Don't Pick Up Boyfriends From the Trash Bin

Chapter 181 - System vs. System (Finished)

On the first day after the mission, Chi Xiaochi finished an apple and volunteered that he wanted to go to one of the worlds.

At the time of his request, Lou Ying was in the kitchen scraping yellowtail scales to make yellowtail dumplings.

A small plate of emerald cabbage dumplings has been formed, the thermostat in the house is running, the wind is whistling, and the bamboo mice outside are chomping away at the apples with a crunching sound.

He thought everything was fine and was even a bit sad to let him go.

Lou Ying raised her voice and said, “Wait until this afternoon, I’ll make the dumplings and go with you.”

Chi Xiaochi said, “No, I’ll be back in an hour, tops.”

Lou Ying wipes her hands on her apron and walks out of the kitchen.

He wanted to use his own face, but was afraid that Lord GOD would do something to it, so he weighed the options and used Wen Yujing’s face.

With her long hair cut short, a loose white shirt and black trousers tied with a few buttons, Wen Yujing’s original earthy aura is instantly brought back to the world of mortals, but not in a way that is out of place.

Lou Ying took some coats out of the wardrobe: “It’s winter outside, pick something you like. Buy something you want to eat and I’ll wait for you at home.”

All the coats were warm, but a little on the large side and the sleeves were a little long and covered the hands a little.

Lou Ying helped him to roll the cuffs of his chosen camel coat a few times to reveal the dark grey jumper on the side of his wrist.

Lou Ying pauses when she reaches the right hand side.

…… The ring he gave to Chi Xiaochi, which had been transferred to his pinky, somehow found its way back to his index finger.

A ring that has had an unlucky journey from ring finger to tail finger to index finger.

But Lou Ying is confident about where the ring will end up.

With a silent smile at the thought, Lou Ying continued to smooth his cuffs and fetch a black cashmere scarf to wrap around him.

Chi Xiaochi raised her hand unnaturally and pushed back, “I’ll do it myself.”

Lou Ying was worried that he was not yet comfortable with the contact and offered to release his hand.

Chi Xiaochi looked in the mirror, pulled the scarf into a flowery knot and sprayed some eau de toilette on her body.

Lou Ying watched from afar as his Xiaochi dressed himself up as a mature and handsome young man, his heart warming but also vaguely uneasy.

He has a fondness for Chi Xiaochi, no doubt.

He has lost all his previous memories, so his fondness is pure, not about the past, not about the future, just about Chi Xiaochi now.

For him, Lou Ying, what he got was the full Chi Xiaochi.

But for Chi Xiaochi, what he has recovered is an AI with only a few years of memory.

So Lou Ying wanted to know more.

He wanted to know what had happened all those years ago.

Lou Ying wants to help Chi Xiaochi get Lou Ying back.

So, after Chi Xiaochi had chosen a world line to leave, he also made a trip back to Lord GOD space and knocked on the door of 089.

It is winter outside and it is indeed cold.

Luckily, Lou Ying’s coat and scarf kept me warm.

Chi Xiaochi connected to the network of this world, turned on the navigation, hailed another taxi and gave an address.

Yesterday, when he and Lou Ying were back in their space, Chi Xiaochi had nothing better to do than to retrieve the book “The Shark Immortal King”.

In line with the data provided by the system, “The Immortal Sailor” breaks at chapter 87 and is not updated again.

The author is called “Green Mountain Red Dust”, a pseudonym that has not been followed by any new works, and it looks like he has stopped writing Wen altogether.

Chi Xiaochi went through the comments section and found something new.

In this long-deserted Wen chapter, there are still people urging for more work, many of them with the ID of “Smoke University Tourist Group”, crying out for more Wen from Smoke University, wanting to see the follow-up story of the shark and the snake.

…… Oh no.

Chi Xiaochi followed the line and soon found the source.

The “Green Mountain Red Dust” changed its vest to “A Light Smoke” and went to another website to write a CP-free Cultivation Wen, which, with some luck, was picked up by a film and television company, which bought the rights and filmed it without any backlog.

”A light cigarette” has been a diary-keeper since childhood.

After the internet became more accessible, he took to blogging about his feelings.

During the serialization period of Sailor Fairy King, he wrote down quite a few things off and on in his diary, some of which were his own brainstorming and some of which bothered him during the serialization.

At the height of the criticism, the author, who was still a small shrimp at the time, struggled for several days and went to his editor to ask him what he should do.

The avatar of his editor looks very straight, a big rugged man with a cigarette.

The editor, who was busy ranking the list, gave the usual answer, “Observe more of the reader’s preferences.”

The young writer said, “It’s a bit hard to do what they’re asking …….”

The editor said bluntly, “There’s no meat for those who don’t listen to their readers.”

Still quite poor, the young writer listened to the words and went hard to observe the readers’ comments.

He wrote earnestly in his diary that there was meat for listening to the editor.

