Chapter 40: Meet-Up Time [Volume: Fighting Gu]

A person can’t have just one wish.
Lin Kuo was very clear about what his wishes were: either destroy the Lord God system or leave the Walled City with the people he cared about.
After that came… meeting up.

For some reason, when Lin Kuo thought of the words “meeting up,” his throat felt itchy.
He stared at the panel floating in mid-air, momentarily unsure whether to be happy or sarcastic.

In the Materialized Stories instance, the things materialized by the “Mirage” were always the most powerful, yet the rewards given to them were always the fulfillment of their simplest wishes.

Yan Jie’s scream pulled Lin Kuo back to reality.
The floating panel displayed the countdown to the live stream ending.
Then, after a familiar wave of dizziness, Lin Kuo returned to Lower City B—to his residence.

Jiang Sheng had also been transported back by the instance, but Lin Zhi had not.

After leaving the instance, the burns on Lin Kuo’s body and his depression vanished.
But because the final days in the instance had been so exhausting, Lin Kuo now felt a deep, bone-aching soreness. Even lifting his arm felt incredibly difficult.

Just then, his phone rang.

Lin Kuo managed to pull it out.
He had thought it would be a message from Sheng Wen, but unexpectedly, it was from Guan Miao.
Lin Kuo felt a twinge of disappointment.

[Guan Miao]: We’re taking the newcomers through the portal. I’ll bring Lin Zhi to you afterward.
[Guan Miao]: Don’t worry.

Lin Kuo moved his fingers to reply:

[Lin Kuo]: …Thank you. Sorry to trouble you.
[Guan Miao]: You’re welcome. I have to take Jiang Sheng to Lower City A in a bit anyway, so it’s on the way.
[Lin Kuo]: Mm.

After replying, Lin Kuo opened his chat with Sheng Wen.
The last message was still from during the instance.
Because of the time loop, he hadn’t received this one.

Sheng Wen’s message was: [My boyfriend is so amazing.]
It had been sent the night Lin Kuo first told the “Möbius Strip” story.
After that, Lin Kuo had entered the time loop.

The time loop had essentially been an exploit of the instance’s system, so the Lord God system naturally wouldn’t allow the bullet comments to offer any more hints to him.
It had automatically recycled previously sent bullet comments, and all new messages and Weixun posts had been blocked.

Lin Kuo suddenly thought of something and touched his left pocket.

It was empty.

The portrait he’d drawn in the instance couldn’t be brought back into reality.
But Lin Kuo didn’t feel regretful.

He could draw a much better one now.

And since the Lord God system had allowed Sheng Wen to select instances in Lower City B, they could now enter the same instances together…

If they could go through instances together, they could also meet.

In that case, there was no need to draw a self-portrait anymore.
He could draw Sheng Wen instead.
And he could even teach Sheng Wen how to draw.

At this thought, much of Lin Kuo’s physical exhaustion faded.

He sent a message to Sheng Wen:

[Lin Kuo]: I’m out of the instance.

Five minutes passed.

Sheng Wen, who usually replied in seconds, hadn’t responded.

Lin Kuo didn’t notice anything unusual at first.
He thought for a moment and sent another message:

[Lin Kuo]: A-Wen, are you busy?

Still no reply.

This time, Lin Kuo started to feel uneasy.

“Sheng Wen is my room manager. He must’ve been paying attention to everything happening in the stream… didn’t he also see my wish being materialized? Could it be that Sheng Wen doesn’t want to see me?”

The more Lin Kuo thought about it, the more disappointed he felt.

Of course, he wasn’t going to blame or resent Sheng Wen.
He was just afraid he had been too forward.

They had only confirmed their online relationship a few days ago.
Was meeting up now too fast?
Could Sheng Wen be uncomfortable with it?

Lin Kuo lowered his eyes, feeling incredibly guilty.

He felt like a scumbag with “desire” written all over his face, who had scared off his delicate little wife.

Sheng Wen was indeed scared.

You could kill him, but he never would’ve imagined that the Lord God system would actually materialize this tiny little wish of Lin Kuo’s.

