9 The Male Tenor's Tutoring Challenge (2)

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With limited information and even less time—and since you are not Sherlock Holmes—you cannot arrive at an answer. You continue rummaging through the canvas bag. You take out a small wallet, open it, and find a student ID card inside. Glancing at the information, you realize that “you” in this stage of the game are a sophomore majoring in English at Haicheng University. No wonder you became an English tutor.

Next, you pull out a notebook and skim through its contents. There is nothing particularly special—just carefully prepared lesson materials. Time is short, so you flip through quickly. It’s mostly grammar points, nothing overly complicated. Thankfully, you have recently prepared for the CET-6 exam this semester, so the English knowledge you had hastily discarded after the college entrance exam has been recalled sufficiently to make the review smooth.

After a quick look and feeling confident, you close the notebook and put it back into the bag. Later, during the lesson, you plan to shamelessly read straight from the text. After all, your game task requires quantity, not quality; you only need to complete an hour of tutoring.

After searching through your bag, you check your bicycle. You find a flat little box attached to it. Opening it, you see wrenches and various tools—apparently a bicycle repair kit. Surprising that “you” in this game can also fix bikes. You inspect the bike thoroughly and find it’s just an ordinary one, nothing mysterious.

The exhaustive searching drains your mental energy, and you feel you badly need a few sips of milk tea to replenish your sugar. You mount the bike, pull a straw out of the delivery bag, tear off the wrapper with a flourish, and pierce the plastic seal. You stir the drink three times, then take a long, satisfying sip.

The creamy milk foam, the sweet vanilla ice cream, and the mildly astringent black tea flood your mouth. Ah, a taste of heaven—you feel your health bar instantly restore to 50%. Another sip brings the tiny pearls up your throat; you chew them slowly, and your health bar climbs to 70%. The third sip replenishes fully to 100%. You pedal fiercely forward.

Your legs pump rapidly, and the summer breeze and verdant tree shadows fall behind you. If the backdrop weren’t this winding mountain road, you would resemble a seagull soaring above the sea. The scent of summer wind and the breath of freedom hit you head-on; bending forward, you savor the earthly delight of milk foam ice cream black tea.

Riding swiftly on the mountain road, you look like the heroine of a manga, your hair flying behind you, radiating an unforgettable vitality. After a while, you spot two men standing by the grand gate of a villa complex.

You instinctively slow down. As your bike glides gently, you notice their overly neat black suits and dark sunglasses in the summer heat. You stop, look up at the brilliant blue sky and the dazzling sun, wondering if they don’t feel the heat.

You search your bag and bike for a lock but find none, so you leave the bike as it is. You walk toward the gate, and the two men’s gazes follow you closely from afar. Towering and well-trained in stance, their taut facial muscles beneath the sunglasses suggest they are the gatekeepers, possibly mini-bosses.

You think that entering through this gate might require some effort. Standing squarely before them, your eyes scan both men. Both appear to be in their late twenties to early thirties, with muscular upper arms from their folded-arm posture. If they wanted to throw you, they could probably handle it with one hand each.

After observing, you decide to avoid the man on the left, who has several shallow vertical wrinkles between his brows—he must be a stern, hard-to-please type. You approach the man on the right. Lifting your chin and smiling, you prepare to call out “Big Brother” in a familiar tone. Unexpectedly, he quickly stands at attention and gives you a perfectly formal salute.

You: “???”
Your “Big Brother” is left speechless. Surprisingly, he speaks first: “You’re the tutor, right?”
You widen your eyes and blurt out, “How do you know?”
He replies, “Mr. Fu’s butler informed us early this morning that you would likely arrive around this time and instructed us to politely let you through.”

Fu, Mr., Fu? You guess this is your employer. Fu is obviously a wealthy surname. From what you know, even the least well-off in the Fu family is Fu Wenpei. Still, you wonder if you are the only one arriving at this time this morning. Could Fu’s butler have been so meticulous as to send them your resume photo?

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Is the security here really that strict? You point to your face and ask, “Have you seen my photo?” He says nothing but nods toward your back. You turn around. Within ten meters, only your little pink bike stands alone.

You... seem to understand. Probably, no one ever rides a bike here. So, recognizing your identity must be quite easy.

You take a deep breath, turn back, and smile, asking, “May I come in now?”
“Of course.” Saying this, he does something, and the grand gate slowly swings open before you. He then bows and gestures a courteous “please.”

You take two steps forward but suddenly remember your bike is still outside. You step back and politely ask him, pointing:
“Could you please watch my bicycle for me?”

His sculpted face instantly softens, hesitating for three seconds before saying, “You may bring your beloved bike inside with you.”

“Your beloved bike...” He speaks so politely, neither looking down on your modest means nor discriminating against your ride. You think this guy would fit perfectly working in a car dealership—his well-built frame beneath the suit is a guaranteed sales champion in the making.

You turn, mount your “beloved bike,” and slowly ride through the grand open gate. The villa complex is large and quiet; you ride along without seeing a single soul. Thankfully, your phone’s GPS guides you to your destination.

A continuous white wall centers on two tall black lacquered double doors. You glance at the ivory-colored stone plaque under the porch light, carved with the number 6, confirming this is Villa No. 6 in the Fu Gui Ming Garden.

