Chapter 10: The Questions That Came at You
Su Wudeng had only skimmed her video earlier without looking at it closely. She was occupied with replying to an urgent message from a buyer inquiring about the prices of her spiritual plants.
The buyer sounded incredibly arrogant: “I’ll take whatever you have, no matter the amount. I’ll pay the absolute highest market rate.”
This left her a bit bewildered. “Did I price them too low?”
Before she could think it through, a massive notification flashed across her screen. The transaction had already cleared.
Su Wudeng let out a breath. “Oh well, a sale’s a sale.” She typed back, “Please send over the delivery address.”
When the coordinates popped up, she blinked in surprise. The destination was separated from her by several entire galaxies. It was ridiculously far.
What she didn’t realize was that the address belonged to the absolute front line of the war against the Zerg, and the buyer was a procurement officer for the frontline logistics division.
At that very moment, two officers at the military base were eyeing the digital receipt with a mix of hope and skepticism.
“Do you really think the goods from this seller are the real deal?” one asked.
“Who cares if they’re real or not? Just buy them first,” the other replied grimly. “The front line needs spiritual plants immediately. Major General Chu is pushing his limits out there. If this shop owner is trying to scam the military, she’ll face the consequences. Besides, everyone knows our official address; nobody is stupid enough to cross us.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Back in her shop, Su Wudeng swiftly covered the premium interstellar shipping fee. Looking at her skyrocketing account balance—which now proudly displayed 30 million credits—she felt entirely revitalized.
“Finally, I’m filthy rich!” she cheered. “It’s high time I added a helper to the shop.”
She had been drooling over Uncle Lan’s heavy-duty mechanical War Hound, not to mention the steel mammoth and the sleek mechanical cheetah she had spotted on the streets. They were absolute powerhouses when it came to manual labor and store security.
Since money was no longer an issue, she opened the Star Pet Mall and pulled up the best-seller section, focusing on the “Perfect Series” developed by the Star Peace Corporation.
Osside-9000: An eight-limbed mechanical octopus capable of hyper-efficient multitasking. Price: 18 million credits.
Phantom Wings: A lightweight, butterfly-shaped model designed for elegant aerial tasks and personnel transport. Price: 8 million credits.
The endless options made her dizzy. In the end, her gaze locked onto the top tier: the Osside-9000.
“It’s insanely expensive,” she muttered. But unlike cheap companion toys meant for children, commercial-grade units like this came with ironclad durability guarantees. It could easily run for a decade without a single glitch.
She had initially hoped to buy a few different models, but a quick calculation showed that purchasing this top-of-the-line assistant would drain almost her entire new fortune.
“Well, money is meant to be spent.”
Su Wudeng resolutely closed the mechanical pet catalog and opened the daily necessities mall instead. She needed to carve out a comfortable base for herself in the Great Prosperity Era. The pristine mountains and crystal-clear waters of that untouched world were incredibly beautiful—the perfect spot for a vacation home. To make that happen, she needed to stock up on survival gear and construction supplies.
She rapidly filled her cart with high-tech essentials:
Titanium Steel Folding House: A structure that could deploy into a heavily fortified cabin at the press of a single button.
Mag-Lev Foundation: A stabilizing system ensuring the house remained perfectly level and secure, even on a turbulent riverbank.
Invisible Force Field: A protective barrier designed to shield the property from wind and torrential rain without obstructing the panoramic views.
Starlight Carpet: A floor covering as soft as clouds that automatically regulated its surface temperature based on the ambient environment.
As she finalized her selections, the total cost piled up rapidly. To top it off, she threw in an assortment of luxury foods: sparkling wine, truffle honey tea, fresh croissants, and artisanal cakes. Just looking at the high-definition product images made her mouth water.
“Pay!”
Su Wudeng finalized the order, happily plotting her next cross-world trip.
Meanwhile, across the broader Star Network, her short video was igniting an absolute frenzy.
“My God! Is this a real Snow Crystal Cat? It’s so impossibly cute!”
