She really did need a moment to rest.

After the late stages of *Realm of Divine Descent* began, the entire world sank into an oppressive gloom. She’d once had many friends, yet not a single one could make her lower her guard and pour out her heart.

Sometimes, she truly envied those couples. Maybe they weren’t as strong as her, nor had they survived until dawn—but in their final moments, they could hold each other while facing death. Wasn’t that another kind of eternal salvation?

Walking the path alone to the very end was exhausting.

Even after reincarnation, amid overwhelming changes, she hadn’t paused a second before redrawing her life’s blueprint. This constant mental tension demanded release.

Slipping off her shoes, she sat on a smooth riverside stone and dipped her legs into the water. The icy chill coaxed a soft sigh from her lips.

It had been so long since she felt this carefree.

Ling Mo stood behind her, utterly at a loss.

“What are you staring at?” Xia Xinyan glanced back with a light laugh. “Come try it. It’s really nice.”

Ling Mo hesitated. “Shouldn’t we hurry to find supplies?”

“Hah… no rush,” Xia Xinyan murmured, gently swaying her legs as the current flowed between them. “Low-difficulty dungeons rarely set up guaranteed-death traps. Plus, we still have an hour. In games, you chase goals—but you should also enjoy the journey itself.”

Ling Mo thought a moment, then sat beside her, leaving a careful gap.

“Why so far?” Xia Xinyan pulled him flush against her side, leaned her head on his shoulder. Ling Mo stiffened for a heartbeat.

“Never felt this before, right?” she asked.

Of course not. Back then, he’d never even held a girl’s hand.

Idiot.

Unaware of her inner monologue, Ling Mo just gave a shy, muffled reply.

“Well… from now on, you can feel it often,” Xia Xinyan said softly, taking his hand. “I’ll become someone you can rely on—your girlfriend.”

Was she really trying to date her past self?

Of course not.

She’d never even seen herself as a girl.

She acted this feminine now simply because she’d shed pointless stubbornness.

After dying once, many things became clear.

This life’s goal was simple: survive the Great Cataclysm, and mend past regrets.

Whose regrets? Obviously, this idiot beside her.

She wasn’t sacrificing herself for him—just training him to be less clueless, so he wouldn’t end up alone. Per the system, achieving its goals would let her revert to Ling Mo, carrying three memories: her past life, this life from Xia Xinyan’s view, and Ling Mo’s.

So this “training” from Ling Mo’s perspective might shape her future self.

—at least, that’s what the system claimed.

If the system dared lie…

Well, she had no way to retaliate anyway.

[The host’s thoughts are dangerous. The system advises against doubting it. The system never lies.]

Really?

[It only has bugs.]

“…”

She suddenly didn’t want to dwell on distant futures.

After dozing against him a while, she opened her eyes. “Mm… rested enough. Let’s go.”

“J-just this short break?” Ling Mo stammered. “Not a little longer?”

He’d been thrilled by the game earlier—but the warmth of a girl leaning on him… he secretly wished to linger.

“No need,” Xia Xinyan said, knowing his thoughts but not calling him out. “Now… a favor.”

“What?”

“Help me…” She lifted her wet legs from the stream and plopped them onto his lap. “Dry my feet~!”

Free cloth? Might as well use it.

Ling Mo flinched, flustered. Staring at the damp, fair calves resting on his stomach, he froze—hands hovering, unsure where to land.

He’d never initiated intimacy with a girl. Every prior contact was Xia Xinyan’s doing. Now… was she really asking him to dry her feet?

*Was it… okay?*

“Unwilling?” Xia Xinyan wiggled her toes.

Ugh, so hesitant.

A leg lover offered a perk and he’s too scared? How timid.

Ling Mo *was* into legs—and more. He’d once thought he preferred flat chests, then discovered he liked curves. Stockings intrigued him. Feet too. Eventually, he accepted he was just a hopeless pervert.

But Xia Xinyan… her presence hit every one of his kinks perfectly. So when she teased him openly, he froze—afraid to move.

Too-perfect things feel unreal.

Like this morning’s dream.

He feared this was a dream too. At least let him stay in it a little longer.

Xia Xinyan sighed inwardly.

She knew her past self had desire but no courage—but *this* timid?

This guy… training him won’t be easy.

She casually dried her legs on his shirt, slipped her shoes on, and stood. “Let’s go. Securing supplies early brings peace of mind.”

First-wave supplies were usually close to spawn points—easy to grab, meant to arm players against early threats.

Inside a small black case lay five handguns of varying models, including a Desert Eagle, each with two matching magazines. Beneath them: a dagger, flint, basic survival gear.

Limited ammo, but Ling Mo’s eyes lit up. He snatched the Desert Eagle, cradling it like a long-lost love. “Whoa… real gun? The weight, the grip… perfect. I’m in love with this game.”

Cars, guns, sports—the classic trio. Ling Mo was no exception. A lifelong military enthusiast, he knew firearms inside out… just never touched a real one.

Now he moved with practiced ease: rack the slide, load a round, release the slide lock, disengage safety—all fluid, seamless.

Just as he turned to show off—

Xia Xinyan already held a 1911 in firing stance. *Pop. Pop. Pop.* Three shots. Three unknown fruits on a distant branch, cleanly hit. More precise than him.

He stood stunned.

She clicked the safety on, holstered the gun, tilted her head with a slight smile. “Dad took me shooting abroad in high school. Been a while. A bit rusty.”

“…Oh.”