You stop your bike, check your phone’s countdown timer. The three-hour time limit has just passed half an hour. So far, everything seems to be going smoothly. Could it be... you’re finally having a streak of luck?

You approach the door, raise your hand to knock, but are surprised to find the door isn’t fully closed—there’s a gap about the size of a fist.

The servants working here... you look up at the grand door, guessing it must have been carefully selected and wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake as leaving the gate ajar.

The morning sun warms your back. You step to the right and slip through the gap. A narrow sunbeam sneaks in through the gap and vanishes inside.

Watching the beam disappear, four words slowly form in your mind: “Trap the guest.”

You’re not being paranoid; everything has gone too smoothly, smoother than Dove chocolate. Your previous failures make you wary.

You hesitate to push the door further. After much internal debate, you take the longest pen from your pencil case and prod at the door. The heavy door opens about forty-five degrees. No bucket of water rains down, but you stand cautiously outside the threshold.

You call out a few times inside, but no one answers. Left with no choice, you push the door fully open with the pen and step inside. You slowly close the heavy door behind you, hesitating whether to leave a small gap as before, when suddenly you feel something pounce on you from behind.

You turn around, but before you can see clearly, you feel a weight on your shoulders. You instinctively glance at your left shoulder and see a fluffy paw with light golden fur resting on it.

You also seem to hear heavy breathing close to your ear. Turning stiffly, your eyes meet the enlarged face of a golden retriever.

Your disbelief shifts from its panting, bright red tongue to the furry paw draped over both your shoulders. You’re so startled you forget to scream.

Your breath freezes the instant it pounced. Your mind blanks completely. Soon, everything before your eyes blurs. You’re about to faint.

No! You close your eyes and force yourself to ignore the golden retriever before you. You repeat in your mind:

This is a game, a game. It’s not real. The dog won’t really bite you, and even if it bites, it won’t hurt. You won’t die. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. You have to do something. Yes, you must do something. You can’t let it keep resting on your shoulders...

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You build up your courage countless times in your mind, finally clenching your fists and opening your eyes.

Then, to your surprise, the golden retriever on your shoulders vanishes.

Not only the retriever disappears, but also the villa courtyard you hadn’t taken a proper look at.

You seem to... have returned to the game space.

What happened?

You tentatively call out to the system: “System?”

Around you, the electric crackling of static fills the air, followed by a distinctly electronic male voice:

“Welcome back, player Mary Su, to the game space.”

You really returned to the game space?

This time, you cleared the level without even seeing the game objective?

Confused, you ask, “What’s going on? I was just in the game. How did I suddenly end up here?”

System: “Our records indicate you experienced an abnormal cardiac arrest during gameplay. For your physical and mental health, we have forcibly removed you from the game.”

You: “...”
You: “Your game monitors heart rates too?”

System: “Yes.”

You don’t know what to say, so you reluctantly compliment, “You’re really intelligent.”

System: “Thank you for your compliment.”

You share an invisible gaze with the system. The shock you just experienced still leaves your brain somewhat scrambled, but you remember your purpose for entering the game. As you sort your thoughts, the system’s electronic voice sounds again:

“Player’s heart rate has returned to normal. You will now be sent back into the game in 3, 2...”

“Wait, wait, I still have questions—” Before you finish, the countdown hits “1,” and you are teleported away.

You haven’t even thought about how to face that golden retriever!!!

You struggle in panic, waving your hands, and the next second you find yourself standing once more on the familiar mountain road.

You: “???”

You swallow your embarrassing flailing and brush aside strands of hair falling like Sadako’s veil over your face. You quickly glance left and right; fortunately, no one saw your frantic struggle with the sky.

So you weren’t sent directly back to the golden retriever’s paws.

Instead, you’ve been granted a fresh round.

Now you know—the mini-boss guarding this level is the golden retriever.

In real life, you’re terrified of dogs.

You used to hide when you saw dogs. Your father said that when you run away, dogs think you want to play and will chase you more. The best approach is to stay calm and walk past as if nothing is wrong.

You tried several times and found your father was right; if you don’t run, most dogs ignore you. He also advised that if a dog really pounces, don’t run; crouch and pretend to pick up a stone to throw. The dog will back off.

You’ve never tried that because the dogs you met were mostly pets and not aggressive.

Last round, the golden retriever lunged at you unexpectedly—you didn’t even see how it pounced, let alone crouch to fake a fight.

Though you believe your father’s advice, untested theory remains theory, and you’re not daring enough to “confront” a golden retriever so large it can rest on your shoulders.

You must find another way—this level calls for cunning.

Since you cannot defeat it, you decide to befriend it.

You plan to bribe it with a dog toy, throwing it as soon as you meet.

On this remote mountain road, where last round you saw no stores, you open a delivery app and search for “pet supplies.”

After searching, you give up. The nearest pet supply delivery is 13 kilometers away, with an estimated delivery time of one hour and eighteen minutes...

Though you have time, not that much.

Once again, you realize nothing in this game is free; the three-hour limit has blocked your clever plan like a great strategist’s downfall.

Then, inspiration strikes.

Right! The game brought your milk tea with you.

You stare at the freshly restored full cup of milk foam ice cream black tea in your hand and ask yourself:

“Could this milk tea be the key to beating the golden retriever mini-boss?”