“Oh my heart, that little meow completely undid me.”
“The way it clutches the bottle while drinking milk is pure perfection.”
At first, the comment section was an endless stream of pure adoration. But as the video gained more traction, ugly, discordant voices began to invade the feed.
“Fake! This has to be advanced digital synthesis technology. Don’t fall for it!”
“The little creature looks incredibly weak and fragile. How is this supposed to compare to our hyper-durable mechanical beasts?”
“The Zerg conflict is escalating by the day. What earthly use is a useless, fragile cat?”
“Exactly. It’s hilarious. If you threw this pathetic thing onto a battlefield, it would be crushed into a meat pie in a millisecond.”
“Mechanical beasts are humanity’s ultimate partners. Can this shop owner stop uploading these distracting, deceptive videos?”
“Boycott this shop! Promoting such weak pets will only make society weak!”
Before long, the narrative shifted entirely. The comment section was clearly being targeted and steered by coordinated accounts, weaponizing the Snow Crystal Cat’s natural vulnerability and framing it as a threat to military readiness.
Zhong Huihui, curled up on her sofa after an exhausting shift, happened to catch the video on her feed. She was so drained from her brutal workday that she had zero interest in anything. Frowning with irritation, she swiped to dismiss the unprompted notification but accidentally tapped the link instead, opening the video full screen.
The very next second, her gaze was utterly captivated by the Snow Crystal Cats.
“So cute… How can a living creature look this precious just eating lunch?” she murmured, her thumb unconsciously tracing the smooth fur of the kitten on her screen.
They looked so wonderfully plush and soft to the touch. Their tiny bellies were perfectly rounded from milk, and their paws flexed in pure contentment as they milk-stepped against her lap.
Eager to see how others were celebrating these beautiful little creatures, Zhong Huihui opened the comments. The wall of toxic, hostile reviews instantly made her face fall.
“What on earth is wrong with these people?” she muttered. “Why is there so much hate?”
As a seasoned browser of the Star Network, she immediately smelled a rat. She tapped on the profiles of several top hate accounts and discovered that every single one of them was explicitly linked to commercial mechanical pet dealerships.
“A smear campaign from competitors,” she realized, scoffing. “The Star Network is getting more toxic by the day.”
She swiftly hid the negative comments and replayed the video on a loop. Deep down, a profound longing took root. She wanted a Snow Crystal Cat of her own. She wanted to come home from a grueling day of work to find a warm, loving soul waiting to keep her company.
Without overthinking it, Zhong Huihui fired off a private message to the shop owner, asking if any kittens were available for purchase. Unfortunately, her inbox remained quiet.
Still buzzing with excitement, she forwarded the video link to her boyfriend, wanting to share the joy. His response came back almost instantly, but it was laced with harsh criticism.
“How much do you even pull in a month? Do you honestly think you can afford luxury nonsense like this?”
“Besides, it’s obviously fake. How can you be so gullible? Use your brain for once.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to text me during my gaming sessions? I’m in the middle of a raid. Leave me alone.”
Zhong Huihui stared at the three biting messages, the text burning coldly against her eyes. This was the man who claimed to love her. She suddenly saw him with crystal clarity—her boyfriend wasn’t even worth a fraction of a cat.
“We’re done.”
She fired off the final text and blocked his number with resolute finality.
Tossing her phone aside, she buried her face in her knees, a quiet sob escaping her lips. But reality slowly crept back in, bringing a crushing weight. “He’s right about one thing… a real pet must cost millions. How could someone like me ever afford to raise one?”
The night deepened. She had to claw herself out of bed early for work tomorrow, leaving precious little time for heartbreak. Forcing herself under the blankets, her final thought before drifting off was a quiet wish: “It would be so wonderful to have a little cat of my very own…”
The next morning, in a cozy apartment with slightly yellowed wallpaper and well-worn furniture, a little girl with twin ponytails skipped over to her grandfather’s side while he was engrossed in the morning paper.
