A wonderful day ended by a bag of instant noodles without any seasoning packet.
Song Fu wavered between going hungry and eating the flavorless instant noodles, ultimately choosing to bite the bullet and force down a couple of bites. Then, she received a message from the male lead on the chat app.
Yan: When do you have time to play today?
Sword Mastery had just launched, and the pace in the game was at its fastest— one could say it was the time when the gap between top players and casuals widened the most. Some people had only just completed the initial main storyline quests, while others had already maxed their combat power and were focusing on fashion.
At this point, Song Fu could only be grateful that the Thousand Faces Mirror was an extremely rare encounter—one that even few triggered by the end of the storyline. Otherwise, with her gaming efficiency, the male lead would have ditched her long ago.
She glanced at Thursday’s class schedule.
Song Fu: I only have class in the morning today. I can play all afternoon and should be able to finish today.
Yan: .
One week after launch, the game underwent its first maintenance downtime of two and a half hours. Along with new gameplay features, it unlocked binding quests for relationships like romance and mentorship. These bonds weren’t free; they came with special techniques and buffs.
Song Fu remembered that in the storyline, the female side character used this very reason to persuade the male lead to bind a romance with her.
“Fu Fu, I have a nice part-time gig here. Want to do it?” On the way to class together, her roommate scrolled through her phone. “It’s tutoring, three hundred yuan per hour. They want someone pretty.”
The high pay paired with that requirement sounded off, and Song Fu couldn’t help but sweat. “…Is it legit tutoring?”
“Yeah.” Her roommate smiled and gave an affirmative answer. “It’s for a third-grader. The kid likes pretty big sisters teaching him, and his family is rich, so they’re happy to indulge him. If you want to go for it, try an online trial lesson first. I’ll send you the contact.”
Song Fu nodded. “Okay, send it to me.”
Her roommate hummed in acknowledgment. “When the time comes, send him a look at your College Entrance Exam scores.” After all, it was teaching a kid; not just anyone could do it.
The two afternoon classes had teachers at opposite extremes. One was all smiles, deeply respecting others’ fates, immersing himself in the slides on the blackboard with minimal eye contact with the students below. The other had a stern face the whole time, firing questions one after another, making even college students relive the suffocating feeling of high school.
From the seasoning-less instant noodles, Song Fu should have known her bad luck was foreshadowed. The random name-calling system seemed to have it out for her; in just two short hours, her name came up three times.
By the third time, even the teacher was speechless and told her to sit down, giving other students a chance at extra credit.
Song Fu glanced at the classmates whose heads were nearly buried in the ground: “…” They didn’t look too eager.
…
Afternoon, game time.
Song Fu had just sent the message “Logging in now” when a voice call came from the other side.
She accepted it. “Hello?” Luckily, her normie roommates with real lives had either gone to the library or off on dates with boyfriends after class, so the call wouldn’t bother anyone.
The other side gave a cool, indifferent “Mm,” indicating he could hear her.
Song Fu said lightly, “I’ll be right there.”
But the game’s main content had updated, requiring a redownload of many assets. Three minutes after she spoke, the package still hadn’t finished, and the awkward silence dragged on—
Song Fu didn’t know what to say to someone she wasn’t close with, but she had to bite the bullet and find a topic. She recounted getting called on three times, knowing full well the male lead wouldn’t care about a side character’s daily life. She lacked enthusiasm herself, just narrating flatly before wrapping up with a sigh: “Substitutes usually get thirty per class; this one deserved at least fifty.”
With the game resources loaded, Song Fu entered her password and stopped racking her brain for topics.
Silence fell over the mic again.
As Song Fu logged into her account, she wondered if she’d blabbered on for so long that he’d turned off his mic.
“I’m listening.” His cool voice came through. “Why’d you stop?”
Song Fu: “I’m in. Let’s keep doing quests. We should finish them all in one go today.”
“Mm.” His response was casual.
This encounter plotline was cleverly designed. The early stages heavily portrayed a greedy songstress who loved money, was arrogant, and selfish. Yet in the final segment, it flipped everything, attributing all prior info to rumors spread by a heartless cad.
