As soon as Liu Sizhen shut the car door, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly sounded in his mind:

[You’re breaking character.]

Just having arrived, Liu Sizhen was caught off guard, especially since the system hadn’t even had a chance to provide him with the story plot yet. Previously, when the system spoke to him, he wasn’t fully awake and thought he was dreaming, so he responded rather casually.

But now, if everything was real, it was different. The supernatural nature of it all was a bit unnerving; he recalled novels he’d read where failing to complete tasks with a system could lead to serious consequences.

He decided to test the system, curious about what would happen.

[What should I do then…]

[Is breaking character going to have serious consequences?]

Actually, Liu Sizhen was the first task performer for System 258, so it was just starting out as well. Surprised by Liu Sizhen’s reaction, the system paused, and its usually cold, mechanical tone sounded almost comforting.

[It’s alright, not a big issue.]

[Just make sure you stay in character around the main character later…]

[Alright, that’s a relief.]

[Don’t worry too much. The tasks are pretty straightforward. I’ll send you the script and character profile shortly.]

[Alright…thank you.]

[……]

---

Living alone in such a spacious, stand-alone villa in 2007, with a housekeeper and a personal driver—this character was clearly well-off, Liu Sizhen thought as he sat in the roomy, comfortable back seat of the luxury car.

In his original world, it was still the heat of summer, and he’d been sweating even in slightly thick costumes for the play. But this small world seemed to be just early spring; even with a thick coat, he felt a bit chilly.

In the warm car, which seemed to have heated seats, Liu Sizhen felt comfortable. The driver’s smooth driving made the ride almost seamless.

As he watched the scenery whiz by through the window, he noticed the pedestrians’ clothing was still rather colorful, challenging his stereotype that people back then would wear dull, heavy cotton clothes and shoes.

As he pondered these random thoughts, he began to receive the character profile and script from the system.

His character was, in essence, a troubled youth.

At the start of his journey, the system had asked if he preferred to inhabit an existing character or to create a blank shell. It explained the differences: inhabiting an existing character was quicker, while a randomly generated shell would be rather lifeless, lacking a true soul, often appearing blank and dull.

There was also a time limit on each world, and reaching that limit would cause rejection from the world. The system, therefore, recommended inhabiting a character; it made task completion smoother, and if one wished to stay longer, they could.

But Liu Sizhen declined.

[It feels a bit awkward, you know? Just thinking that someone else would be watching while I complete tasks—it feels kind of strange…]

This was the response Liu Sizhen gave, adding a line to clarify, as if worried his request might come off as unreasonable.

[Is… that possible?]

The system was silent for a moment.

[It is possible.]

Before his first day at school, Liu Sizhen went to the bathroom for a quick look at his current face. Thankfully, the features in the reflection were still his own, so he accepted it easily.

Although, the style in the mirror was completely different from his usual look.

His hair was dyed a very light color. Luckily, his fair skin could carry the demanding color; otherwise, it would’ve been a disaster. His left ear was studded with earrings—Liu Sizhen counted them, about five or six piercings on the earlobe, cartilage, and helix. He looked every bit the rebellious teenager.

[System, once I finish the task, I can go back, right?]

Liu Sizhen stared at his reflection, brows furrowed as if he could squash a fly between them. He couldn’t get used to his bleached hair. Wasn’t this supposed to be 2007? He wondered if he might look too unconventional, which made him feel like an antique.

He spent quite a while in front of the mirror, practicing his smile, expressions, and demeanor, though it wasn’t too challenging for him.

[Of course.]

Then came the last, and most pressing, question:

[If I don’t finish the task… are you going to kill me?]

258 wasn’t paying much attention to Liu Sizhen’s appearance—it could switch its view to see him but preferred focusing on life energy patterns.

It had immediately been drawn to Liu Sizhen’s energy. He’d been on stage playing a villain, gripping another actor by the collar. His stance, expressions, and threats were convincingly done.

258 had noticed the stage light above him coming loose from wear. Although it couldn’t interfere, it was able to temporarily block Liu Sizhen’s pain the moment it fell on him.

“Perfect choice!” 258 thought.

Liu Sizhen’s energy was pure white, an unusual trait. And now, 258 could see the light trembling slightly. Was he… scared?

[No, I won’t.]

It would just mean wasting some energy and time.

Sending taskers into small worlds consumed energy. If a tasker failed, 258 couldn’t collect the protagonist’s energy and would fall into dormancy until it could regain enough power.

Of course, it could absorb the tasker’s energy instead, but there was no need to tell him that. 258 repeated:

[Even if you don’t complete it, it’s fine.]

[No way.]

To 258’s surprise, Liu Sizhen responded seriously.

[My mom taught me never to do things half-heartedly. Whatever I do, I have to give it my best.]

---

Back in the classroom, the sound of pens scratching against paper filled the air as Liu Sizhen put on a focused expression while mentally chatting with the voice in his head.

[System, I was pretty good just now, wasn’t I?]

