’s hits. But time eroded those memories. Fragments remained, never enough to rebuild whole works. He’d abandoned that dream.
Then the internet here boomed. Familiar careers emerged—like streaming. He seized the opportunity, becoming an early pioneer.
*Getting paid to play games?* No way he’d pass that up.
People claimed turning hobbies into jobs killed passion. Chunan disagreed. His only change? A thoroughly wrecked sleep schedule.
No matter. His streams ran at night anyway.
Mornings were his. After washing up, he headed for the kitchen—well, lunch kitchen now.
His phone buzzed violently in his pocket before he reached it.
A priority notification. Contact: **Xiaohan**.
The message read:
**DAD!!!!!!!! HELP MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!**
Xiaohan was his only friend from the orphanage. Their run-down home had closed right after taking them in. Thrown into society together, they’d become brothers without blood.
Lately, they’d drifted. Rumor said Xiaohan blew two months’ salary on guitar lessons, chasing some "artsy" dream to impress girls. Knowing his flaky nature, Chunan doubted it’d last.
Not his business. Staring at the desperate text, Chunan paused three seconds before replying:
**Kidnapped?**
**No! But please, Dad—help me!!**
**With what?**
**Just say you’ll help first?**
Chunan arched a brow.
*Ambush tactics?*
He typed without hesitation:
**No.**
**DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!**
The sheer panic bled through the text.
Chunan sighed. **Fine. No loans. Anything else.**
His streaming income covered his mortgage, barely. Lending money? Impossible.
But Xiaohan wasn’t asking for cash:
**You said yes! Thanks, Dad!**
Chunan smirked.
He kinda liked being "Dad."
Xiaohan only used that tone when begging for cash. Since it wasn’t money… this was serious trouble.
**So what do you need?**
He waited. Three minutes crawled by. Just as Chunan set his phone down to cook—
**You’ll see soon.**
*Ping.*
Simultaneously, a voice echoed in his skull:
**[Ideal Life System: Test Version. Second-generation host selected. Binding complete per host consent.]**
**[Scanning current life phase… Generating ultimate objective.]**
**[Objective: Become a renowned top-streamer.]**
**[Loading mission system…]**
**[First-generation host penalty concluded. Deploying exclusive assistant.]**
Chunan: “….”
*Unbelievable.*
After one reincarnation, he wouldn’t flinch at cosmic weirdness. But this system? Ridiculously sudden.
And "*per host consent*"? When had he agreed?
*Xiaohan?*
The thought sparked just as noise erupted from his bedroom. Instinctively, he walked in—
—and froze.
Blinding holy light flooded his bed.
Beneath it, a human form materialized.
The radiance faded. A long-haired girl in a thin white tee and underwear tumbled from midair, *thudding* onto his mattress.
**[Exclusive assistant deployed. She will aid your life objective.]**
Chunan: “….”
*Does this system come with a wife?*
The girl blinked dazedly, then slowly sat up. Her eyes met his at the doorway.
Chunan’s breath hitched.
She was stunning.
Like a ten-level beauty filter maxed out, then PS’d to perfection—forgive his unpoetic mind.
Poetically? *"A goddess fallen to earth, rare as phoenix feathers in mortal dust."*
And that figure…
Especially the generous curves straining against her flimsy shirt.
—If only she hadn’t then flashed *his* signature smirk, voice dripping with familiar mockery as she purred:
"*Old virgin.*"
Ah. That nickname. Xiaohan’s masterpiece.
