Chen Huai’an turned off the TV, a bitter smile on his face.
“In today’s world, cancer is no longer a guaranteed death sentence. With modern technology and advanced medical care, as long as you have insurance, family support, or savings…”
But I have nothing.
The critical illness diagnosis came two days ago. Yesterday, his girlfriend ran off. And today, he collapsed.
He was just a freshman in college. His parents, forest rangers, had perished in a wildfire years ago, leaving him nothing but a modest compensation payment.
Over the years, he had pushed through his grief, trying to live a positive life. With careful budgeting, odd jobs, and that small sum, he managed to enroll in college. His grades weren’t bad, and he had even gotten into a top-tier university. It was said that graduates from his school were guaranteed jobs, and he thought that even if his salary was low, at least he could survive.
Then, two days ago, he went to the hospital to check on a persistent pain in his ankle—and was diagnosed with mid-stage cancer.
Knowing he had no money for treatment, Chen Huai’an simply dropped out of school. He rented a small place near the city’s wetland park for a year, planning to spend his remaining days in peace.
As for what he would do when the rent expired and he ran out of money?
Heh. He seriously doubted he’d live that long.
Opening his banking app, he checked his balance—just over 30,000 yuan left.
“At most, food costs me 500 to 600 a month. If I include other expenses, let’s round it up to 1,000. That means after a year, I’ll still have at least 20,000 left.”
He stared at the numbers, lost in thought.
For years, he had worked tirelessly. While other students traveled, he worked. While they played games, he worked. While they dated… his girlfriend had been cheating on him.
Now, he had time. Time to live for himself.
He’d play games, binge-watch all the shows he had been saving, and if his body allowed, maybe even visit the beach.
Just as he was thinking about what to do, a pop-up appeared on his phone.
[Installation complete.]
[Come and claim your virtual girlfriend! ]
Normally, he would have dismissed such an ad without a second thought.
But today, his finger hesitated.
Returning to his home screen, he noticed a new app icon. The design was a chibi-style portrait of a girl in traditional Chinese robes, wielding a sword, her sleeves fluttering.
“An auto-installed game? Could be a virus…”
Normally, he’d delete it. But today, he was curious.
After all, what did he have to lose?
He tapped the app. The screen went black before a pop-up message appeared.
[This game is for players aged 18 and above. Upon starting, your identity will be permanently bound to the game. Your account cannot be deleted or transferred. By proceeding, you agree to all terms and conditions.]
“Oh? Even you admit these are ‘terms of domination’?”
Rolling his eyes, he hit ‘Start.’
Yep, definitely a virus.
But what could it even steal? His identity? His chat logs? If the developers knew he was a broke college dropout with terminal cancer, they might uninstall the app themselves out of pity.
[Please select your virtual girlfriend.]
Surprisingly, the game’s graphics were incredibly detailed.
The chibi-style app icon had been misleading—the character models were hyper-realistic.
A dozen different characters were available, each from different settings—historical periods, fantasy worlds, even non-human species.
One caught his eye.
[Qingyun Sect Disciple: Li Qingran]
[Age: 19 | Height: 169cm | Measurements: 90, 60, 91]
She was the same girl from the app icon. Now, in full detail, she had porcelain-white skin, delicate features, and long black hair cascading down her back. She wore a flowing green robe, a sword slung over her shoulder. Though unadorned, she looked like a painting brought to life.
But what struck him most were her eyes—cold, lifeless, and hollow. A gaze filled with quiet despair, as if staring right through him.
“Damn… did a small indie studio really put this much effort into character design?”
The realism was unsettling. He was half convinced this was some elaborate scam.
[Are you sure you want to select ‘Li Qingran’ as your virtual girlfriend?]
[Warning: Once chosen, you cannot change your selection!]
[If your virtual girlfriend dies, she cannot be revived and will be permanently lost.]
“So dramatic…”
Chen Huai’an chuckled bitterly. He could already see how this game was designed to make players spend money.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t fall for it.
But today, he clicked ‘Confirm.’
As soon as he did, a message flashed across the screen.
[You have 132 days left to live.]
His breath hitched.
The screen transitioned.
He had expected the usual RPG mechanics—some kind of beginner village, questing, leveling up.
But instead…
A tattered hut appeared on the screen.
Rain leaked through the roof, soaking the only straw mat inside. A girl, curled up in the corner, hugged her knees. Her long, tangled hair obscured her face. Her exposed arms and legs were bruised, deep gashes crisscrossing her pale skin.
She looked like she was dying.
Is this… Li Qingran?
A broken sword lay beside her, the same one she had held in her profile.
Then, system messages began flashing.
[‘Li Qingran’ is suffering from hunger and cold. Her condition is worsening.]
[‘Li Qingran’ is afflicted by fire poison. She is in unbearable pain.]
[‘Li Qingran’ has 30 minutes left to live.]
The girl in the game let out a faint, pained groan.
She raised her head slightly, revealing her blank, numb eyes and deathly pale lips.
Even with only half her face visible, Chen Huai’an knew—this was the character he had chosen.
“…What do I do?”
Panic surged in his chest.
The way she trembled, the raw pain in her expression—everything was too real. It didn’t feel like a game.
His fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of what to press.
Then, another pop-up appeared.
[Ding! First-time top-up bonus! Recharge just 6 yuan to receive a home renovation gift pack! Give your virtual girlfriend a warm and comfortable home!]
