By the time Bianbian woke up, she was still groggy and not fully清醒. The bright light made her rub her eyes uncomfortably, and then a strange feeling spread through her heart—she knew that the invisible uncle had come.
She vaguely remembered falling asleep next to Grandpa, but now she was in bed. There was no way she could have walked back to her room on her own while asleep—how could she walk if she was already sleeping?
More importantly, her little dress had been changed.
The first thing Bianbian noticed upon waking wasn’t that she was lying in bed, but that her dress had been swapped for a different one.
She had worn this dress before. It was pretty, but Bianbian didn’t like it. Grandpa, however, loved it—he said she looked like a little princess in it, especially adorable. But he never let her wear it outside, only at home.
Still, the little girl found the lace flowers on the dress scratchy against her skin. Yet for Grandpa’s sake, she used to wear it obediently. After Grandpa left, Bianbian had shoved this lacy little dress to the very bottom of her wardrobe.
Partly because she didn’t want to wear that scratchy little dress again.
And partly because seeing it always reminded her of Grandpa, and thinking of him made her heart ache. Hiding it away made it a little less painful.
Now this little dress was on her, and she was lying in bed. If the invisible uncle hadn’t changed her clothes, she couldn’t think of who else it could be.
Uncle Zhu Yuan had also left. There was no one else at home.
Bianbian didn’t know why this uncle helped her but refused to see her. He came and went quietly, which made her instinctively cautious as she spoke: “Uncle, is that you?”
Nong Jiusi was secretly annoyed by the little one’s fickle address. She had been calling him “Daddy” earlier—got him all hooked on it—and now that she was awake, she was back to “Uncle”?
It felt like the game was doing it on purpose!
Even so, Nong Jiusi still planned to respond to the little girl.
But there was a problem—how?
System: [Affection value insufficient. Unable to communicate with Bianbian.]
Nong Jiusi: “…”
While waiting for the uncle’s response, Bianbian shifted her weak little body and wriggled out from under the covers—because the temperature had returned to normal, Nong Jiusi had loosened the blankets, allowing the little girl to crawl out on her own.
Bianbian raised her hand to wipe the fine beads of sweat from her forehead, but the lace trim on her sleeve scratched her face—prickly and uncomfortable.
So she carefully folded the lace edge up a few times.
Nong Jiusi, who had been silently watching the little one’s movements, asked Nong Tang: “Why is she folding up her sleeves?”
Nong Tang thought for a moment, also silently watching his master play the game, and said: “Maybe… she’s hot?”
Only then did Nong Jiusi realize that the dress he had put on the little one this time was long-sleeved—no wonder it had been a bit of a hassle to put on earlier.
Not that he could be blamed.
“Every single piece in that wardrobe—the craftsmanship, the fabric, the design… which one is even passable?” Lord Nine said expressionlessly, his voice dripping with disdain. “This one is the only one that’s even remotely decent.”
Nong Tang stayed quiet. Of course he shared the same opinion—that dress was the only slightly eye-catching piece in the wardrobe. The dragon clan’s aesthetic was just that superficial.
But since it wasn’t his game, he’d just keep his mouth shut while his master complained.
The system also stayed silent. Internally, it thought: What do you know.
…
Bianbian swallowed, feeling hot and thirsty. She wanted water.
After the apocalypse began, the original cycle of four seasons had disappeared, leaving only two: summer and winter.
For ability users, this kind of weather barely made a difference compared to before—their bodies, enhanced by their abilities, automatically adapted to the changing temperatures of the post-apocalyptic world.
But for ordinary people, it wasn’t so easy to bear.
Fortunately, Bianbian had a special constitution. She wasn’t afraid of heat—even during the hottest days of summer, her body remained cool, and she barely sweated. That was why Lu Yu always covered her with a blanket when she slept, so she wouldn’t catch a chill, and Bianbian never felt too warm.
In winter, to ensure his granddaughter could survive the cold, Lu Yu would stock up on enough food in advance, then use his metal ability to reinforce their surroundings, making the house warm and comfortable until the harsh winter passed before going out again.
…
So most of the time, Bianbian only felt hot when she was unwell, or if she’d spent too long outdoors during the day.
She wanted to get out of bed for water, but her fever had just broken and her body was still weak. Instead of rushing, she lay on the bed to regain her strength.
She was very familiar with this situation—she knew exactly what was best for her.
In the period right after Lu Yu was infected, Bianbian had run a high fever three times. Each time, she’d fallen asleep completely unaware and woken up with the fever already gone. The first two times, she’d tried to move around before her strength returned and ended up falling.
Of course, those three fevers had also brought her some benefits. Her body, which Lu Yu had raised so delicately, gradually adapted to this new life—she no longer threw up after eating, and washing her hair and bathing in cold water no longer gave her a fever.
Bianbian didn’t know what this meant, but she instinctively welcomed the change, because being sick with a fever was miserable and she hated it.
The room was quiet. Bianbian’s bright, clear eyes quietly scanned her surroundings, desperately hoping the invisible uncle would respond.
But after waiting a while, there was still no sound. She lowered her damp, long lashes. “Uncle… have you already left?”
Nong Jiusi: “I’m here.”
Bianbian couldn’t hear him. Clear disappointment flickered across her big eyes.
