“Who is that? Does she have a boyfriend?”
The girl didn’t even need to turn her head to guess whom her friend was talking about. She answered without thinking, “She does, and he’s her Childhood Sweetheart. They got into our school together—perfectly matched.”
The boy gave up the idea, but he still couldn’t bear to move his gaze from Song Fu. She was so beautiful that even the sunlight favored her a little more, plating her hair strands with a layer of pale gold, like a character who belonged in another dimension. In truth, he had only asked casually; deep down, he knew he didn’t even have the courage to pursue her.
Wait! That ring flashing on her left middle finger—was it “just worn for fun or something?”
“It’s an Engagement Ring.”
…
That was right. Song Fu and Ci Ye had gotten engaged again during their sophomore year.
On the day they confirmed their relationship, Ci Ye had given her the previous Engagement Ring once more. But Song Fu, considering it too back-and-forth, only accepted the ring itself. As for the actual engagement, they decided to wait a while. That wait lasted until their sophomore year. In the end, though, the ring she wore wasn’t that one… because it was too flashy. The gem face was wider than her finger, all blingy and dazzling—far too high-profile to wear out.
Later, they had the current rings custom-made together.
Song Fu picked up the phone, her brows and eyes softening. “Mm, I just finished class and was planning to come find you.”
Ci Ye on the other end complained about having too many classes, then mentioned that the food in the fridge at home was running low. They could stop by the supermarket on the way back. He also asked if Song Fu wanted anything in particular. “How about cola chicken wings?”
“Sounds good. I remember there’s still chicken wings in the fridge, but no cola.”
From the start, Song Fu and Ci Ye hadn’t opted for dorms. Instead, they bought an apartment near the school. It was a two-unit setup per elevator, and they lived right across from each other. Before they knew it, one unit sat empty, and they began living together.
Ci Ye didn’t like strangers coming in and out of the house, so he took over all the cooking. It had to be said—he had quite the talent for it. The food tasted pretty great.
“Sorry, no adding strangers.”
Ci Ye glanced at the phone pushed in front of him but had no intention of scanning the QR code.
The man next to Ci Ye, who knew him well, sighed in exasperation and explained, “He has a girlfriend; he’s always like this.”
The girl was a freshman, so she wasn’t in the know. Her face reddened as she withdrew her phone, muttered “Sorry,” and ran off without looking back, brushing past Song Fu who had just arrived to attend class with Ci Ye.
Seeing the newcomer, the boy next to Ci Ye greeted her and tactfully gave up his seat, grinning obsequiously. Song Fu was baffled and shot Ci Ye a puzzled look.
Ci Ye shrugged. “He wants you to help recruit for his club during the club recruitment fair.”
The boy clasped his hands together, pleading earnestly. “You don’t have to do much—just sit there and let people who want to join fill out the form.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Song Fu was easygoing.
Ci Ye didn’t need to think twice; he’d definitely tag along. He still couldn’t forget how, back in freshman year, after Song Fu joined the student council, her friend count skyrocketed. She kept getting random messages—one moment about a great new movie, the next about extra tickets, or an invite to some new shop…
Hah, their little schemes were transparent.
Ci Ye was strict with himself, never adding girls’ contacts. And he wasn’t lenient with others either—no legit reason, no adding Song Fu for any guy.
But he didn’t want Song Fu to notice his pettiness, so he’d preemptively drain his phone battery, then borrow hers.
That way, when someone asked for her contact, Song Fu could naturally reply: My phone’s with my boyfriend.
[The plotline has completely ended.]
The System, which hadn’t bubbled up in a long time, suddenly spoke again. Its mechanical voice still crackled with static.
It was an ordinary rainy night, not fit for going out. Song Fu, nestled on the sofa with Ci Ye watching a movie, froze. She pursed her lips. ‘…Am I leaving?’
She had binged some system quick-transmigration novels, so she had a rough idea of the protocols and jumped to the worst conclusion.
The System sounded super surprised. [Huh? Where to?]
Song Fu: ‘Didn’t you say the plotline ended? Doesn’t that mean my task is done too?’
[Host, haven’t you thought about continuing life with the male lead?] The System’s mechanical tone brimmed with shock at this slag woman’s attitude. [Though yes, you can choose to leave once the plotline ends…]
‘It’s possible?’ Song Fu had thought about it, of course. Right up until the System reappeared, that had been her plan.
The System gave a firm answer. [Of course. I just mentioned it casually; it doesn’t mean much. Host, you can keep living with the male lead until you die, or until you don’t want to stay anymore. We give Taskers a high degree of freedom.]
‘Do I not have to pay anything?’ This was completely beyond Song Fu’s expectations. In most system stories, the system played the exploiter role. ‘My points are at 0 right now.’
[Not at all.]
The System reassured her. [It’s just a few decades—not long, won’t consume much energy. Later, when Host goes to the cultivation immortal plane, people there live thousands of years casually. That’s when time really drags. Your few decades might not even be a fraction of that plane’s time.]
