Chapter 1

Severing the neural connection, unlocking the game pod, Feng Bujue sat up, gasping for air.

It was noon, the sun shining brightly outside.

Feng Bujue lived in an apartment building, on the thirteenth floor (the top floor), and had to pay rent. He lived alone. His parents, upon learning they had no opportunity to appear in this book, angrily accepted their fate and passed away several years ago. They left behind a solitary, lonely protagonist, and saved me the trouble of making up two more names. Truly, they departed westward at the book's opening, their merits and fame deeply concealed.

Looking at the time, Feng Bujue realized he'd only played for fifteen minutes. In Sleepy Hollow, time perception in non-sleep mode is two-to-one compared to reality. That is, he felt like he'd been in the game for half an hour. In sleep mode, the depth of the neural connection varies, and the time ratio can reach ten-to-one, as the saying goes, "There is no time in dreams." If a player insists on not logging off and takes a nap, they can complete eighty hours of game content. Of course, that's like having eight hours of continuous dreams, and they'll definitely have a headache the next day. The game pod's manual stated that players should not engage in more than four hours of gameplay in sleep mode. Feng Bujue had clearly read and remembered this...

The reason Feng Bujue emerged from the game pod wasn't because he needed rest, but because he'd promised a friend they'd play the game together. Today was the first day of the closed beta, which started at eight in the morning. That person was busy during the day, so Feng Bujue wanted to wait for him. He'd just logged on to familiarize himself with the game and didn't want to level up too much, creating a gap between their progress.

Speaking of which, did Feng Bujue have nothing better to do during the day?

Yes, he had nothing to do...

Earlier, it was mentioned that he was a detective novelist, so some might think he was a successful author who could live comfortably without writing.

Clearly, that wasn't the case either...

Feng Bujue was somewhat famous, but far from a household name. His books were decent, each one getting published, and publishers were willing to work with him. He was the kind of novelist who didn't earn much money but wouldn't starve either.

He occupied a two-page column in a weekly magazine, serializing a detective story. He had to submit it once a month, delivering all the serialized content needed for the next month. If the quality wasn't good, it would be returned, and he had to revise it by the end of the month. The fee for this work was settled monthly.

But relying solely on this income, he could only barely make ends meet in S City. So, he also wrote long-form detective novel series, the kind that were printed and sold as physical books. Feng Bujue could earn some money to save up for each book he wrote, which could be considered a surplus.

But why did he have nothing to do during the day?

That's also easy to explain. In Feng Bujue's own words, describing his writing and life state, it was: "When inspiration abounds, I submit on time, feasting on delicacies; when thoughts run dry, I struggle to write a single word, settling for plain noodles in clear broth." Clearly, he was currently in a state of being unable to write.

This man was very easygoing. Forcing himself to write when he couldn't wasn't meaningful, so he played... not only played, but also claimed he was "gathering materials."

Therefore, basically, expecting Feng Bujue to submit on time was a myth.

Every month in the middle of the month, the magazine editor would come wielding a single blade, riding alone for thousands of miles, storming in. And his landlady would wield a phoenix-winged gold-plated trident, using her spare key to push the door open and barge in, hacking as she entered.

Feng Bujue was usually prepared for this day, ready and waiting, weapons at the ready, drums beating, just waiting for the two to arrive and engage in a great battle, fighting until the sky turned dark and the earth shook, leaving eight large characters in the sky: "No money, trash the draft."

Okay, it wasn't that exaggerated, but his survival state was that leisurely.

Let's talk about Feng Bujue's friend. It's said that birds of a feather flock together, so could Feng Bujue's friend be a tall, rich, and handsome guy?

That's right, he was a tall, rich, and handsome guy...

This person's surname was Wang, his given name was Tan Zhi. He was Feng Bujue's childhood friend, what S City dialect called "bare-bottom brothers." They had been classmates since kindergarten, all the way to high school graduation. Wang Tanzhi was admitted to medical school, while Feng Bujue became a social idler.

How close were these two? It can be explained in two ways: facts and hypotheticals. First, the facts: Why did Wang Tanzhi go to medical school? Because Feng Bujue aspired to be Sherlock Holmes since he was a child, and Sherlock Holmes' assistant, Watson, was an old military doctor, so he went...

Now, the hypothetical: Suppose Wang Tanzhi was a woman, then the nature of this novel would change because Miss Wang might have lost her virginity to Feng Bujue many years ago.

Given the previous hypothesis, and the wild thoughts in everyone's heads right now, I have to add, rest assured, that's just a hypothesis. They are both men, and both are heterosexual.

Wang Tanzhi's family was very rich. The exact amount wasn't important. Anyway, he could live a good life without working at all. He was also slightly handsome, a little taller than Feng Bujue, exactly one meter eighty. He had a gentle, kind personality, was slightly cowardly, didn't like to show off, and was humble and tolerant.

In short, he was a person who was difficult to find fault with, forming a sharp contrast with Feng Bujue, this weirdo. Wang Tanzhi could be described as a great young man praised by everyone, but the evaluations Feng Bujue received were often: cynical, misanthropic, moody, bohemian rogue.

But things in the world are so magical, these two could actually become brothers.

An afternoon passed quickly. Feng Bujue spent another hour reviewing some information on the official website. Having already entered the game and completed the tutorial, many of the explanations were now clearer.

The rest of the time, he was making noodles, not because he particularly loved them, but he was saving the money he would have spent on instant noodles to buy flour...

This was a strange person. He would actually calculate his food intake, down to each meal, and figure out the exact number of foods he needed to not starve to death. Then, he used all the savings in his bank account (which wasn't much to begin with) to buy a game pod, and used the remaining money to buy flour, pay water and electricity bills, and so on...

If you said he was frugal, he would actually spend a sum close to the limit of what he could bear to buy a luxury item (the new game pods were very expensive). If you said he was wasteful, he never let himself become so impoverished that he couldn't make ends meet.

…………

In the blink of an eye, it was evening. Feng Bujue ate a bowl of plain noodles in clear broth, which counted as dinner.

Wang Tanzhi called, saying he had already logged into the game, just finished the tutorial, scared half to death, covered in cold sweat, and logged off to make a phone call to calm down.

Feng Bujue thought, *I really envy you. What is cold sweat? It's been months since I've experienced that.*

The two exchanged a few words, told each other their in-game nicknames, and prepared to log on and start playing.