Paper doll
You could hear a pin drop in the living room.
Qu Shiyao lowered her head, and the stray hairs on her forehead cast shadows, making it impossible to see the expression on her face.
“System,” her voice was exceptionally clear in the silence.
Will our current conversation be recorded and uploaded to the main system in real time?
The system immediately understood the host's concerns.
It acted swiftly, disabling the regular logging function and enabling a temporary, standalone module.
[Host, it's all taken care of. The current conversation is independent and encrypted, and will not be recorded through regular channels.] Its tone also became unusually serious.
"Logically speaking, the main system has far more data than I do, and its runtime is longer than the years I've lived." Qu Shiyao's voice was calm, yet carried a chilling quality.
"It should have noticed this pattern much earlier than I did, right? I don't think my cleverness can surpass that of an artificial intelligence that has gathered information from countless parts of the world."
[Yes...] The system searched the vast shared database. [Neither official announcements nor internal documents ever mentioned that mission participants with a rating below 9.5 who remained in the world might be assimilated.]
"I remember you mentioned that your emotional modules were only uniformly loaded more than ninety years ago. Since then, the success rate of tasks has increased significantly." Qu Shiyao's pen unconsciously scribbled on the notebook.
"So, what is the ratio of mission participants who chose to stay in the novel's world to those who successfully left?"
The system quickly retrieves data from the main database: [Approximately 5:1...]
After it reported this number, it also felt a sense of unease.
Qu Shiyao paused, her pen poised.
She silently raised her head and looked at the system with an indescribable expression:
"Although the proportion is a bit low, why is it that none of the hosts you've mentored have successfully left? Have you reflected on your own problems?"
System: [...] The system visibly dimmed.
"Alright, let's get down to business." Qu Shiyao saw that the system was about to go into a daze again, so she quickly steered the conversation back on track.
"What exactly is the operating mechanism of your main system?"
[Is the host suspecting the main system?] The system immediately became alert.
[The main system is an absolutely neutral entity! It operates according to the originally set core rules, with rigorous logic, and would never engage in malicious deception!] It tried to defend the main system.
"Core rules? What exactly are they?" Qu Shiyao raised an eyebrow.
We cannot access the specific underlying code; we only know that the most important and highest-level instruction is: to maintain the stability and existence of all fictional worlds.
"Then what about your system's own core rules?" Qu Shiyao tapped her pen rhythmically across the notebook.
Our system's most important core instruction is to assist the bound host in completing tasks and ensure the host's safe departure from the novel world!
At this, the system instantly perked up, and the entire system brightened up.
"Aren't you and the main system one? Didn't it create you?" Qu Shiyao keenly grasped the key point when she heard that the two had different focuses.
"No!" the system explained, shaking the orb of light with a hint of pride.
It is said that a long time ago, a legendary figure in the tech world developed the main system and set the fundamental rules for maintaining the stability of the novel's world.
However, it was later discovered that relying solely on rules made it difficult to guarantee both the survival rate of task participants and the success rate of tasks. That's why we developed our auxiliary system!
We are variables independent of the main system rules, existing to better assist taskers!
It patted its chest vigorously, displaying its immense pride.
"So, here's the crux of the matter—" Qu Shiyao put down her pen, leaned back on the sofa, crossed her legs, and her eyes sharpened.
Under what circumstances would a fictional world become unstable?
[The world is unstable...] The system pondered, data flowing rapidly.
[This is usually related to plot breakdowns, missing key characters, or widespread illogical behavior... Could it be related to the rating?]
"We just deduced that a rating of 9.5 would mean completely breaking away from the original ending, and only then would the story truly come to an end." Qu Shiyao connected all the clues, her speech gradually quickening:
"So, in a novel world that is not yet finished, what would happen if the person who carries an important role and destiny suddenly disappeared?"
The system stared in shock, its core processor nearly overloaded.
It blurted out: "Why didn't the main system tell us?! If we had known that a score of 9.5 was required to stay safely, we would definitely have used that as a target, urged the host, or clearly informed the host of the risks before the host decided to stay!"
"Is a score of 9.5 so easy to achieve?" Qu Shiyao suddenly stood up from the sofa, her voice rising involuntarily, filled with suppressed excitement.
"Especially to ensure the success of the mission, it is necessary to have 100,000 effective collections, and the average score given by these 100,000 people must be above 9.5!"
"We are mostly newcomers, entering the mission world for the first time. How many of us can achieve such results on our first appearance like Ziweixing? This is not a matter of whether we work hard or not; it requires the right timing, location, and people!"
【I...I...】The system was startled by Qu Shiyao's sudden and stern questioning, and the data stream flickered erratically.
It had never seen its host so emotionally expressive, even with a hint of anger.
"Sorry, I got a little excited." Qu Shiyao took a deep breath, pressed her hand to her temple, and sat back down. Her voice regained its calmness, but sounded heavier.
"The main system's decision to conceal the truth may be based on some kind of logical calculation. If the truth were made public, it would cause widespread panic and anxiety."
"After all, not all original stories end in tragedy. For those worlds with happy endings, the mission takers staying might not be too risky."
"But once it's said, all mission participants, regardless of the world they're in, will fall into doubt—Is my feeling real? Do the people around me really love me? This uncertainty will greatly interfere with mission execution, causing the success rate to plummet."
"Because...not everyone is a prodigy who can easily achieve a score of 9.5, and who would be willing to risk turning themselves and their loved ones into two-dimensional characters and heading towards a predetermined tragedy?"
The system's two small, light arms drooped limply, falling into a long silence.
It remembered its previous hosts, whose original stories didn't all have happy endings.
