RCQT Chapter 121

When Chu Qianze opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the system screen’s glare, he understood with crystal clarity that he was someone who had already died once.

As for how he knew, that was indescribable.

Perhaps it was the mysterious sixth sense of a man.

He had no memories from before, though saying that might not be entirely accurate, because he seemed to retain some muscle memory.

For instance, when he saw complex machinery, he felt the urge to dismantle it. Upon hearing music, he couldn’t resist the impulse to dance. Even while lying down, he always felt like he should be holding onto something. Moreover, if he casually left things lying around, there was always a sense that someone would appear the next second to help tidy them up.

Of course, in the end, no one appeared; he always ended up organizing things himself.

Clearly, it wasn’t like this before.

What was it like before? He couldn’t quite remember.

Occasionally poking at the system screen, making it shake as he assembled gadgets, playing dance music, and whipping up desserts when there was nothing else to do—those were the days.

Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, he could recall fragments that were probably scenes from his past life. However, memories about a person were always hazy, as if pixelated, and he couldn’t tell whether it was some extreme sport or not.

Logically, getting a second chance at life should be fortunate enough, but why did his heart feel so empty?

Perhaps it was because he had too much free time.

He turned around and began assembling the aircraft carrier.

[Do you not want to know your origins?] The system screen abruptly posed the question, and it was unclear how many times it had asked before.

“I don’t want to know,” Chu Qianze replied flatly as he arranged the components, squatting on the ground to begin assembling.

[Do you not want to know why you came back to life?]

“No interest,” he responded, his tone steady and emotionless.

The system screen fell silent, seemingly unsure of what to say next. Finally, it unexpectedly remarked, [He’s fading away.]

Chu Qianze closed one eye, adjusting his focus. “Who?”

[The one who saved you.]

“Oh.” He lifted the cannon barrel, tested its feel, and found it satisfactory.

[I truly feel sorry for him,] the system screen added.

Chu Qianze chuckled and swiveled the cannon’s barrel toward the system screen, then casually pressed the trigger.

The surrounding space quickly rippled, light bending and twisting to envelop the system screen. The atmosphere suddenly tensed.

“Don’t be nervous; the safety’s still on.” Chu Qianze tossed the object in his hand to the ground and stood up.

“Why so much talk? What do you want me to do?”

[Take over my position,] came the response.

“I refuse,” Chu Qianze said without hesitation.

The mere thought of managing all these things made him inexplicably uneasy. Nicely phrased, it might be called management; more straightforwardly, it was akin to being a nanny, and an unpaid one at that. Whoever wanted to do it could go ahead; he had no interest in entertaining such responsibilities.

[Go complete missions in the Three Thousand Worlds,] it proposed, changing its request.

An invisible window appeared, revealing skyscrapers and bustling streets.

One window after another emerged, showcasing pyramids, Gothic architecture, white-walled black-tiled structures…

Materializing a sofa and adding a pillow, Chu Qianze reclined on it while casually browsing through the so-called treaty.

“Complete missions, and you can stay in the world. Finish all the tasks, and you can choose to stay or leave. Is it really this good, or are you trying to deceive me?”

[You cause too much commotion staying here. Plus, who knows, after a trip outside, you might change your mind and choose to inherit these Three Thousand Worlds,] it replied.

His fingers gently slid across the screen as Chu Qianze reviewed the terms once again, ensuring its legal validity.

“This is a bit difficult. I’m quite straightforward, and once I’ve set my mind on something, it’s hard to change.”

He scrolled the screen directly to the last page, focusing on the signature at the bottom. “Actually, I don’t really want to leave. It’s so comfortable here—eat and drink as I please, do whatever I want.”

[…Any conditions?] came the inquiry.

“Hehe, getting to the point~”

Chu Qianze sat up, curved his fingers, and tapped on the screen. “If I end up in the original world, give me a heads up.”

[Sure.]

“And help me find my memories. I feel like there’s a missing piece, and my OCD can’t handle it.”

[I can’t interfere; you’ll have to work on that yourself.]

“Is that for real?” His tone elongated, simultaneously keeping an eye on the movements of the large entity in front of him.

It seemed to be genuine.

“Alright, then as discussed earlier, send me a message when I get there.”