Nong Jiusi: “…”
He glanced at the affection value hovering in the upper right corner. The number “0” sat there, plain as day—he’d ignored it earlier, but now he couldn’t look away.
“Besides raising the affection value on the little one’s side, is there any other way?” he asked the system flatly, staring at the affection value display, his fingers curling into a fist once more.
System: …
[Even if you hit me again, there’s nothing I can do. The affection value is determined based on Bianbian’s feelings toward her father—it all comes from her heart. As long as you treat Bianbian well and make her genuinely feel kindness, joy, and help, the affection value will naturally increase.]
—This explanation and hint hadn’t been mentioned to Xiu Jin.
In other words, brute force was useless now. Only the normal path would work.
It was like a server: you might find a vulnerability to breach the firewall and access classified files, only to discover that those files were encrypted with an extremely complex password that couldn’t be cracked by normal means—you could only get in with the actual key.
Nong Jiusi stared at that “0” for a long while, his brows slightly furrowed. Then he pointed vaguely at the little girl on the bed and said through narrowed eyes: “Bought you weapons, blocked ants for you, changed your clothes to cool you down… and now you don’t recognize me, huh? Won’t even call me Daddy, and the affection value won’t budge either, you little—”
Before he could finish, his peripheral vision caught Nong Tang’s lowered head. He couldn’t see his face, but he could see the two dragon horns on top of his head trembling restlessly.
Nong Jiusi stopped talking.
“Nong Tang.”
“Lord.” Nong Tang looked up, meeting Nong Jiusi’s gaze with an expression of complete candor and reverence—perfectly normal in every way.
He would never admit that he’d been laughing for a split second.
—It was mainly because he’d never heard his lord speak in that tone before.
It was like a beloved toy had been confiscated by a parent, and since he couldn’t get angry, he had to vent his frustration through muttering to himself.
Nong Jiusi made a gesture, signaling Nong Tang to come closer.
Nong Tang would have to be out of his mind to do that. He bowed respectfully. “Lord, your dinner still hasn’t been delivered. I’ll go check—the chef is probably slacking off again.”
Nong Jiusi stared at him for several long seconds—long enough to make Nong Tang’s scalp tingle—before finally letting out a flat “Mm.”
Only then did Nong Tang retreat, relieved.
And he made a mental note: never laugh at the lord to his face. If you’re going to laugh, do it when no one’s around.
After that interruption, when Nong Jiusi looked at the number “0” again, it seemed a little more tolerable. By the time he turned his attention back, the little one had already climbed out of bed and picked up the magic sphere.
“Did Uncle give this to me? It’s like a bright little lamp.” Though the magic sphere emitted a strong light, it was strangely not harsh on the eyes. Once you got used to it, you could hold it close without hurting your eyes.
“Huihui, it must have been Uncle.” Her eyes curved into crescents with happiness as she hugged the magic sphere almost obsessively, then blew out the candle.
Nong Jiusi was still wondering who “Huihui” was when Bianbian realized Huihui wasn’t on the bed. Panic flooded her face instantly. She hugged the magic sphere and ran out crookedly, not even stopping for water, heading straight for the stairs.
Nong Jiusi followed behind her.
Only when she picked up the little bear by the metal wall did the panic on Bianbian’s face disappear. She hugged it tightly and showed it the magic sphere like a treasured gift. “Huihui, look! From now on, we don’t need candles to see at night.”
Her sudden run to the stairs had once again stirred up the zombies upstairs. Bianbian wasn’t afraid of the banging anymore—in fact, she even pressed her little face close to the hole, her eyes bright with excitement, and said cheerfully: “Grandpa! I have a lamp now! I won’t bump into things because I can’t see anymore!”
Nong Jiusi stood nearby, listening to the pounding reverberating in his ears, and couldn’t help glancing at the little one.
He’d heard that human ears were fragile, and prolonged exposure to noisy environments could damage their hearing.
He raised his slender fingers and tapped lightly on the metal wall a few times. “Keep it down. Aren’t you afraid of deafening your granddaughter?”
The banging immediately grew quieter.
Nong Jiusi’s brow lifted.
“Grandpa, I’m going back now!” After happily sharing the news of her new lamp with Grandpa and Huihui, Bianbian returned inside and shut the heavy door.
One hand stopped the door from closing.
Nong Jiusi, who had nearly been locked out: “…”
Finding the door wouldn’t shut, Bianbian pulled it open again. Nong Jiusi took the chance to slip inside, and this time the door closed.
The little girl was completely unaware.
She set Huihui and the magic sphere on the table. The bottle of mineral water she’d opened earlier was already empty, so she grabbed a new one, both little hands straining to twist the cap—
Without thinking, Nong Jiusi reached out to help—and then everything went black.
“…”
Disconnected again?
He was about to log back in when he glanced at the time—
Three hours had passed since he’d started playing.
He… had played for three hours?
That realization made Nong Jiusi restrain his fingers, which had been itching to reopen the game.
Originally, he was supposed to be studying the NR device.
“…”
Nong Jiusi didn’t tap the game again. Instead, he sank back into the bath to study the NR functions.
…
Xiu Jin finished his work, took a comfortable bath at home, then lay back in his massage chair with a face mask on, logging into the game to see his precious daughter.
The moment he entered the game, a system notification popped up: [Affection value +50.]
???
Xiu Jin sat up abruptly, his face mask falling off.