He immediately messaged Guan Miao.

[Sheng Wen]: ???
[Guan Miao]: ???
[Sheng Wen]: Was this on purpose?
[Guan Miao]: What?
[Sheng Wen]: Don’t play dumb.
[Guan Miao]: …I really don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can guess.
[Guan Miao]: But honestly, what does the Lord God system’s reward have to do with me?
[Guan Miao]: Wait, weren’t you the one calling him “little streamer” every two seconds? Bragging to me just two days ago that you had a boyfriend? What, now it’s a problem that you two get to meet?

[Sheng Wen]: Bro, let me put it this way. The moment we meet, I won’t have a boyfriend anymore.

[Guan Miao]: …
[Guan Miao]: Even if the Lord God system unlocked all the Lower City B instances for you, it’s still up to you whether you go or not. If you’re scared, just don’t show up.
[Sheng Wen]: This is exactly why you’re still single.
[Guan Miao]: ?
[Sheng Wen]: Not talking anymore. I need some peace and quiet.

Sheng Wen’s mood was very, very, very complicated.

On one hand, he was happy to finally meet the little streamer.

On the other hand—just as he’d told Guan Miao—he was terrified that the boyfriend he had just managed to get would be gone the moment they met.

Sheng Wen couldn’t handle that.

He had never been this conflicted in his life.

If you asked him whether he wanted to meet Lin Kuo—of course he did.
The opportunity was right there.
And it wasn’t just handed to him; it was something Lin Kuo had earned, with blood and sweat.

Sheng Wen was ten thousand times unwilling to let that effort go to waste.

But if you asked him whether he dared to go through with it—he didn’t.
It had only been a few days since they made their relationship official.
He hadn’t even had time to enjoy it properly yet.

And Lin Kuo hated being lied to.

This whole situation—Sheng Wen hesitating, retreating, hesitating again—could so easily be misunderstood. Lin Kuo might think he was just playing with people’s feelings.

That would be…

He sighed heavily.

After thinking about it for a long time, Sheng Wen finally decided to test the waters a bit.

[Sweet as the Wind]: Gege, you should get some good rest. You’ve been through three instances in a row. You must be exhausted.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Also… can I ask gege a question?
[Sweet as the Wind]: If my appearance doesn’t meet gege’s expectations, will you be mad?

[Lin Kuo]: I didn’t consider your feelings.
[Lin Kuo]: I’m sorry.

Sheng Wen’s eyes widened. Oh, holy shit.

His heart melted on the spot.

He quickly began typing to comfort him:

[Sweet as the Wind]: Don’t overthink it.
[Sweet as the Wind]: I really want to meet my boyfriend.
[Sweet as the Wind]: I’m just… nervous, okay?

On the other side, it seemed like Lin Kuo sensed his anxiety.

Sheng Wen received a “pat on the head” sticker.

His already-soft heart turned into a puddle.

He quickly followed up:

[Sweet as the Wind]: When gege has rested and recovered, then…
[Sweet as the Wind]: Let’s meet, meet, meet.
[Sweet as the Wind]: (^▽^)

Lin Kuo’s furrowed brows finally relaxed.
So Sheng Wen wasn’t trying to avoid him—he was just worried about him.
His boyfriend was so sweet.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, there was a knock at the door. It was Guan Miao, with Lin Zhi in tow.

Jiang Sheng ran to open the door and greeted him obediently.
“Hello, Guan Miao-gege.”

Guan Miao smiled.
“Hello, Shengsheng.”

Lin Zhi peeked out from behind Guan Miao, curiously surveying the room.

Lin Kuo put away his phone, stood up, and thanked Guan Miao.
Afterward, he glanced at Lin Zhi, who also echoed the thanks.

Guan Miao replied, “You’re welcome.”
Then he turned to Jiang Sheng.
“Come on, Shengsheng. I’ll take you to Lower City A.”

Jiang Sheng froze for a second.
He hadn’t expected to be separated from Lin Kuo so soon.

