Going Home and System Online

The crowd of students dispersing after school at the school gate, Chen Mo skillfully found his second-hand bicycle, which was functional except for the bell. He kicked the kickstand, his movements surprisingly fluid after a long time.

"Brother Mo, let's go!" Zhang Shun also pushed his equally worn-out ride over.

The two rode side-by-side on the night street. The evening breeze brushed their faces, blowing away some of the day's fatigue and the stuffiness of the classroom. Streetlights stretched and shortened their shadows, like two jumping musical notes, composing a march called "Going Home."

Chen Mo and Zhang Shun became best friends not only due to their shared status as "back-row gods" but also for another important reason—they were true "neighbors and old family friends." Both families lived in the Xingfu Residential Area not far from the school. It was an older residential area, with uniform six-story old buildings without elevators, but full of life. Chen Mo's family lived in Building 3, and Zhang Shun's family was in Building 4 opposite, close enough to "feed" (or curse at) each other from their balconies. Coincidentally, Chen Mo's mother, Ms. Chen Yaqin, and Zhang Shun's mother, Aunt Wang, worked in the same factory and had been old friends for years. Their relationship was as solid as it could get.

"Shunzi, same place tomorrow morning, Jianbing Guozi, with two eggs!" Chen Mo casually ordered breakfast.

"Roger that! Guaranteed to be a hundred times better than that pig feed in the cafeteria!" Zhang Shun patted his chest, causing his bike to wobble, which made Chen Mo's heart skip a beat.

Chatting and joking all the way, they soon arrived at Xingfu Residential Area. The mottled walls, the faint smell of stir-fried dishes wafting from the stairwells, and the sounds of the news broadcast's closing or children crying from some windows formed an incredibly real picture of life.

"See you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow!"

After locking his bike in the shed downstairs, Chen Mo took a deep breath, as if making a major decision, and walked into the familiar yet strange building entrance. The voice-activated light in the stairwell was not very sensitive. He stomped his foot hard, and the dim yellow light reluctantly flickered on, illuminating the walls covered with small advertisements and the old handrail.

Standing at his doorstep, Chen Mo's heart inexplicably quickened. Nostalgic Apprehension, perhaps that was the feeling, even though this "hometown" was another world. Inside lived his parents and sister in this world, the original host's closest family. Could he play the part well? Would he be seen through at a glance?

He calmed himself for a full ten seconds before finally raising his hand and knocking on the door—not using a key, this was his subconscious test.

"Coming, coming!" A gentle yet slightly tired female voice came from inside, followed by the sound of slippers dragging on the floor.

The door opened. His mother, Chen Yaqin, opened it, wearing an apron with water droplets on her hands, clearly having just finished in the kitchen. Seeing Chen Mo, her face immediately broke into a smile: "Mo Mo, you're back? Come in quickly, you must be tired! Mom made you some millet porridge, it's been kept warm!"

"Mom," Chen Mo replied, his voice a little dry, but he tried to keep it natural. He stepped inside and saw his father, Chen Guoqiang, leaning on the old sofa in the living room, holding a smartphone. The screen's light reflected on his slightly wrinkled face, as if he were watching current affairs news or short videos, his finger occasionally swiping.

"Dad," Chen Mo called out again.

Chen Guoqiang looked up, pushed his reading glasses up his nose, and grunted. His tone wasn't warm but by no means cold: "You're back? Studying must be hard, go rest. Your mom made you something to eat." A typical Chinese father's concern, subtle yet practical.

At this moment, the door of another bedroom creaked open slightly, and a small head peeked out—it was his junior high school sister, Chen Qing. The little girl inherited her parents' average looks, with a ponytail and a bit of baby fat on her face. Seeing Chen Mo, she pouted: "Brother, you're back?" Her tone was a bit perfunctory, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, probably wondering why her slacker brother wasn't already slumped on the sofa playing games upon returning.

"Mm," Chen Mo nodded. According to his memory, the original host didn't have a close relationship with his sister, who was several years younger. There was a generation gap, and they maintained a peaceful coexistence of "mutual non-aggression, occasional communication, and mutual ridicule when necessary."

The family atmosphere was more peaceful and warm than Chen Mo had expected. The original host's grades had always been "stably" at a poor level. By his third year of high school, his parents seemed to have accepted reality. From initial disappointment to a resigned "as long as you're healthy and happy," they gradually shifted more of their expectations to their sister, whose grades were above average. This made Chen Mo secretly relieved. At least, the family pressure wasn't that great, and there were no dramatic scenes of "parents' combined assault" or "tearful pleas for improvement" as he had imagined.

His mother brought a bowl of steaming, fragrant millet porridge to the dining table, along with a small plate of pickles: "Quick, drink it while it's hot, it's good for your stomach."

Chen Mo sat down, holding the warm bowl. The warmth of the porridge spread from his palms to his limbs. He took small sips of the porridge, listening to his mother chatter about trivial matters at the factory, his father occasionally interjecting with observations about his work on the street, while his sister slipped back into her room, the faint sound of English listening practice drifting out...

All of this, ordinary and mundane, was filled with genuine life, allowing the heart that had been suspended since his transmigration to finally find a place to rest, settling down securely.

At least, this beginning was good: a harmonious family, healthy parents. Apart from himself being a bit useless, there were no major problems. This was already a blessing many transmigrators would envy.

After finishing the porridge and chatting briefly with his parents, Chen Mo got up and returned to his own small room. The room wasn't large, with a desk, a single bed, and a wardrobe. The furnishings were simple, and several long-outdated anime posters were stuck on the wall. The desk was piled high with textbooks and workbooks.

He closed the door, shutting out the sounds of the outside world. The world instantly fell silent. He let out a long sigh, preparing to steady himself and begin tonight's "counterattack" study plan.

Just as he sat down at his desk, picked up a copy of Selected Ancient Poems for High School Chinese, adjusted his breathing, and tried to recapture a bit of his former exam-prep state (though it was over a decade ago)--

Ding--

An extremely clear sound, as if resonating directly from the depths of his mind, carrying a non-human quality, suddenly appeared.

Chen Mo froze instantly, as if struck by an Immobilization Spell. The hand holding the book stopped mid-air, his eyes widened, and his breathing ceased.

The next second, immense ecstasy surged from the bottom of his heart like a Volcanic Eruption, making his scalp tingle!

He snapped back to reality, nearly jumping out of his chair, his heart pounding like a drum, blood rushing to his head.

It's here! It's here! It's finally here!

The essential artifact for a transmigrator, the Life Cheat Device, the Counterattack Golden Finger! Though late, it would never be absent!

Chen Mo was so excited his hands trembled slightly. In his mind, he almost roared:

"Grandpa Cheat! System Big Boss! You've finally come online! I knew it! Transmigrating without a cheat is no different from being a salted fish, right? Wouldn't that be a wasted transmigration?!"

His eyes were fixed on the void before him, both nervous and incredibly expectant, waiting for the gears of fate to begin turning with a resounding rumble following that "ding"...