Chapter 1: The Missing Idol

At the headquarters of AI Entertainment Group, the iconic hundred-story pyramid building was, as usual, brightly lit throughout the night.

On the 88th floor, the Virtual Intelligence Research Laboratory’s door was tightly closed.

Today was the weekend, and compared to the hustle and bustle of the other floors, this place was eerily quiet.

The laboratory was empty, and even the duty researcher was nowhere to be found.

The central experimental table was powered on, its red light flashing rapidly. A dense stream of green data swept across the display screen.

A silver-gray nutrient pod sat on the table. Inside its transparent glass cover made from special material, a young man in a white outfit lay quietly.

The warm yellow light made his skin look slightly honeyed, with sharp features and a deep, sculpted contour, as if he were a masterpiece carved from jade. Even the fine lines of his muscles seemed to be favored by creation.

Like an elegant Sleeping Beauty.

The clock on the metal wall slowly approached eight o’clock.

As the second hand and minute hand overlap, with a soft “tick,” the red light went out, all data transmission was completed, and the green light turned on.

In the next moment, the man inside the glass pod’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The vast and complex information continuously reorganized in Xiao Chi’s mind. He stared blankly at the transparent glass, his mind slowly clearing from its chaotic state after a few breaths.

An indescribable light illuminated his pitch-black eyes, as if a new life had been ignited.

His cold, handsome face instantly came to life.

At this moment, Xiao Chi truly opened his eyes for the first time to see the world—though his sight was limited to the gray-white ceiling above through the glass cover.

He lifted his arm and moved his gaze to his palm. His skin was rosy, and the lines on his hand were as distinct as if carved.

Xiao Chi tentatively touched the transparent glass. His nails made a crisp sound as they tapped, and the glass felt hard and cool to the touch, smooth as a mirror.

Curiously, he stroked it as if gently caressing the world.

Soon, he became dissatisfied with this and wanted to touch more, but no matter how much he pushed, the glass cover remained unmoving.

Instinctively, Xiao Chi clenched his fist. His knuckles tightened and turned white as he squeezed, gathering strength, and without hesitation, slammed his fist against it!

A sudden, dull crash echoed through the quiet laboratory!

Crack—

Fine cracks spread across the glass cover like a spider’s web and, with a loud noise, shattered into countless shards that fell down, covering him!

His fist didn’t even break the skin.

The man didn’t feel like he had done anything extraordinary. He sat up, brushed off the fragments, and slowly and carefully climbed out of the nutrient pod. The moment his feet touched the ground, he could even feel his heart leaping with joy.

Breathing, air, heartbeat, touch, smell—was this the feeling of being alive?

Xiao Chi couldn’t help but take a deep breath, as if he wanted to inhale the vibrant world into his lungs.

Before he could fully savor the joy of being newly alive, a sharp and urgent alarm suddenly blasted through the laboratory, its layers of sound spreading outward until it reverberated throughout the entire research building.

The anomaly in the laboratory seemed to have caught the attention of the security department.

Xiao Chi turned his head to stare at the loud red alarm device on the ceiling, his brow furrowing little by little.

Was this… a danger signal?

The flashing red light illuminated his profile, casting shadows that shifted unpredictably. Xiao Chi strode confidently to the laboratory door. When it opened from the inside, there was no need for iris verification. He quickly searched his mind and entered a string of passwords.

The heavy alloy door opened with a thud.

Not far around the corner, the green safety passage indicator light stood out in the dark hallway. Xiao Chi stepped out, following the direction of the light, his figure quickly disappearing into the far end of the corridor.

After Xiao Chi left, a faint red light flickered across the corner of the surveillance camera on the laboratory ceiling.

The surveillance footage faithfully recorded Xiao Chi’s entire process, from awakening to departure, without missing a single detail.

Behind the camera was a dimly lit office.

The bookshelf was filled with numerous volumes on virtual intelligence and life sciences.

On the desk, only a vintage-style desk lamp was lit. The lampshade blocked most of the light, with the remaining rays casting a sharp line of light and shadow on the man’s face.

The man appeared to be in his thirties, wearing silver-rimmed round glasses on his nose. Time had left some mature wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Even in the warmth of the indoor setting, the man wore a black turtleneck sweater. A portion of his wrist was exposed, revealing an “X”-shaped scar.