That made sense. Just as Song Fu felt ashamed of her cynical assumption, the System’s next words followed—
[We’ve analyzed why Host’s task results this time were suboptimal and summarized a few points. Next, the System will select new Small Worlds based on these.]
[Please prepare yourself mentally, Host. The newbie world chose a female supporting role similar to you for better adaptation, but from now on…]
‘Wait.’ Song Fu looked baffled, her peach-blossom eyes narrowing in confusion. ‘Similar to me?’
Had it gotten it backward?
Where were the similarities? Oh, right—they both had a fiancé.
After roleplaying for so many years, she re-analyzed the supporting female lead’s profile: pampered family environment, smooth life but self-sabotaging, arrogant personality, face-saving, ruthless in using people.
So, where exactly was the resemblance? ‘Do you have some misunderstanding about me?’
The System suspiciously went silent for a few seconds. After years together, it also thought Host wasn’t that type. [We’ll improve our data collection capabilities.]
Then it got back on track. [In summary, we’ve identified three points.]
[One: Host’s persona this time was Childhood Sweethearts with the male lead—love grew over time, very reasonable.]
[Two: Host’s persona had mostly positive traits, few negatives, and those mainly targeted the female lead. Toward the male lead, it was harmless indifference, making it easy for him to overlook the supporting female lead’s flaws.]
[Three: Host wasn’t flexible enough with plotline details. Too much roleplaying color, not enough immersion. Host likes following the plotline step-by-step—anything not in it gets zero interference. But actually, Host could improvise per the persona, like subtly squeezing out the female lead or tossing in some passive-aggressive remarks now and then.]
Song Fu knew she had shortcomings but hadn’t realized they were this bad. Her face flushed with shame. ‘S-sorry.’
This concerned her resurrection; she should’ve been more proactive. ‘I’ll do better next task.’
[No, no—we just figured this out. Being cautious isn’t wrong, Host.] The System couldn’t help muttering. [It’s still the male lead’s fault—how couldn’t he control himself from not liking Host!]
The last bit was a bit forced. Song Fu’s lips quirked up.
Ci Ye noticed.
He glanced at the TV screen where the leads were being forced apart by their parents but couldn’t spot the joke. Then he saw the male lead bawling snot everywhere. “…”
Ci Ye pulled her closer into his arms, encircled her waist, kissed her eye corner to draw back her attention, then nuzzled into her neck. “Time for bed?”
Though she knew it was impossible, Song Fu still asked, “The kind where we just cover up and sleep?”
Ci Ye scooped her up directly. “That’s the final step.”
Song Fu had figured as much.
Comfort was one thing, but frequency mattered too. All the male lead’s damn talent in this area.
Just two days after university graduation, they officially got their Marriage Certificate—Song Fu’s idea. On an ordinary day, they woke from sleep. She took a sip of wake-up coffee and asked, “Want to go get the certificate first?”
Ci Ye yawned in a daze, not catching on. “What certificate?”
Song Fu: “Marriage Certificate.”
Ci Ye snapped awake and nodded eagerly. “Sure—now?”
“Right now.” Song Fu checked the calendar: auspicious for marriage.
Once they had the certificate in hand, Ci Ye kept opening it to look. He said his original proposal plan had been more formal, but Song Fu had beaten him to it.
The wedding came later. Their engagement had been simple—just the two families having a meal, per Song Fu’s wish. Ci Ye didn’t want any regrets on the marriage front. He said, “I want you to feel that being with me is a truly happy thing.”
Song Fu had known this about him for a long time.
That was why she always felt an inexplicable guilt toward the female lead. When meeting the female lead’s boyfriend through Zhu Chenxi, she couldn’t help but nitpick like family, fearing the female lead wouldn’t be as happy as in the plotline.
Fortunately, love only took up a small part of Zhu Chenxi’s life. She had plenty more to do.
Song Fu was the same.
Thus, their rare arguments stemmed from business trips.
She was busy; Ci Ye often was too. The worst was half a month without seeing each other, leaving them both mopey.
Luckily, it wasn’t hard to fix—just sync schedules, more video calls, more chats.
…
The hardest part was the year Ci Ye’s life ended.
They had become an old man and old woman.
Song Fu had long known Ci Ye’s lifespan from the System but not the exact day. That year, she slept fitfully, always checking his breathing first thing upon waking.
It was agonizing, filling her with regret and annoyance.
Not knowing might’ve been easier than this waiting.
The System said Small Worlds were data constructs; Taskers’ children held a tricky status there, so they had none.
Ci Ye’s funeral was arranged by Song Fu. Hers was handled by the kids they sponsored. They were buried together—no complicated steps. A key one, per the will: sort the rings properly.
It was the first ring Ci Ye had given her. On her aged, excessively slender finger, it hung a bit loose now—but still very beautiful.