“Host, new update: Starting with the next world, hosts can’t bring memories into missions or use energy while in the world.”
Mu Fu blinked, surprised. She’d just gotten back to the space station for some much-needed rest, and now this?
“What happened?” she asked.
The system paused. “Word is, some hosts were relying too much on their future memories, messing with things recklessly, and using energy to change how worlds evolved.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” Mu Fu replied.
To be honest, Mu Fu rarely used her energy during missions. Energy was basically like money, and just like in the human world, money wasn’t easy to come by. She worked hard for every bit of it, so why would she waste it?
In fact, among other hosts, Mu Fu was known as a real tightwad. She was super stingy. Unless it directly helped with a mission, she wouldn’t spend a single unit. But if something could really boost a mission’s success, then she’d go for it.
“So… can I at least get a sneak peek at my next task? Maybe some cheat codes?”
The system paused again. What it was about to say didn’t match her hopeful tone at all.
“You’ll get… three hint words.”
“…”
“Alright. What are they?”
“Weight loss. Weight loss. Weight loss.”
“…”
Mu Fu just stared. “System, that’s not three hints. That’s one, just repeated.”
Luckily, the system didn’t have a body.
“Important things need to be said three times,” it stated.
Mu Fu was quiet for a long moment, then finally asked, “How many Envy Points did I get in the last world?”
“236,650,000.”
Not bad. That was a pretty good amount this time.
“System, convert all of it into energy. Then tell me—does the store have any weight-loss products?”
“Yes. One is the Instant ‘Transformation Pill’ for 80,000 energy points. The other is the gradual ‘Jade Pill’ for 40,000 energy points.”
Mu Fu sighed. No surprises there. It was always easiest to make money off women. She’d spent a million energy points curing cancer in the last world, and now a tiny weight-loss pill practically cost a life.
“How long does the Jade Pill take to work completely?”
“According to the description—six months.”
“Alright. Give me one Jade Pill,” Mu Fu said. “And when I enter the mission world, make the effects faster so I finish losing weight within one month.”
“Host, speeding up the effects will cost extra energy.”
“How much energy will it cost? Just take it out now. We can talk about it when I get back.”
“Understood, Host.”
“And also get me one of those Body Fragrance Pills. Once I’m in the mission world, use energy points to make my face look better.”
The Body Fragrance Pill, as the name suggests, made a person’s natural scent stronger. But the smell it gave off would be different for each person, depending on their unique body.
The repeated “weight loss” hint clearly meant the person she was replacing in this next mission was overweight and probably not very attractive.
“Understood, Host.”
Fixing up her facial features was just a small tweak, not a complete change, so the system didn’t flag it as a problem.
Mu Fu closed her eyes and rested for a bit before going into the mission world.
……
The room was bright and clean. A large figure lay sprawled on the floor next to a running treadmill. It looked like she must have slipped and fallen during a workout.
“Ugh…”
After a long silence, the woman on the floor let out a low groan—she was waking up.
It was Mu Fu.
She slowly stirred. Her chubby hand reached around to the back of her head. “Hiss… that hurts. Must’ve swelled up.”
She remembered running on the treadmill to lose weight. But suddenly, her chest felt a sharp pain, and before she knew it, she collapsed.
Luckily, nothing was broken. As for her head, she’d rub some medicated wine on it later.
What no one knew was that shortly after she fell, her heart had stopped.
Mu Fu lived alone. So when she passed out, no one was around to help. She stayed unconscious for a long time.
Even as she stood up, she felt dizzy. She figured the fall had given her a mild concussion.
While looking for the medicated wine, a strange feeling washed over her. A hazy sense that she had forgotten something important—something she just couldn’t remember no matter how hard she tried.
“Ding ding ding…”
Her phone rang.
Mu Fu stopped her search and answered the call first.
“Hello?”
“Mu Fu, how’s the weight loss going today? Don’t tell me you’ve been slacking off?”
Mu Fu reached back to rub the bump on her head and sighed, “Not at all.”
The voice on the other end said, “Mu Fu, you’ve got to stay committed. Make that jerk regret it.”
Mu Fu’s expression shifted slightly. “Mm, I know. Aren’t you busy today?”
“Not too bad. Just two months left before the winter collection samples are due. Don’t forget your work while you’re shedding pounds, Designer Mu.”
Mu Fu chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
They chatted a little more before ending the call.
And then—like a dam breaking—memories Mu Fu had been holding back came rushing in.
Next month, she was set to appear on a reality show called Love Exchange. It was a show where ex-couples got back together on camera. Some rekindled their old flames, while others moved on with someone new.
Mu Fu had signed up because of the “jerk” her friend had mentioned.
She turned to the mirror, staring blankly at her reflection. At five foot two, she weighed almost two hundred pounds—196 to be exact. Her weight seemed to be almost perfectly in proportion to her height, as if each centimeter came with more than a pound of flesh. And this was after she had already been trying to eat less.
Her thoughts drifted back through the years.