He turned and looked at the Lin siblings with reluctance.

Lin Zhi, who had already heard from Guan Miao that Jiang Sheng’s mother was in Lower City A, comforted him.
“Go on. Your mom must miss you a lot.”

Jiang Sheng’s eyes turned a little red.
“I know.”

He then walked toward Guan Miao.

Guan Miao gave Lin Kuo a brief congratulations for clearing the instance, then prepared to leave with Jiang Sheng.

Every few steps, Jiang Sheng kept looking back.
Just before they exited, he turned one last time to look at Lin Kuo and Lin Zhi.
“Lin Kuo-ge, Zhizhi-jiejie, I’ll watch your live streams.”

“Mm-hm.” Lin Zhi nodded.

Only then did Jiang Sheng leave with Guan Miao.

After he left, Lin Zhi flopped down on the bed.
She still hadn’t fully accepted the fact that she was now in a different world.

Lin Kuo didn’t try to force-feed her any information—he let her take her time.

Meanwhile, Lin Kuo wanted to find some drawing paper.
He had decided, after all, to give Sheng Wen his portrait.

The room was at most 30 square meters, and one glance was enough to see it was empty.

Only then did Lin Kuo remember that all supplies in the Walled City had to be exchanged for points.

It just so happened to be lunchtime, so Lin Kuo and Lin Zhi headed out.

This was the first time Lin Kuo had explored the district since entering the Walled City, aside from trips to the portal.

Lower City B resembled a bleak, remote town stuck in the past.
The people wandering about were mostly listless.
With no law and order in the Walled City, residents had to force themselves to stay alert even in their dazed state.

They followed the district signs to reach the exchange point.

The buildings in the district were labeled with straightforward numbers.
Lin Kuo’s own residence was Lower City B, Building 23, Unit 7-708.

As they walked, they realized there were at least fifty buildings in Lower City B.
The points exchange station was located in Building 1 at the front of the area.

Jiang Sheng had previously told Lin Kuo that the food exchange was in Building 1, Unit 3-301.

So the two headed straight there without detouring.

Much like their own building, this one looked like it was from the 1980s or ’90s.

The first floor was closed off.
Starting from the second floor, there was a water exchange point, a food exchange point, and a daily necessities exchange, each on their respective floors.

Lin Kuo and Lin Zhi arrived on the third floor.

A long line had formed outside the food exchange.

Most people came in groups of three to five—an effort to deter anyone loitering nearby from robbing them.

By the time it was their turn, Lin Zhi was already surveying the place. She leaned in and whispered to Lin Kuo,
“Ge, is this really a cafeteria? It doesn’t feel like one.”

Seeing they hadn’t placed their order yet, the staffer behind the counter said flatly,
“Call it whatever you want. If you’re not exchanging anything, move along. Can’t you see how many people are waiting behind you?”

Lin Zhi snapped back, “Hey… I didn’t even say anything to provoke you.”

Lin Kuo didn’t stop her.

Among all the people working for the system, the only one he had a somewhat decent impression of was Guan Miao. The rest… were hard to describe.

“Next,” the worker barked.

But no one stepped up.

Everyone hesitated, worried that Lin Kuo and Lin Zhi might be food-snatchers.

Lin Zhi restrained her temper.
“You should at least give us a menu.”

The person scoffed.
“You really think this is a restaurant? Menu? There isn’t one.”

Lin Zhi held back again.
“Then how do I know what you even have?”

“Just say what you want. We’ve got all kinds of delicacies—as long as you have the points to pay for them. But… do you even have any points?”

Lin Zhi raised her chin.
“Sorry, but yes, I do.”

She placed the order confidently.
“Two servings of century egg and lean pork congee—make sure the pork is tenderloin. One order of garlic broccoli, one steamed sea bass, and two cartons of high-protein milk.”

Lin Kuo frowned slightly.
“That’s a lot of food…”

Lin Zhi cut him off.
“Guan Miao said you went through three instances in a row. You need nourishment. Don’t worry, I’ve got tons of points.”

