When Chu Tingwu was explaining to her older brother that even close friends can call each other "baby" and "sweetie," another group of people was busy refreshing the comments section of their videos.
Yue Miao was one of them. She was a content creator with nearly a million followers, but she wasn't sure what type of creator she was.
At first, she was just an ordinary person uploading videos to share her life. But one day, everything changed when her mother was diagnosed with throat cancer.
Throat cancer isn't necessarily terminal, but it was discovered late, and the treatment process was still grueling. As an only child, Yue Miao quit her job to care for her mother full-time and began documenting their cancer-fighting journey through videos.
The process was undoubtedly bitter - moving between different hospitals, the looming threat of post-surgery recurrence hanging over them like the sword of Damocles, reports, tests, insurance claims, patient care... But amid the hardship, she always found reasons to be happy, like kind strangers offering chairs while waiting in line, fellow patients watching TV shows with her mom, or doctors patiently discussing treatment options and trying to help them save money.
Initially, Yue Miao just wanted to record everything, both to prepare herself mentally for the worst possible outcome and to have a video record if she lost everything, as well as to uplift herself and inspire others.
She succeeded. As her follower count grew, she received many private messages of support from others - friends going through similar experiences with family members, and even followers battling cancer themselves.
But as her viewership increased, the atmosphere in the comments section changed one day.
Many people told her to watch videos by @Qiao Hu Sees the World, demanding more proof from her, including private information. They questioned her redacted medical records and even tried to ambush her at the hospital.
"I don't think they're my real followers..." Yue Miao later told a friend. "They just want to satisfy their voyeuristic urges and see me constantly proving myself in a pitiful state."
She had never accepted livestream donations and even donated her website earnings to fellow patients in greater need.
Theoretically, she should have been seen as a perfect victim, but when she saw some very familiar usernames in the comments section one day, she suddenly broke down emotionally.
Those followers had once sincerely comforted her, privately asking if she needed financial help or offering information on reputable hospitals and doctors.
Yue Miao didn't respond or try to prove herself. She simply uninstalled the app and stopped posting videos.
Until she received a text message from the system via the official Fenghua Network.
The system could have contacted Yue Miao directly, but that would have been like doxxing her, so it took a roundabout approach through official channels, asking her:
"Would you like to become part of a joint submission?"
Not to prove herself, but to use her unfair experiences as a sword to strike down the wrongdoer.
To make "karma" a reality.
Can I trust you? Are you here to help me? Are you any different from Qiao Hu's team? Or are you just trying to use me too... Yue Miao had so many thoughts, but after watching the video the system made, she logged into her account anyway.
She thought she had forgotten her account password, but her fingers moved smoothly across the keyboard as she typed it in.
She opened her messages from strangers and sent one to the system:
"What do you get out of doing this?"
Is it for fame or so-called "justice," for views or truly out of kindness...
[To get revenge for my baby, of course.]
Yue Miao: "..."
[If they hadn't bullied my child, I wouldn't care who they were. But they dared to spread rumors about my kid! Damn it, let's crush them!]
Yue Miao: "......"
"Pfft."
"Alright," she said with a laugh to the screen, "...let's crush that bastard!"
Bastard! Stupid jerk! Rumor-mongering dog! Blood-sucking scumbag... Yue Miao laughed through gritted teeth. Two years after the incident, she opened Qiao Hu's account for the first time, disliked every top video, and then chose to publish the video the system had sent her.
Then she replied to a fan comment on her own video:
"Mom's surgery went very well, and we're both doing great now."
"Thank you for your concern."
Perhaps she could start a new account, filming landscapes, cooking, and the cats and dogs she sees on her way to work.
She still loved documenting her life, but this time, she wouldn't let others intrude too much into it.
A couple had a similar experience to Yue Miao. They used to run a bookstore and turned to the internet for help after a flood. They went viral, but after their business recovered, the doubts that came with Qiao Hu's video left them exhausted. Yes, selling books made money - if it didn't, why sell them at all? Why not just give them away?
The bookstore had indeed survived thanks to the kindness of internet users, but the couple realized that borrowed kindness must be repaid, with interest.
After repaying this "kindness debt," they closed the bookstore, moved away from the city, and found new jobs. But they really wanted to say:
"We only sold books. Later, because some internet users wanted refunds, we returned that part. The rest of the money we earned over the years, we donated to mountain areas and gave away books..." The husband sat before a lawyer. "We have records of all financial transactions. We didn't privately accept transfers from internet users like that content creator claimed."
Every penny was equal to a book.
Fifty-six joint submitters were added to a group chat, and this couple volunteered as "representatives" to help communicate with the lawyer on behalf of those who couldn't be there, and to go to court, determined to teach Qiao Hu's team a real lesson.