Mu Fu had been born into an ordinary working-class family. At birth, she already weighed over twelve pounds—an unusually heavy newborn. Her mother, Liao Qiaolan, had a really tough labor because of it, and Mu Fu stood out among the other babies from day one.
As a toddler, she ate everything without a fuss. After she stopped breastfeeding, she devoured whatever was put in front of her. Plump and rosy-cheeked, she looked like a lucky little doll—just the kind of child grandparents loved to spoil.
But her mother had a different attitude. Maybe it was the traumatic childbirth, or perhaps the disappointment of having a daughter. Either way, she didn’t seem especially fond of Mu Fu.
And as Mu Fu grew from a chubby toddler into an overweight child, the number of people who found her “cute” quickly dropped.
Her family started urging her to lose weight. But no matter what she tried, it didn’t work. That’s when they realized: Mu Fu had a body that gained weight easily—so much so, she could gain just from drinking water.
At age one or two, they called it baby fat. But by five or six, the word was simply “fat.”
Then came her little sister. Unlike Mu Fu, her sister was dainty, delicate, and fair—cute in the exact way society approved of.
Mu Fu slowly realized that no matter how much weight her younger sister gained, their parents never treated her the same way. Even when her sister got chubby, it was never held against her. But when it came to Mu Fu, her weight was always a problem.
It wasn’t until she grew older that she finally understood what was happening. This was favoritism. And she… was simply the one no one loved.
As a little girl, she couldn’t understand it. She used to be the center of attention—everyone adored her, constantly hugging and kissing her. So why did that all change as she got older? Why did their love disappear?
She threw tantrums, she cried, she begged for attention—but all she got in return was impatience and scolding.
“What are you crying about? You’re as fat as a pig! At least when pigs are fat, they’re worth money. You? You eat so much and can’t earn a dime for this family!”
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll throw you out in the street to join the beggars!”
There was one moment that stayed with Mu Fu forever.
She was six. One day, she saw her sister playing with a brand-new toy while she had nothing of her own. Fueled by frustration, she snatched the toy away. Her sister instantly burst into tears.
Her mother stormed in at the sound and yanked Mu Fu outside, slamming the door shut. No matter how hard Mu Fu cried or pleaded, the door never opened again.
She didn’t understand what she had done wrong. All she knew was that her mother didn’t want her anymore—she had kicked her out of the house.
Little Mu Fu crouched by the door the entire day, shivering from the cold and hunger.
Even though she knew the apartment hallway well, in her young mind, it had turned into something monstrous—something dark and ready to swallow her. She covered her mouth tightly, terrified that if she cried too loudly, the monsters would hear and come for her.
Through the closed door, she could still hear her mother’s voice soothing her sister: “Don’t cry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new doll tomorrow.”
After that day, Mu Fu never caused trouble again.
When she started school, she never complained about wearing the same school uniform every day. She never voiced any opinions. No one cared to listen anyway.
Even her little sister followed in their parents’ footsteps—copying their disdain like it was second nature.
Her sister treated her coldly, never once calling her “sister.” Instead, she always used the cruel nickname “fat pig,” no matter where they were. There was never any sisterly bond between them—just tension and mockery.
Fortunately, Mu Fu wasn’t foolish. Once she understood her parents’ favoritism, she stopped hoping for their love altogether.
It wasn’t until puberty hit—and she started getting good grades—that she saw her parents’ sudden smiles. That’s when she realized just how much grades mattered to them.
From then on, she threw herself into studying. She didn’t even know what she was really chasing anymore—just that she needed something to hold onto. So she worked hard, because that’s all she could do.
And her efforts paid off. Her parents, who used to make excuses or simply not show up for parent-teacher meetings, suddenly started fighting over who got to go.
Mu Fu never had any real hobbies. After trying and failing at dieting, exercising, and all sorts of weight-loss schemes, she gave up on the struggle. All she could do was stay away from high-calorie foods—no sweets, no fried snacks. Yes, she missed those delicious things, but she dreaded even more the idea of getting any bigger.
Eventually, Mu Fu got accepted into a top 985 university. It was her proudest achievement—the proof that she could finally break free from the family that had never truly loved her.
She scoffed at the people who used to bully her. Look at you now. You mocked me, ridiculed me—but I outperformed all of you. Better grades, a better university, and soon, a better life.
In college, she majored in fashion design. Her dream was to one day open her own clothing store, to launch her own brand.
Being her own boss meant controlling her own fate.
And just as she had envisioned, she eventually created her own fashion label and built a respectable career around it.
Since college, she never returned to that cold, hollow place she once called home. Still, she accepted the money they sent her—no need to let her sister benefit from it instead. She figured that when the time came, she’d support her parents according to the legal minimum. Nothing more.
Some might say she was heartless, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t living for anyone else’s approval.
After graduation, her former class president organized a high school reunion. Out of curiosity—just to see what had become of her old classmates—Mu Fu agreed to go.
At the time, she had no idea her path would once again cross with that so-called “scumbag” Xu Kangning.
Axolotl Translations 
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