Bianbian was groggy, not fully awake yet. The bright light made her rub her eyes in discomfort, and then a peculiar feeling filled her heart, making her sense that the unseen uncle had arrived.

She vaguely remembered falling asleep next to Grandpa, but now she was in bed. It was impossible that she had gone back to the room after falling asleep—she was asleep, so how could she have walked back?

Most importantly, the little dress she was wearing had been changed.

The first thing Bian Bian noticed when she woke up was not that she was lying in bed, but that the little dress she had on had been swapped for another.

She had worn this dress before; it was pretty, but Bian Bian didn’t like it. Grandfather, however, adored it and said she looked like a little princess and was especially cute in it. But he wouldn’t let her wear it outside—only at home.

Still, the girl felt the lace and frills on the dress scratched her skin, yet for her grandfather she used to obediently wear it. After he left, Bian Bian shoved that lace dress to the very bottom of the wardrobe.

On one hand, she didn’t want to wear this little dress that pinched her flesh anymore.

On the other hand, whenever she saw it she always thought of Grandpa, and thinking of him made her heart ache, so hiding it made it not so painful.

Now this little dress was on her, and she was lying in bed; apart from that unseen uncle who had changed her, she couldn’t think who else it might have been.

Uncle Zhu Yuan had also left, and there was no one else at home.

Bian Bian didn’t know why this uncle wanted to help her, but she didn’t see him either, because this uncle had slipped in and out quietly, prompting her to instinctively ask cautiously, “Uncle, is that you?”

Nong Jiusi, annoyed by the little one’s fickle form of address, snorted softly to himself. The little girl had been calling him “father” earlier, seemed to have gotten used to it, and now that she’s come to, she’s back to calling him “uncle”?

No matter how he looked at it, it seemed like a deliberate game.

Even so, Nong Jiusi still intended to respond to the little girl.

So the question was, how to respond?

System: [Intimacy level insufficient; unable to communicate with Bian Bian.]

Nong Jiusi: “…”

While waiting for her uncle’s reply, Bian Bian moved her sore, limp little body and freed herself from under the covers—since the temperature had returned to normal, Long Jiusi had loosened the wrapped quilt, and the girl could finally crawl out on her own.

Bian Bian raised her hand to wipe the fine sweat beads gathering on her forehead, only to be pricked by the lace on her sleeve, a sharp sting.

So she carefully folded the lace up several times.

Nong Jiusi, who had been watching the little one’s movements in silence, asked Nong Tang, “Why did she roll up her sleeves?”

Nong Tang, who had also been silently watching their master play the game, thought for a moment and said, “Maybe… she’s hot?”

Only then did Nong Jiusi realize that this time he had put the little one in a long-sleeved dress—no wonder putting it on earlier had been a bit difficult.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

“Which piece in this entire wardrobe is appealing in terms of workmanship, fabric, or design?” Lord Jiusi complained expressionlessly. “Only this one looks somewhat decent.”

Nong Tang didn’t respond; he shared the same view. The clothes in the wardrobe were only slightly brighter because—this was dragonkind’s shallow sense of aesthetics.

But since he wasn’t the one playing the game, when his lord complained he kept his mouth shut.

The system stayed silent too, thinking, You don’t know anything.

…..

He swallowed; the corners of his mouth were hot and he was very thirsty, wanting to drink water.

After the apocalypse, the original four seasons’ weather patterns disappeared, leaving only two seasons: summer and autumn.

For the psychics, this kind of climate didn’t change much. Their bodies, affected by their powers, automatically strengthened to better adapt to the altered weather of the end times.

But for ordinary people, it wasn’t so easy.

Fortunately, Biānbiān’s constitution was rather unusual—she wasn’t bothered by heat. Even at the hottest time of summer, her body stayed cool and she seldom sweated. So when she slept, Lù Yǔ would cover her with a blanket to prevent her from catching a chill, and Biānbiān wouldn’t feel hot.

In winter, to ensure his granddaughter stayed warm through the cold months, Lù Yǔ would stock up on enough food in advance, then use his metal-based ability to reinforce the surroundings, making the home as warm as spring until the harsh season passed before going out.

…..

Therefore, in most cases Biānbiān only felt hot when she was unwell, or after spending a long time outdoors during the day, when she would also feel warm.

She wanted to get out of bed to drink some water, but the high fever had only just subsided and her body still felt sore and weak, so the little girl didn’t rush to get up and instead lay on the bed to regain her strength.

She was very familiar with this kind of situation and knew what to do to benefit herself the most.

—In the early days after Lu Yu’s infection, Bian Bian had a high fever three times. Each time she fell asleep knowing nothing; when she woke up, the fever had already subsided. The first two times, her body and strength hadn’t recovered yet, and she even fell when she tried to move rashly.

Of course, those three fevers also brought some benefits to Bian Bian. Having been pampered by Lu Yu since childhood, her body quickly adapted to this life—for example, she no longer vomited when eating, and washing her hair or bathing with cold water no longer caused fevers.

Bian Bian didn’t know what this meant, but instinctively she liked the change, because being sick and feverish was so miserable, and she didn’t like it.

The room was quiet. Bian Bian’s bright, large eyes quietly scanned the surroundings, desperately hoping the unseen uncle would respond.

But after waiting a while with no sound, she lowered her damp, long lashes. “Uncle, have you already left?”

Nong Jiusi: “I’m here.”

