Items bought from the system could be temporarily stored in its inventory until needed. Additionally, she had a small personal storage space of three cubic meters. If she wanted more, she’d have to spend Dissing Points.  

Her eyes drifted to the system interface, which displayed a dazzling array of icons—everything from daily necessities to magical items like the “Strength to Topple Mountains” buff she’d just used. Truly, it had it all.  

Though some icons were grayed out and locked.  

When she checked her transaction history, confusion flickered across her face:  

She had dissed three times, earning a total of 13 Dissing Points. The “Strength to Topple Mountains” cost 50 points-far more than she had. Yet, her balance still showed 3 points remaining-just enough to buy a steamed bun.

A miscalculation?

But she didn’t dare point it out directly—the system lived up to its name in temper. Biting her lip, she asked tentatively, “Um, so the leftover 3 points… is that from a newbie gift pack or something?”  

[Gift pack my *ss! That was ME covering the difference! You earned 3 more after the exchange!]* 

Just thinking about it made the system want to breathe fire—who else had to pay to work on their first day like this?!

“O-oh, thank you, System.” Song Ruan was pleasantly surprised. “You can take the 3 points back first, and I’ll slowly repay the rest. I don’t want you to lose out.”  

Oh great, she’s a naive sweetheart too!

The system choked silently for a moment before snapping, “Keep it. You think I care about your measly scraps?”  

Song Ruan said sincerely, “System, you’re such a good person—no, good system.”  

[…]

With mixed emotions, it retreated to the system forum and posted:  

#Fellow Systems, you won’t believe this—I rolled the worst possible host: a soft, spineless sweetheart. BUT I’M A ROAST MASTER SYSTEM!!!#

[Moderator Alert: Detected use of inappropriate language violating forum rules. Account muted for 24 hours.]

System: “I already used * as substitutes, why the hell am I still penalized?”

“F*CK** ¥ @#^%*mp”

Just as the system was furiously typing away in a heated argument with the moderator, it caught a glimpse of the naive sweetheart (Sha Bai Tian) jumping up and darting into Song’s parents’ room. She stopped in front of a locked cabinet.

After a brief hesitation, she snapped the lock open and rummaged through it, her butt sticking up in the air.

[What are you doing?]

the system couldn’t help but ask.

Song Ruan fished out a household registration booklet from a pile of torn fabric and scraps of paper, her eyes gleaming as she wiped it clean and tucked it away, heading straight out.

“I need to sell off the job while they’re tied up at the hospital. That way, I’ll have some extra money when I’m sent to the countryside.”

She had already found the perfect candidate in the original host’s memories—Accountant Yu from the textile factory.

This Accountant Yu had a distant relative in the Revolutionary Committee, someone with a little influence but not much. She’d been desperately trying to secure a job for her daughter to avoid sending her to the countryside, growing more anxious by the day. She was the perfect “patsy” to take over this mess.

Sure enough, before Song Ruan could even finish speaking, Accountant Yu shot to her feet, a mix of excitement and disbelief on her face. 

“You’re really selling your job?”

The policy on sending youths to the countryside was getting stricter by the day.

Every official had children or relatives to place, and competition for jobs was fiercer than a pack of rabid dogs-how could she ever win against that?

Now Song Ruan was offering to sell her job? This was like manna from heaven!

Song Ruan lowered her head.

“My… second sister didn’t want to go to the countryside, but my parents, as you know, are just ordinary workers with no connections. So they signed me up instead. Now the notice has arrived-I’m being sent to the Northeast. But my family hasn’t even prepared a quilt for me… I have to look out for myself.”

“Yes! You absolutely should!” Accountant Yu eagerly agreed, then caught herself, realizing she might be rubbing salt in the wound. She forced a sympathetic expression.

“Don’t worry, Auntie won’t shortchange you. For a frontline worker position like yours, the going rate is around 550 yuan. I’ll give you 600, plus 30 catties of national grain coupons, five industrial vouchers, and two catties of sugar coupons.”

Seeing Song Ruan still hesitating, she recalled her mention of lacking a quilt and gritted her teeth.

“My family just had a new cotton quilt made. I’ll throw that in too!”

She had to secure this deal first. As for whether her daughter would actually work the frontline-once she was in the textile factory, under her own watchful eye, would she really let her daughter suffer?

Song Ruan did the math in her head: The original host had just become a full-time worker, earning 23.5 yuan a month. Even saving every penny for two years would only amount to 564 yuan. Six hundred was indeed a generous sum, not to mention the extra coupons and the quilt.

She feigned hesitation.

“It’s just… I’m afraid my parents might find out…”

But inwardly, she wasn’t worried about the deal falling through-after all, her parents were “just ordinary workers with no connections.”

As expected, Accountant Yu waved it off dismissively.

“Don’t worry about that!”

If she couldn’t outmaneuver those well-connected officials, how could she lose to the Song family? Besides, if there weren’t any complications, this opportunity wouldn’t have fallen into her lap in the first place.

She pushed Song Ruan onto the chair with one hand, poured her a cup of tea enthusiastically, and then reluctantly grabbed a handful of fruit candies for her: “Sit for a while. I’ll go home to get the money, and we’ll settle this right away.”  

Can’t let the cooked duck fly away!  

Song Ruan felt a little embarrassed but quietly widened her pocket—candies were a real treat in this era, and she was dirt poor right now.  

She could tell Accountant Yu was genuinely in a hurry. Before she had even finished half her tea, Accountant Yu and her entire family came panting into the room.  

The one trailing at the back was probably her daughter, carrying a cotton quilt tied into a square bundle with rope on her back. Her face was beaming with joy, like a happy little turtle.  

Only after being smacked by Account Yu did she realize she was being too visibly excited. She peeked at Song Ruan, then quickly replaced her expression with a solemn one.  

Once the formalities were done and she received the official employment documents, she couldn’t hold back any longer. After turning the papers left and right, she shoved the quilt into her mom’s hands, spun around, and dashed out of the office.  

Song Ruan, who faintly heard wild giggles drifting in from the doorway: “…”  

Accountant Yu, who also heard it: “…”  

She forced an awkward smile.  

“This child… this child…” Looking at Song Ruan, who was about the same age as her own daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to say “she’s young and doesn’t know better.” Instead, she decisively changed the subject: “Here’s the money and coupons we agreed on. I’m old and might’ve miscounted—why don’t you double-check?”  

When Song Ruan finished counting and nodded, Accountant Yu smiled slightly. “This quilt is a bit heavy. Should I carry it to the gate for you?”  

Song Ruan could tell this was just politeness and hurriedly declined. “No need, no need! I’m strong. Thank you.”  

Only after the transaction was fully completed and Song Ruan walked out of the textile factory carrying the quilt did the Roast Master System finally snap out of its daze, its CPU buzzing with excitement.  

So she hadn’t completely lost her wits! There was still hope for its KPI!

—

KPI = Key Performance Indicator