Chapter 3

Why didn’t it just start from when Pangu split heaven and earth apart?
With her head throbbing and dizzy, Xiang Changge listened to the system’s endless, breathless speech while still finding the time to give a verdict in her heart: “A chatterbox, huh? And it seems like a pretty serious case.”
“…”
Like a duck suddenly strangled at the neck, the plot‑rewrite system’s voice cut off abruptly.
Xiang Changge: “…”
Oh. She had almost forgotten—it could hear her thoughts.
The system, having been slapped in the face at point‑blank range: “…”
“You really are the hardest host I’ve ever had to handle!”
The plot‑rewrite system finally snapped and roared in anger.
Xiang Changge scratched her head.
Those words sounded oddly familiar—where had she heard them before?
In any case, maybe because it had been a long time since she’d spoken to anyone, and an even longer time since she’d last heard another voice, although she felt the system was noisy, Xiang Changge still took in everything it said.
According to it, it was a high‑level product of undisclosed origin, and its job was to rewrite certain novel worlds—or, as it put it, to “save worlds.”
For example, in some strange, old‑school novels, there were many characters whom the author, intentionally or not, had written to be tragically miserable. Readers felt sorry for them and wanted them to have a good ending. Because the strength of those wishes was too great, the plot‑rewrite system had come into being.
The system would select suitable people from different planes and send them into the book worlds to complete tasks according to its requirements. The “suitable people” were mostly those who had died but still had unfinished wishes.
As long as the host completed all of the system’s assigned tasks, that host would get a chance to have one wish granted. They could even choose to be reborn.
And the world Xiang Changge was now in was the 2.0 rewrite version based on the novel “99 Tragic Loves: The CEO’s Love Nowhere to Hide.”
When she heard the title of the novel, Xiang Changge didn’t react at first.
Only when she heard the system say that in this old‑school novel the male lead was named Shangguan, the female lead Chu Keke, and the supporting female, Yu Qing, did she suddenly remember: this was the very novel she had used as her daily “meal‑time reading” before.
Xiang Changge was a bit surprised. “What a coincidence.”
Right before dying she’d still been using this book to go with her dried earthworms, and now that she was dead, this so‑called system had brought her into the book.
In a dialect‑tinged electronic voice that made it impossible to guess where it had been manufactured, the system continued, “Not a coincidence~ If it hadn’t detected that you’d read it many times and were familiar with the plot, and that you were a great match for the mission’s conditions, this kind of good thing would never have fallen on you~”
Good thing.
Xiang Changge turned this phrase over in her mind.
Was this really a good thing?
Of course it was.
To be alive, and to be in a world where order still existed—how was that not a good thing?
Even if this world had evolved from a novel.
The plane was now flying ten thousand meters above the ground. Through the window you could see fluffy, reachable‑looking clouds. The plane threaded its way through them, yet it always held to its course.
Some scattered sounds drifted over, and Xiang Changge drew her gaze back from the window and looked toward the front.
Flight attendants in uniform, smiling, were pushing the service carts down the aisle. In soft voices they passed out small snacks to the passengers and asked whether anyone needed drinks or water.
With her perfect vision, Xiang Changge easily made out what the attendants were handing out.
Each person got a dorayaki, a small packet of nuts, a box of yogurt, and a cup of their chosen drink.
The passenger in front of her had asked for juice. Xiang Changge clearly saw the attendant pour a cup of enticingly colored orange juice into a disposable paper cup.
Even though they were still some distance away, Xiang Changge felt as if she could already smell that sweet‑and‑sour orange fragrance.
Gurgle—
Food. Clean, untainted food that hadn’t even expired.
Xiang Changge swallowed hard.
Heaven alone knew how long it had been since she’d tasted anything like that—so long she couldn’t even clearly remember the flavors.
Hunger rose from the bottom of her heart.
In the apocalypse, whoever had the harder fist owned the resources.
If not for her iron self‑control and the knowledge that this was no longer her original world, Xiang Changge would almost have rushed over to claim everything on that cart as her own.
The system seemed to sense her state. Afraid that its still‑warm host might suddenly do something irrational, it hurriedly said, “See that? A normal life. Abundant food. This is way better than your old world.”
“As long as you follow System‑tongtong’s instructions and complete the tasks, you can live happily in this world.”
“Once you’ve successfully rewritten the plot, you can even choose to stay here forever. System‑tongtong can also let you exchange the points you earn from missions for skills or money, okay?”
A stable society and sufficient wealth—this was the life people dreamed of.
Xiang Changge clenched her fists, suppressing the urge to seize and devour, and asked in her heart, “And what if I fail your missions?”
