For major holidays like Chinese New Year, any multiplayer online game would roll out special events—and *EndlessHorizon* was no exception.

Unlike other festivals where developers pulled wild stunts, the Lunar New Year period usually featured straightforward welfare events. The second year’s *Nian Beast Defense*, the fourth year’s *New Year Frontline*, and the sixth year’s *Where’s the Nian Beast?* were all wildly fun activities.

But even these reliable annual events had their moments. Take the third year’s *New Year’s Eve Dinner Mobilization*—it ranked among the top three most chaotic events in *EndlessHorizon*’s entire history.

At 8 a.m. on New Year’s Eve, players received a system announcement: *Maintenance begins at 10 a.m. and ends at 2 p.m. Estimated downtime: four hours.*

Most games updated holiday events days in advance. Who patched servers on Lunar New Year’s Eve? Didn’t programmers deserve rest?

Oh right—Primordial Ancestor oversaw maintenance. Never mind.

Players grumbled but waited obediently. *EndlessHorizon*’s maintenance was always punctual to the second… until today.

When players tried booting up *EndlessHorizon*, the game crashed—just like antique 21st-century PCs. After a few flickers, the game pod disconnected them.

Confused players attempted to log back in. Same result: flicker, disconnect.

“…What’s going on?” Mysterious, ever an early-login player, muttered at his ceiling.

“Master, what’s wrong?” Isabella’s hologram appeared outside his pod, bending down with a puzzled frown.

Others would assume a login failure. Not Mysterious. He instantly realized—they were still *in-game*.

This wasn’t a crash. The room around him mirrored his real-life apartment exactly.

“Heh, can’t fool you, Master.” Isabella shrugged, grinning. “It’s this year’s event. Turn around… and don’t spoil it.”

“…Got it.” Mysterious dropped the matter.

The forums exploded. Every player who’d logged in found themselves “unable to access the game,” flooding threads with bug reports—only to realize everyone shared the same glitch.

Official support replied swiftly but vaguely: *Minor issue detected. Engineers investigating.*

Unbeknownst to players, the forums were still in-game. The system mimicked reality so perfectly no one noticed. (Posts made here stayed hidden from offline players.)

Suspicious but helpless, players accepted the explanation. Who’d suspect the system itself was trolling them?

With the game “down,” players exited their pods.

Mysterious opened his pod door—and nearly collided with Vitamin standing outside his room.

*Of course* it was the real Vitamin. Two logged-in players bumping into each other in the same location? Perfectly normal.

Per Isabella, only cohabiting players who both logged in could meet here.

“Guild Leader’s outside too? So… he can’t log in either?” Vitamin hadn’t realized they were still in-game. She’d skipped the forums to find Mysterious directly.

“…” Mysterious stayed silent. If Isabella hadn’t told her, he wouldn’t either.

“By the way—I didn’t see Sister Guxiyu on my way here. Did she go out?” Vitamin added casually.

“She’s not here?” Mysterious instantly understood.

Unlike him and Vitamin—the lazy, game-addicted duo—Guxiyu had spent all day preparing the real New Year’s Eve dinner. She preferred tending to real life over gaming. Vitamin jokingly called her “Mom.”

If Vitamin hadn’t seen her… non-players probably couldn’t appear here.

“Hmm… maybe she went shopping?” Vitamin guessed innocently. “Should we look for her?”

“Let’s go.” Mysterious nodded. Knowing this was still a game, exploration might trigger something.

He didn’t expect the trigger to hit *immediately*.

The moment they opened the door, a man and woman stood outside—about to enter. Even Mysterious jolted in surprise. Vitamin froze completely.

The pair were unmistakable: a man in white fox-patterned robes, a fox mask on his head, a violet sword at his waist; a woman in Taoist robes, snow-white hair cascading down her back, twin swords—one blue, one white—strapped to her back. Nameless One and Vitamin Fifteen.

“Heading out?” Vitamin Fifteen waved, her voice nearly identical to Vitamin’s.

“Huh…?” Vitamin gaped. *Is the fourth wall broken?*

“We’re prepping the New Year’s Eve dinner. Lend a hand?” Vitamin Fifteen snapped her fingers. Vegetables materialized from her bag like magic. “Mind washing and chopping these?”

“Uh… sure.” Vitamin nodded slowly. *Cooking dinner… in-game?*

“You go buy supplies,” Nameless One ordered Mysterious.

A flash of white light erupted beside him. Nanming, the fiery little phoenix, popped out. “I want sunflower seeds! Bring some back!”

“Milk candy! The sticky rabbit-shaped kind!” Jasmine bounced out next.

“And those… you know, the things that make blessing patterns in the sky with light and fire spirits?” Qiyuan gestured vaguely.

“You mean fireworks?” Vitamin Fifteen sighed. “Zero combat utility. Only *you* lot would invent something so frivolous. We don’t have those back home.”

“Heaven doesn’t either,” All Beings added dryly.

“Record: Fireworks. Analysis: Dual Light-Fire magic. Provides blessing effects.”

“…No. They’re just pretty.” All Beings facepalmed.

“Received. Record: Fireworks data deleted.”

“Drinks! Can’t have dinner without drinks,” Gladys chimed in.

“I want wine!” Ningyue perked up at the word.

“Also—”

One by one, Followers appeared, shouting ingredient requests. Ten voices bombarding Vitamin and Mysterious would’ve overwhelmed anyone.

“I’ll go with you!” A tiny fox darted from the crowd—Jasmine, sneaking off.

The others finally caught on.

“I’m coming too! I brought money!” Victoria declared. (The Followers’ combined funds totaled one gold coin—Qiyuan’s lucky charm. Economic crisis.)

“Stay and help,” Nameless One commanded. This was a quest. No tag-alongs.

“…Okay.” Ten voices dripped with disappointment.

“Let these two join me.” Mysterious pointed to Jasmine and Victoria.

Nameless One glanced at him. “Fine.”

“…” Only being dismissed with *“Fine”* revealed how brutally efficient that phrase was.

Mysterious left with a shopping list thicker than a novel, trailed by two girls. Vitamin faced her own nightmare: mountains of unchopped vegetables. Even after Mysterious returned from shopping, she was still elbow-deep in greens.

Two exhausting hours later—with Mysterious’ help—Vitamin finished prepping. Cooking was handled by All Beings and Amery’s team.

Vitamin collapsed onto the sofa, utterly spent. She’d rather grind high-level monsters than do this again.

And this was *in-game*—no real stamina drain. *Was New Year’s Eve dinner always this terrifying?*

At exactly 4 p.m., a system prompt flashed:

**[Quest Complete: New Year’s Eve Dinner Mobilization]**

*After such frantic preparation, a feast awaits. Time is short—lend more hands? Or stay and savor the meal you helped create?*

A portal shimmered beside them, revealing a space identical to Mysterious’ apartment.

Per Isabella, this quest only ran from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. Afterward, the game would boot normally.

The event’s true purpose? A nudge to gaming addicts: *Stop glued to your pods. Spend the holiday with family.* Who else would rush to log in after “maintenance,” then refuse to quit after discovering the trick?

(For those unable to reunite with loved ones, the in-game feast offered warmth.)

Mysterious and Vitamin logged out together.

“…”

“Sister Guxiyu—!” Vitamin sprinted to the kitchen. Guxiyu was still cooking.

“What is it?” Guxiyu glanced back, pointing to a plate. “Hungry? Snack on these first.”

“No! I’m here to help!” Vitamin shook her head.

“?” Guxiyu blinked in confusion—*since when did Vitamin volunteer?*—then spotted Mysterious approaching. She decided not to question it.

Happy New Year.