He was intently focused on the wall of surveillance footage, his gaze deep and concentrated as he tracked the man in white across various cameras, moving from one screen to another, from one floor to another.

While the alarm deliberately misled security personnel, causing them to flounder aimlessly on the upper floors, Xiao Chi had already used the shortcut security passage to reach the ground floor.

The man smiled slightly, took off his glasses, and gently wiped them for a moment. Just before the security personnel entered the laboratory, he pressed the red circular button on the remote control.

— “Confirm to completely destroy all data?”

— “Confirm.”

With a loud boom, an intense explosion erupted, and the soaring flames halted the security personnel’s search of the laboratory. Everything inside, under their stunned and panicked gazes, was consumed by the strange fire.

All that was left was a mess of debris and a secret buried forever.

One by one, the surveillance screens turned black, until only the footage of the untouched lower-level passage remained.

That was the direction to the life-sized doll assembly warehouse.

The man put his silver-rimmed glasses back on and stared at Xiao Chi’s figure until it completely disappeared into the warehouse, his gaze lingering for a long time.

After a while, he opened a delicate leather notebook and began writing on the thick, antique leather paper using an old-fashioned recording method, the sound of his pen scratching across the surface filling the room…

—

Time rewound a few minutes earlier.

The first snowfall of the New Year was grand and passionate, like fireworks celebrating the highly anticipated concert.

Tonight, Xiao Chi’s world tour concert officially began at eight o’clock.

The dazzling neon lights ignited the night, and the massive projection screens on the grand stage lit up one by one. The sound of the crowd was deafening, nearly overwhelming the massive venue that could hold half a million people.

“Xiao Chi! Xiao Chi—”

Everywhere you looked, there were crowds of people, packed together, with glow sticks fluttering like fireflies.

“At 7:59 PM, Beijing time, let me hear your countdown!” The host’s sweet voice echoed throughout the venue. She floated above the stage on a mini hovercraft, her high heels clicking as she moved gracefully through the air.

“Ten! Nine…”

“Three! Two! One!”

The entire venue erupted into an enthusiastic countdown, their excitement reaching its peak. Countless eyes eagerly focused on the central giant holographic projection, waiting for their beloved idol to appear—

The magnesium lights focused on the stage suddenly flickered once, then again, as if they were rapidly blinking.

Then, all the lights suddenly went out of control, struggling in vain before being completely extinguished, plunging the entire venue into total darkness.

Silence held for three seconds, and nothing happened on the pitch-black stage.

Only the fluorescent glow sticks remained awkwardly lighting up the darkness.

“What’s going on?”

“Is this the modern era? How can there be a power outage?”

“I want to see Xiao Chi!”

Anger and unease spread quickly through the audience, and the host tried to calm the fans down, but her voice was drowned out by the growing noise of skepticism, and her efforts had little effect.

Countless viewers watching the live broadcast were also cursing at the pitch-black projection screen.

Everyone was asking: What exactly happened?

This question also troubled the employees of AI Company’s virtual idol project team.

It was said that when the power went out at the concert venue, they casually complained a few times before diving into the intense repair work.

In order to clean up this mess, the project team gathered at the AI headquarters’ data center, working overtime and running around in a panic.

It wasn’t until the explosion from the experimental building was heard that the entire data center suddenly went offline!

The project team then discovered in despair that all of Xiao Chi’s data had been completely wiped out, including the backup programs. Not a single line of code was left, leaving behind a blank slate. All the files had vanished without a trace, and the folders were empty.

Even more bizarre, no one answered the phones of any of the developers involved in Xiao Chi’s creation.

It was a disaster!

It was like someone had erased their memory. For a virtual idol that completely relied on data and programs, it was nothing short of a catastrophic blow.

However, the shockwaves of this explosion that rocked the entire entertainment industry were far from over…

—

At the headquarters of Huanyi Entertainment Group, in the top-floor conference room.

About ten high-ranking executives from Huanyi were sitting around a massive oval table. A 360° holographic projection was cast by the projector, but since eight o’clock, it had been stuck in blackout mode.

“President Ji, we’ve just received the latest news about the AI Company. Their experimental building exploded, and the cause is still unclear. However, their most popular virtual idol, Xiao Chi, had to temporarily suspend his concert. It’s said to be due to a power outage,” the assistant hurriedly pushed open the conference room door and whispered a report to Ji Chenxuan, who was sitting at the head of the table.

