My Unconventional Online Romance - Chapter 3

She wanted to be angry, but getting mad at a system would probably only upset herself in the end.

The system eagerly said, “As long as you log in next time, that’s enough.”

“Fine.” Xiao Nianyuan agreed without hesitation. Once she logged off, the system wouldn’t be able to track her down in the real world and force her back online.

“Are you thinking of agreeing now and then never logging in again?”

Xiao Nianyuan retorted, “You know what I’m thinking?”

The system quickly denied it. “No!”

Xiao Nianyuan pressed, “Then why do you doubt me?”

The system was left speechless and conceded, “I don’t doubt you.”

As soon as it finished speaking, the earlier prompt forcing Xiao Nianyuan to accept a master disappeared.

Just as Xiao Nianyuan regained her focus, she saw Lian Qiushui circling around her again and again.

Their eyes met, and Lian Qiushui showed no trace of the awkwardness from moments ago, smiling as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Xiao Nianyuan shook her head, staying silent. After a brief pause, she finally said, “I’m logging off.”

Lian Qiushui looked disappointed and reached out as if to stop her.

Xiao Nianyuan dodged the gesture instinctively, then immediately felt a little awkward about it.

But Lian Qiushui acted as if she hadn’t been rejected at all, asking regretfully, “Are you really leaving now?”

Xiao Nianyuan replied, “Yes, I have things to do.”

“Then go ahead and log off.”

Lian Qiushui stood frozen in place, watching as Xiao Nianyuan logged out.

Xiao Nianyuan had never met anyone like Lian Qiushui—someone who acted completely unfazed even after being rejected.

As she puzzled over it, she suddenly remembered Lian Qiushui claiming to be an NPC.

Could it be true?

At this point, Xiao Nianyuan was 90% convinced.

“If you log off now, will you be able to come back next time?” Xiao Nianyuan asked.

“Why do you ask? Next time I log in, you might not even remember me.”

Lian Qiushui protested, “How could that be? You’re the first person who’s ever talked to me. Of course I’d remember you.”

Xiao Nianyuan responded indifferently, but she didn’t take the words seriously.

With so many players in the game, how could she possibly be the first to speak to Lian Qiushui? Given Lian Qiushui’s likable personality, it was unlikely others hadn’t approached her before.

Xiao Nianyuan’s reasoning wasn’t wrong—except she forgot this was a game.

No matter how charming Lian Qiushui was, in this game, she was neither an important NPC nor had any special function, making it easy for players to overlook her.

Though the system claimed it wouldn’t restrict Xiao Nianyuan from logging off, when she tried to leave, a prompt still appeared, asking for confirmation.

Without hesitation, Xiao Nianyuan logged out, removing the gaming device and turning it over in her hands.

The device looked deceptively simple, yet this unassuming piece of technology had allowed her to experience everything in the game—every sensation, every feeling—as if it were real.

Even though Xiao Nianyuan wasn’t particularly fond of the game, she could already imagine how many players it would attract once it went into open beta.

The sheer novelty and innovation alone would be enough to draw in a massive crowd.

Just then, footsteps sounded at the door before it swung open.

Xiao Nianyuan quietly put her things away as her three roommates, chatting and laughing, entered the dorm.

Listening to their conversation, she realized they were talking about the very game she had just logged off from.

One of the girls exclaimed excitedly, “I was so close to getting a beta key!”

This roommate was named Tan Xialan, the most lively one in the dorm who could get along with anyone. Even with complete strangers, she could quickly become familiar, as if they were old friends who’d known each other for over a decade.

“How did you know it was just a narrow miss?” The question came from another roommate, Ji Rongxue. With outstanding temperament, gentle speech, and generous personality, she was exceptionally beautiful—worthy of being called the class flower.

However, in university, people didn’t pay much attention to such titles, unlike in TV dramas where the entire school would discuss campus belles on forums.

“There were exactly one hundred slots in that lottery, and I drew number one hundred and one,” Tan Xialan said helplessly.

Ji Rongxue comforted her, “It’s alright, you can still play when the game officially launches.”

Tan Xialan muttered, “I can play, sure, but it’s not the same. The benefits for closed beta testers and open beta players are quite different.”

“Alright, let’s eat first,” Ji Rongxue changed the subject. “The cafeteria auntie gave me extra portions today.”

As the topic shifted, the other two roommates joined in discussing their meals.

Xiao Nianyuan examined the gaming device and noticed a serial number—the Arabic numeral 100.

She happened to be the hundredth closed beta tester mentioned by her roommates.

Had she not participated or declined earlier, this device might have gone to her roommate instead.

Xiao Nianyuan lay quietly in bed with no intention of getting up.

She assumed her roommates would leave after eating. The three of them loved going out and rarely stayed in the dorm, so Xiao Nianyuan had grown accustomed to waiting until they left before getting up.

While scrolling through her phone in bed, she came across a post reviewing the very game she was playing.

She couldn’t remember the game’s English name, but recognized its interface immediately.

After some hesitation, she clicked in. The comments were full of praise, with everyone lauding the game’s quality and some even predicting it would become Game of the Year.

Just as she was about to exit after browsing, she noticed one particular comment.

It simply read: Closed beta testers are not allowed to quit easily.

When asked why, the commenter never responded, leaving numerous speculative replies underneath.

Some called it nonsense meant to create anxiety; others suspected it was posted by a rival company to scare off testers.

One comment in particular caught Xiao Nianyuan’s attention—it claimed that during the beta selection, there was a condition requiring players to participate for a full year, otherwise they’d be liable for any losses incurred during that period.

This comment also faced skepticism, with many finding it absurd that a beta test and device would come with such outrageous terms.

Like the previous commenter, this one never responded either.