Lin Zhi really was a little rich girl.

The points she’d earned from the instance were just spare change compared to what she made from her live stream.
She’d earned over 5,000 points and, even after splitting them with Guan Miao, still had a sizable balance.

The staff member sneered and had her stand in front of the window’s scanner.
With a beep, 1,000 points were deducted.

Lin Zhi didn’t feel the sting of losing the points—but she did feel like she was being treated like a rich fool.

“Go wait on the side,” the staffer said coldly.

Soon after, their food—five full packaging bags—was ready.

Lin Kuo frowned.
“Do we have to take it to go?”

The worker replied,
“Nope. But if you want to eat here, it’s 200 points per person.”

Lin Zhi felt even more like she was being swindled.

This time, Lin Kuo held her back and paid the 400 points himself.

The staffer gestured toward the room next door.
“303. The door’s already open.”

They went to Room 303.

Lin Zhi sat down, visibly indignant.

Lin Kuo tore open the packaging, took out disposable chopsticks, broke them apart, and laid them beside her bowl.
“Eat.”

Though still annoyed, Lin Zhi obediently sat down.
“Ge, why spend that money? That guy’s clearly scamming us.”

Lin Kuo didn’t answer. He just pointed out the window.

Puzzled, Lin Zhi got up and peeked through it.

Down below, several people were watching Room 303.
They seemed to be murmuring to one another, occasionally pointing toward their room.

Lin Zhi’s face paled.
“Oh no… we flaunted our wealth.”

Lin Kuo placed a piece of fish in her bowl.
“It’s not about that. They’d rob you even if you were just holding instant noodles.”

Lin Zhi sat back down.
“Why? Don’t they have points?”

Lin Kuo paused, thinking.
“Because survival is more important than morals. They have to save up. Just like Yan Jie took No. 7 with him—if they have enough points, they can pay someone to help them through an instance.”

Lin Zhi looked shocked, like she’d just learned some grim unspoken rule.
“There’s really such a thing? But Guan Miao told me you can’t cross districts. How do they help?”

“Live streams,” Lin Kuo replied simply.

Lin Zhi was stunned. It took her a moment to connect the dots.
“Oh my god… Ge, have you been robbed before? How do you know all this?”

“…”
“I was in an instance. Jiang Sheng got robbed.”

Lin Zhi immediately flew into righteous indignation.
“Shameless! Who would rob someone as cute as Jiang Sheng?!”

She pointed out the window.
“It must’ve been one of them. I really don’t get what kind of people would even do business with them.”

Lin Kuo went silent.

Lin Zhi blinked.
“Wait… your face says you know someone who does this sort of business.”

“…Not exactly know,” Lin Kuo replied.

“Tell me. Spill.”

Lin Kuo sighed.
“S started out that way. But he doesn’t do business with lower districts anymore. These people were probably scammed too.”

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to feel sympathy.

Lin Zhi furrowed her brow.
That name ‘S’ sounded familiar…

After a moment of thought, her eyes widened.
“Oh, I remember now! Ge, the ‘S’ you’re talking about—isn’t he the one people call God S? He came into my live stream once and even wanted to be my room manager!”

The spoonful of congee Lin Kuo was about to eat paused mid-air.
He looked up at Lin Zhi. “That instance… was he your room manager?”

Lin Zhi shook her head. “His special effects looked so cool, I originally wanted to choose him. But the system said he was already a room manager in another stream, so I couldn’t pick him. I figured, this guy must be messing with me.”

Lin Kuo pursed his lips.
Sheng Wen knew “S,” and Sheng Wen’s name also started with an “S.”

A ridiculous guess leapt out of nowhere, disturbing the calm waters of his heart.

In that first instance—right after he’d muted “S”—“Sweet as the Wind” had added him.

“S” called him gege.
Sweet as the Wind also called him gege.

“S” was a bad singer.
And Sweet as the Wind was also… not great.

Because of Jiang Sheng’s incident, Lin Kuo had once asked Sweet as the Wind about “S’s” past behavior.