The cad and the songstress were childhood sweethearts. She gave him all her money to go to the capital for the College Entrance Exam… What followed was the classic granted marriage trope, with the princess marrying the scholar. The songstress, left behind, heard the rumors and threw herself from a pleasure boat in despair, leaving behind the sheet music technique Nian Yue.
When helping the songstress clear the rumors, the plot flashed back with a twist: the arrogant, money-loving songstress was actually proud yet timid, often bullied.
“Thank you for believing in me.” The white-clad songstress wept. “Actually, Nian Yue isn’t a complete technique. I never finished it back then… But I know you, who believed in me, can help complete this melody.”
【Players “Fu Guang Luo” and “Yan” successfully achieved the true ending of the Thousand Faces Mirror, obtaining the outfit “Dance of Rainbow Garments,” the complete technique Nian Yue, and the title “Mirror Knower.”】
Song Fu felt a twinge of guilt.
The quest issuer was a top scholar haunted by nightmares, often seeing ghosts in mirrors. He seemed kind on the surface, repeatedly saying “I never imagined…” and subtly implying the songstress was a greedy snake. Most players naturally chose options favoring the scholar, but Song Fu didn’t.
Her persona this time was even greedier and worse than the rumored songstress.
So in choices, sticking to immersion, she sided with the potentially vain and nasty songstress—pure empathy. By sheer fluke, she triggered the true ending not even in the main storyline.
Song Fu: “…”
In the game interface, the girl character spun in place, her plain quest clothes transforming into a radiant red gown with skirt hems like flowing water. Wait, this Dance of Rainbow Garments seemed like the evolved version of the normal quest reward outfit, skipping the crafting step.
She spoke up immediately. “Brother, looks like we don’t need the fashion anymore. Can I swap for another wish?”
“Sure.” He’d taken the technique; his character stood still, probably studying it.
Song Fu considered, then leaned into the greed. She waited for him to haggle. “Forge me three thousand yuan, play with me, and form a romance with me, okay? Brother, think about it—this plot’s options were all my picks. We got the true ending thanks to me, right? So my ask isn’t over the top.”
She never mentioned that without him, she couldn’t have beaten even the first boss. She claimed all the credit. “Romance benefits you too, Brother. Arena buffs together, special techniques, and with the romance system new, quests give limited rewards.”
Song Fu spoke at machine-gun speed, fearing interruption. Even after she finished, he didn’t chime in. “Brother, you listening?”
The male lead finally replied, as concise as ever:
“Okay.”
Song Fu’s interface immediately popped a romance request from Yan.
She accepted.
Pink petals appeared between their characters, auto-jumping to the matrimony tree. A white-bearded elder like the matchmaker tied red strings on their wrists.
“Meeting is fate itself, let alone you two heroes forming a romance. From here, roam the jianghu together, supporting each other…” The elder spouted marriage-vow-like words, had them pledge, then issued a new trial quest to test their bond’s strength.
Even after the romantic petals faded, Song Fu couldn’t believe it went so smoothly.
Actually, it was supposed to.
Romance meant nothing to the male lead; with or without, no difference, so agreeing cost him zilch. Of course, that mindset would change once he realized his feelings for the female lead.
“Brother, you’re my romance partner now!” As Song Fu spoke, her phone pinged with a transfer from the male lead.
Not the agreed three thousand, but four sixes—auspicious enough.
Song Fu thought of the later plot where he asked for the money back and accepted without guilt, not even a thanks. Straight to: “Brother, you’re the best~” Calling him brother was second nature now.
The other side seemed to chuckle lightly.
[In the plot, the male lead never asked back for the fashion money, as it was a fair trade.]
‘Seriously?’ Song Fu was surprised, but, ‘This isn’t fashion money anymore.’
The money he sent had to be treated like a loan for easy payback later—track every yuan. But improving dinner tonight shouldn’t be too much, right?
Bucket rice from the cafeteria it was.
Eighteen yuan a portion; her roommate’s friend circle pic looked delicious.
Song Fu cupped her face, sent the male lead—a big spender—a kitten-with-flowers emoji, and ended the call: Brother, gotta go. Something came up. Logging off ovo.
Weekend had a tutoring trial; she needed to prep.