Do You Want to Adopt a Daughter?

Buzz!

A slightly hoarse voice answered the phone, likely forcing itself to sound energetic to mask underlying fatigue.

“Hey, Mom…”

“My dear son! How are you doing out there? Are you eating properly and sleeping well? You haven’t been staying up too late, have you?”

It was the same old “Three Questions” Mom always asked, as if every mother across the world shared the same concern for their children living away from home.

“Everything’s fine, Mom. I’m okay…”

“I know you’ll be fine! You’re tough as nails!”

“Let’s not talk about work. With your stubbornness, I know there’s no chance of convincing you to come back home. Just one question, son: When are you bringing a daughter-in-law home? Your father may not say it, but he thinks about it all the time!”

“I…”

“Don’t start with the ‘I, I, I’ routine! You always dodge the question! Cut the excuses—this year’s the deadline you set yourself! Don’t even think about weaseling out of it!”

“You’re thirty already! Stop being so shy and awkward! Find a good wife and bring her home. As long as you like her, your father and I won’t object! We’re dying to have grandchildren! Got it?”

“Speaking of which, your father seems to prefer grandsons, but I don’t mind either way. If you really want, you could even have twins—we can afford it!”

“So hurry up! Don’t drag your feet anymore. Are you trying to drive us crazy just to inherit our Huabei credit?”

“Okay, okay, I get it… Wait, inherit Huabei? What does that even mean?”

“Alright, that’s enough. Son, take good care of yourself out there. If things get too tough, just come home!”

“I… I know, Mom. That’s all. Hanging up now.”

Beep—

Sigh!

Chen Hao put down his phone and let out a long sigh, staring blankly at the screen. Once a month, his family would call to check on him.

To be honest, Chen Hao knew this was his parents’ way of showing they cared, and there was nothing wrong with that. But…

At this age, Chen Hao was facing something many people his age encounter: his family pressuring him to get married!

As a single man for thirty years—thirty years without ever snagging a half-price deal or free item during any e-commerce promotion—call me hopelessly inept!

Yes, Chen Hao had been single for thirty years. Even more extreme, he had never even been in a relationship. A man with zero dating experience was truly the ultimate of the ultimate!

So, the question arises: what exactly created such a perfect specimen of a single dog?

The answer is simple: Chen Hao was a terminal case of straight-man syndrome!

Plus, during his youth, Chen Hao had indulged in dreamy, melodramatic fantasies, which had led him to squander many opportunities to interact with women.

“30, damn! I can’t believe I’m almost 40. What a tragedy!”

“Forget it, forget it. I need to get back to writing. The editor rejected my last draft, so I have to come up with something better this time…”

Chen Hao ruffled his two-day unwashed hair, took a swig of energy drink, and settled back in front of his computer. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began brainstorming plot ideas.

“Got it!”

“Clack, clack, clack!”

Suddenly opening his eyes as if struck by inspiration, Chen Hao began frantically typing, transcribing the images racing through his mind onto the screen.

“……”

Naturally, writer’s block would occur. When he needed to think about the plot, Chen Hao would wear a pained expression, like someone who had been constipated for a week with no relief in sight.

If the plot didn’t work, he would scrap it and start over until he was satisfied.

In short, writing was far from an easy task.

“Time for a break! I can’t take this anymore, it’s too mentally draining… Damn! Two hours have already passed?”

“Let’s see how many words I’ve written… 3600? Tsk, just 400 short of my daily goal. But my brain feels like mush right now, and my head’s killing me! Head’s killing me!”

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, groaning in agony. This was always the most agonizing part: he was just a few hundred words short of his daily target, yet his mind refused to conjure any decent plot ideas. It felt like…

Like finally experiencing relief after a week of constipation, only to discover painfully that half the blockage remained stubbornly lodged inside, refusing to budge. What stubbornness!

“Ughhh! Aaaahhh! Ohhhh!”

With a primal yell, Chen Hao flailed wildly for three seconds before collapsing back into his computer chair, his head lolling sideways in a posture of utter indifference, like a dead pig impervious to boiling water.

“Decision made! I’m not typing another word! Time for a round of LoL first. Work-life balance, you know? Maybe inspiration will strike while I’m playing!”

Invoking his self-proclaimed “Law of Symbiotic Work-Rest-Entertainment: Mutual Support, Zero Interference,” Chen Hao found a convenient excuse to indulge in gaming.

He launched Wegame, quickly logged in through QQ, and skillfully navigated to the League of Legends icon, ready to conquer the battlefields of Valoran.

Of course, expecting a sudden breakthrough for those final four hundred words during a game?

Absolutely impossible!

“Mid MISSING!”

“Damn it! Why’s top lane still TPing? No signal?”

“Dragon, dragon! Ignore them, rush Baron!”

“Push! Push now! One wave!”

“……”

“Defeat!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! We got reverse-swept? Fucking bullshit! Report them all! Fuck!”

As the words “Defeat” flashed across the screen, Chen Hao’s temper exploded. He couldn’t believe their final forced push on the enemy’s nexus had failed, allowing the enemy to seize the opportunity for a game-winning push. He was so furious he nearly spat blood.

To vent his frustration, Chen Hao reported all four of his teammates. Then, with a dismissive gesture, he closed the match statistics, permanently sealing his glorious “0/16/7” mid-lane performance.

I can’t let this game ruin my mood, Chen Hao thought, calming himself down. He decided to browse Bilibili for some videos to relax and shake off his bad mood.

“Hahaha!”

Sure enough, if you looked hard enough, you could always find a source of joy. As he watched videos on Bilibili, Chen Hao burst into unrestrained laughter, his mood finally improving.

Ding ding ding!

“Hmm?”

Just as Chen Hao was browsing the website, a pop-up window suddenly appeared—likely some ad. He had 361’s pop-up blocker enabled, which meant that except for 361’s own ads, virtually no pop-up could survive for more than two seconds.

To Chen Hao’s surprise, however, this pop-up actually lasted longer than two seconds. Upon closer inspection of the title bar, he noticed it didn’t display any 361 branding.

Didn’t you promise a 360° upgraded version, a 361° all-around, no-blind-spot protection for my PC? Was that extra degree of care for my computer just false advertising?

“361° is on strike? So unprofessional!”

“‘An Invitation from God’? What the hell is that?”

Chen Hao, seeing that title in the window’s title bar, grew intensely curious, suspecting it might be a new type of computer virus.

What truly surprised Chen Hao was that the window lacked the familiar red “×” close button. When he switched to Task Manager to force-quit the process, he couldn’t find the window’s background process at all.

“What the hell? Am I infected?”

Suspecting his computer was infected, Chen Hao immediately restarted it…

“Damn it!”

After the computer rebooted and the desktop finished loading, the strange window popped up again, even before he opened any web pages.