Although Sweet as the Wind had spoken from an outsider’s perspective, saying things like “a deal’s a deal,” looking back now, it felt more like he was defending “S.”

If Sheng Wen was “S,” then it made sense why he spent points so casually—he had plenty to begin with.

A quiet sense of loss spread through Lin Kuo.

He didn’t want to think any further.

He was afraid that Sheng Wen really was “S,” and that everything—the teasing, the affection—had just been a joke.
A petty form of payback for Lin Kuo’s earlier disdain.

Lin Zhi noticed Lin Kuo’s sudden silence and asked gently, “What’s wrong?”

Lin Kuo shook his head. “Nothing.”

He lowered his eyes and continued eating.

His chopsticks fumbled at the food, but he couldn’t pick anything up.

Of course Lin Zhi noticed.
She felt like she must’ve said something wrong, and quickly tried to fix it.
“Ge… what kind of person is saozi?”

“…”

Lin Kuo really didn’t know what to say.

If it was Sheng Wen, Lin Kuo felt he had to be the best person.

But if it was Sheng Wen and he was “S”… then maybe this whole time, Lin Kuo’s feelings were just being toyed with.

It was entirely possible that the moment he agreed to the relationship, “S” had laughed and said, Look, this dumb streamer actually fell for it.

Lin Kuo felt an ache in his chest.

He put down his chopsticks and pulled out his phone.

Just then, a message from Sheng Wen came in:

[Sweet as the Wind]: Boyfriend, have you been eating obediently?

Lin Kuo’s anxiety eased a little.

He took a photo and sent it back.

[Lin Kuo]: Yes.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Only two dishes?
[Sweet as the Wind]: Is that enough to eat?
[Sweet as the Wind]: Be good, go order two more. Your boyfriend will pay.

Lin Kuo hesitated, then replied:

[Lin Kuo]: It’s enough.
[Lin Kuo]: A-Wen…

[Sweet as the Wind]: I’m here. What are gege’s instructions?

[Lin Kuo]: …You won’t lie to me, right?

The next message took a full two minutes to arrive.

[Sweet as the Wind]: Is gege still worried about meeting up?
[Sweet as the Wind]: Of course I won’t lie to gege. I really want to see you.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Don’t believe me?
[Sweet as the Wind]: Then I’ll prove it. When gege is ready, pick an instance—we’ll meet in one.

That wasn’t quite what Lin Kuo meant. His real concern was difficult to put into words.

Still, since Sheng Wen had said that, he felt he had to explain quickly.

Meeting up in an instance wasn’t the same as meeting in a park in the real world.
Instances were dangerous.
A single mistake could get someone killed.

Lin Kuo didn’t want Sheng Wen to be in any danger.

Just as he was typing out an explanation, more messages came flying in:

[Sweet as the Wind]: Don’t feel pressured, gege.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Lower-district instances are child’s play for me.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Let’s treat it like a vacation. I’m really looking forward to seeing you. Mwah.

Lin Kuo exhaled deeply.

It really seemed he’d overthought everything.

If Sheng Wen really was “S,” would he offer to meet like this?

The thought of seeing Sheng Wen made Lin Kuo’s gloom disappear.

He opened the Walled City’s live stream interface and browsed the available instances.

As the number of completed instances grew, more options were unlocked.

On the selection page, there were now ten different instances to choose from.

Lin Kuo scanned through them.

They were all two-star difficulty.

He hesitated.

The three instances he’d been through so far were all two-star… and none had been easy.

Materialized Stories, the most recent one, had been a life-and-death struggle.

Even though Sheng Wen gave off an aura of competence, Lin Kuo didn’t want to be a burden.

With that thought, his gaze settled on one option—[Shake (?)]

He tapped on the question mark.
A prompt appeared: “Not satisfied with current instances? Spend 100 points to input your preferences, and the system will randomly generate a compatible instance.”

Lin Kuo thought for a moment, then decided to go for it.

