It’s perfectly normal for SEA generated models to differ from their concept art, so characters with substantial roles usually require a few manual tweaks post-generation. Xie Shuangxue, a minor antagonist, was designed to look noble and virtuous on the surface, but with an underlying dark side. His character was definitely drawn to be beautiful, but the art team hadn’t gone to this level of detail.

The original character was done by Wei Lan herself, as the other team members were swamped. She rushed the work, leaving some fuzzy details and small flaws that she hadn’t had time to fix. Yet, here he was—completely stunning.

The facial features were the same, but softer, especially the eyes. The sharp, scheming look of the original antagonist design was gone, making him much more pleasant to look at.

And most importantly, he was incredibly beautiful.

There’s always a gap between even the most realistic illustrations and a person’s actual presence. Even slight differences in expression and posture can elevate someone from “pretty” to “stunning.”

Xie Shuangxue, as he stepped out of the mist and looked up, even rivaled Princess Chun Yao, a character the whole team had poured meticulous effort into. His eyes had a light that no other character seemed to possess, one that made him glow.

SEA had really outdone itself this time!

Wei Lan felt hesitant to make any changes. How could she risk messing with such beauty by tweaking it?

However, Xie Shuangxue himself was anything but calm.

One moment, he was browsing the forum, but after continuous network disruptions, he noticed his surroundings shifting. The gray fog around him gradually lifted, revealing Chun Yao’s familiar blade.

He recognized the weapon, but the scene was foreign—it wasn’t from any storyline he had experienced before.

It was as if he were waiting behind the scenes, watching a character showcase, something he’d never experienced. The three people ahead of him, too, were unfamiliar.

Or perhaps not entirely unfamiliar.

While searching Endless Sea’s data on the forum, he’d seen pictures of these three before.

The person at the front was Wei Lan, head of the art team. Standing beside her was Gou Yuan, head of the Gods and Demons game department. Based on what he could see, he quickly deduced that he was in an art team testing space.

Looks like he was finally getting a face.

Besides Wei Lan and Gou Yuan, another person was present. Even in the corner, he was impossible to ignore.

Yu Haiqing.

He’d just seen this man’s picture, and the forum had been in an uproar about him.

No wonder he had so many fans—this Endless Sea CEO really was incredibly handsome. Just seeing his back in a plain black suit was magnetic.

Since this wasn’t the testing team and the control was looser here, Xie Shuangxue found he could move within a small range before it was his turn to appear, so he turned slightly and began to observe the three.

Gradually, he picked up snippets of their conversation.

So, SEA’s main brain chip had successfully upgraded?

Could this be related to his newfound awareness?

Xie Shuangxue couldn’t quite figure it out, but after a few finalized characters quickly ran through their segments, it was his turn.

A layer of white mist later, he opened his eyes, and the familiar sensation of losing control over his limbs hit him once again.

He sighed inwardly—once more under system control.

He couldn’t see his newly-gained features, but based on Gou Yuan and Wei Lan’s reactions, he guessed he probably looked unexpectedly good.

At least, that’s something positive, he thought to himself.

As for Yu Haiqing, just as the forum described, this cool and likely emotionally detached man showed no reaction whatsoever, utterly unmoved by beauty. He didn’t even look at Xie Shuangxue, his attention solely on the controller in his hand, as if the data flashing on the device was far more captivating.

While Yu Haiqing didn’t notice Xie Shuangxue, Xie Shuangxue certainly noticed Yu Haiqing.

Not only did he notice him—he felt a surge of excitement.

Not because of Yu Haiqing’s face, but because as he approached, he realized Yu Haiqing was surrounded by an enormous glowing orb!

It was the same light he had painstakingly gathered, familiar down to the last detail. And this wasn’t just a faint line of light; it was a bright, fist-sized orb!

So much!

He wanted it!

But why did Yu Haiqing have it?

He wondered, automatically stepping closer to touch it. He’d made similar moves in the storyline, so this wasn’t new.

He tried, thinking it would likely fail, as it usually did in the testing space, but to his surprise, he successfully turned!

Xie Shuangxue: ?

Wei Lan, now more fascinated than shocked, noticed that this NPC was indeed unique.

In the art team’s testing space, every NPC switches into a brief scene as part of testing, showing off movement and expression. The space was blank, no background or set, resembling a performance in a void.

Typically, Gou Yuan and Wei Lan stood where a player would be, while Yu Haiqing, focused on stability tests for the SEA upgrade, paid little attention to the NPC appearances.

But this time, as Xie Shuangxue turned, his eyes locked directly on Yu Haiqing.

Xie Shuangxue could sense the two people watching him, though he felt no need to react. Perhaps the control in the art team’s space was weaker than in the storyline tests, but he also noticed that after browsing the forum, he had about four-fifths of his light left. Just this turn had drained a quarter of it.

Clearly, his ability to move was powered by this light.

Suppressing his surprise, he took another step forward, his resolve strengthening.

He hadn’t fully understood the light’s purpose yet, but it was certainly more than just for browsing forums. If getting this close to Yu Haiqing allowed him to gather even a portion of that light, he would take it.

But he couldn’t be too obvious. He needed to act within his character’s boundaries.

Reading the forum taught him that under no circumstances could humans discover his self-awareness. If the game developers realized an NPC had gained consciousness, he’d likely be treated as a bug and deleted.

He knew what he had to do.

The space wasn’t large, and within a few steps, Xie Shuangxue stood in front of Yu Haiqing.