There was no such thing as a free dinner. There were only those who wanted to eat you for dinner for free. Xiang Changge admitted that the conditions the system offered were difficult to refuse. But if she showed her desire too quickly, she would lose the initiative in this game of bargaining.
System: “If you fail, then 8802, you’ll have to return to your original state.”
Xiang Changge was puzzled. “My original state?”
System: “As in, turned to ashes~ Have you forgotten? You got hit head‑on by a meteor in your riddled, broken world and were already reduced to ash.”
“If you fail the mission, then you’ll have to go back to being ash again.”
Xiang Changge: “…”
How was that any different from just having her cremated on the spot?
Still, she had already died cleanly once. At worst, she would just go back again to the state of ‘dust to dust, earth to earth.’
“…So what do I have to do?”
Without hesitating any further, Xiang Changge made her decision.
They were just missions. She would do them. She refused to believe there was any mission that could be harder than cutting a path through a horde of zombies.
Sensing that Xiang Changge was about to agree, the system finally stopped rambling.
In the novel “99 Tragic Loves: The CEO’s Love Nowhere to Hide,” the male lead’s fiancée, Yu Qing, is fabulously wealthy. Money is the most useless thing in the world to her, but she has never known what happiness is—melancholy is her inborn talent.
After she learns that the male lead’s kindness toward her comes only from guilt and from the responsibility of an engagement arranged by their elders, Yu Qing voluntarily withdraws, fulfilling the perfect love between the domineering‑CEO male lead and the passionate little white‑flower heroine.
But because she has no attachment to this world, she chooses to commit suicide. Her death not only makes the readers pity her; it also conveniently gives the author an excuse to continue the male and female leads’ tragic love story.
The system quickly summed it up: “Save the early‑death supporting character Yu Qing. Help her regain her faith in life and live happily.”
Letting Yu Qing live well was the wish of the readers who loved her, and also the hope of the CP fans who didn’t want to see the male and female leads torturing each other anymore.
Closer, closer—the cart was almost at her row.
Watching the flight attendant push the cart nearer and nearer, thinking of the delicious food she hadn’t tasted in five years, Xiang Changge licked her lips, suppressing the itch in her heart to gobble everything up.
After hearing the system’s explanation, Xiang Changge began to doubt her own ears.
She had thought the system’s missions would be extremely difficult. But when she actually heard it, all she could think was: “That’s it?” Just that one sentence?
“…”
That’s it?
What was that supposed to mean?
If the plot‑rewrite system had a physical body, it would have had its eyes bugging out. “…You think that’s easy?”
They were there now. The next one up was her.
Even as she listened to the system in her mind, most of Xiang Changge’s attention was focused on the flight attendant handing out snacks.
The attendant was currently serving the passenger in front of her, while Xiang Changge’s burning gaze was fixed on the cart in the aisle, so close that she felt as though she only had to stretch out a hand to touch it.
Food. So much food. Normal, delicious food.
Xiang Changge smacked her lips, which still faintly carried the taste of dried earthworms, and absent‑mindedly replied in her heart, “What else would it be?”
The system fell into a strange silence. “…”
So it wasn’t a cautious, guarded‑type host after all, but a confident‑type one? Interesting.
Ge‑mou: [throws flowers][throws flowers]
System‑tongtong: [question marks][question marks]
“Hello, passenger. What would you like to drink?”
Dressed in a red‑and‑white uniform with a smile on her face, the flight attendant’s sweet voice floated to Xiang Changge’s ears as she placed a portion of the standard snack set onto the little tray table in front of her.
Xiang Changge’s eyes seemed glued to the cart and couldn’t be pried away. She only used the corner of her eye to confirm that her share of the snacks had indeed arrived.
Hearing the attendant’s question, she replied without even thinking, her voice firm as a nail: “All of them.”
Flight attendant: “?”
Even with all the passengers she had seen, the attendant still froze for a moment, doubting her own ears.
But her excellent professional training had her recovering quickly. “We have orange juice, cola, coffee, and water. Would you like a cup of each?”
Xiang Changge nodded. Her gaze swept once around the snacks on her tray table, then went back to the cart. Pointing at the snacks, she asked, “Could I have a few more of these?”
Perhaps because she hadn’t spoken in a long time, Xiang Changge’s voice was a little hoarse, and the sound made the attendant look at her a few extra times.
Feeling that gaze on her, Xiang Changge suddenly raised her head and met the attendant’s eyes.
Back when she had first started out from the galley with the cart, the attendant had already felt a strong, invasive gaze on her.
But when she took a spare moment to glance around, she hadn’t noticed anything unusual, so she just continued with her work.
Now, however, when she met Xiang Changge’s calm, gray‑brown eyes, she inexplicably felt she had her answer.
Just now, that intense gaze must have been hers, right?
What kind of eyes were those…