The Genius Cannon Fodder's Counterattack 5

After washing the dishes, Chi Xiaochi didn't leave the kitchen, and kept summoning the system: "System, System."

The system said, "I don't sell rat poison."

Chi Xiaochi: "..."

The system added, "Or sleeping pills, or paraquat, either."

Chi Xiaochi reassured him, "Don't be scared. I just came to ask about hypnosis cards."

The system: "...How long, and what effect?"

Chi Xiaochi: "What durations and effects are there?"

The system said, "Like other cards, hypnosis cards come in three tiers: low, medium, and high. The difference is the duration. Low-tier lasts 60 minutes, medium-tier lasts 90 minutes, and high-tier lets you customize the duration, but it can't exceed six hours."

"That'll do," Chi Xiaochi said. "Two cards—one high-tier, one low-tier."

"Fourteen points."

Chi Xiaochi didn't hesitate: "Redeem."

But the system didn't redeem them right away: "What do you need hypnosis cards for?"

Chi Xiaochi said bluntly, "I'm worried the guy surnamed Yang is going to get horny."

The system said it understood.

Chi Xiaochi was the eleventh host he'd handled. In their first world, almost everyone had raised similar concerns to System 061.

After all, in most worldlines, the original host was usually already involved with the mission target, and conjugal duties still had to be paid.

The ten previous task performers the system had handled had all revolved around their mission targets, almost never straying from the original plot; they would only make modest adjustments to the storyline to dodge bad outcomes, flatter their mission targets every which way, and fake their own deaths to exit the world once the target's affection points hit 100.

It was usually at moments like that when the mission target's regret value would peak.

Among all these task performers, Chi Xiaochi was the one formidable outlier bold enough to go off-script and act entirely on his own, right from the very first world.

But on the matter of conjugal duties, his stance was extremely firm—stubborn to an astonishing degree.

The system said, "We offer a free extraction service"—meaning that during intercourse, the host's consciousness and sensory perception could be pulled out of the body, minimizing the task performer's discomfort as much as possible.

Leaning against the fridge, Chi Xiaochi gently pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not the issue."

The system thought of a possibility: "...Do you have requirements about positions?"

Chi Xiaochi let out a huff. "I have requirements about the person."

The system: "Yang Baihua..."

Chi Xiaochi tilted his head. "Don't make me insult him."

The system understood, and said, "Fine. So we'll use the low-tier hypnosis card on Yang Baihua tonight?"

"Use both," Chi Xiaochi said instead. "Use the low-tier one first to put him to sleep. It's nighttime anyway, so barring any surprises, he'll just keep sleeping."

The system asked, "And the other one?"

Chi Xiaochi answered, "I'll use it."

The system paused.

Chi Xiaochi closed his eyes, and on Cheng Yuan's face wore a smile that was entirely his own—flippant, careless, with just a touch of self-mockery. "...Or do you have sleeping pills for sale after all?"

Following Chi Xiaochi's instructions, the system redeemed the two hypnosis cards and successfully used them.

After sending Yang Baihua off to sleep, Chi Xiaochi set himself a six-hour time limit, and then drifted into a deep sleep as well.

After he fell asleep, the system sent a request signal to the Master System: "ID 61-101, requesting login to the Master System."

A few seconds later, a mechanical voice sounded: "ID 61-101 has login authorization. Request approved."

Immediately, the once-stable data surged chaotically, out of order—like a waterfall, like starlight.

The waterfall of starlight gradually shed its glow and coalesced into a physical form.

As the curtain of light swirled, a man in a white shirt and black pants took shape, standing barefoot in a hall with a soaring domed ceiling, surrounded by others dressed just like him, moving to and fro.

A few people recognized him and greeted him familiarly. "061, you're here. Still handling a new host?"

061 answered, "Yeah."

"Didn't you just finish your last one? It's only been two cosmic days—aren't you going to take ten days or half a month off to treat yourself?"

"No time," 061 answered.

The one asking, System 666, was a newcomer, and puzzled by the answer, said, "'No time'? What are you rushing for?"

061 didn't answer.

He stared at the ground, somewhat puzzled, as if struggling hard to recall something.