He filled out the fields one by one:

[Star Level Requirement]: 1 star
[Type Requirement]: None
[Duration Requirement]: Around 7 days
[Player Count Requirement]: 2 or more
[Reward Requirement]: None

After submitting, his screen displayed: [Searching for related instances…]

About ten seconds later, a new instance appeared.

[Gu Battle]
Game Player Count: Flowing system
Star Level & Type: One-star, Cultivation-type
Game Rules: Arena victory
Reward: 200 points for the victor
Instance Validity: 1 day (If not selected within 24 hours, this instance will expire)

“…”

The Lord God system really was like a shady merchant.

Still too naive.

But the instance did seem tempting.

He didn’t understand the “cultivation-type” label, but the one-star rating was enough to attract him.

Temptation was better acted on than ignored.

Now came the hard part—how to bring it up to Sheng Wen?

If he picked this instance, they could meet by tomorrow.

That felt fast.

Would Sheng Wen think he was too eager?

Generally speaking, when someone rushed to meet, it could imply they had “motives”—ulterior ones.

Lin Kuo really just wanted to see him.
He hadn’t thought about anything more than that…

As Lin Kuo struggled to find the right words to not seem like a creep, Sheng Wen’s phone chimed.

The system had notified him that a new instance had been added.

On his instance selection screen, dozens of options were already stacked up.

The first row held five-star instances.
The second row listed the Lower City B instances bound to Lin Kuo.

And now, a new one appeared:

[Gu Battle (Rolled by your bound user via “Shake,” valid for 24H)]

Sheng Wen couldn’t help but laugh.

So the little streamer really was eager to see him.

But he hadn’t received an invitation message from the little streamer, so Sheng Wen figured the little guy was just being shy.

He had completely convinced himself of that.

Anyway, whether he looked up or bowed his head, the knife was already at his neck.
Sooner or later, he’d have to meet Lin Kuo.
Might as well clear up any misunderstandings early.

With that thought, Sheng Wen sent a message to Lin Kuo:

[Sweet as the Wind]: OK, a cultivation-type instance isn’t bad.

[Lin Kuo]: !!!

[Sweet as the Wind]: Let’s go with that one. When does gege want to enter the instance?

[Lin Kuo]: You can decide…

[Sweet as the Wind]: Alright then. Gege, take a nap after lunch. Let’s meet at 6 PM. That gives me time to get ready too.

[Lin Kuo]: Okay.

Sheng Wen tossed his phone aside and went to rummage through his closet.

He pulled out an exquisite little box. Inside was a black metal ring.

It wasn’t worth much, but it held deep meaning for Sheng Wen. He’d brought it with him from the real world when he was dragged into the Walled City.

He wanted to give the ring to Lin Kuo as a meeting gift—and as an apology for hiding his identity.

After putting the ring away, Sheng Wen started looking forward to 6 PM.

But the more he looked forward to it, the more time seemed to crawl.

He couldn’t help sending another message:

[Sweet as the Wind]: Has gege returned to the residence?

[Lin Kuo]: I’m about to sleep!

[Sweet as the Wind]: I’m not checking up on you, I’m…

[Sweet as the Wind]: Just excited. Gege understands, right?

[Lin Kuo]: Actually, me too.
[Lin Kuo]: A-Wen, what color are your clothes?

Sheng Wen guessed Lin Kuo wanted to recognize him by his clothing.

He thought for a moment and replied:

[Sweet as the Wind]: Black.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Is that too plain? Should I change into a pink floral one so I stand out?

[Lin Kuo]: Haha.
[Lin Kuo]: Black is fine. I’ll recognize you.

[Sweet as the Wind]: Gege is so confident.
[Lin Kuo]: I should be able to feel which one is you.
[Sweet as the Wind]: What if you guess wrong? It’d be super awkward if you grabbed the wrong guy.
[Lin Kuo]: emmm
[Lin Kuo]: Then how about a secret code?

[Sweet as the Wind]: Okay, ducky.
[Sweet as the Wind]: What code does gege want?

[Lin Kuo]: I’m… not good at this…

[Sweet as the Wind]: Then I’ll pick one! Your code: “Yangtze River, Yangtze River, this is the Yellow River.”
Mine: “Sweet potato, sweet potato, this is the potato.”

