2: Chapter 2 Is this all your escape supplies?

Huang Mao felt he must have spent too much time grinding events lately and was hallucinating.

If you didn't count that time she bumped into him while he was tying his shoelaces and almost stepped on his hand, he and Leng Qingxuan had known each other for less than five hours in total.

What can you do in five hours?

Probably just enough to burn through a few bars of stamina or watch two movies.

But in Leng Qingxuan's logic, this amount of time was enough for her to pack up all her belongings and stand at a guy's doorstep on this dark and windy night, asking for the Wi-Fi password.

"Password."

Seeing Huang Mao's lack of response, Leng Qingxuan repeated herself, her brow furrowing slightly. Her beautiful eyes were filled with a longing for the lifeline of modern civilization. "My data is being throttled."

Huang Mao took a deep breath, stepped aside to let her in, and recited a string of numbers: "HM12345678."

"So tacky."

Leng Qingxuan complained as she walked into the entryway with her long legs.

With a "beep" signaling a successful connection, her tense shoulders instantly relaxed, like a fish out of water finally returning to the sea.

"Don't I need to change shoes?" She stood on the polished marble floor, looking down at the limited-edition sneakers on her feet.

"No need, I haven't bought any spare slippers for the house yet." Huang Mao closed the door and dragged the giant pink suitcase, large enough to fit an adult, into the room.

It was really heavy.

Did this woman bring a piano with her?

*Thud.*

The sound of the suitcase hitting the floor echoed through the empty living room.

Leng Qingxuan didn't have the self-awareness of someone asking for a place to stay. She didn't sit stiffly on the edge of the sofa, nor did she look around and pass judgment.

She simply walked to the soft, shaggy rug in the center of the living room, tossed her phone aside, and sank into the bean bag chair with a "plop," looking as if she had no bones.

"I'm back to life..."

She let out a long sigh of satisfaction and stretched lazily, completely disregarding her image.

The hem of her hoodie rode up, revealing a section of dazzlingly white waist that glowed like porcelain under the warm lighting.

Huang Mao looked away, walked to the fridge, took out a can of cola, and opened it with a "click."

"Student Leng Qingxuan."

"Hmm?" she responded lazily without looking up, her fingers sliding quickly across the screen, probably clearing her stamina.

"Even though I consider myself an NPC with little presence, I still need to confirm something."

Huang Mao leaned against the kitchen counter and took a sip of his happy water. The cold liquid slid down his throat, calming him down slightly.

"Are you really running away from home? This isn't some hidden camera prank show, is it?"

Leng Qingxuan finally stopped what she was doing.

She sat up straight and crossed her legs. Her face, which was as cold as an iceberg at school, now wore a look of confusion that said, "How do you still not believe me?"

"Do I look like the kind of person who makes those kinds of jokes?"

"Yes," Huang Mao nodded. "After all, you're the Leng Qingxuan."

"That Leng Qingxuan is dead," she said expressionlessly. "The person sitting in front of you now is just a passing Master from Chaldea. You can call me... hmm, Fujimaru Ritsuka?"

Huang Mao's lip twitched. "Hey, copyright warning."

"Then you can call me Gudao Ritsuka. Anyway," Leng Qingxuan slumped back down, her voice muffled, "I don't want to go back. There's no air there, only rules. And... I want to finish that half-completed event story."

Just for that?

Huang Mao looked at her, the sense of absurdity in his heart gradually fading, replaced by a feeling of helplessness.

Fair enough.

For people like them, the virtual world sometimes really does feel more like home than reality.

Reality is full of mandatory tasks and roles that must be played; only in that little 2D box can one catch a breath.

"Fine." Huang Mao pointed to the second floor. "There are two spare rooms upstairs. The one across from the Master bedroom has the best lighting and an en-suite bathroom. The sheets and covers are new; they were originally meant for my girlfriend, who I'm not sure exists in which dimension."

Leng Qingxuan's eyes lit up. "Thanks."

She stood up and tried to lift the massive suitcase.

She gave it a tug.

It didn't budge.

She wasn't embarrassed; she just silently let go, turned to look at Huang Mao, and blinked.

"I dragged it all the way here; I'm really out of strength."

In those cool eyes, there was now a look of complete entitlement.

Huang Mao sighed, accurately tossed the empty can into the trash, and walked over resignedly. "Leave it, I'll do it."

This wasn't finding a roommate; it was clearly finding an ancestor to serve.

...

Second-floor guest bedroom.

By the time Huang Mao carried the suitcase up, he felt like his back was about to break.

"What's in here? Gold bars?" Huang Mao asked, panting.

"Essentials."

Leng Qingxuan walked over, crouched down, entered the code, and the latch popped open with a "click."

The moment the suitcase opened, Huang Mao fell silent.

The left half of the suitcase was stuffed with various figure boxes, limited-edition artbooks, game discs, and even two different models of game consoles.

The right half was a mess of a few clothes, not even folded, clearly grabbed at random in a state of extreme panic or utter perfunctoriness.

A few pieces of underwear and casual clothes were squeezed together, pitifully occupying less than a third of the space.

"These are your... essentials?" Huang Mao pointed at the Artoria figure occupying the center stage.

"Spiritual sustenance." Leng Qingxuan carefully took out the figure and placed it on the nightstand, her movements so reverent it was as if she were performing a ritual. "Clothes can be bought anywhere, but if my mom found these, she'd throw them away."

So she ran away to protect the "hostages."

Huang Mao watched her take out the ACG merchandise one by one, filling the originally empty room.

In less than ten minutes, the minimalist guest room was rapidly transformed into an otaku's happy room filled with a shut-in atmosphere.

Leng Qingxuan clapped her hands in satisfaction and looked around. "Now this looks like a place for a human to live."

Having said that, she turned to look at Huang Mao.

Their eyes met.

The air suddenly went still.

An awkward atmosphere began to spread.

Since she had moved in, the next issue was very practical—a lone man and a lone woman in the same house. If this were some smutty novel, they'd probably fast-forward straight to the next morning.

But in reality, this situation usually meant...

"Grumble—"

A long, loud sound broke the silence.

The source of the sound was none other than the flat stomach of the cold campus belle.

Leng Qingxuan's cheeks visibly reddened, the blush spreading from her ears all the way to her neck.

The "unreachable flower" filter shattered instantly, revealing instead a clumsy cuteness that made one want to give her a squeeze.

She reflexively covered her stomach, her gaze darting around. "Um... I'm not that hungry, it's just..."

"Grumble, grumble—"

The sound was even louder this time, as if protesting its owner's stubbornness.

Huang Mao couldn't help but let out a snicker.

Leng Qingxuan flared up in embarrassment and glared at him. "What are you laughing at! Haven't you heard that 'man is made of iron and food is his steel'? I haven't eaten anything for dinner just to pack up these treasures!"

"Yes, yes, the Master has worked hard."

Huang Mao turned and walked downstairs, waving his hand with his back to her.

"Since I have a guest, I won't order takeout tonight."

"I'll let you witness the culinary skills of someone living alone."