The original plan Zhao Youyue had devised was actually quite simple.
She had intended to take the humiliating screenshots she had archived—the ones where Su Li had made all those lofty, empty promises—and dump them directly into the author's official fan group.
Then, leveraging her prestigious status as a League Leader supporter, she would confront Su Li in front of everyone. She wanted to force the woman to feel at least a sliver of genuine guilt for what she had done to her readers.
However, unlike the other fans who were lashing out because they felt tricked by the ending, Zhao Youyue's motivation was far more personal. She didn't just want to vent frustration; she wanted to seek a bit of justice on behalf of Xu Jing.
At this point, she felt as if she were truly starting to fall in love with the character she had inhabited.
After all, the experience of possessing Xu Jing's classic character card was nothing short of miraculous. The mental clarity and the sheer joy of productivity were intoxicating.
In fact, Zhao Youyue felt a growing certainty that no matter what opportunities the Dimension Gate presented in the future, she would never casually sacrifice Xu Jing's card. The bond felt too deep, the utility too great.
Her life in the real world was the polar opposite of the life Xu Jing had endured.
In the manga, Xu Jing had been crushed under the weight of relentless responsibilities. She was the one who had to care for her bedridden father, prepare every meal for her mother, and keep their crumbling household running.
Zhao Youyue, by contrast, lived the effortless and comfortable life of a wealthy young lady. Her parents were vibrant and healthy, her home was filled with luxury, and her every material need was met before she even had to ask.
Technically, she had all the time in the world to dedicate to her studies.
The actual obstacle had always been her own crumbling self-discipline. She simply couldn't control her own impulses. Every time she sat down with a textbook, her hand would gravitate toward her phone as if pulled by a magnet. Five minutes of intended study would inevitably spiral into hours of aimless scrolling and mobile games.
For over a decade, she had squandered a staggering amount of time on meaningless entertainment. Even when she recognized the pattern and wanted to change, she found she simply couldn't. She lacked the necessary internal spark, the persistence required to push through the boredom of repetition.
But with Xu Jing's character card slotted into her soul, the world looked entirely different.
Now, she could utilize Xu Jing's legendary focus to master things during her downtime. She could finally cultivate the kind of specialized talents she had always lacked.
Zhao Youyue had always felt a quiet envy toward those classmates who stepped onto the stage during school festivals. Some could play the piano with effortless grace; others could sing or dance with a confidence that lit up the room. Many of her peers seemed to be multi-talented polymaths.
Her deskmate Jiang Qing, that cheerful little angel who seemed to radiate sunlight, was someone she genuinely admired from afar.
However, Zhao Youyue had always maintained a very stable mindset and a gentle, unassuming personality. While she might admire the brilliance of others, she never allowed that feeling to curdle into jealousy. She wasn't the type to target someone out of spite or envy.
At most, she would offer a small, private sigh at her own lack of remarkable talent.
But even with that mild dissatisfaction, she had never possessed the iron will needed to endure the grueling practice required to master a skill. All she could ever do was stand in the crowd, cheering for her friends and shouting "666" in appreciation of their hard work.
Now, the game had changed.
Xu Jing's hunger for knowledge wasn't restricted to academic textbooks; she possessed a mind that welcomed any form of systematic learning. It was only the tragedy of her circumstances in the manga that had prevented her from exploring the arts or music.
In the real world, Zhao Youyue could point that laser-focused intellect at anything she desired.
If she chose to learn a musical instrument, Xu Jing's presence would ensure she practiced until her fingers bled and her technique was flawless.
When she was a young child, her parents had actually enrolled her in lessons for several instruments. Piano, violin, and even the traditional guzheng. Her longest streak had been three months with the violin, and that was only because her teacher had been particularly firm. The other instruments hadn't even lasted four weeks before she begged to quit.
Every time she started something new, she had been brimming with a naive sort of confidence. She truly believed that this time, she would be the one to persevere.
The reality of the situation always proved her wrong.
Every weekend, she would have to get dressed and head to her lessons while the other children in the neighborhood were outside playing and laughing. The unfairness of it would eat at her.
She would wonder why everyone else got to enjoy their freedom while she was stuck in a room, repeating the same scales over and over.
As soon as that thought took root, the initial spark of enthusiasm would die. Her grand visions of herself as a world-class musician would evaporate into nothingness. Instead, she would spend the entire lesson watching the clock, her mind completely occupied by plans for how to relax the moment she got home.