[Okay.]

“Oh, and remember to include what we just discussed. Although we have a relationship, we need to keep official matters clear.”

[I understand.]

[The contract is established. I will arrange for you to participate as a newcomer. Good luck.]

“Oh, and…”

Before Chu Qianze could finish his sentence, the system screen directly transported him away, as if sending off an ancestor.

[All cleaned up. None of them are easy to deal with,] it remarked.

The system screen was about to leave but noticed a small device on the ground. It approached, examined the device, and a data arm materialized in the air, pressing a button on it.

The small machine unfolded, presenting a semi-circular shape that was just right for lifting the system screen. Meanwhile, the long-barreled cannon that Chu Qianze had just assembled could be securely fixed at the end to serve as a backup launcher.

The system screen sparkled for a moment, connecting to a small screen and sending a message.

[You’ll be responsible for system number 283, Chu Qianze. If necessary, provide assistance as needed.]

[I’m ready to act.]

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, a certain hotel room remained quiet and dimly lit. The neglected screen suddenly lit up, accompanied by the chime of a notification.

“You’ll make me deaf. Can’t you change the ringtone?”

Chu Qianze reached out to push the screen away and opened his eyes a crack. “What’s going on?”

[Callback notification.]

Barely making out the information, it was a callback confirmation. The notice included the time and location to arrive for the filming. After a quick glance, he chose to confirm by clicking.

“Good times are always so short.”

He sighed softly, and Chu Qianze’s gaze lingered on the remaining balance, realizing he was facing a major crisis.

“System, I’m running out of money.”

[I deeply regret that.]

“Can’t you express your sympathy with some material support?” Chu Qianze rubbed his temples and groaned, “Ah, headache.”

[With over 93% of network users exceeding ten hours of sleep per day, conservatively estimating, the host is experiencing excessive sleep.]

“Too generous, too generous.” He picked up some clothes and put on a shirt, then headed to the bathroom, turning on the tap to splash water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, stretched his arms.

[…]

The next day, Chu Qianze set out for the filming location.

The repetitive routine of eating, drinking, and sleeping every day had come to an end. Happy times always seemed to pass by so quickly.

At the front desk, he canceled his room reservation, walked out of the hotel, and stood at the intersection waiting for the traffic light. A luxurious car caught his eye.

Shielding his eyes with his hand, he turned and took a detour, heading towards the train station. The car followed behind him, moving slowly and deliberately.

A top-tier sports car forced to travel at a speed of 10 miles per hour, even surpassed by a passing bicycle – a disgrace to sports cars everywhere.

Chu Qianze pretended not to notice, heading straight to the train station and stopping there. He turned around, gazing silently at the road, awaiting the arrival of the train.

The sports car came to a stop in front of Chu Qianze. The car hood folded up and retracted, and Shen Hezhi emerged from inside, leaning his arm against the window.

“Get in.”

“Why?” Chu Qianze stood still, the display board showing the hovering train would arrive in two minutes.

“The filming location is a bit hard to find. Director He asked me to pick you up,” Shen Hezhi explained, and the car door opened automatically.

At a nearby intersection, the shadow of the hovering train was already visible. Chu Qianze glanced in that direction, took a couple of steps, and sat in the car. “Thanks.”

“Just on the way.” The car door closed automatically, and Shen Hezhi simultaneously shifted gears and pressed the accelerator, propelling the car forward.

Inside the set of “Extraterrestrial Invasion,” the crew members were diligently making early arrangements for equipment setup.

Their expressions were serious, and their movements were efficient. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that their individual neural interfaces were in operation.

Inside the mental discussion forum, known affectionately as the Gossip Group, established by the logistics personnel, a lively conversation was currently taking place.

[Chu Qianze’s role is finally confirmed! Not easy!]

[Wasn’t it confirmed earlier that Shen Hezhi would play him?]

[Please update the gossip promptly. He has been confirmed to play Shen Zhuorong, so the role of Chu Qianze is now available.]

[There was a previous audition by an award-winning actor. I watched it with a mix of snot and tears, but Director He said it was still missing something.]

[I wonder who can catch Director He’s eye.]

[Curious as well, looking forward to it.]

 

 

 

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