Time: 11:30 AM

  Location: Private Clinic in the Old Apartment Block

  Wang Cheng opened his eyes to the blinding ceiling lights of a makeshift private clinic in an old apartment block. "Private," in this case, seemed more a euphemism for "we don't ask questions, and neither should you." His hand was tethered to an IV drip—a bottle of saline that dangled precariously from a crooked metal stand, looking ready to crash down at any moment.

  Turning his head, he saw Su Qi Qi sitting beside him. Qi Qi's skin was a deep tan with a noticeable sheen, but his expression was one of tragic despair—like a kid who'd just learned his favorite game console had been discontinued. It was almost funny.

  "Wang Cheng, you're awake!" Su Qi Qi stammered, a mix of relief and guilt in his voice. He leaned forward, his crooked glasses slipping down his nose in such a comical way that it softened the sadness in the room.

  Wang Cheng's voice came out hoarse. "What happened? Where am I?"

  "You… fainted." Su Qi Qi explained, his words sticking like a scratched CD. "I found you lying on the floor, like… like a dead fish! I freaked out and called an ambulance."

  "Ambulance?!" Wang Cheng shot up, his voice leaping an octave. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much that costs?"

  Su Qi Qi's expression turned sheepish. He avoided eye contact, his eyes darting around the room. "Uh… about that… the bill was 2,500 yuan. But don't worry! I convinced them to drop us off here instead. This clinic is way cheaper!"

  "Cheaper?" Wang Cheng glanced around. The peeling paint on the walls looked like tree bark, and the air was saturated with a nauseating mix of antiseptic and mildew. "We still owe 2,500 for an ambulance ride? Are you trying to bankrupt me?"

  Su Qi Qi blinked and, astonishingly, managed a proud grin. "But I saved your life!"

  Wang Cheng sighed. Su Qi Qi, his so-called savior, was older by a year but lagged at least a decade behind in basic common sense. A legend in their university for all the wrong reasons, Su Qi Qi's dyslexia, stutter, and chronic procrastination had turned his academic career into a never-ending loop of make-ups, retakes, and collective faculty disappointment. Even his attempt to "modernize" by studying AI model tech ended in an embarrassing disaster.

  Now, Su Qiqi was a temp broadband technician—a gig secured through family connections. His day job involved apologizing to irate customers and climbing ladders he was terrified of. Yet none of that stopped him from undergoing a brain-computer interface surgery. Wang Cheng found the decision both admirable and unbelievably stupid.

  "Why did you go through with that surgery?" Wang Cheng narrowed his eyes. "You put yourself through all that just to stop stuttering? You could've just… practiced more."

  Su Qi Qi's expression darkened instantly, like Wang Cheng had hit a nerve. "You don't get it! This surgery makes me smarter. Faster!"

  "Smarter and faster?" Wang Cheng couldn't help but laugh. "Su Qi Qi, ‘fast' isn't exactly a compliment when it comes to men."

  Su Qi Qi glared at him—at least, he tried to. With his perpetually lazy gaze, it was hard to tell if he was glaring or zoning out. "Maybe you're just jealous! You're stuck in the past, Wang Cheng. The future's gonna leave you behind!"

  "I'd rather get left behind than end up like Old Zhang," Wang Cheng shot back coldly. Old Zhang was a local legend, one of the first test subjects for the MindCore Corporation's neural chip. A malfunction left him in a permanent drunken stupor—a living warning that technology wasn't always a savior.

  "Oh, come on, that was years ago. The tech's improved now. You're just paranoid, like one of those conspiracy guys," Su Qi Qi snorted. "What's next? Gonna tell me WiFi keeps you up at night?"

  The tension thickened. Wang Cheng decided to pivot, sharing the bizarre experiences he'd had over the past few days—how he'd seemingly entered a phone and a cleaning robot. Su Qiqi raised an eyebrow, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement.

  "So let me get this straight," Su Qi Qi struggled to hold back a chuckle, "you're saying you can possess a robot vacuum? And a phone? Like some kind of demon? Are you sure you didn't hit your head harder than we thought?"

  "It's true!" Wang Cheng insisted, grabbing his phone to prove it. But when he pulled up the browser history, his face flushed red—over 72 hours logged on adult websites.

  Su Qi Qi burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Oh my god. You're not a demon—you're just a perv! No wonder you passed out. You were too busy, uh, ‘researching'."

  Wang Cheng groaned and flung the phone onto the bed. "It's not what it looks like! Something's wrong with the system."

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "Sure, sure," Su Qi Qi wiped tears from his eyes, still giggling. "Either way… I surrender. You are officially the most heroic man I know."

  ...

  Back at his apartment, Wang Cheng finally had a chance to catch his breath. He collapsed onto the couch, hoping to savor a rare moment of peace.

  Of course, his phone buzzed almost immediately, shattering that fragile calm. It was a message from Su Qi Qi:

  "Skewers tonight? My treat!"

  Wang Cheng stared at the screen, a weary smile creeping onto his face. As much of a headache as Su Qiqi could be, he wasn't a bad guy. Wang Cheng sighed and quickly typed back: "Sure. Usual spot."

  But when he arrived at the skewer joint that night, Su Qi Qi was nowhere to be found.

  Wang Cheng sat alone on a plastic stool in the corner, a glass of now-warm beer in front of him. He tapped absentmindedly on the table, the minutes dragging by as his anxiety grew heavier with each passing second.

  "What the hell is this guy doing?" he muttered, pulling out his phone to call. The dial tone rang hollow in his ear—no answer. He sent a few more messages. Still nothing.