As Xiao Nianyuan searched for new replies, a network error suddenly appeared. When she reopened the page, the comment had vanished without a trace.

Whether it was deleted or she simply couldn’t find it, Xiao Nianyuan couldn’t tell, but it left her vaguely unsettled.

She knew roughly how much game development cost—no company would make players shoulder all expenses. But if the company insisted on legal action, ordinary people would surely lose.

If someone really sued her over this, Xiao Nianyuan would probably just admit defeat immediately.

“Is Xiao Nianyuan up there?” Tan Xialan suddenly asked.

Xiao Nianyuan responded softly, “Yes, I’m up here.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We thought you weren’t here,” Tan Xialan continued.

“I was listening to you all talk,” Xiao Nianyuan replied.

Xiao Nianyuan had a quiet personality—to put it bluntly, she was somewhat reclusive.

Even if others didn’t get along well with classmates, they would at least be close with their roommates or have other friends. But Xiao Nianyuan was the only person Tan Xialan knew who was always alone.

For example, in their dorm of four, the other three usually went to class, left class, and ate meals together, while Xiao Nianyuan always went by herself. Even if their schedules happened to align, she would intentionally or unintentionally keep her distance.

Because of this, others had quietly asked her three roommates why they didn’t hang out with Xiao Nianyuan. They could only helplessly say she was busy—though what she was busy with, they didn’t know.

When Ji Rongxue returned from taking out the trash, she looked up at the tightly drawn bed curtain and asked Xiao Nianyuan, “We’re planning to go biking tomorrow. Are you coming?”

“I won’t be going.”

After a pause, Xiao Nianyuan added, “I have something to do tomorrow.”

With that, no one pressed further. They just smiled and the three of them gathered to chat about other things.

Xiao Nianyuan didn’t mind being ignored. After they left, she climbed down to pour herself a glass of water before returning to bed.

Xiao Nianyuan was a very laid-back person. After finishing what she needed to do, she would listen to music or watch movies. Sometimes, on a whim, she would go shopping—though she preferred going alone, as being with others made her uncomfortable. Her favorite time to go was right before closing, when there were fewer people and she could avoid close contact as much as possible.

After planning her schedule for the next few days, Xiao Nianyuan went to sleep, only to wake up suddenly in the middle of the night.

She lay in bed, taking a while to calm down and sort out the nightmare she’d had. She dreamed she was trapped in the game and couldn’t get out. Then, a figure in red appeared and told her it could take her out—but only if she agreed to one thing.

Before Xiao Nianyuan could ask what it was, a flood surged in, leaving her dizzy and gasping for air. The more she thought about that red figure, the more it resembled Lian Qiushui from the game.

Vaguely, she remembered promising Lian Qiushui she would log back in.

Xiao Nianyuan reached out and pulled out the equipment she had packed away in a corner, ready to be returned. She stared at it in silence.

Even though she knew Lian Qiushui was just an NPC, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t break a promise so easily.

Glancing at the time—exactly 2 a.m., technically the next day—Xiao Nianyuan decided since she couldn’t sleep anyway, she might as well log in for a quick visit. That way, she wouldn’t be going back on her word. After all, she had only promised to log back in—not when.

She had always thought the game’s NPCs were incredibly lifelike. If they were that realistic, they would probably be resting at this hour. With that in mind, she logged in without hesitation.

The moment she appeared in the game, a red figure materialized before her.

Lian Qiushui smiled and embraced her. “You didn’t lie to me.”

Xiao Nianyuan’s body tensed up as she instinctively pushed her away, asking, “What are you doing here?”

Lian Qiushui replied, “I was waiting for you to log in.”

Xiao Nianyuan asked, “Don’t you ever get tired?”

Lian Qiushui countered, “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

Instead of answering immediately, she first posed the question to Xiao Nianyuan.

With a resigned sigh, Xiao Nianyuan said, “The truth.”

Lian Qiushui then answered, “I’m an NPC—I don’t get tired.”

Xiao Nianyuan averted her gaze and lowered her eyes before asking, “And the lie?”

Lian Qiushui smiled innocently. “The lie is that I can’t sleep unless you log in.”

“You can see I’m online now…” Xiao Nianyuan wanted to say that since she was here, Lian Qiushui didn’t need to wait anymore.

“Can’t sleep? I’ll keep you company for a while,” Lian Qiushui enthusiastically suggested before Xiao Nianyuan could finish.

“You, an NPC, can actually chat with me?” Xiao Nianyuan was surprised.

“Don’t keep calling me an NPC. I’m not like the others.”

Perhaps because she knew Lian Qiushui wasn’t a real person, Xiao Nianyuan felt much more at ease than she usually did when talking to others, free from her usual nervousness.

This rare sense of relaxation piqued her curiosity. “Then tell me, what makes you different?”

Lian Qiushui rubbed her nose proudly. “Isn’t it obvious? You didn’t even realize I was an NPC at first—that proves I’m pretty impressive.”

As she spoke, she glanced around and then up at the sky, as if worried someone might overhear them.

Xiao Nianyuan also looked up in confusion but saw nothing.

Lian Qiushui said cautiously, “Sometimes I worry that if I act too real, I’ll be found out.”

Xiao Nianyuan laughed. “Why would you even think that?”

Lian Qiushui replied matter-of-factly, “Sometimes, things that are too advanced make people wary.”

Amused, Xiao Nianyuan thought that no matter what, she was still just an NPC. These concerns were likely just part of her programmed dialogue.

For an NPC to fear being discovered for having unexpected self-awareness was inherently illogical.

Even if she truly developed independent consciousness, her creator could erase her with just a click. As an NPC, she had no means of resistance.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Lian Qiushui sat down beside her, resting her chin in her hand as she studied Xiao Nianyuan.