Reality 1.1+ Male Vocal Coach Challenge (Part 1)

How could it be him???
The very target from your game mission!
You were strangled by an unbelievable shock, only able to express your astonishment with eyes stretched to their limits.
Even if you saw a pair of long-haired Sadako figures dancing hand in hand right now, you wouldn’t be more stunned than this.
You didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t utter a single word.
You watched his well-defined lips move, trying to calm yourself and listen.
But you just couldn’t.
How did a two-dimensional character appear in real life?
You dared not imagine what reality would be like if people knew about your scandalous antics in the game.
Your sanity was like a battered bellows, wheezing with difficulty, and then you thought of an even more terrifying possibility:
Could it be… that you are still inside the game?
Ahhh, this felt scarier than the most terrifying zombie movie you’d ever seen. It was like falling into an icy abyss.
Your face suddenly turned pale, so much so that he suspected you were unwell and placed a large hand on your forehead.
Your chilly forehead touched a strange warmth—soft and dry.
Time passed second by second, and you even felt your cold sweat soaking into the palm of his hand, leaving traces along the unique lines of his skin.
Frightened by your own imagination, your head abruptly tilted back exaggeratedly.
After dodging, you realized your avoidance was too obvious, filled with disdain, while he seemed genuinely kind.
Nervously, you lifted your eyes to gauge his reaction.
But he didn’t look at you—or rather, he didn’t notice you.
The hand that had been on your forehead now moved to his own face. Through his black bangs gently stirred by the breeze, you saw his pale, slender fingers resting on his forehead, his head tilted slightly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.
You guessed he was wondering why you didn’t have a fever or doubting his own perception of temperature, but that hand still bore your sweat…
You stared at his hand moving back and forth on his forehead, your imagination soaring as his drifting bangs fluttered, your pale face burning like a rocket.
You truly understood the meaning of being caught between ice and fire—you just wanted to explode on the spot.
Might as well take him, who might know your game’s dark history, along with you.
He muttered to himself, seemingly asking you, “No fever, right?”
You responded, “No.”
You heard him sigh, but you couldn’t grasp the meaning behind it.
You held no hope. Before leaving, you made one last attempt: “Can I add you on WeChat?”
Then, you heard him give in, “Sure. Where’s your WeChat QR code?”
You couldn’t hide the joy that spread across your face.
Though the situation was chaotic and many things remained unclear, at least you managed to get your roommate’s contact information.
Hurriedly, you handed your roommate’s phone, still with the screen on, back to him. Before coming, your roommate had specially extended the screen timeout.
He lowered his eyes, staring at the phone you placed right under his nose, then gently shook his head.
You didn’t understand.
“Not this one,” he paused, emphasizing, “Your own.”
His tone was faint, but you focused intently on understanding him, so you heard it clearly.
Now you were completely confused.
Your own WeChat?
Why would he want yours?
He stood across from you, hands in his pockets, patiently waiting for you to act.
Suddenly, you understood.
He was refusing you, trying to discourage you.
Just like in the game, feinting east while attacking west, diverting attention—you had all sorts of stratagems spinning in your mind.
He had successfully scared you off.
You obliged, “Then I won’t bother you.”
You turned and walked away, and sure enough, he didn’t stop you.
He really didn’t want to add you on WeChat—he just wanted you to know your limits.
As you walked toward your waiting roommate, you thought to yourself, that was indeed a graceful refusal, using minimal force for maximum effect.

Your roommate saw your expression and guessed the outcome almost completely but still asked hopefully, “Did he give it to you?”
You silently shook your head and handed the phone back.
“Ah!” Your roommate slung an arm around your shoulders. “If he gave it to anyone just for asking, he’d be swamped. He’s that good-looking—if anyone asked, he’d have to reply to everyone.”
In your mind, you pictured that hand on your forehead suddenly sprouting eight more, like a thousand-armed Avalokiteshvara stretching from his sides.
You couldn’t help but laugh.
Seeing you smile, your roommate’s tension eased, and the atmosphere between you visibly lightened.
You guessed that in your roommate’s eyes, you were now a pitiful little soul bravely facing rejection and deeply hurt.
With her arm around you, her familiar touch, scent, and voice, you were reassured you were still in the real world.
Not knowing what to say, you asked if she still planned to go to the library.
She looked back toward the library.
You followed her gaze.
For some reason, he was still standing there on the path to the library, seemingly gazing far in your direction.
You and your roommate timidly turned your heads quickly, instinctively drawing close and briskly walking the other way.
Only after rounding a big bend did you slow down.
You both headed back toward the dorm, never again mentioning the library.
Along the way, you were distracted by the large green sign of the “Yi Dian Dian” milk tea shop.
You pulled out your phones and opened the WeChat mini-program for ordering from “Yi Dian Dian.”
Your roommate declared that since you had bravely stood up for her, the milk tea was on her. To lighten the mood, you happily accepted her treat.
You sincerely proclaimed, “She’s the best person in the world!”
You ordered: “Medium iced red tea with ice cream, and for free toppings, small pearls, red beans, and coconut jelly.”
Your roommate frowned and asked, “No cheese foam?”
You smiled and shook your head. Since it was her treat, you didn’t want to add any extra paid toppings.
Besides, “Yi Dian Dian” had recently raised prices—the cheese foam went from three to five yuan. On the day you learned of the price hike, you swore off “Yi Dian Dian” forever. That week, as your roommate teased, “Let’s see how long you can hold out,” you passed by the store several times, always glancing back.
Your roommate read your expression and guessed your hesitation. She shot you a side glance and waved generously, “I’m not short on money.”
So you ended up with a cup of red tea ice cream topped with your favorite cheese foam.
When you reached the dorm building, you said you needed to make a call downstairs and told your roommate to go ahead.
Watching her walk away, you suddenly remembered something you forgot to ask and called her back.
She turned to look at you.
You tried to sound casual: “By the way, when did you meet that senior?”
She said, “You mean Senior Jian?”
You replied, “Yeah, the one just now.”
Her face lit up with bright surprise: “Didn’t I tell you that’s Jian Xiaoze?”
You scratched your forehead awkwardly. When your roommate talked about her crushes before, you only half-listened and didn’t remember the names.
From your roommate’s tone, it sounded like Jian Xiaoze was someone you really should know.
Feeling a bit guilty, you asked, “Is he famous?”
Your roommate looked at you with a mix of pity and frustration, then gave you a deep, disapproving glance, turned, and walked away without another word.
Seeing how wildly she shook the milk tea cup she carried, you guessed she was silently cursing the younger generation.
Well, no answer and deep disdain—you’d better ask the game for the truth.
You found a shady spot and sat down, taking out your phone.
If it weren’t for your roommate being nearby, you’d have pulled out your phone to check the game immediately after seeing Senior Jian.
You tapped the game icon, feeling a familiar dizziness wash over you.
When you opened your eyes, you didn’t see the usual game space.
Instead, you suddenly found yourself beside an unfamiliar road.
Looking around, it seemed to be a winding mountain road, but the shiny asphalt was empty—no cars, no people.
All you saw was yourself and the bicycle you were holding, and above you, a bird singing from the shade of a tree.
Had you entered a new round of the game? You hadn’t even started battling the game system yet?
So sudden?
You guessed this was some kind of road trip or cycling challenge.

