In the snowy depths of midwinter, a thin layer of mist condensed on the huge glass of the living room’s floor-to-ceiling window. A pretty girl with two little pigtails sat there, drawing with her fingers—first a tree, then a flower, and finally a crying face with downturned corners.
[Host, the male lead of the small world will officially meet you in three seconds. Please prepare.]
The moment the system’s mechanical voice ended, a “click” sounded from the entryway as the door opened, followed by adults chatting with smiles. “Our little Fu Fu, you’ve only held her once right after she was born. She definitely won’t recognize you now.” “What’s there to not recognize? Don’t forget how many photos you sent me, just to show off your pretty daughter.”
Song Fu wiped the crying face off the glass and turned her head to look. First, she noticed another little bean at eye level with her, along with a floating frame beside the little bean that carried basic identity information.
It was a deep blue info frame that perfectly fit the cyberpunk stereotype. The first line held only two words: Male Lead.
The second line, name.
“Come here, this is the new friend Mommy found for you. Ci Ye, call her big sister.”
The unfamiliar woman on the other side squatted down, her smile gentle. “Hello, I’m your new neighbor auntie. Fu Fu can call me Auntie. Ci Ye is Auntie’s child. You two can play together from now on, okay?”
Song Fu walked over, blinked her eyes twice, and nodded solemnly. Seeing the male lead, bundled up like a ball, staring at her, she greeted him in a soft, childish voice: “Hello.”
The next second, the woman who couldn’t hold back scooped her into her arms and ruffled her head. “Fu Fu, so obedient.”
Song Fu pursed her lips and smiled shyly.
From this intimate contact, she smelled the mixed scent of disinfectant and bitter medicine on the woman.
The woman in front of her was ill… Actually, there was no need to judge by the smell alone, because the woman’s haggardness and gauntness were plain to see—frail as a sheet of paper about to shatter after getting wet, with heavy dark circles under her eyes that couldn’t be hidden, like a flower on the verge of withering.
The info frame that popped up automatically beside her gave a brief explanation of her fate:
[Cancer late stage, cancer cells have spread, less than two months left to live. But in the end, she didn’t die from cancer. Instead, to save the childhood female lead, she encountered a drunk driving accident and died on the spot.]
Car accident mishap.
Song Fu lowered her eyelashes slightly.
This was truly an unreasonable way to die. Something like old age or illness left time for the person to bid farewell to the world, but a car accident was different—it brutally snatched away life without warning. This woman’s death existed as backstory for the male and female leads’ story, but what about her own death?
[Host, don’t be sad.]
[I told you, as long as you complete the required tasks, you can be resurrected!] The system awkwardly comforted her in its rigid mechanical voice. [I will assist the host wholeheartedly.]
Song Fu softly let out an “mm” and mustered some spirits, responding in her mind: ‘Thanks.’
Her mental state was decent now. After all, if she calculated carefully, the real her had been in a car accident less than fifteen minutes ago, and the stinging pain in her body hadn’t fully faded yet.
According to the rules, the system had set her entry point into the task small world at three minutes before her assumed identity first met the male lead.
“Hot.” At that moment, the male lead muttered softly. Starting from his scarf, he peeled off layer after layer of clothes, like shucking a bamboo shoot.
Song Fu’s gaze properly fixed on the male lead as she tilted her head.
What a cute kid—lips red and teeth white, powdery cheeks flushed from the heat, eyes and hair an extremely deep black, with thick, long, curled lashes. One could foresee he would grow into a proper male lead appearance.
The woman beside them continued holding Song Fu’s hand, with no intention of helping. She simply watched quietly, quietly, as if wanting to etch this scene into her heart.
Song Fu couldn’t help but purse her mouth.
Oh no, her eyes were going to water. She’d never been able to watch these heart-wrenching parent-child separation scenes since she was little. “I’ll help you.” Ci Ye’s current state looked just like his head had been caught by a sweater monster. Clumsy!
Song Fu’s real age was that of an adult, after all, so helping a little bean undress was a piece of cake. With a few moves, she freed the male lead’s head.
Ci Ye’s little face was flushed red from the undressing ordeal. He pouted discontentedly. “Don’t look at me with eyes that say I’m a dummy.”
Song Fu: “…” Ah, the male lead was pretty perceptive. “I didn’t.” She denied it outright.
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
The two children went back and forth, making the two adults beside them laugh until their eyes curved. “Fu Fu, why don’t you take big brother to your room to play for a bit? Mommy and your Auntie need to chat.”
Song Fu agreed and reached out to pull the other little bean’s hand toward the upstairs, but the little bean didn’t budge. He gazed at his mom pitifully. “I want to stay with Mommy.”
Because it was deliberately concealed, the current Ci Ye shouldn’t know that his mother was tormented by illness and approaching death, but even if a child didn’t understand much, they could vaguely sense something was off, leading to unease.