Bian Bian couldn’t hear him; a clear look of disappointment passed through her big eyes.

Nong Jiusi: “…”

He glanced at the intimacy value floating in the upper right corner — the number “0” sat there clearly, previously ignored by him, but now he couldn’t ignore it even if he tried.

“Besides having Little One increase the intimacy value, are there any other methods?” he asked the system calmly, staring in the direction of the intimacy value as his fingers clenched once more.

System: …

[Even if you beat me, there’s nothing I can do. The intimacy value is determined by Bian Bian’s feelings toward Daddy — everything comes from her heart. As long as you treat Bian Bian well, so that she sincerely feels kindness, joy, and support, the intimacy value will naturally increase.]

—That explanation and the hint had not been mentioned to Xiu Jin.

In other words, martial strength was useless; they had to follow the proper procedures.

It was like a server: you might find a vulnerability to break through the firewall and get inside to access confidential files, only to discover those files were wrapped in another, extremely complex password that couldn’t be cracked by normal means—you had to obtain the password to get in.

Nong Jiusi stared at that “0” for a long moment, his handsome brows knitting slightly. He pointed vaguely at the little maid on the bed and, squinting, said, “Bought you weapons, shooed away ants, changed your clothes to cool you down… and now this—don’t recognize anyone, huh? Don’t even call me ‘Dad,’ intimacy level won’t budge, little…”

Before he finished speaking, his peripheral vision caught Nong Tang’s bowed head; his face couldn’t be seen, but the two dragon horns atop his head were restlessly trembling.

Nong JiusI fell silent.

“Nong Tang.”

“Sir.” Nong Tang looked up, stared straight at Nong Jiusi, his face open and reverent—an expression as normal as could be.

He would never admit that for a moment just now he had been smiling.

—it was mainly because she had never heard an adult speak in that tone before.

It was as if her beloved toy had been confiscated by a parent; she couldn’t show anger, so she vented her frustration through petty complaints.

Nong Jiu Si made a gesture, signaling Nong Tang to step forward.

Nong Tang bowed respectfully. “Sir, dinner still hasn’t been brought over. I’ll go check; the cook is probably slacking off again.”

Nong Jiu Si stared at him for several seconds, staring so intently that Nong Tang’s scalp tingled; only then did he give a faint “hm.”

Only then did Nong Tang feel as if pardoned and retreat.

Then he remembered the lesson: don’t ridicule him in front of adults; if you must laugh, wait until no one is around.

After that interruption, the sight of the number “0” bothered Nong Jiu Si less. When he lowered his gaze, he noticed the little one had already climbed down from the bed and picked up the magic orb.

“Did Uncle give it? It’s like a little bright light.” The magic orb shone brightly, yet unusually without glare; once your eyes adjusted, even holding it close wouldn’t hurt them.

“Huīhuī, it must be Uncle who gave it.” Her eyes curved into crescents from happiness, and she hugged the magic orb almost unwilling to let go, blowing out the candle as she did.

Nong Jiusī was still wondering who “Huīhuī” was when Biānbiān realized Huīhuī wasn’t on the bed and instantly panicked. She clumsily clutched the orb and ran out, not even stopping to drink water, heading straight for the stairs.

Nong Jiusī followed after her.

It wasn’t until she retrieved the little bear beside the metal wall that the panic on Bianbian’s face faded. She hugged the bear tightly and, as if offering a treasure, showed it the magic orb: “Huīhuī, look, from now on we can see at night without candles.”

Her sudden dash to the stairs had again roused the zombies upstairs. Bianbian was no longer afraid of such impacts—she even pressed her little face to the hole, eyes shining, and said excitedly, “Grandpa, I have a light now, I won’t bump into things anymore because I can’t see.”

Nong Jiusi stood to the side, listening to the pounding against his ears, unable to help looking at the little one.

They say the human ear is fragile; being in a noisy environment for long can damage your hearing.

Slender fingers flexed and knocked on the metal wall a few times: “Keep it down a bit, don’t want to deafen your granddaughter.”

Sure enough, the banging grew noticeably softer.

Nong Jiusi’s brow lifted slightly.

“Grandpa, I’m heading back now.” After happily sharing with Grandpa Huihui the joy of having Dengdeng, Biandian returned inside and closed the front door.

A hand pressed against the crack of the door.

Nong Jiusi, who had almost been shut out: “…”

Finding the door wasn’t closed, Biānbiān pulled it open again and let Nòng Jiǔsī slip inside; this time the door shut.

The little girl didn’t notice a thing.

Biānbiān set the teddy bear and the magic orb on the table. The bottled water she had opened earlier was already finished, so she took a new one and twisted the cap with both small hands—

Nòng Jiǔsī didn’t think much either; instinctively he reached out to help, then everything went black and all the images vanished.

“…”

Disconnected again?

He was about to log back in when he glanced at the time—

Three hours had passed since he started playing.

He… had been playing for three hours?

This realization curbed Nong Jius’s urge to foolishly log back into the game.

He had originally been researching NR devices.

Remembering his original purpose, Nong Jius didn’t click the game again; instead he slipped back into the bath and began studying the NR’s functions.

…..

Xiu Jin finished his work, went home, enjoyed a relaxing bath, then lay in the massage chair with a face mask on and logged into the game to check on his precious daughter.

As soon as she entered the game, a system notification popped up: [Intimacy +50.]

???

Xiu Jin sat bolt upright, the facial mask slipping off her face.