[Lin Kuo]: Okay.

[Sweet as the Wind]: ??? You actually believed that? I was joking!

[Lin Kuo]: I believe everything you say.

Sheng Wen suddenly froze.
He scratched his hair in nervousness.

[Sweet as the Wind]: No need for a secret code. I’ll come straight to you.

[Lin Kuo]: Mm!

[Sweet as the Wind]: Still 4 hours to go.
[Lin Kuo]: 3 hours and 59 minutes.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Could be the next second too.
[Sweet as the Wind]: Gege, I’ve confirmed the instance. How about you?

[Lin Kuo]: ! Wait for me.

Sheng Wen looked at his screen.
After that message, Lin Kuo didn’t reply again.
He had probably already entered the instance.

Sheng Wen put his phone down and waited patiently to be pulled in.

But after ten minutes, he was still in his residence.

His already thin patience wore thin.

He checked his phone again—and finally saw a system prompt from ten minutes earlier:

[System Notification]:
Streamer S is severely mismatched with this instance’s difficulty. To balance entertainment value, the following restrictions will be applied:

1. 80% restriction on thinking ability 
2. 95% block on physical ability 
3. 75% reduction in mental power 
4. These may be adjusted dynamically based on instance conditions 

Additionally:
– As a top-level district resident, streamer S cannot have a public live stream.
– Streamer S must be pixelated in others’ live streams.
– No rewards will be given for instances below five stars.
– Death or injury can still occur.
– Revealing S’s identity will result in total point deduction.
– Extra conditions may be added based on performance.

Agree / Decline
(Declining will end the binding with streamer Lin Kuo.)

“…”

He didn’t care about the nerfs.

But the identity restriction concerned him.

Did it only apply to himself, or to anyone who revealed his identity?

Plenty of people in the lower districts had seen his videos—including Lin Kuo.

And he was planning to meet Lin Kuo as “S.”

If Lin Kuo accidentally let it slip in a live stream, would he be penalized too?

It involved Lin Kuo, so Sheng Wen didn’t dare take any chances.

He shelved the prompt and immediately messaged Guan Miao to ask.

Guan Miao was busy and only replied after half an hour.

He wasn’t sure either and had to consult the Lord God system.

This back-and-forth dragged on for another thirty minutes.

Sheng Wen’s mood darkened.

Eventually, Guan Miao got back to him:

[Guan Miao]: Doesn’t matter who says it. As long as your identity is revealed in a live stream, they will lose points.

[Sheng Wen]: What the f— (Detected prohibited vocabulary. Message censored)
[Sheng Wen]: Got it.
[Guan Miao]: Meeting up, huh? Good luck.
[Sheng Wen]: Hehe (Contacted higher-ups. Message blocked)
[Sheng Wen]: Thanks.

Meanwhile, Lin Kuo—already inside the instance—was unaware of the delay.

He calmly changed his live stream title. This time, influenced by his mood, he chose something a little more normal:

‘.’’s Live Stream’

After the change, a system prompt popped up:

[Personal live stream established]
[Bullet comments and rewards enabled]
[Instance <Gu Battle> loading…]

The loading completed.
Lin Kuo appeared in the narrow corridor between the city walls.

He’d prepared well—after lunch, he and Lin Zhi had gone out again to buy more food so she wouldn’t be at risk while he was away.

He’d considered bringing her with him, but her [Shake] couldn’t roll the Gu Battle instance.

So she gave up with regret and told Lin Kuo she’d stay home and wait.

Reassured, Lin Kuo stepped out into the instance.

Ahead were green mountains—low, gentle peaks, easily visible.

At the foot of the slope were countless tiered platforms embedded in the hillside, supported by tall wooden stilts.
From afar, they looked like overlapping fish scales.①

Thanks to an architecture elective in college, Lin Kuo recognized them immediately: Miao-style stilt houses.

And in the center of the stockade stood a towering Miao drum tower with multi-layered pagoda spires.