The system initially paid the lawyer fees, but after the couple took over, it became a shared expense among willing group members, with contracts signed.
The system didn't care what they thought, it was just excited:
"Baby, I'm planning to buy more parts to modify the drone!"
Chu Tingwu: "Isn't the drone you bought still in transit?"
The system bought the drone just to film Chu Tingwu, not for high-altitude aerial photography, so it didn't need to consider flight restrictions yet. But it was clearly unsatisfied with the drone's battery life - most drones can only fly for less than an hour before needing to recharge, but larger batteries affect weight, and more weight means faster battery consumption.
Chu Tingwu suspected that the system might bring out new energy black technology just to film her -
System: "I'm planning to equip the drone with smart wheels and wall-climbing ability."
Oh, so it wasn't bringing out the technology yet.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, studying the system's diagram together: With wheels, it could carry heavier batteries. Modifying the battery compartment would allow for charging anywhere. Oh, and when borrowing public charging ports, it could pay via screen. It could drop excess batteries on takeoff, the smart wheels could climb slopes and stairs, and the wall-climbing feature would allow it to fix the camera at a suitable angle without constantly flying and draining power.
- But constant drone movement also required a meticulous operator, which the system would handle, so this kind of personal modification couldn't be mass-produced.
Chu Tingwu: "I guess..."
Chu Tingwu: "You'll guide, and I'll do the work?"
[I trust your nimble paws!]
What kind of cat modifies drones?!
[It's simple, just like ordering takeout!]
Actually, she wasn't that good at ordering takeout either. Really, she cooked for herself now and ate quite healthily.
...Well, maybe not that healthy. The proportion of meat was a bit high.
Chu Tingwu weighed herself and found that after following the system's meal plan for a few days, she had gained two pounds. But looking at her appearance, there was no visible change - her face hadn't even gotten rounder.
She stared at herself in the mirror and even thought her figure looked more slender.
System: "As a cat, given your body proportions, you're actually underweight. There were issues with your previous diet, so I'm adjusting it for you -"
It showed her a diagram: "Ideally, you need to gain about ten more pounds, converting food into muscle."
The system sounded a bit worried as it said this:
The child doesn't like to exercise!
Although she bounces around happily in the dream classroom, initially a bit reserved but quickly bonding with the kitten classmates (physically), in reality she doesn't really enjoy jumping or running. At most, she'll run and jump a bit in her own home before bed... But the house is just a small two-story building, and this amount of exercise is even less than an after-dinner walk!
System: "..."
It thought, it must be because—
The house isn't big enough!
Yes! Other people raise cats in castles! It hadn't bought a castle for the family cat, so how could it be the child's fault for not liking exercise? It must be because the system wasn't up to standard!
The system sniffled: "Little one, you've been wronged..."
Chu Tingwu: "?"
Saying strange things again, is there a problem with the code?
She said: "Today in the dream classroom, you simulate the parts, and I'll try modifying them directly. This way, tomorrow we can install them right away, and you can take them to film the cat language tutorial."
Come to think of it... isn't she a cat food vlogger?
With the system's "You're so good, little one" playing in the background, Chu Tingwu opened her account and, after some thought, wrote in her profile:
[Providing cat-related skill tutorials, training self-sufficient kittens]
The modified self-introduction was synchronized to her account feed, and the fans in the comments section were collectively stunned:
"Does making cat food count as a cat-related skill? If I let my cat learn this, can it make me a three-course meal with soup?"
-
Chu Tingwu had already put aside the matter with Qiao Hu—in fact, she couldn't even remember who Qiao Hu was. She only knew that someone had stirred up trouble and received a lawyer's letter from the system.
But Qiao Hu, as the person involved, couldn't let it go as quickly as she did.
Not only that, just one day had passed, and he was so anxious that he developed two canker sores in his mouth.
—Fenghua Network had officially closed his account.
Half of his team had resigned to seek other opportunities, and those who hadn't left were in the same boat as him—being sued.
In just one day, the "kingdom" he had built collapsed. His traffic crumbled like snowflakes, and Qiao Hu believed that even if he could develop on another platform, he could only debut as an infamous celebrity.
"No!" he said.
"No..."
There must be another way to turn things around. The fine didn't matter, but at least he couldn't be detained for defamation...
"Xiao Li, buy me a ticket to Fallen Phoenix City!"
Isn't that Chu Tingwu in Fallen Phoenix City? He needs to go there in person!
No one responded.
Qiao Hu suddenly realized that his assistant had resigned, so he'd have to buy the ticket himself.