Then he wrote it as a tetragrammaton and was sprayed even harder.

The young writer was a bit frustrated and posted a picture of her own evening meal in her space at 3am, with the words Wen saying, “No meat for me, so I cooked myself a spinach noodle.

After a while, he noticed that someone had liked it and it was his editor.

He was curious to know if the editor was still up this late.

Soon there was an editorial response below, “Looks delicious.”

The young writer said with no small amount of pride, “I made it.”

The editor said, “It would be better with an egg.”

The author had a craving for it, so she fried a single-sided egg and sliced it open. The egg was clear and crisp, and the edges were curled and slightly charred.

He took another picture.

No reply from the editor this time.

The writer didn’t think much of it, but sat down at the table and had a good meal for a while, then casually opened the Wen chapter page to see if he could find one or two constructive responses in the pile of spam comments.

He refreshed this and found two more comments.

It is the first and second chapters.

One is “good, the beginning of Wen is concise, no redundancy, Wen is not bad”, the other is “the story is slightly dragged into the main line, the character of the main character is not clear”.

The young writer inhaled and inhaled the noodles, rewinding to look at her update and thought it was a great review.

It’s not just an abstract concept like “cool” or “not cool”, but a real point of view on what’s wrong with his writing.

He wrote a very sincere three-line reply thanking him for his guidance.

The reader over there who gave the comment seemed to be online too, replying, “Go to sleep. I’ll read some more.”

The young writer then went to bed with gratitude.

As a result, I woke up and the comments section tore up the place.

There are a few regular spammers who are bored, probably because they see that the young author has a good personality and is always gentle and not angry, just like the soft dough protagonist in the book, who always comes over in his vest to stab him a couple of times.

Today one of them woke up and came to the comment section to complete a routine task when he saw an ID who was seriously reading Wen and had given a lot of positive comments, he immediately gathered around: “Yo, this is a family and friends group, or a review that you bought.”

The reader replied, “Couldn’t sleep, came to see Wen.”

The squirt said, “Dude, there’s nothing to see here, let’s disperse. After all your blathering, this author won’t change it. It’s just a blind, barren change.”

Readers say, “I liked the story, he wrote it well.”

The squirt was sour: “Hey yo, it’s really a family and friends group.”

Readers say, “Objectively speaking, the writing is better than you.”

The squirt winced and exploded in anger: “What are you talking about with your eyes open? Which one of your eyes saw me write Wen?”

The reader said, in an articulate manner, “Your trumpet has only contributed to one Wen chapter. Your trumpet has the same IP address as that Wen. That Wen is the same time as this one. I advise you to write Wen seriously, otherwise you won’t get listed.”

Spray was full of concern: “You fucking think you’re an editor, you open your mouth. I’d say you’re the author’s trumpet.”

There will be no reply at the bottom.

The young writer looked a little angry and was just about to go up and say a few words for the enthusiastic reader when the editor’s rugged, smoke-gripping head flashed up in his friends bar.

The editor said, “Don’t listen to them.”

The editor added: “It’s my fault for not giving you the advice you did earlier. Follow your idea, change the site to one with a better atmosphere, make improvements in the details and your results will be even better.”

The young writer froze in front of his computer.

Later, after much deliberation, he abandoned this Wen, which had gone badly off course, and moved on to another website.

When he came up with the name, he thought of the cigarette in the mouth of the rugged man, so he just tapped in “a light cigarette”.

Then he sealed the deal with one book and did quite well with the next two.

With money in hand, he went and knocked out the editor.

Since they had been identified as friends and family, they often chatted with each other and learned a lot about each other, so they really became half a group of friends and family.

For example, two people are in the same city, both love late night snacks and both are night owls.

The young author’s messages he always returned in seconds, “What?”

The young writer said, “Are you free to come out, I’ll treat you to some meat.”

The young writer records the meeting in great detail in her diary.

The man was not rugged at all, only a few months older than the young writer, very handsome, wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses, often writing in magazines, and his family had money, so they could do what they wanted.

A year before I met the young author, he was selling insurance.

Now he has just obtained his kindergarten teacher’s certificate and is about to quit his job as an editor to work as a kindergarten teacher.

The young writer envied him and said, “How nice.

He is polio-stricken and has been in a wheelchair since shortly after birth, and over the years has been able to travel independently only to his own kitchen, computer and bedroom.

He longed for the expanse that the editor could see.

The editor surveyed his wheelchair and said, “You live alone now?”

Junior author: “Hmm.”

His father died early and his mother remarried and went abroad.

The editor said, “It’s a coincidence. My block has newly installed disabled access, in every building.”

The young author’s eyes lit up, “Well, that’s nice.”

The editor looked into his eyes, “Move in.”

Junior author: “…… eh?”

The editor said, “There’s a nice little shop near my house that sells plum cake.”

The young writer looked at him in confusion, his heart racing while not quite understanding the meaning of his words.