The system had a long identification number—258159 followed by several digits. Liu Sizhen remembered only the “258” part, finding it easier to simply call it “System.”

[Not bad at all, keep it up!]

258 praised him in its mechanical tone.

[Mhm, really great acting!]

To be honest, hearing a robot voice say something like that was awkward, even hitting Liu Sizhen’s funny bone. He couldn’t laugh, though—not now.

He held it in, kept his composure, and started looking around. The classroom wasn’t particularly distinctive; almost all classrooms looked similar, maybe a bit older, but with the same familiar motivational quotes on the walls and a timetable beside the blackboard.

His classmates were diligently working on their test papers, and outside the window, a large tree was beginning to bud with new leaves.

This classroom vibe was something he hadn’t felt since college, and to his surprise, Liu Sizhen found it oddly nostalgic.

He closed his eyes, as if resting, but was actually listening attentively.

With three minutes left before the end of the last morning class, students in the classroom began frequently checking their watches.

The subject teacher, known for being easygoing, understood that after a full morning of classes, these kids were likely starving. Forcing them to stay focused was probably pointless, so instead, the teacher wrapped up on time, tidying up the desk while assigning homework, and dismissed them right as the bell rang.

The moment class was over, the students scattered like doves being released, while Liu Sizhen continued to lie on his desk, pretending to sleep.

Everyone knew he was not to be disturbed, so even his close friends slowed their pace as they passed him, and the rest kept to their own circles, leaving the classroom in pairs or groups, heading for the restroom or the cafeteria. Soon, the once-crowded classroom was nearly empty.

Only Liu Sizhen and Lin Bosheng remained.

Liu Sizhen kept pretending to sleep but also observed Lin Bosheng at the front. Sigh, the male lead really had a tough time early on.

The cafeteria food wasn’t overly expensive; the cheapest set meal was about five or six yuan and included one meat dish, two vegetables, rice, and a bowl of seasonal soup. The meat portion only cost a yuan or two, yet Lin Bosheng only ever ate a hard, plain steamed bun for lunch, washed down with cold tap water.

Their classroom did have a water dispenser, but students were expected to pay for its use. Not that anyone checked constantly, but Lin Bosheng was too proud to take advantage.

So stubborn…

Just as Lin Bosheng was about to take out a bun from his desk, Liu Sizhen stretched dramatically as if just waking up, loosening his slightly numb shoulders.

As usual, he ordered Lin Bosheng to buy him lunch in a bossy tone, listing a long menu with very specific instructions. Anyone else might have struggled to remember his order, but Lin Bosheng memorized it perfectly and quickly calculated the cost in his head.

The weather was still a bit chilly, so Liu Sizhen specifically asked for a warm drink, which made sense; the school store offered hot drinks, albeit a bit more expensive.

After calculating the cost, Lin Bosheng noticed that, once again, he’d been given extra money.

He could have easily reported a higher price and kept some for himself; a few extra coins meant nothing to Liu Sizhen, who likely didn’t even care. But… Lin Bosheng didn’t want to do that.

In the beginning, he’d always returned the change, but Liu Sizhen seemed to get angry every time, acting as if it was an insult. He didn’t care at all about the money and even scolded Lin Bosheng for looking down on him.

A lot of classmates witnessed that scene.

Lin Bosheng overheard some of their not-so-friendly comments about Liu Sizhen and noticed how Liu Sizhen held his head high, trying to seem arrogant. But when he was throwing out harsh words, his ears were a little red, and he avoided eye contact.

Lin Bosheng had encountered many types of people, yet this was his first time meeting someone like Liu Sizhen: someone who talked tough and threatened others but seemed embarrassed by his own words.

Lin Bosheng lived in a chaotic part of town, near a notorious alley known for crime, with rumors of violent incidents that gave it a dark reputation.

Having grown up around truly dangerous people, he recognized real malice in a person’s eyes. Liu Sizhen… didn’t have that.

Not only that, but his attempts to act fierce were clumsy. His “toughness” was mostly loudness; sometimes, he didn’t even sound truly annoyed but rather like he was putting on a show.

On the outside, he seemed intimidating, but he was like a paper tiger, tough only in appearance.

Sometimes, after saying something particularly harsh, Liu Sizhen would sneak glances at Lin Bosheng, watching his reaction…

Eventually, Lin Bosheng stopped trying to return the change and began mentally keeping track of it, even recording it in a little notebook. Liu Sizhen might not care, but Lin Bosheng did, knowing he should repay the kindness he received someday.

Lin Bosheng could tell kindness from cruelty.

But he didn’t understand one thing.

Why did Liu Sizhen do this?

Why would this transfer student, who claimed to dislike him and constantly targeted him, show kindness in such a subtle, almost undetectable way?

Since he’d joined the class this semester, it seemed, at least to others, that Liu Sizhen had been picking on him.

Lin Bosheng had been excluded by people before, often for all kinds of strange reasons he didn’t care to understand.

But Liu Sizhen… was different.

His actions were a little… odd.