2333. An era of happiness—greater than any before.

Legend said that three centuries ago, a global greenhouse effect triggered violent shifts in the Earth’s crust. Humanity plunged into war, energy vanished, and civilization teetered on the edge of extinction. Scientists warned: without controlled nuclear fusion, society would collapse. Centralized rule began. Through grueling years, humanity pushed forward.

Six scientists, one after another, claimed, “Just fifty more years!” Only one told the truth. The first five spun gentle lies—to keep workers steadfast, to preserve civilization’s last ember.

Leaving the arena avenue, a shimmer of light danced over Ou Tao’s shoulder. A palm-sized loli with pink twin tails and a face as delicate as polished rice floated beside him. Perched atop her head: a wobbly yellow slime-creature, utterly cute.

Controlled nuclear fusion brought near-limitless energy. Electrons flooded the air like free rain, wirelessly charging every device. They rearranged and shifted hues on their own, casting holograms anywhere.

Many now walked with their “2D waifu” as shimmering companions. Personal terminals—customized as anime spouses—acted as intimate butlers, replacing phones and computers.

“Sir! Over six hundred unread messages. Review them?” The pink twin-tailed JK loli hovered before Ou Tao, smiling sweetly.

“Bika, didn’t I say? Delete fan mail.”

“Waaah~ Sir! Bika’s glitching! It’s *definitely* not Bika’s fault!” Bika pouted, eyes glistening. “All six hundred are official!”

“What?”

“News of your retirement spread. Thirty clubs offered contracts—the highest: seventy million, plus fame. But none have a boss like Sister Lianxue: kind *and* a celebrity beauty! You shouldn’t have left last night!”

“I’ve chosen an ordinary life. After all we’ve been through… it’s enough.” Ou Tao plucked a dozen steamed buns from a roadside thermal box and ate while walking.

With infinite power, mass-produced food cost nothing. Anyone hungry could just take.

Still, such fare hardly suited a world champion. He didn’t care.

“Reject them all. No one disturbs my peace.”

A floating screen replayed endlessly: *Yang City’s Sword God—twelve slashes in one second, chaining strikes to victory.* High school girls shrieked:

“Sword God, I love you!”

“So… so cool!”

Ou Tao pulled his hood low, slipped past them unseen.

Inside a warm, sunlit room, he swapped shoes and glanced around.

On the sofa sat a petite girl. Cheeks flushed slightly. Biting her right thumbnail. Twisting the hem of her pink nightgown with her left hand.

A hologram flickered before her—flashes of swordlight.

Her white-stockinged legs, cat-soft and slender, were tucked beneath her bottom. Tiny feet peeked from socks dotted with pink paw-pad patterns. A bead of sweat traced her soft cheek. Her brows knitted tight—as if fighting alongside the screen.

“Just a replay. So tense?”

“Onii-chan! You’re back!” She shut the video. “Of course! When I saw *dat* scary person chasing you… I was *sooo* scared! Heart went thump-thump-thump—almost jumped out!”

“Repeat after me: *That* woman.”

“Dat woman!”

“That woman.”

“That woman!”

“Jumped out!”

“Popped out!”

…

The geological chaos from the greenhouse effect lasted until fusion was achieved. Islands vanished.

Ou Tao’s father once said: northeast of Yang City once lay an island nation. It sank. Refugees fled in, slowly blending in.

Back then, the city was Sheep City—named for the single river flowing through it. The greenhouse effect split it into four. Boats now glided between streets. Someone joked: “One river? Sheep City. Four rivers? Add water—Yang City!” And somehow… everyone agreed.

His stepmother was one of those refugees. After his parents divorced, his father remarried—and brought home this sweet, non-blood-related little sister from the sunken islands.

She still stumbled over Huaxia Chinese—tongue tripping on retroflex sounds, mispronouncing words with endearing charm.

“Doo-gwan success! Total victory! Xiao Kui watched Onii-chan’s match! So cool! Yang City’s Sword God—twelve slashes! Yahaa~ Hehe!”

Xiao Kui snatched a toy wooden sword, swinging wildly to mimic in-game moves. Her tiny legs lifted like brushstrokes—then *thump*—she tumbled.

Ou Tao’s chest tightened. He pulled her up gently. “Hurt?”

“Nuh-uh! Onii-chan underestimates Xiao Kui! I’m super strong! Made dinner—your favorite *rou* buns!” She planted hands on hips, chest puffed proudly.

“Thanks. I ate nothing outside.”

He moved toward the kitchen. Xiao Kui blocked him, arms wide. “Nope! Hero sits! Leave it to Xiao Kui!” She lunged, nudging him firmly into the chair.

Pink slippers pattered. She tied a frilly apron, stuck her tongue out, hopped onto a stool, lifted the steamer lid, and carried over a stack. “Factory buns have no soul! These are Xiao Kui’s!”

She placed them before him. “Onii-chan worked hard. Eat Xiao Kui’s buns. Relax.”

“Ah… that woman *was* tough.” He eyed the plump, dewy buns. Gave one a gentle squeeze—soft yet firm. Bit in. “Mmm… my favorite milk custard. So sweet.”

“Hehehe!” Xiao Kui propped her chin, head tilted, beaming.

Warm bun. Frilly apron. Her gentle smile. All fatigue melted away.

“Eat with me.” He nodded. She hopped up, cheeks puffing like a hamster as she munched. Adorable.

“Onii-chan! Let Xiao Kui see! The trophy!”

He pulled out the golden cup—*Blade of Supreme Might* gleaming.

“Waaah~ Sooo pretty!” She leaned close. “If Xiao Kui becomes a pro too… I can help Onii-chan *on the field*!”

“What role?”

“Healer! When I see Onii-chan hurt… my heart aches *sooo* much. I’ll make all the ouchies fly away!”

“Hehe. Step one: rest that brilliant mind. Bedtime.” He gently pinched her plump cheeks.

“Waaah~ Onii-chan! Xiao Kui’s not a baby! Let go!”

He watched her curl under the blanket like a kitten, breathing soft and slow.

“If only this were real…” He closed the door, swiped the air. A menu glowed:

Settings

Personnel Management

Permission Management

Item Management

Exit

He tapped *Exit*.

Ou Tao awoke. Helmet set aside.

No cozy room. No smiling sister.

Only a cold care ward. Antiseptic air stung his nose.

Zhongshan Advanced Neuroscience Research Center. Critical Care Ward.

He stood, slung the trophy-filled backpack over his shoulder.

“Bika. Where’s my takeout?”

“Sir… someone waits outside. You must meet them.”