  Then a chilling thought crept into his mind: What if something happened to Su Qi Qi?

  "No, that idiot's probably off sweet-talking some girl again," Wang Cheng tried to reassure himself, though the knot in his chest said otherwise.

  As worry took root, his annoyance gave way to a rising sense of dread. It felt like a cat had curled up on his chest—impossible to ignore, impossible to shake off.

  He rushed back to his apartment, no longer willing to wait. If Su Qiqi was in trouble, he needed answers fast. He reached for the talisman—his key to traversing between the physical world and the digital Lingnet. It was the only thing that allowed him to return alive.

  But as he looked closer, his heart sank. The characters for "Command Seal" on the talisman had faded into near-illegibility.

  "Looks like this thing has a limited number of uses…"

  This could very well be his last chance to use it.

  He hesitated, the question gnawing at him: Was it really worth wasting his final shot on Su Qi Qi?

  But then he shook his head. "He saved me. If he's in trouble, he probably won't save himself."

  With a resigned sigh, Wang Cheng carefully laid the talisman on the floor. He brought over the cleaning robot "Xiao Jie" and his phone. Everything was ready.

  Time to dive in.

  The transition into the network was as disorienting as ever. Wang Cheng felt his consciousness stretch and compress like chewing gum tossed in a blender.

  When he finally landed, he found himself inside Su Qiqi's phone interface—absurdly bright, like standing inside a flashlight. Of course the idiot had set the brightness to max.

  Navigating to the GPS coordinates was surprisingly easy.

  "A public bathhouse? Seriously?" Wang Cheng muttered. "Don't tell me he fell asleep in the lounge with a towel over his face."

  He triggered the phone's ringtone and vibration, hoping to wake him up. No response.

  Switching to the camera feed, he finally spotted Su Qi Qi—slouched on a recliner, barely covered in a too-small bathrobe, mouth slightly open like someone who just finished takeout.

  "He's sleeping like a baby while I'm freaking out like a fool."

  But something didn't feel right. The phone was blaring, and yet Su Qi Qi didn't stir. That wasn't normal.

  "Don't tell me he's actually in trouble…" Wang Cheng's pulse quickened.

  Out of options, he activated the phone's hotspot and connected directly to Su Qi Qi's brain-computer interface. A low hum buzzed through his consciousness as he was pulled into the network's depths.

  He emerged into a lavish VR space—neon lights, smooth jazz in the background, digital avatars laughing, flirting, exchanging smirks. And in the center of it all: Su Qi Qi.

  Wang Cheng's jaw dropped.

  Su Qiqi's avatar was unrecognizable—tall, muscular, flowing hair, a jawline sharp enough to slice glass. He leaned casually against a virtual bar, chatting up a curvy, stylish older woman, exuding smug confidence.

  Wang Cheng stormed toward him, his digital form flickering with irritation.

  "Su Qi Qi!" His voice echoed through the virtual lounge.

  Su Qi Qi turned, startled. His perfect avatar twisted into a guilty expression. "Wang Cheng? What are you doing here?" His voice wavered like a kid caught sneaking snacks at midnight.

  "I should be asking you that! You scared me half to death! And what do I find? You're here, in this—this virtual love dungeon!?"

  Su Qi Qi scratched the back of his digital head, the motion cartoonish and awkward. "I… I forgot about the skewers. But hey, I just paid for an hour here! She's really hot, and we were just getting started…" His tone carried a misplaced sense of pride.

  Wang Cheng twitched. "You forgot?? I used the last activation of my talisman to come find you, and you forgot??"

  "You didn't have to do that!" Su Qi Qi waved his hands frantically, as if that would help. "I'm fine! Look—just chatting, that's all!"

  "Chatting?" Wang Cheng jabbed a finger at the woman. "This isn't chatting. This is high-end digital catfishing! You don't even look like this!"

  As his fury rose, the chatroom began to glitch. Su Qi Qi's avatar flickered, and suddenly, the perfect illusion shattered—replaced by his real-world appearance: balding, oily skin, awkward posture. The contrast with the sleek VR lounge was jarring.

  The same happened to everyone else. Glamorous avatars dissolved into tired, pudgy men, weary housewives, and haggard nerds—people who had spent far too long in digital fantasy.

  Even the "mature beauty" Su Qi Qi had been chatting with transformed into a scrawny, acne-ridden girl with buck teeth. She blinked in horror.

  "You're BALD?!" she screamed, vanishing with a flash as she rage-quit.

  Panic swept the room. The illusion shattered, everyone scrambled to escape the harsh light of reality.

  Su Qi Qi rubbed his pixelated forehead, sighing. "Ugh… What a crappy system."

  He glanced at Wang Cheng with a shrug. "At least she didn't block me—oh, wait. Yep. Blocked." He chuckled weakly. "Anyway, I'm logging out. Catch you later!"

  As he turned to log out, Wang Cheng stepped in his way.

  "Hold up. I need you to send a message from your account to mine. It'll help me trace my way back to my phone."

  Su Qi Qi blinked in surprise, curiosity piqued. He opened his friend list, half-believing, half-doubting.

  But before he could act, something—or someone—entered the room.

  A figure appeared. Humanoid, but wrong. Its form shimmered, blurry and indistinct, as if reality couldn't quite pin it down. But its voice—its voice was terrifyingly clear.

  "Hello Mr Wang Long time no see or should I say a pleasure to finally meet you. Oh my goodness it's really you I've been wanting to say I'm…"

  "—566"

  Wang Cheng froze.

  A chill crept up his spine, slow and suffocating.