Beside him, another young man with a fine nose and deep-set eyes seemed to realize something; he frowned slightly, shot 666 a look, and turned to ask 061, "What did you come here to do?"

061 said, "I'm here to see 023."

"He moved offices recently. Go southwest and look for Room 1008."

061 smiled.

In his manifested form, 061 was a gentle, refined young man, standing tall and straight, his eyes full of starlight; when he smiled, it was like the first rays of sun falling on snow—warm and approachable. "Thanks."

He bid his acquaintances farewell and had walked quite a distance when he could still hear 666 complaining, "...Don't even get me started on my host. What's good about a guy like that besides being big and good in bed? He clings on and won't let go—there aren't even enough condoms left in stock for him!"

The man found Room 1008 to the southwest, knocked on the door, and after a long while heard a frosty "Come in."

He pushed the door open and entered.

The instant he pushed the door open, the data inside the room entered a loading state.

The streams of light around him dispersed, then converged again, assembling into an enormous, brain-shaped photonic core. Looking closely, the flowing neurons and writhing synapses inside were all vast, sea-like trails of running data.

This was the Lord God system's "photonic core," connected to the databases of every worldline.

A boy with snow-white skin sat in front of the enormous photonic core; on the desk before him lay two slender, silvery-white data cables. He was holding an old cartridge-based game console, playing Tetris, his pale fingernails dancing deftly across the red and green buttons.

He had albinism; his hair and skin were a uniform, pallid white.

061 said, "023, I'm here."

023 didn't even look up, and made an "oh" sound. "You again."

He successfully cleared a few lines, and the game console let out a series of beeping clear sounds.

061 stood barefoot on the matte, solid tile floor, quietly waiting for him to finish the round.

023 asked him while playing, "What are you here for?"

061 said, "I'd like to download a few movies."

023, cradling the game console, said, "Heh."

061: "..."

He operated the game console with one hand, and with the other picked up the data cables on the desk.

The thin plugs on the data cables changed shape as they neared his temples: web-like, hair-thin silver threads extended from their tips, tangling their way into his temples and connecting directly into his brain.

Soon, dense curtains of digital light flickered across 023's eyes.

023 said briskly, "AV catalog number."

061: "..." What the hell kind of serial number.

He answered, "Movies Chi Xiaochi has starred in."

The boy, fully absorbed in his game, heard that and jerked his head up as if he'd seen a ghost.

His finger slipped, hitting the down key that sped up the fall, and by the time he fumbled to recover, "GAME OVER" had already flashed across the screen.

023 swore, slapped the game console face-down on the desk, and crossed his arms to look at 061. "Your new host? What do you want with his movies?"

061 said, "And all his information too."

"What do you need that for?"

061 said, "To understand him better and make the mission easier to carry out."

023's snow-white brows knit tightly, as if displeased. "061, I'm warning you—don't get too close to your hosts. You've seen just how filthy a human heart can be. If you don't want to be formatted again, behave yourself and don't break the rules the Lord God has set down."

061 knew 023 meant well.

While handling his eighth host, 061 had once been reported by his own host, and the punishment he received was formatting.

After being forcibly formatted, 061 forgot a great many things—he couldn't even remember why he'd been reported—and his database retained only some basic data about missions he'd carried out in the past.

This hadn't affected 061 too much; he was still the System of the Year, his diligence and efficiency leaving other systems far behind.

Only, even he himself no longer remembered why he worked so hard.

It felt as though he were rushing to keep some appointment, to find someone—but that person's name, and where to look for them, had all turned into fragmented data debris.

061 said, "This is the fifteenth time you've warned me about this."

"If you don't want to be deleted, just do your mission properly," 023 said. "...Sixteenth time. I'll round it up to a lucky number for you. No need to thank me."

061, good-naturedly, rubbed the tip of his nose. "Are the movies downloaded yet?"

023: "...Done. Check your inbox."

"That fast?"

023 tapped his forehead, falling silent for a moment. "I'd downloaded them before. There's still an archive in the database."

061, curious, said, "Hm?"

