William Bennett said, “It’s only level 10. What if he’s not as strong as you think?”

Chris Foster replied, “Then I don’t really lose anything.”

William Bennett thought to himself that was true—at least it was more efficient than waiting around for something to happen.

He glanced at his friend’s status again. “Can’t you say something nice? Why did you send just those two lines?”

Chris Foster smiled and said, “I sent them based on his temperament.”

William Bennett was speechless.

Seeing that he was about to start filming, Chris Foster said, “You get busy. I’ll go camp in the game.”

With that, he ended the call and went online to check things out.

All the people helping to repost had at least a million followers each. Their fans joined in and helped spread the word, and “爱的five” shot straight to the top of the trending searches.

Chris Foster was very satisfied with this.

Although he’d only known him for a day, he’d already gotten a sense of the Sealer’s personality.

Using a symbol as an ID, refusing to take a loss, always retaliating if tricked—putting it all together, it was highly likely he was a teenager.

The teenager was aloof, but not in a pretentious way. Judging by how he’d compromised when fighting the boss, he probably responded better to kindness than to force—he could listen to reason… So Chris Foster sent a message about letting bygones be bygones. After all, he’d been the one stuck by a bug and at a disadvantage; if he didn’t hold a grudge, the Sealer probably wouldn’t either.

Just in case, he also leaked a little rumor about having beaten the other party. With the Sealer’s temperament, he probably couldn’t stand that.

The Sealer had skills and was interested in “Dream Tour.” Chris Foster revealed his identity as the boss of NXK. And since NXK was an established powerhouse, if the Sealer had any interest in going pro, he’d definitely be tempted.

Now that it was trending, as soon as the Sealer opened social media, he’d definitely see it.

Chris Foster had thought of everything he could, but after waiting a whole week—even after the hype died down—he still hadn’t seen any sign of the other party. He started to wonder if that kid just didn’t go online, or if something had happened.

Ethan Grant actually fit both scenarios.

That day, after lunch, he went out for a walk with the little nurse to help digest, then had a follow-up after his nap and learned that he’d relapsed.

He’d already been told before that the chance of relapse was high, so he wasn’t surprised at all. He asked, “What should I do?”

The attending doctor said, “Just have another surgery.”

In this era, a cancer relapse wasn’t a big deal—at most, it just took some effort to treat.

But Ethan Grant hadn’t fully recovered in the first place, and another surgery would be even harder on him. The research team was already worried about him, and after hearing that he’d almost skipped lunch to play games, they came up with a solution: they moved him back into the sterile ward.

Afraid he’d get bored, they even assigned him an extra AI.

They’d all seen the trending topic, but never imagined that the internet-addicted teenager playing cards with two AIs was actually “爱的five”—it just didn’t fit Captain Jiang’s style—so none of them paid it any mind.

Ethan Grant was completely oblivious to the outside world, and naturally didn’t care.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, his forehead plastered with sticky notes by the two AIs, deeply convinced that playing cards with AIs who could count cards was a terrible idea. He said, “Let’s switch, draw high card.”

The two AIs obediently replied, “Okay.”

One drew a 4, the other a 6, which made Captain Jiang feel very pleased.

He thought to himself that he could finally redeem himself, reached out, and drew a card—only to get a 3 of hearts.

Ethan Grant: “……”

The little nurse giggled, picked up a sticky note, and stuck it on his forehead.

Ethan Grant: “……”

Chapter 06

Ethan Grant stayed in the sterile ward for twenty days before coming out.

During that time, he had surgery and resolved the relapse, but after all that, the little bit of weight he’d managed to gain was gone again.

The research team felt terrible for him and had the two AIs keep a close eye on his eating.

Worried he’d get addicted to games, they set strict time limits: two hours in the morning, one hour in the afternoon, and bedtime at eight.

Ethan Grant thought this “eight o’clock” was inhumane and asked, “Do you guys go to bed at eight?”

The staff didn’t answer, just held up a mirror so he could see his own thin, weak face.

Ethan Grant looked and commented, “Still better looking than 90% of people.”

“……” The staff were momentarily at a loss for words, so they pulled out his old photos for comparison, lest he get too cocky.

Ethan Grant was silent for a moment. “Nine thirty.”

The staff said, “Eight thirty.”

Ethan Grant said, “Ten.”

Staff: “……”

Was this really a negotiation?

He looked at the two AIs beside him and gave an order: “Cry.”

The little nurse immediately burst into loud sobs.

The crying echoed back and forth, doubling the effect.

Ethan Grant: “……”

Both sides compromised, finally settling on a nine o’clock bedtime.

But he still wasn’t allowed to play games at night. They were afraid he’d get too excited and sleep poorly, so he could choose between watching movies, listening to music, or having the AI read to him.

Ethan Grant nodded in agreement, put on his long-unused glasses, and logged into the closed beta.

Before him was the familiar mountain; the fireworks at the bottom of the cliff had disappeared—maybe the system had reclaimed them after too long, or maybe someone had set them off.

He picked a wild area and strolled forward at a leisurely pace.