Ou Tao’s retirement as the Blade of Supreme Might lasted exactly three hours. Right after dinner, someone knocked on his door.

He’d braced himself for headhunters waving astronomical offers.

The door opened. A woman stood there in a crisp uniform—short skirt, black stockings hugging fair slender legs, black heels clicking softly. “Hello, Mr. Ou Tao. I’m Wei Da Ge, chief planner of Hamiyou!”

Ou Tao flinched. *Stunning beauty… why’s she speaking with a man’s voice?* Then it clicked. “Oh. You—the game company’s cross-dressing director. The Crystal Thief. What do you want?”

“I want to hire you! A seventy-million annual salary clearly wasn’t enough—you even blocked me!”

“Sorry. As you see, I only want peace now. Time with my sister.”

“That’s a beautiful lie. Liars don’t fool themselves.”

Wei Da Ge stepped inside. Ou Tao expected bribes, better facilities, influencer temptations—anything to lure him back to pro gaming. Instead, she offered nothing, radiating quiet certainty.

They entered the ICU. Through the glass window lay a delicate girl: breathing mask on, IV drip running, eyes closed, frail and pale.

This was Xiangfeng Kui’s true body.

Eight years ago, their parents died in a train derailment. Xiangfeng Kui survived—but her brainstem was damaged. Bedridden. Silent. Unmoving. Unconscious.

Yet her cerebral cortex remained intact, capable of neural input and output.

She could wear a full-dive VR helmet like anyone else.

Ou Tao rented a private server just for Xiao Kui.

He wove her a gentle dream: in that virtual world, their parents left on a trip when they were eight. Rarely home. Her body strong. Never a burden to Oniichan.

Every day, she’d cook, wait for him, watch his matches online, cheer him on.

“What a touching lie!” Wei Da Ge murmured. “Xiangfeng Kui is lucky to have you. But virtual is virtual—no tech, however perfect, becomes reality. You’re feeding yourself illusions.”

“If you came to mock me, you succeeded. Please leave.”

“I can cure your sister. Make her walk again. Restore that warm daily life. But I need your help… Blade of Supreme Might.”

Ou Tao let out a bitter smile, sinking into his chair. “If a cure existed, I wouldn’t have spent eight years here. Dozens of neurologists agreed: nothing in this world can heal her.”

“They’re right. *This* world has none. But another world does.”

She placed a small box in his hand. “Give this to your sister. Change your mind? Find me at Element Square, No. 451, 133rd floor.”

*She’s lost it,* Ou Tao thought. *Crystal sales pressure broke her. Just add collabs, tweak drop rates, release skins—done! Now she’s babbling about other worlds?*

Yet he opened the box. Inside: a shard of glowing blue gem.

“Bika, scan it. Plastic? Fluorescent?”

“Sir!” Bika’s avatar turned grave. In milliseconds, she cross-referenced global databases—public and classified. “Composition undetectable. No radioactive decay. This… is unscientific.”

Ou Tao knew Bika’s power. His mother’s terminal could breach sealed research vaults. For her to say “unscientific”…

His smirk vanished. He paced for half an hour. Then placed the shard beside Xiao Kui’s pillow, donned his helmet, and logged in.

Morning light filtered through the virtual window. Ou Tao opened his eyes.

A tiny face hovered above him—big eyes wide, frilly pink apron tied tight, slender legs in white thigh-highs straddling his waist. Curled on his chest like a sleepy kitten.

“Oniichan, wake up! Or the sun’ll kiss your butt!” Xiao Kui pouted, arms crossed, turning away.

“You’re always so punctual, Xiao Kui.”

“Of course!” She hopped down, whisking flour and eggs in a bowl. Breeze lifted her black hair. Focused. Tender. *If she were taller… fuller…* he thought. *Perfect wife material.*

“Mama said in our homeland long ago, seven-year-olds woke their husbands! Oniichan only plays games—you’d never find a girlfriend. So Xiao Kui does it!”

“Then I’ll find a sister-in-law soon.”

*Crack!* The whisk snapped clean in half, plunging into the batter.

“Bika—was that whisk’s data wrong?”

“Sir, parameters were standard steel. Her neural spike just hit an eight-year peak!”

“Oniichan… are you thinking of dating early? Before legal age? Okaasan would be *very* angry!”

Xiao Kui turned. Brow shadowed. Eyes sharp as a lion’s. Goosebumps prickled Ou Tao’s skin—the gentle kitten now a predator.

“If… if Oniichan really wants another woman…” She ducked her head, cheeks flushed. “I’ll share the bed. Both of us… isn’t impossible?”

“It’s ‘wake someone up,’ Xiao Kui. Your Chinese needs work.” He rubbed his temples, dressing quickly.

“Train today. Be good, Xiao Kui.” He laced his shoes.

She rushed over, offering a pink bento with both hands. “Oniichan, *don’t* eat takeout! Those foods are *so* unhealthy. Xiao Kui made honey cake—*with her own hands!*”

Disposable smart lunchboxes cost pennies, kept food fresh twelve hours. Yet most ordered takeout. Too busy. Too noisy.

But Xiao Kui? Eight years. Breakfast. Dinner. Seeing him off. Waiting up. Never skipping a lunch.

“Oniichan, *ganbatte*! Show the world the Blade of Supreme Might’s glory! Crush every enemy!” Apron fluttering, tiptoeing in white thigh-highs, one hand megaphone-shaped, the other waving wildly as she cheered him off.

Ou Tao stepped outside, leaned against the wall. *I’ll eat takeout again.* Everything here was illusion. Self-deception. The cake—sweet, warm, perfect—was just data. *Her* data.

“How much longer must I lie to you?” A tear traced his cheek. He gently tapped the bento. Sent it to Recycle Bin.

Before him: a mountain of bentos. Not trash. A monument. 2,300+ boxes—cakes, Mizu Manju, grilled meat, steak, rice, congee—stacked like fresh offerings. Today’s addition: honey cake.

“Sir… this only hurts you,” Bika’s loli voice whispered.

“You wouldn’t understand human feelings, Bika.”

*Ding dong!* “Sir! Your attending physician requests immediate disconnect. He says… a miracle has happened!”