Huanyi’s CEO, Ji Chenxuan, crossed his legs and sat upright in his black leather chair. After hearing the report, he was silent for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully, “I understand.”

“I knew something was wrong when the concert started and the screen went black! I didn’t expect that even the arrogant AI would have such a messy day,” laughed Director Yan of the Virtual Projects Department, who was sitting in the first seat on Ji Chenxuan’s left.

Director Yan was about to continue mocking when he was met with Ji Chenxuan’s stern gaze. He instinctively shut his mouth and sat up straight.

Ji Chenxuan then turned to the head of the Marketing Department sitting on his right. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table twice, signaling the person to continue speaking.

“As everyone knows, our competition with AI has been long-standing. We focus on traditional real-life stars, while AI has concentrated on developing virtual idols. We’ve always had the upper hand. But since Xiao Chi emerged out of nowhere, he completely shattered people’s stereotypes about virtual idols being stiff and highly homogeneous. He rose powerfully in the entertainment industry and claimed a big chunk of the market.”

One executive, not happy with this, spoke up: “If AI Company can develop virtual idols, so can we! Director Yan, this one’s on you—how come the Virtual Projects Department has yet to produce any results? In the end, all you need is a few programmers to design a program, a bunch of data. What’s so hard about that?”

Hearing the executive’s uninformed remark, Director Yan rolled his eyes and sneered, “I think your understanding of virtual idols is still stuck in the level of paper dolls and cartoons from decades ago.”

The executive muttered under his breath, “…It’s all just data.”

Director Yan let out a cold laugh. “This Xiao Chi is the only virtual idol that AI Company spent five years and a massive fortune developing, the only one that can truly be called highly intelligent. From your smart devices, you can trigger life-sized holographic projections of him anytime, anywhere. You can watch his live broadcasts and interact with him. And I mean, one-on-one interactions with the idol, in real-time. Think about it, your favorite idol calling your name gently every day, saying sweet nothings without repeating themselves. Who wouldn’t like that?”

“The processing unit can even run a medium-sized company’s daily operations. If there’s one flaw, it’s that you can only watch, not touch. But, come to think of it, which real-life celebrity can a regular fan even touch?”

Director Yan sighed wistfully, continuing, “AI Company has launched several virtual idols, but Xiao Chi is the one whose popularity never fades. Otherwise, there’s no way he would have stolen the title of global best-loved star from our Huanyi’s Xie Ting.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the whole conference room fell silent.

Everyone’s expressions became a bit awkward, and Director Yan realized he had brought up a sensitive topic. He awkwardly shrank back.

“Alright.” Ji Chenxuan stood up, his deep gaze sweeping over everyone in the room. The only voice heard in the meeting room was his. “Stop giving him credit. Since the AI Company was able to develop it, we at Huanyi can do the same. Director Yan, how much longer until we have results?”

Director Yan, suddenly being called out, froze. Ji Chenxuan’s indifferent gaze exuded a sense of pressure. At the moment of their eye contact, his heart skipped a beat, and he forced back the “two years” that was on the tip of his tongue. Hesitating, he said, “Another year should be enough.”

“Six months. The board expects to see results.” Ji Chenxuan’s deep voice was casual, but there was no room for negotiation.

Damn it, how could he have forgotten? President Ji had worked his way up from the bottom, he knew exactly how things were run, and he understood the delays from the lower levels all too well.

Director Yan sighed internally and slouched, reluctantly agreeing.

After dealing with the company’s complicated matters, Ji Chenxuan drove back to his secluded lakeside villa in the hills. It was already night.

It was considered early for him to get home at this hour, as today was an exception—he had ordered a life-sized replica of Xiao Chi for research purposes, a limited edition version, and had gone through a lot of trouble to get his hands on it.

He had planned to use the evening’s meeting as a chance to watch the concert live stream—oh no, to study the latest developments of a competitor.

Unfortunately, the concert was canceled due to a power outage, which was truly a shame.

At the entrance, there was a large cardboard box nearly as tall as a person, with bold “Handle with Care” markings. The packaging seemed a bit sloppy, which made Ji Chenxuan frown slightly.

He decided to take it to his room to inspect it first.

Just as he was about to move it, he suddenly felt something was off—why was it so heavy?