As the years passed, Zhao Youyue came to understand herself with painful clarity.
She wasn't a person of great fortitude. she was merely an ordinary girl who suffered from the "three-minute heat" syndrome—brief bursts of intense interest followed by total apathy.
Furthermore, her family's extreme wealth acted as a sort of cushion that blunted her ambition. She had never known the sharp bite of financial pressure.
For children from modest backgrounds, the high cost of instrument lessons was a constant reminder of their family's sacrifice. That weight encouraged them to treasure every minute of practice.
Zhao Youyue had never felt that weight.
During this semester alone, she had mindlessly spent tens of thousands of yuan tipping her favorite authors on the Qidian website. She did it with the same casualness one might use to buy a bottle of water. She had also quietly tucked away several tens of thousands as a personal rainy-day fund without a second thought.
Money was simply a background element of her life, like oxygen.
She wasn't particularly obsessed with the gaudy displays of luxury common in her social circles, either. She didn't chase after limited-edition handbags or jewelry worth hundreds of thousands. For her, a high-quality coat that cost ten thousand yuan was perfectly adequate.
At school, she almost always wore her standard uniform. she had no interest in using her wardrobe as a weapon for social status.
Even on the weekends, when her classmates would transform into fashionable icons, Zhao Youyue often stayed in her school tracksuits. Someone who didn't know her family's standing might even assume she came from a struggling household.
Who would ever guess that the quiet, unassuming girl in the back of the class was actually a wealthy heiress?
Winter vacation was approaching fast, and the New Year celebrations would follow shortly after.
Between her relatives and her parents' business associates, she would likely receive another several tens of thousands in lucky money.
Her mother, Wang Hua, enjoyed teasing her daughter about her hobbies, but she was never the type of parent who forced a child to hand over their New Year envelopes for "safekeeping." Wang Hua firmly believed in the philosophy that a daughter should be raised with a generous spirit and a full purse so she would never be tempted by petty things.
Zhao Youyue's life was entirely free of the melodrama found in certain web novels. She wasn't some rich girl who lacked pocket money and ended up working in a shady karaoke bar, only to be "saved" by a poor but heroic male protagonist. She wasn't going to join anyone's harem.
Because she had never been forced to value money, she remained largely indifferent to what it could buy.
She didn't flaunt her wealth because, in her eyes, there was nothing particularly impressive about having money you didn't earn.
Still, the reality of her situation would occasionally leak out. Observant friends like Jiang Qing sometimes caught glimpses of her casual spending and reacted with a mix of shock and genuine admiration.
Even a relatively small gesture, like spending a thousand yuan to reach League Leader status in a fan group, was enough to make people swarm her with jokes about being a "rich boss" or asking to be her "leg pendant."
She honestly didn't think a thousand yuan qualified as being truly rich.
If she were in a particularly good mood, she might decide to drop a Silver Alliance reward—worth ten thousand yuan—just to see the site-wide announcement flash across the top of the Qidian app. It was a fun way to make her presence known, nothing more.
Nevertheless, a part of her felt it would be much more satisfying to spend money she had generated through her own talent.
In her ideal world, she wouldn't even need the allowance her father provided. To be truly self-sufficient would feel far more respectable.
Now that she had the ability to learn with such terrifying efficiency, she hoped to eventually acquire a skill that had market value. She wanted something that could actually generate an income.
Of course, everything depended on the nature of the next slice-of-life world she discovered through the Dimension Gate. If she played her cards right, she might be able to craft another legendary character.
Perhaps she could be a world-class singer, a master painter, or a brilliant novelist.
She would be happy with any of those paths.
She even harbored a secret hope of entering a world centered entirely on the entertainment industry. If she could create a legendary diva, she could bring those vocal talents back to the real world and earn her own fortune.
But she knew that wouldn't be easy.
Besides, if she could truly choose any world she wanted, why would there be a need to sacrifice a classic card in the first place?
Zhao Youyue's mind remained calm and balanced.
Her personal philosophy was quite simple: if you don't expect anything, you can't be disappointed by the outcome.
That night, she slept with a sense of profound peace.
She felt no urgent need to rush back to the Dimension Gate or dive into a new fictional universe immediately.
She would wait until her final exams were finished.
For now, she intended to spend the coming days completely immersed in her books.
She would become the goddess Xu Jing herself.