“Heh, I knew it.”
Wen Yu sank back into the bathtub, arms resting along the edges, legs crossed beneath the water, and toes playfully pointed into the void as she laughed out loud, bit by bit.
The must-have item for a transmigrated, reincarnated female protagonist—
The System!
And she had managed to snag it herself~
Wen Yu spent a full ten minutes laughing before finally speaking to the system.
“What type of system are you? Strategy, management, interdimensional trading?”
As a Level 10 novel enthusiast, Wen Yu had spent her professional classes reading novels on her phone, and countless storylines rushed into her mind as she spoke.
She hadn’t even picked her favorite genre yet when the system replied.
[None of those, Host. I am a warehouse manager.]
“A warehouse manager? What kind of system is that?”
[Yes, a manager. I help the host manage supplies and bring things when needed.]
“……”
Wen Yu understood. Basically, when she selected something with her thoughts or on the control panel, the system would deliver it to her hand.
But wasn’t that ridiculous?
Who else had a little stubby assistant panting and running around to find things, then teleporting them to the host?
Just imagining the scene made Wen Yu’s scalp tingle.
Biting her lip, she asked, “Besides fetching things, what else do you do?”
[Play mahjong.]
“……” Outrageous! Wen Yu struggled, “With whom do you play mahjong?”
[Colleagues.]
“You have colleagues?”
With just this much supplies, couldn’t they have made a little office to manage it together? That made this system sound completely useless!
[Yes, we have colleagues. For each host, there’s a dedicated manager. As many hosts as there are, so many colleagues.]
Ah, so that’s the kind of colleague.
Wen Yu breathed a little easier, though her eyes soon lit up.
“So that means, hosts like me with lots of supplies can communicate through your colleagues?”
[Yes, there are many, and we can share messages.]
“Can we also transfer supplies between each other?”
[In principle, yes.] For their system, everything is just data—transferring data is no trouble.
Wen Yu splashed the water in delight, completely relaxed.
So this is interdimensional trading!
But lying in a bathtub chatting felt weird. She first exited the space, tidied up, and lay on the soft bed before continuing her conversation with the system.
This time, she used her thoughts carefully, fearing Pei Ye might overhear if the room’s soundproofing wasn’t good.
[Do you have a name? How should I address you in the future?]
[No name. We only have numbers.]
[What’s your number?]
[89757.]
Wen Yu felt this number sounded familiar, but couldn’t recall where she had heard it. She let it go but offered a sincere suggestion.
[I’ll give you a name. Number sounds weird.]
[Okay.]
[Then I’ll call you “Maoqiu” (Furball).]
In the real world, she had a cat named Furball.
Thinking of Furball, she felt a pang of sadness.
Drowning, transmigrating, dying, and reincarnating—two days had let her experience what could take others several lifetimes, leaving no time for nostalgia.
Now, lying alone in bed, she finally felt the reality she could never return to.
Her father was unfaithful, her mother remarried, and her own existence was redundant. Whether she went back or not, no one would care.
She just hoped someone would adopt Furball—her only family…
[That is possible, Host.]
The mechanical voice snapped Wen Yu back into the book world.
She sniffled softly, still a little sore, and continued talking to the system.
[Do the managers in each dimension have a work chat group?]
[Yes.]
[Can they create a group for the hosts of each dimension?]
[That can be arranged.]
[Then set it up. We can communicate in the group, maybe even exchange some things.]
Maoqiu didn’t respond immediately, probably calculating feasibility.
But the idea of a system—just a block of data—thinking about such a thing was itself hilarious, comparable to it playing mahjong.
Wen Yu had been too curious about who the system played mahjong with, ignoring how ridiculous this was.
Maoqiu paused for at least three minutes before speaking.
[Why exchange things? The host’s supplies cover food, clothing, housing, and transport—nothing is lacking.]
Wen Yu shook her head, pretending to reason with Maoqiu.
[I don’t have firearms in my supplies. For a delicate, helpless beauty like me, in the apocalypse, guns are my salvation!]
The most important point—she noticed that the prepared foods in the space were all factory-made.
Rice balls she’d eaten, vacuum-packed roasted chicken and duck, pre-packaged meals in boxes…
Though still edible and maintaining peak taste, there was no home-cooked flavor; eating too much would become tiresome.
But she understood. After all, ghosts in the underworld lived differently from humans above. Buying prepared food from a fly-ridden diner or a five-star hotel was understandable.
[I consulted my superiors. I can create a group for the host, but it requires energy, which the host must provide.]
[Also, to better serve all hosts, the system will charge a 10% commission when trading in the group. Do you agree?]
[Okay. Where does the energy come from?]
[In the host’s small world, both male and female protagonists have high energy. By gaining intimacy points, energy can be converted for personal use. When enough energy is accumulated, the group chat service can be activated.]
[…]
Wen Yu was speechless. She rolled over, propping her head with one hand and tapping the bed lightly with the other.
Her relationship with the female protagonist was antagonistic.
If she wanted intimacy points from the female lead, why not let her get along with zombies instead?
Excluding Lin Yitang, the only other source was Pei Ye, the male protagonist.
But how could she gain intimacy points with a male she was supposedly engaged to?
Kisses, hugs, lifts, maybe even… bed-sharing?
Wasn’t this just giving perks to the male protagonist?
Wen Yu immediately sat up, arms crossed as she pondered.
She suspected this system wasn’t entirely serious. The group chat idea came from her; if she abandoned creating the group, she wouldn’t need energy from Pei Ye and wouldn’t be giving perks to anyone.
Should she give it up?
She pulled out a few items from the space:
Just raw materials, milk tea that required brewing, pre-packaged meals still in plastic, and semi-prepared sauerkraut fish in a steel basin needing cooking…
The more she looked, the more frustrated she felt.
Even if the ingredients were top-notch, without any technology or novelty, factory-made food all tasted the same and would get boring over time.
And there were really no firearms in the space. Wen Yu grit her teeth, deciding she had to try extracting a bit of energy from Pei Ye after all.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Wen Yu shuffled in her slippers to open it. Pei Ye stood outside.
He’d showered and wore light gray home clothes. His features were sharp and refined, exuding a striking aura. His just-washed hair was fluffy and relaxed, adding a touch of youthful charm.
No kidding—Pei Ye’s looks and aura perfectly matched Wen Yu’s aesthetic.
That…
Wen Yu smirked mischievously, suddenly hooking her arm around Pei Ye’s. Before he could react, she pressed her head against his arm.
Then she asked the system:
[Maoqiu, did the intimacy points increase?]
Maoqiu was speechless. The stiff mechanical voice even distorted slightly.
[Don’t fool Maoqiu.]
[Forget it.]
Wen Yu pouted, released Pei Ye, strode past him, then after a few steps turned back to ask why he had come to find her.
Pei Ye, being handled like a display piece, was utterly confused: ???