The editor said, “You moved in so I could buy you food every day.”

In the young author’s diary, there is a food diary dedicated to plum pudding, which whets Chi Xiaochi’s appetite for a big night out.

So he came to buy it the next day.

He arrived at the shop described in the young writer’s food diary.

The owner skillfully poured the blended glutinous rice flour mixture into a special vessel, and filled it with long-boiled, semi-fluid hot bean paste, hot sesame seeds and hot purple potatoes.

Chi Xiaochi paws his hands and waits in the cold wind.

After a while, a young man in black-rimmed glasses stopped his car in front of this small shop: “Two for you, boss lady, old style.”

This was obviously a familiar customer. The proprietor answered twice and neatly took the two bean paste ones out of the oven, put them in a paper bag and handed them to him.

The young man darted back into the car, and another person in the passenger side of the car leaned over and picked up the paper bag.

Chi Xiaochi heard the young man say, “The filling is hot, so warm your hands first and go home just in time to eat it.”

Chi Xiaochi turned back, looked at the car that rode up and thought, “What a coincidence, could that be them?

Maybe so, maybe not.

He recalled that he had seen the audio of the young author’s online interview yesterday, and in the free interview session, a reader also asked about The Sailor Fairy King.

The reader asks, “Great Light Smoke, are you really not going to write that Immortal King?”

The young writer’s voice was gentle: “Well, it’s not written for anyone else to read. I’ll leave it on the hard drive and rewrite it. …… wrote it for him to read.”

The reader is a little sorry: “So will the shark and the serpent king have a happy ending.”

”They will.” The young writer says, “They are independent souls. Even without me, they will have a good ending.”

Chi Xiaochi was thinking about it when suddenly, from his coat pocket, there was a small vibrating sound.

Chi Xiaochi picks up the phone, looks at the number on it for a moment and brings it up to his ear.

Lou Ying’s voice was there, “Hello?”

Chi Xiaochi is happy.

He remembered what he had told himself when he was 061, that in a non-mission environment, he would be blocked from all functions when he arrived on a world, retaining only his most basic sensory abilities, not even the ability to speak.

Lou Ying, who was left at home, had to call if she wanted to reach him.

Lou Ying asked him, “Is it cold?”

With Lou Ying out of sight, Chi Xiaochi was less tense: “My snug little autumn trousers are gone without you.”

Lou Ying laughs.

He asked, “When will you be back? I’ll see what time it is, the dumplings are almost ready to be cooked.”

Chi Xiaochi covered the microphone and asked the boss, “How much longer will it take?”

The owner laughed, “Soon, soon, it will only take six or seven minutes. The stuffed purple potatoes take a bit longer to cook.”

Chi Xiaochi said on the other end of the line, “Go on, go on. I’m going to hang up now. I didn’t look carefully before I came out, and my phone is about to run out of gas.”

Lou Ying couldn’t help but smile: “Well, good.”

Chi Xiaochi bought one and a half ovens, which she intended to send back to Lou Ying to distribute to the systems.

He picked out a plum cake with purple potato filling from it and gently bit into it.

The egg rolls on the outside are crispy and golden, just the way Chi Xiaochi likes them, and the soft, plum-shaped rice patties are slightly overflowing with juicy, runny purple potatoes when you take a bite, and the hot, white air pours right into Chi Xiaochi’s face.

He took two hot bites and was suddenly eager to go home.

So he called Lou Ying’s name in his mind, ” Brother Lou, Brother Lou.”

The owner of the plum cake was breathing heavily and preparing the next oven of plum cake when he inadvertently raised his eyes and noticed that the customer who had just carried away one and a half ovens of plum cake had disappeared in just half a minute.

And after hanging up the phone with Chi Xiaochi, Lou Ying told 089 & 023, “I’ll go back first and make dumplings for Xiaochi.”

He had wanted to have a chat with 089, but unfortunately 023 was also there and some things were not quite so easy to say.

089 said with emotion, “Go on, good boy. Your happiness is the greatest expectation of your parents.”

023 rolled his eyes grimly.

089 said innocently, “I meant it.”

Lou Ying stroked the peace knot that was still in his jacket pocket, “Well, I know.”

089 saw his movements, his expression unchanged, his smiling eyes slightly curved.

Well, knowing the usefulness of the peace knot, 80% of them have used it.

Since it had to be used, it must have been in some danger.

By the looks of him now, he must have made a safe transition and probably met something good.

But while he was happy, the one who was in a moment might not be so happy.

In a few moments, 089 had some suspicions, and with a turn of phrase, he said with real emotion and tears, “61 Ah, you can protect our daughter-in-law well, you are the single heir of our family for nine generations, the continuity of our old 0 family depends on him.”

023: “……” What’s the old 0 family?

Lou Ying’s mind moved slightly, knowing that he was reminding him of something: “Yes, I remember, Father.”

023: “……”

From time to time he felt out of place with them because he wasn’t theatrical enough.