Your confusion didn’t last long; a transparent mission panel, familiar from your brief encounter, appeared above the handlebars you were holding.
Mission objective: “Complete a one-hour English tutoring session on time.”
Mission location: “Villa No. 6, Fugui Mingyuan”
Mission time limit: “Three hours”
A one-hour class with three hours allowed?
You instinctively sensed something was off.
You stared at the endless winding road, suspecting it would take you at least an hour, maybe more, to reach the mission location by bike.
With limited time, you couldn’t afford to think about the game’s possible tricks—you decided to figure out the situation first.
You quickly assessed your attire: still wearing the white T-shirt from the first game round, with the familiar English phrase “Be Brave” printed over your left chest.
Your pants had changed to black slim-fit ones, likely not a designer brand, probably under two hundred yuan.
Your shoes were clean white sneakers this time.
Your milk tea was with you as well.
The game also gave you an extra item this round—a wooden-colored canvas bag in the bicycle’s front basket, printed with a green earth logo and the date “4.22.”
You knew April 22 was Earth Day.
You guessed this might be a souvenir from some environmental activity you participated in on Earth Day.
You picked up the bag and opened it.
Inside were a pencil case, a palm-sized card holder, a notebook, and a phone.
You took out the phone first, hoping to uncover useful information.
Estimating you’d been in the game for no more than ten minutes, you set a countdown timer for two hours and fifty minutes.
Then you opened WeChat, skipping through familiar yet strange contacts like “Bestie 1,” “Bestie 2,” “Bestie 3,” and “Childhood Friend,” and opened the chat labeled “Saturday Tutoring Client.”
From previous messages, you learned this tutoring job was introduced by a senior, and your student was a high school senior.
Today was the first trial session, lasting only one hour.
There was pay for the trial; regardless of satisfaction, you would receive at least 2,000 yuan, and if the student was happy, you’d get a bonus.
Your mouth dropped open when you saw “2,000 yuan.”
Actually, when you saw the mission location was Villa No. 6 in Fugui Mingyuan, you already suspected the student came from a wealthy family.
After all, the game nearly named the villa “Rich and Noble Garden.”
You guessed the wealthy paper-doll residents didn’t like such a tacky name, so the game compromised on “Fugui,” meaning fragrant and noble.
You’d heard of tutoring fees exceeding a thousand yuan per hour, but those were for renowned teachers at prestigious high schools tutoring privately.
Some of your classmates worked part-time tutoring, and as far as you knew, the going rate was two or three hundred yuan per hour, even with your university’s good reputation locally.
Later, the client said they would send a car to pick you up.
You looked down at your bike in puzzlement, then scrolled down for more details and quickly found the answer.
The “you” inside the game politely declined, saying, “No need to trouble yourself. Just send me the address; I’ll get there myself.”
You saw the reply from “you”: “……”
So “you” planned to get there by yourself—by riding a bike?
Climbing a mountain road, entering a villa area, on two wheels?
You guessed the client didn’t expect you to show up on a bicycle and didn’t insist further.
After all, you also hadn’t expected “yourself” to be so self-reliant and environmentally conscious…
Ah, you suddenly realized the earth logo and “4.22” on the canvas bag weren’t just a coincidence.
The game was truly a master of details, full of underlying logic.
You scrolled further to see the specific location shared by the client.
You tapped it and saw it was only 2.6 kilometers away.
Even if you rode leisurely, you’d be there in about ten minutes.
So why did the game give you three hours?