Chapter 4: I, Ling Qiong, Send the Money! (Part 4)

The person involved was currently hiding somewhere in the hotel, trying to avoid those chasing her. Ling Qiong confirmed that no one was following her, breathed heavily, and fanned herself with her hand.

After a moment, she took out the two checks, and a radiant smile instantly bloomed on her face.

The male lead truly was valuable.

Twenty million!

It would be a waste not to take money from an NPC; this was exactly the sort of benevolent gift-giver who handed out equipment in the early stages of a game.

While mentally awarding the male lead a "good person card," Ling Qiong fiddled with the checks, flicking one with her finger. Her clear, bright eyes spun around mischievously… Why not treat herself to a little pleasure?

Just as Ling Qiong was considering how to enjoy herself, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye.

There it was: bold, gold-embellished letters shining atop someone’s head.

Nothing unusual about such text—it was commonplace on any website. But when it hovered above a person’s head—it became decidedly odd.

Ling Qiong: "…" On second thought, more than just odd.

This game didn’t usually display NPC titles, did it?

Had she accidentally activated some strange mode?

[Since you did not choose the male lead, we have selected a suitable target for you from this world.]

Ling Qiong: "????"

Wait, wait! Wasn't she supposed to choose for herself?

How had they already picked someone?

[We never said you’d be choosing for yourself.]

Ling Qiong: "…"

She wanted to dig up evidence and shove it in the system’s face, but on reflection, she realized it had never actually been stated that she’d be the one to choose.

She had been careless! A grave error.

[Do you confirm this character as your target?] The sweet, sparkling voice sounded inexplicably delighted.

Ling Qiong: "…" What could she say at this point?

[Character confirmed.]

[Second mode, ‘Nurturing Mode’, initializing…]

Wait! What in the world was Nurturing Mode? Wasn’t this supposed to be a romance conquest?

[I never said otherwise~]

Ling Qiong forced a strained smile. "So, what exactly is Nurturing Mode?"

[It’s actually similar to a romance conquest. You’ve played virtual lover simulators, right? Nurturing Mode is just like raising a virtual lover—tremendous fun! But ours is the real-life version—double the happiness. Nurture for a moment, joy for a moment; nurture forever, joy forever. Darling, your choice is absolutely perfect!]

[We’ll explain in detail soon. Please wait a moment.]

[Card pool initialization…]

[Inventory initialization…]

A virtual screen popped up before Ling Qiong, spreading out in midair.

Only she could see it.

Two icons appeared: a card pool and an inventory.

A percentage ticked upward in the card pool, but the inventory icon was grayed out.

[Card pool initialized. Awarding player 10 Nurturing Card Vouchers for your first experience.]

Ling Qiong’s little head was full of big question marks.

What kind of gameplay was this?

[Darling, you need to draw the target’s story cards from the pool in order to trigger events and interact with the target in various ways.]

…Interact in what ways exactly?

[You know, that way.] The system’s voice sounded almost bashful.

Ling Qiong: "…"

What are you getting shy about? Is this even a serious game?

After its bashful act, the system continued its explanation.

Simply put, she had to draw cards from the pool.

Drawing a card could trigger a story, unlock information about the target, and allow her to nurture him.

For example, if the story required her to ride the bus with the target, she’d need to draw the corresponding card; if not, she couldn’t trigger that event.

It was just like other games where you had to accept a quest before you could interact with an NPC.

The key point was…

Drawing cards required microtransactions!

Yes!

You read that right!

It needed real money!

Ling Qiong instantly exploded in outrage.

What kind of garbage game was this? How could they demand money from the very start? Did they even care about the player’s experience?

[I did warn you, conquering the male lead was much easier,] the system said, sounding aggrieved. [You just didn’t listen.]

Ling Qiong fell silent, tempted to go back. "Is it too late to pick the male lead now?"

He was so handsome, and rich—she’d manage! So what if it meant stepping over the female lead’s coffin and kicking her memorial tablet aside? No big deal!

[Nope.] The system shot her down mercilessly.

Once a mode was chosen, it couldn’t be changed.

Not in the next scenario.

Not even in the one after that.

Ling Qiong: "…"

Why hadn’t they said so earlier?

[You never asked.]

Ling Qiong: "…"

So they wouldn’t tell unless she asked?

How could anyone keep playing such a terrible game!

…

She’d thought this was a story-driven romance game.

Never had she imagined it was a straightforward, greedy cash grab.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing!

Ling Qiong was nearly furious enough to drop dead on the spot.

But looking at the ten free draws, she reconsidered and decided to use them.

She was here now anyway.

A gift was a gift.

Might as well not waste them!

It would be a shame to let them go unused.

Wasting was a sin!

Drawing cards didn’t require any action from her—just a thought.

The card pool looked like any ordinary game’s, glowing softly as cards flew out one by one and arranged themselves in a circle.

The card faces resembled magic circles, with a 2/3 written at the center.

She’d seen this on the holographic game pod she’d received. It seemed to be the game’s logo.

But wasn’t this game called Dreamscape?

What did 2/3 mean?

While her thoughts wandered, the cards had already flipped over automatically.

"Your luck doesn’t seem great," flashed in bold golden letters across the center of the first card.

Ling Qiong: "…" What a terrible experience!

No matter, it was only the first card—nine more to go.

She looked at the second card.

Second card—You didn’t draw anything.

Third card—Better luck next time!

Fourth card—Try drawing in another pose?

…

Each card bore a different message, but all basically shouted the same thing: you got nothing.

Ling Qiong’s expression grew numb, and she was ready to log off and quit at any moment.

The tenth card… Hm? It wasn’t text…

It was an image.

It looked like the hotel corridor where she was currently standing. At the bottom of the card were a few numbers—2618.

What did that mean?

[Cards will automatically trigger at specific locations,] the system piped up again.

Ling Qiong managed a faint smile, but the next moment her lips drooped in cold indifference.

As if she’d believe that.

She exited and returned to the home screen.

Previously, there had only been two icons; now, a new one had appeared: Gallery.

Ling Qiong’s gaze fell on it, and the gallery opened automatically.

The first thing she saw was the conspicuous name—Lu Wenci (1/16).

Below was a card, facedown and unturned.

Further down were similar cards, but much smaller.

The card she’d just drawn was lit up.

The rest were cards too, each depicting different scenes, like snapshots from a movie—only they were all greyed out and unlit, their titles hidden at the bottom.

Ling Qiong stared at the gallery’s wall of gray, let out a shallow breath, and after a moment, closed her eyes, forcing herself to stay calm.

Looking down the corridor, she saw the person with the glowing text above their head entering the elevator. She caught a glimpse of the word "Ci" flashing, then disappearing as the doors closed.

She hadn’t closed the gallery, so she clearly saw that beneath the "2618" card, a red stamp marked with 2/3 had appeared.