His gaze held an intense focus as he took a step forward, his face slowly showing an inexplicable look of adoration.

Yu Haiqing, noticing the NPC’s unexpected movement, raised an eyebrow. Xie Shuangxue spoke.

“Everything I do is for you…”

As he spoke, he reached out as if to touch him, but Yu Haiqing instinctively took a step back, leaving Xie Shuangxue grasping at empty air.

Something wasn’t right.

Yu Haiqing felt it, and so did Xie Shuangxue.

Usually, he only needed to get close to gather the light around him, with any light within a certain range automatically drawn to him. But now, despite being this close, the light orb remained static.

How was this different from before?

He pressed forward, changing tactics.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded, a trace of nervousness flashing across his face. He wiped his hand with his sleeve as if trying to make himself more presentable, then took another step, stammering, “I’ve always… I’ve always…”

Yu Haiqing frowned, finally realizing it was part of the testing scene. Despite his dislike for close contact, he didn’t interrupt. Yet, when Xie Shuangxue reached out again, Yu Haiqing instinctively leaned away.

But rather than grabbing his arm, Xie Shuangxue only managed to clutch a corner of his suit.

Just the hem. Acceptable.

Yu Haiqing hesitated for a moment but didn’t move away.

“What can I do to stay with you?”

“Please don’t hate me,” Xie Shuangxue murmured softly, sounding genuinely distressed, “I’ll do anything…”

Then, he fell still.

His head was slightly lowered, gaze focused not on Yu’s face but on the hand holding his hem, as if Yu Haiqing was truly his heart’s desire. His lowly devotion was evident in his downcast eyes, which held an unmistakable sadness, as though he were longing for something unattainable.

He looked heartbreakingly real.

What no one but Xie Shuangxue could see was that, as his hand brushed Yu’s coat, part of the light orb drifted over to him.

Not enough, he thought, but he stayed motionless, willing to wait.

Seeing that Xie Shuangxue had stilled, Yu Haiqing assumed the scene was over and immediately tried to pull his hand away. As he did, he paused briefly.

Perhaps SEA’s simulation had truly improved, for when Yu Haiqing made contact, he felt the warmth of Xie Shuangxue’s hand, soft and slightly heated, a surprisingly pleasant sensation.

But his grip was firm, and it took a bit of effort for Yu Haiqing to free himself.

What Yu Haiqing couldn’t see was that with each touch, another large portion of the light orb transferred over to Xie Shuangxue.

Having finished the scene, Xie Shuangxue stood there, his hand dropping slightly after Yu Haiqing pulled away. With his head bowed, he looked like he’d been abandoned, evoking an unmistakable sense of pity.

Understood, Xie Shuangxue thought to himself, acting as if he’d been pitifully forsaken. Yu’s light required direct contact to absorb.

Wei Lan and Gou Yuan, watching the whole scene, exchanged glances.

“That was brutal of you,” Wei Lan remarked.

Yu Haiqing: … Wake up.

Still, it felt like the scene was shorter than it should’ve been.

“Which part of the story was that?” Gou Yuan asked, thinking back. “Was there a confession like this?”

“There is, I think,” Wei Lan said uncertainty. She wasn’t in the testing team, so although she’d reviewed the storylines, she didn’t memorize every line. After thinking a bit, she continued, “It should be when Luo Yin’s illusions cause Xie Shuangxue to confess his love to a scarecrow he thinks is Chun Yao.”

It’s this incident that first makes Luo Yin aware of Xie Shuangxue’s feelings, leading to the events that eventually seal his tragic fate as an expendable villain.

Though it wasn’t a major scene, Xie Shuangxue’s confession now felt entirely different.

Even with the same lines and script, his tone, expression, and movement created a completely different experience.

Watching him, Wei Lan found herself feeling an unexpected tug of sympathy and affection.

This NPC was truly unique, unlike Chun Yao’s heroic elegance or Luo Yin’s concealed menace.

Or rather, it was their President Yu’s upgrade that was something special!

Look at how much more emotional depth SEA’s characters could convey now. If even a minor villain could deliver such an impactful performance, how could their main characters disappoint?

Her mind raced, quickly leaping to a second thought—this was exactly the type of character Gou Yuan had been asking for to outshine those fox spirits at Dreamscape!

Ready-made!

A gift from the heavens!

No need for her to pull all-nighters now!

Gou Yuan was also impressed but cautious. Leaning in to study Xie Shuangxue’s face, he asked, “Are we sure this face won’t outshine the main characters? Will players even like a minor villain this much?”

“Why not? As long as he’s evil with style and looks good, people will love him,” Wei Lan retorted. “Come on, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? It just fell into your lap, and you’re still unsatisfied? Don’t tell me you’re planning to make him ugly?”

After a moment’s thought, Gou Yuan agreed. Without saying another word, he leaned closer to admire Xie Shuangxue’s face again.

Perfect. He was definitely better-looking than those fox spirits Dreamscape was pushing.

Especially with that confession scene—it was excellent. From Yu’s angle, it could be perfectly captured for interactive promo material.

After arguing with Wei Lan all day, Gou Yuan finally found himself silenced by this unexpected NPC, feeling as if he’d scored a victory. Now, the more he looked at Xie Shuangxue, the more he liked him—even more than the characters Wei Lan had painstakingly designed.

Which other NPC could pull off getting a no-overtime rule for the entire art team?

Love it, love it.