The instance was called Gu Battle—it made sense.

If not for the Walled City, he never would’ve gotten to see the Miao region in person.

He treated it like sightseeing and quietly waited for his little online boyfriend, Sheng Wen.

Something about Sheng Wen gave him “kid” energy.
Especially the way he joked about floral dresses—adorable.

But he waited… and waited.

Still no one.

Worried that Sheng Wen might miss him, he didn’t dare wander too far and stayed at the spawn point.

Now and then, locals passed by.

From their dress, they were clearly NPCs.

They glanced at Lin Kuo curiously—some even looked back as they walked away.

It made him feel like there was something dirty on his face.

But he had taken a full thirty-minute shower before coming in.
He brushed it off and kept waiting.

The sun began to set.

Still no Sheng Wen.

Lin Kuo didn’t think he’d been stood up.

He was more afraid Sheng Wen had arrived earlier—and gotten into trouble.

He messaged Sheng Wen. No reply.

His worry grew.

Finally, he left a mark in the yellow earth nearby, then walked alone toward the stockade.

The system had said: player count = “flowing system.”
From the wording, he guessed it meant players could enter and leave at any time.

So there was no telling how many people were in this instance.

When he reached the stockade, he saw a wooden sign at the entrance: Zhuo Zhai.

A hunched old woman in colorful Miao clothes sat in front.

She leaned on a cane, her cloudy eyes staring straight ahead.

When their eyes met, she asked:
“Young man, are you looking for a person… or a Gu?”

Right off the bat, she mentioned the instance’s name.

But Lin Kuo wasn’t here for clues.

“Grandma,” he said, “have you seen a…”

He paused. He didn’t know what Sheng Wen looked like.
“…a man.”

Another pause.

“…a man who feels like a little kid.”

Most people would think he was crazy.

But the old woman merely looked away and said, “I’ve seen many men. Whether the one you seek was among them… I don’t know.”

“…”

Still, he thanked her. “I’ll wait for him here.”

The old woman replied, “Go into the stockade. Maybe he’s inside.”

Lin Kuo insisted, “It’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

His thinking was simple:
If Sheng Wen arrived late, he’d come to the stockade entrance.
If he arrived early, he’d come out looking for him.

Better than both running around aimlessly.

But the old woman grew upset.

She thumped her cane hard on the ground.

“To find a person, go into the stockade. To find a Gu, go into the stockade. You just stand here—how will you find anything?”

Lin Kuo’s alertness spiked.

She seemed too eager to get him inside.

Just like someone with ulterior motives trying to lure you in.

He stepped back warily. “What if I don’t go?”

The old woman stood up, trembling, and pointed her cane at him. She muttered a long string of words in Miao—unintelligible, but clearly hostile.

Sensing danger, Lin Kuo turned and ran.

As he ran, the sunset bled over the mountains, the compass-round sun slowly dipping.

Before he reached the spawn point, a hand suddenly reached from the forest and yanked him in.

Lin Kuo prepared to fight back—until a voice whispered in his ear:

“Shh. It’s me.”

That voice—familiar.

“Sheng Wen?” Lin Kuo whispered.

“Mm.” Sheng Wen covered his eyes. “I’m under a curse.”

Lin Kuo froze. “What?”

Sheng Wen: “If my true identity is exposed, I’ll die.”

Before Lin Kuo could make sense of that, Sheng Wen lowered his hand from his eyes.

And Lin Kuo saw—

Oh no.
It was S.

“…”

Sheng Wen smiled. “Lin Kuo? Gege? Little streamer?”

Getting no response, he laughed and said:
“Yangtze River, Yangtze River, this is the Yellow River. Sweet potato, sweet potato, this is the potato.”

“You…”

Sheng Wen pulled out a ring, took Lin Kuo’s hand, and slid it onto his index finger.

“A meeting gift, my boyfriend.”

“You…”

Sheng Wen put a finger to his lips.
“Shh. Don’t say that word, or I’ll die. Gege wouldn’t want that… right?”