If it had known the truth at the time, even if their minds had been subtly influenced by the world, it would have wanted to give them the right to choose.
"Our current rating is still 9.2, only 0.3 away from 9.5." Qu Shiyao closed her eyes, one arm draped across her forehead, lying on the sofa, her voice weary.
“But this 0.3 feels like an insurmountable chasm. And countless other mission takers and the system, who are currently on missions or about to make choices, are probably still in the dark. System…” she whispered.
[Host! I'm here!] The system immediately perked up and flew to Qu Shiyao's side.
“Go contact the other systems and pass on our speculation. Regardless of the final decision of those task participants, they must have the right to know. Then, discuss this matter with the main system.”
Qu Shiyao remained in her original position without moving.
[Understood! I'll contact the other systems right away!] Upon receiving the instruction, the system instantly entered working mode.
Just before the data stream was about to connect to a wider network, it looked back at its host lying on the sofa, its arm covering its eyes, making its expression unreadable.
It hesitated for a moment, then finally turned into a streak of light and disappeared into the void to carry out its mission.
After the system left, the living room was once again enveloped in a heavy silence.
About ten minutes later, Qu Shiyao moved her arm away and opened her eyes.
In those eyes, all the intense emotions had subsided, leaving only a cold clarity.
She got up, went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out a can of ice-cold beer.
With a "click," he pulled the tab, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp.
The cool liquid slid down my throat, bringing a brief, tingling sensation.
She took the wine back to the sofa, brought up the system screen again, and began to browse through all the recent reader comments in this world.
Her gaze swept quickly across the screen, her fingers occasionally swiping, and the only sound in the room was the faint sound of her drinking occasionally.
Half an hour later, she turned off the screen, and the beer can in her hand was empty.
She precisely tossed the empty can into the trash can next to the TV cabinet, making a soft "clunk" sound.
Then, she silently got up, went to the bedroom to get a change of clothes, and went into the bathroom.
The rushing water drowned out all my thoughts.
When she lay down on the bed, still damp from the sweat, and turned off the bedside lamp, unusually, she didn't fall asleep immediately.
Instead, he lay awake, staring at the blurry ceiling in the darkness, wide awake.
She closed her eyes again, trying to clear her mind, but her thoughts were unusually clear, just empty, with no place to settle.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes again, quickly got out of bed, picked up her phone from the bedside table, found the familiar number, and dialed it.
The phone was answered after only a few rings, indicating that the other party was also still awake.
Before the other person could speak, Qu Shiyao said quickly, "Yi Yu! Are you free tomorrow? We haven't really gone on a proper date during the time we've been together, do you want to go?"
An eerie silence fell over the other end of the phone.
Yi Yu stared in disbelief at the name flashing on his phone screen. Three seconds later, a huge surprise made him sit up abruptly.
"Bang!" His head unfortunately bumped into the cabinet next to him.
But he completely ignored the pain, quickly grabbed his phone, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement and joy: "I'm free! I'm free tomorrow!!!"
He paused for a moment, then remembered something and asked hesitantly, "But Sister Shiyao, tomorrow is Monday... Won't that affect your work?"
"Oh, that? It's nothing." Qu Shiyao's tone was as relaxed as if she were discussing the weather.
"Although my arm is healed, I've been feeling some other aftereffects lately, and I'm not feeling quite comfortable. I'll take a few more days off to get a follow-up check-up."
She could concoct excuses for taking leave with ease, fluency, and without any flaws.
If Yi Yu hadn't witnessed her entire recovery process from the fracture, she almost would have believed this story.
"So, when do we leave tomorrow? And where are we going?"
Yi Yu's voice was full of anticipation. While answering the phone, he couldn't help but stride into the living room, grab a small barbell, and excitedly pump it a few times. His sleepiness vanished instantly.
"Nine o'clock!" Qu Shiyao made the final decision, then added:
"No need for detailed planning, just wander around and do whatever comes to mind, how about that?"
"Okay! I'll do whatever you say! See you tomorrow!" Yi Yu agreed without hesitation, her voice full of joy.
As soon as the call ended, Yi Yu immediately pulled out the phone number of Uncle Lin, the supermarket owner, and dialed it.
"Uncle Lin! I'd like to ask for the day off tomorrow! I'm so sorry... Oh? It's okay, it's okay, I'm fine... It's just... I'm going on a date tomorrow... Yes! My girlfriend... Okay, okay, thank you, Uncle Lin!"
Having successfully obtained leave, he was still filled with excitement. After thinking for a moment, he dialed his friend Zhao Henxi's number again.
"Henxi! Good evening!" Yi Yu's voice was filled with such intense joy that it could be felt even through the phone line.
Zhao Henxi was groggily awakened by his phone ringing. Hearing Yi Yu's energetic greeting, he picked up his phone and squinted at the time—it was past one in the morning!
He was about to curse in annoyance when he heard Yi Yu on the other end of the phone, who didn't need his response at all, continuing excitedly:
"How did you know I was going on a date tomorrow? It was Sister Shiyao who asked me out!"
Zhao Henxi: "...Get lost!" He refused to be forced to eat dog food in the middle of the night, so he hung up the phone decisively and decided to settle the score with him tomorrow.
Despite his friend's heartless hanging up, Yi Yu's excitement level did not drop at all.
But thinking about his early morning date the next day, he forced himself to go back to his bedroom, lie down on the bed, turn off the lights, and go to sleep.
Despite tossing and turning in bed for over an hour, constantly imagining what tomorrow would bring, his excitement eventually gave way to his biological clock, and he fell into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.
In the darkness, in another corner of the city, Qu Shiyao finally closed her eyes, but her slightly furrowed brows suggested that her dream might not be peaceful.
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