"It was someone from the same worldline as Chi Xiaochi—one of his rabid stans." There was a note of exasperated disappointment in 023's voice. "Downloaded every single movie Chi Xiaochi had ever starred in, whether lead or supporting role. Spent his whole life living for that man. No ambition at all."

061 didn't think much of it, and pulled a cartridge out from inside his jacket, tossing it to 023.

"Pac-Man. Released in 1983," 061 said. "Thanks for the help."

023 treated it like a treasure, wiping the cartridge with his sleeve, struggling to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth so he wouldn't look too pleased. "Guess you've got some conscience after all."

061 said, "Help me with one more thing."

With the gift in hand, 023's mood had finally brightened a little. "What is it?"

By the time 061 stated his request, the veins on 023's forehead were bulging. "Do you have any idea how much trouble that is?!"

061 bowed slightly at the waist, in a gesture of request.

For the sake of the cartridge, 023 waved a hand carelessly. "Fine, fine. Receiving it isn't a problem, but this one's too hard to locate—there's no way I can give it to you today."

"A couple more days is fine too."

023 pulled the data cables out of his own brain and picked the game console back up. "Alright, if there's nothing else, dismissed."

061 smiled gently. "As you command."

Walking to the door, 061 stopped and turned back to ask, "Oh, right, 023—does the central inventory carry rat poison?"

023's brow twitched. "Huh?"

061 cleared his throat. "...Just asking, is all."

Chi Xiaochi slept the night through, while the system spent the whole night watching movies.

Once the hypnosis card's effect wore off, Chi Xiaochi woke up right on time.

The system checked the time. "It's only five. The sky isn't even light yet. Sleep a little more."

Chi Xiaochi got up from the bed, leaving Yang Baihua alone on it, and walked out to sit on the piano bench in the living room. "Once I'm awake, I can't fall back asleep."

With the piano in it, the already small living room felt that much more cramped.

Chi Xiaochi ran his hand absently over the piano lid, lost in thought.

The system spoke up on its own. "The central inventory doesn't carry rat poison."

Chi Xiaochi lifted the piano lid. "...You actually remembered that. I was only joking."

He silently ran his fingers over the black and white keys, feeling the creative impulse and the endless stream of inspiration still lingering in this body—a treasure unique to Cheng Yuan, stripped away almost entirely by Yang Baihua, who had then dismissed it lightly as too much of a burden.

"A dose of rat poison and it's over and done with—that would be letting him off easy," Chi Xiaochi said. "Wouldn't it be terribly unfair if he never had to live through what Cheng Yuan went through, firsthand?"

When Yang Baihua woke up, he'd meant to pull Cheng Yuan in for a while of tenderness, but he'd gotten up a little late and had no time left to linger, so he only hurriedly hugged Cheng Yuan before grabbing his laptop and heading out the door.

Before leaving, he took the keys to the new car and said, "I'm meeting a client at noon, so you don't need to bring me lunch. I'll pick up groceries on my way home tonight and get you some braised chicken liver, the kind you like. Oh, and don't forget to eat breakfast."

Yang Baihua's one real virtue was that he was genuinely gentle—he never lost his temper with Cheng Yuan.

During the years Cheng Yuan suffered from depression, he had remained good-natured and indulgent toward him, endlessly patient, as though nothing could ever truly make him angry.

—Put simply, as long as Cheng Yuan's interests never clashed with those of his own family, he could go on being this gentle forever.

No sooner had Yang Baihua left than Chi Xiaochi followed right out the door after him.

He'd already mapped out his route in advance, and boarded a bus heading for Cheng Jian's company.

Cheng Yuan did indeed get motion sick on buses; the jostling the whole way made him thoroughly miserable, and he clung to the handrail, unable even to speak.

The moment the bus pulled into the stop, he rushed off, grabbed hold of the nearest trash bin, and retched over and over, his face turning white as a sheet.

The system had meant to adjust things for him, but suddenly thought of something and only lowered his heart rate instead, to ease the discomfort inside his body.

Chi Xiaochi finally managed to straighten up, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, and took out his phone. Standing before the Cheng Corporation, which occupied an entire office building, he dialed a number. With red-rimmed eyes and a face drained of color, he smiled and said, "...Bro, it's me. Come down for a minute when you get a chance."