This World Has Bugs

Han Luyi leaned back in the taxi, eyes closed, feigning sleep.

The driver up front grumbled incessantly about the traffic, while the electronic female voice of the navigation system droned, "Turn right in five hundred meters."

He had arrived home.

It was an old residential complex in Pudong, a six-story walk-up. He lived on the fifth floor; there was no elevator, so he treated the daily climb as a workout. At forty-five hundred a month, it was cheap for Haicheng.

He didn't even change his shoes before opening his laptop.

A programmer's first reaction when encountering an unknown new feature was singular.

Test it.

He created a new document: RCV_test_log_v_0_1.md.

He activated Sight.

The world changed once again.

Faint layers of data light emerged on the surface of every object in the room. The walls displayed architectural information, the table showed material data, and even the bag of takeout trash in the corner that he hadn't thrown out was labeled [Organic Waste | Storage Time: 3 days | Recommendation: Dispose immediately].

Han Luyi glanced at the prompt and silently carried the trash bag to the door.

He returned, sat down, and began to record.

Energy: 67/100. It had recovered 6 points since he left the office, roughly 0.15 per minute.

He typed the first line of data into the document, then spent ten minutes testing the passive and active modes of Sight. Passive mode consumed 1 point per minute, while focused scanning jumped to 3-4 points.

Wait a second—

His heart rate spiked. He pulled out his phone and opened a financial app. A green glow flickered before his eyes.

[Anomaly: System security patch expired (unpatched)]

The K-line charts, price fluctuations, and trading volumes on the screen—the panel didn't mention a single word about them.

He tested funds, futures, and digital currencies, but the panel remained as steady as a mountain, recognizing only the phone hardware itself while ignoring the financial data on the display.

It seemed he couldn't use it for stock trading.

Disappointed, he turned his Sight toward the computer screen.

An open-source recommendation system he maintained on GitHub in his spare time was open on the screen. It had over twenty thousand stars and had been deployed by several small companies. Sight scanned it for about ten seconds, and the entire code structure unfolded within his field of vision.

Bugs were marked in red, redundant code in yellow, and areas for optimization in blue.

Han Luyi frowned.

Finding bugs, flagging code, suggesting boundary conditions—wasn't this just what code review tools did? It was 2026; such features were a dime a dozen. Even if Sight was more accurate and faster, fundamentally, it was just an enhanced version of static analysis; it didn't qualify as a qualitative leap.

But next to every red marker, something else hovered.

Han Luyi leaned closer to the screen and read it word for word.

[Trigger scenario: Weight accumulation overflows when user refreshes > 50 times]

[Business loss: Recommendation precision drop, aggregate estimated loss ≈ 62,000 yuan/day]

Han Luyi sat up straight instantly.

A daily loss of sixty-two thousand.

This wasn't information at the code level. The code contained a data overflow that any AI analysis tool could find, but where did "120,000 daily triggers," "affects 83,000 users," and "losing sixty-two thousand a day" come from?

This was an open-source project; he didn't even know who had deployed this system.

This was real-world operational data.

And Sight could see it.

Just as he was about to close the scan, a line of golden text flashed on his phone—

Han Luyi froze.

Flash Tech. The one from the phone notification he saw while taking the taxi—the Flash Tech that had just secured a billion in Series B funding and was valued at over ten billion.

A billion-dollar company had a major bug in its core data?

His energy was dropping rapidly. He hurriedly closed Sight and wrote in his document:

"Cannot be used for financial speculation."

"Code scanning: Bug localization, can see the impact of bugs in the real world."

He added another line: "Flash Tech, core operational data severely abnormal, requires deep scan, massive experience."

He shut the computer and leaned back in his chair.

The sky outside was already turning dark; sunset in Haicheng came early in February, and it was getting dim just past five.

His stomach rumbled.

Only then did Han Luyi remember he had only eaten breakfast today.

He got up to go downstairs and buy food.

As he reached the corner of the second-floor stairwell, he heard movement below.

Someone was coming up, walking very slowly. The footsteps were dull, interspersed with a child's whimpering.

Han Luyi walked down a few steps.

A woman was carrying two large supermarket bags in her left hand, holding a little girl in her right, climbing with difficulty. The bags were heavy, the plastic handles cutting into her fingers until they turned white. The little girl in her arms looked about four or five, with dried tear tracks on her face, her head resting in the crook of the woman's shoulder.

As Han Luyi headed down to meet them, the woman looked up at him.

Sight was still active.

A panel popped up automatically.

Just that one line, a concise basic name tag hovering above her head.

But his gaze lingered for a second longer, and more information automatically unfolded below the panel—

[Mood: Exhausted (Hidden: Anxious)]

[WARNING: This subject has 1 bug awaiting repair: Family dispute (Details require Lv.2 to unlock)]

Han Luyi reached out. "Let me carry those."

Lin Wanqing was taken aback.

"Thank you." She handed over the shopping bags.

Han Luyi took them. They were heavy, the two bags together probably weighing thirty pounds. Rice, cooking oil, a pile of vegetables and fruit, and two boxes of children's milk.

The two walked up the stairs one after the other.

"You're... in 502, right?" Lin Wanqing spoke first.

Han Luyi nodded.

"I'm in 501." She smiled slightly. "I've lived here for two years, but I think this is the first time we've spoken."

Han Luyi truly had no recollection. He used to leave at six every morning and get home at eleven or twelve at night, often working overtime at the company on weekends. Never mind neighbors, he didn't even know the name of the building manager.

"I was busy with work, not home often," he said.

"Not busy now?"

"Now... not very busy."

Lin Wanqing didn't press him.

When they reached the fifth floor, their doors were opposite each other. Han Luyi placed the bags at the door of 501.

Just then, the little girl in her arms suddenly lifted her head, staring at Han Luyi with big, round eyes.

The tear tracks hadn't fully dried, and water droplets clung to her eyelashes, but she had stopped crying, her expression filled with the curiosity unique to children.

"Big brother," she said suddenly.

"Hm?"

The little girl tilted her head, looking at Han Luyi intently for several seconds.

"Your eyes are so bright."

Han Luyi felt a jolt in his chest.

Sight was still active.

He nonchalantly deactivated it. The panel vanished, the code stream faded, and the world returned to normal.

The little girl watched him for two more seconds, then lost interest and buried her head back into her mother's shoulder.

Lin Wanqing hadn't noticed this detail; she freed a hand to find her keys and open the door.

"Thank you," she said, turning back.

Han Luyi noticed she hesitated, likely wondering how to address him.

"My surname is Han, Han Luyi."

"I'm Lin Wanqing, and this is my daughter, Duoduo."

Lin Duoduo mumbled "Duoduo" into her mother's shoulder, her way of introducing herself.

Han Luyi smiled. "Hello, Duoduo."

Lin Wanqing thanked him again and went inside.

The moment the door closed, Han Luyi stood in the hallway, his mind replaying that line of yellow warning from the panel.

[WARNING: This subject has 1 bug awaiting repair: Family dispute (Details require Lv.2 to unlock)]

Lv.2.

He remembered the line in his document: Flash Tech, core operational data severely abnormal, repair to gain massive experience.