“Grandpa! Grandpa! Look at this! It’s a real, living kitten!” Xiaoyue squealed, hoisting a tablet into his field of vision. On the screen, the Snow Crystal Cat video was playing.
The elderly man adjusted his reading glasses, not bothering to look up from his column. “Xiaoyue, don’t let them trick you. It’s all digital editing. The Snow Crystal Cat line went completely extinct generations ago.”
Xiaoyue pouted fiercely. “But Big Brother Yansen left a comment saying it’s one hundred percent real!”
“Chu Yansen?” The grandfather froze, finally lowering his newspaper. He took the tablet from her hands. He knew Chu Yansen well; the young man was exceptionally level-headed, pragmatic, and entirely averse to frivolous nonsense.
Xiaoyue nodded vigorously. “Yes! It’s him!”
The elderly man took the device and scrutinized the video, his brow furrowing deeper with every passing second. “Has synthesis technology truly reached this tier? The behavioral patterns, the texture of the coat… it’s a flawless replica of a living feline.”
“Grandpa, can we please buy one?” Xiaoyue pleaded, tugging at his arm with wide, sparkling eyes.
The grandfather pondered for a long moment. “Even if it is an incredibly high-end animatronic simulation, the level of realism makes it well worth analyzing. Alright, let’s secure one for our Yueyue.”
Keeping his reading glasses on, he composed a formal inquiry to the shop owner expressing his intent to purchase. At the end of the message, he added a personal note: “I must ask out of professional curiosity—where exactly did your development team study such precise, authentic behavioral data for the Snow Crystal Cat?”
Back at Pet Love Home, Su Wudeng had just finished processing her orders when she noticed the notifications on her video had gone completely nuclear. She pulled open the comments section, her eyebrows knitting together.
“Why are there so many toxic reviews?”
As she scrolled through the mountain of hostile comments, she suddenly burst out laughing.
“A smear campaign is perfectly fine,” she thought, her mood entirely unbothered. “Living Snow Crystal Cats aren’t like mass-produced mechanical robots; my inventory is strictly limited. If the video received nothing but universal praise, I wouldn’t even have enough kittens to fulfill the demand.”
Right now, her metrics were hitting astronomical highs, and traffic was flooding her profile. Infamy was still fame, after all. Every single wave of controversy simply translated into a massive surge of free marketing. In her previous life, achieving a trending spot of this magnitude would have cost millions in promotional fees. Now, her competitors were funding it for her globally.
Entirely immune to the online hate, Su Wudeng turned her attention to her direct messages. Amidst the chaos, a few genuine purchase inquiries stood out.
The first serious message came from a young woman who introduced herself by her surname, Zhong. Su Wudeng tapped into her profile to scan her history. The grid was a warm, down-to-earth collection of daily life: snapshots of her breakfast, complaints about her work routine, and casual memes. It was clear she was an authentic, hardworking girl who took life seriously. Interspersed throughout her posts were numerous re-shares of old cat documentaries.
“This girl genuinely, deeply loves cats,” Su Wudeng noted warmly.
The second promising inquiry came from a senior researcher named Yang. Professor Yang’s profile was a pristine wall of academic publications, animal husbandry seminars, and wildlife preservation research.
“An official academic authority?” Su Wudeng mused, a bit uncertain. His entire career seemed dedicated to studying extinct and endangered species.
After a moment of deliberation, she drafted a standardized reply to both prospective buyers. She needed to lay down her ground rules immediately to see if they could handle the commitment.
“Greetings! Thank you for your profound interest in our Snow Crystal Cats. To ensure our kittens go to the absolute best homes, all adoptions require an in-person evaluation at our physical shop. Furthermore, the adoption process involves a mandatory one-month fostering and education period. I have attached our standard adoption agreement for your review… If you are comfortable with these parameters, you are more than welcome to visit the shop for a detailed consultation. My direct contact information is listed below…”
Hitting send, Su Wudeng let out a satisfied breath. “And… done!”
Right on cue, the shop’s front doorbell let out a cheerful chime.