Ci Ye was held and comforted by the woman for a good while, stuffed with a few pieces of candy in his hand, and finally followed Song Fu upstairs—
The little bean crossed his arms and let out a “hmph,” looking like he refused to communicate.
Song Fu was speechless and inwardly sighed that this male lead truly had a stinky temper from childhood.
In the plotline, this little bean who now merely refused to communicate would grow into a rebellious teen with a temper harder than a pit latrine stone—getting into trouble was routine, and his hobbies revolved around risking his little life, always seeking out the most dangerous paths.
Until he met the female lead who could heal him.
Song Fu was not the female lead.
But her role was also extremely crucial, indispensable.
As everyone knew, in romance novels, the male and female leads’ relationship heating up couldn’t do without setbacks and obstacles. These came in various forms, but the bulk were caused by the female side character’s meddling. That’s right—Song Fu was bound to the Female Side Character System and had to play the role of the female side character.
The moment Song Fu entered the small world, the system eagerly transmitted the female side character perspective storyline—that is, the tasks she needed to complete.
The backdrop was a lemon soda-flavored youth campus, with all the key plot concentrated in the high school phase.
The outstanding female side character had grades from childhood to adulthood that couldn’t merely be called top of the class—they were undoubtedly first place. Always so, until the transfer student female lead arrived.
The even more outstanding female lead snatched away the female side character’s school-wide first place spot upon arrival. Feeling her life record stained, the female side character harbored resentment but, aside from studying even harder, had no way to deal with the female lead. Until the female side character discovered the female lead’s affection for the male lead—she believed she’d finally found the female lead’s weakness.
The female side character used her elders’ influence to get ahead of the male lead and secure an “fiancée” status, targeting the female lead overtly and covertly while ready at any moment to pin the label of “trying to steal someone else’s fiancé” on her.
Unfortunately, her actions couldn’t keep up with how fast the male and female leads’ feelings developed. Not long after, she was dumped by the male lead who had sorted out his emotions. Her subsequent targeting of the female lead was all resolved, ending each time with her getting slapped in the face.
In this storyline, it couldn’t be said the female side character liked the male lead that much—it was more like treating him as a trophy in her rivalry with the female lead.
However, Song Fu had one more thing to complain to the system about. ‘Why is getting dumped a task anchor point?’
[This is the most important turning point in the storyline, the most satisfying, the highest climax spot~]
Song Fu didn’t get it. “Is that so?”
[Yes. Every one of Host’s future tasks will have getting dumped as an anchor point. Whether you smoothly pass this plot directly decides if the final rating is mid-upper or mid-lower. Better get used to it early.]
Song Fu let out an ‘oh’ and noticed the male lead sneaking peeks at her. Half a beat later, she belatedly asked her second question:
‘Is there a possibility that I can’t guarantee taking first place every time?’
Song Fu’s grades were good, but merely within the broad realm of “good grades.” She’d taken school-wide first a few times, but not many.
[No worries, the system will help you~]
Song Fu’s eyes lit up as she boldly guessed: ‘By directly telling me the answers?’
[Uh.]
Song Fu: ?
This suspicious reaction didn’t bode well.
[Always taking school-wide first is also part of Host’s tasks. The system won’t cheat for you.]
[But the system will provide intelligent tutoring and targeted weak point analysis, giving you an edge in competitions with others.]
Oh, like having an extra tutor.
Song Fu got it.
“Why aren’t you talking?” The child’s soft, glutinous voice couldn’t hold back.
Song Fu looked up and met the male lead’s gaze, which was watching her expression. She quickly shook her head and flashed a big smile. “Nothing. I just feel a bit envious of you.”
Ci Ye was baffled. A child’s temper came and went quickly—in the blink of an eye, he’d forgotten the earlier displeasure and chased after her words: “Envious of what?”
Of course, envious of how the male lead would always rank at the bottom in the future, completely pressure-free.
Song Fu kept smiling and looked at the two plastic figurines the male lead had placed on his little truck, changing the subject: “Are these you and your mommy?”
“Mm.” The child forgot his earlier question and nodded earnestly.
Song Fu asked: “Why no daddy?”
Ci Ye thought for a moment and added another plastic figurine. “Daddy’s always not at home.”
Meanwhile, downstairs, the two adults said much the same.
The gaunt woman showed her vulnerable side in front of her friend, sighing nonstop. “You know my family situation. It was a business marriage back then—no feelings at all. Ci Ye, this child, I’ve basically raised him alone. Thinking back now, it’s really not good. My body can’t hold out anymore. After I die, he…”
The woman spoke of her own death without shedding tears—she’d already cried too many times. Only when mentioning her child did her eye sockets sour again.
Too much she couldn’t let go of.
In the end, it turned into that one sigh-laden sentence. “He’s still so young.”
He’d only just understood the meaning of death, and even if a succulent plant he’d raised died, he’d cry buckets and dig a little pit to bury it.