Xia Xinyan had lost count of how many times she’d silently questioned whether this thing was some defective product shipped from who-knows-where.

But complaints were complaints—she kept working. “So the mission’s designated person is still Ling Mo?”

【Correct.】

“…Alright,” she murmured after slicing the meat and wiping the blood from her knife. She glanced up at Ling Mo approaching with an armful of dry firewood. “Last question—do you have a name?”

In-game menus were also summoned by mentally calling “system.” Without a distinct identifier, confusion between *this* system and the game’s own was inevitable. If it had no name, she’d just give it one.

Unexpectedly, the system answered—

【This system’s codename is ‘Tianji.’ The host may address it as such.】

“Tianji?”

【Correction: Tianji.】

“Okay, Tianji.”

【It is recommended that the host review elementary school Chinese.】

Xia Xinyan ignored it.

Ling Mo was already here.

“Ah… you brought *so* much? We don’t need this much for roasting.” She hurriedly stood to help him, looking every bit like a devoted wife greeting her husband home.

Ling Mo instantly felt the trip was worth it. “No worries! Extra wood’s for tonight’s fire…”

He grinned with endearing clumsiness.

Xia Xinyan gave his shoulders two quick squeezes and guided him to sit by the cave entrance. “Rest up. Roasting’s my job.”

“I’m not tired—let me help,” Ling Mo said, rising.

She gently but firmly pushed him back down. “Just sit. Taste my skills—I’ve roasted meat before.”

(She worried he’d burn it.)

Wild roasting with zero seasoning was already tough. Meat quality and fire control mattered deeply. Overcook it even slightly… nearly impossible to swallow.

Not *completely* inedible—but who wouldn’t want better?

To Ling Mo, her gesture screamed thoughtfulness. His smile brightened several notches. “O-okay… I’ll… wait.”

*A young lady like her roasting meat for me…*

*Like a dream…*

Dusk had nearly fallen. In the dim forest, their campfire glowed conspicuously—any passerby would spot it.

And tonight, luck wasn’t on their side.

“Don’t move! Hands up!” A hostile voice cut from the dark bushes ahead.

Two figures emerged into the firelight.

Xia Xinyan recognized them—players she’d seen before.

Both held pistols. One slung a bulging backpack.

“Well, well—doing alright, huh?” The shouting man’s eyes locked on the roasting meat. “Food? How generous. Scram if you value your lives. This spot’s ours now.”

Before Xia Xinyan reacted, Ling Mo stepped firmly in front of her. “We’re all players. Is this necessary?”

“Why not? This ain’t co-op, bro.” The man smirked. “We’re starving. Feed us, *maybe* we’ll think about it.”

The other spotted Ling Mo’s waist pistol. “You’ve got guns too? Perfect. Leave ’em. Leave *now*.”

Both muzzles aimed squarely at Ling Mo—no negotiation intended.

Ling Mo raised his hands, stepping back with quiet frustration. “Seriously… bros. Don’t you know player-vs-player harm triggers penalties?”

The man scoffed, “I’m not buying your—”

*BANG—!!*

Two shots cracked through the woods. The men dropped to their knees, howling. Their curses shattered mid-sentence.

Ling Mo froze.

Before he processed it, both vanished in flashes of light—guns and gear left behind.

He turned. Xia Xinyan crouched behind the fire, smoke curling from her large-caliber revolver’s barrel, stance still locked.

“Admirable courage,” she said, holstering the gun, dusting off her clothes with a smile. “I believe you’d shield me now. Well done, hero.”

(His move was foolish… but it drew attention. Without it, her counter might’ve been slower.

Not that she *needed* help—but she wouldn’t refuse an easier path.)

Ling Mo blinked. “Uh… you said harming players has penalties?”

“True,” Xia Xinyan nodded, tending the meat again. “But penalties depend on context. All in the rules—shame so many skip reading them.”

(She used to be one of them.

Old habit: jump in first, learn rules while playing. Only check manuals for confusing mechanics. Simple games? A few rounds sufficed.

This game? Different.

Rules were intricate, strict where needed. Master them, though, and loopholes became tools.

Friendly fire penalties split by intent: proactive aggression (unprovoked attacks = severe punishment—reward deductions, red-name status for kills) versus passive defense (robbery, threats, perceived danger = limited retaliation allowed).

Red-name meant no protection. Others could attack for rewards. Kill again? Triple-session penalty. Zero rewards.

Even defensive retaliation carried mild penalties—acceptable ones.

Accidental harm? Judged case by case.

Complex? Yes. Exploitable? Absolutely.)

Like now—a free two-person care package.

(She’d aimed for legs. Painful, not fatal.

They logged out.

Yes—players *could* exit mid-dungeon. At 70% pain feedback, a shattered leg felt awful. Better to quit than suffer.

Win-win: Xia Xinyan and Ling Mo gained supplies. The others escaped to reality’s comforts.

Not bad at all.)