The System Mistook Me for a Cat

After apologizing to the system, Chu Tingwu turned her gaze to Three-Five-Five.

The mother cat was lying on a small sofa not far away, her head resting gracefully on her front paws, her tail swaying leisurely. When Chu Tingwu looked over, Three-Five-Five pretended to be casually glancing around, turning her head with an air of nonchalance: "...Meow?"

Chu Tingwu hesitated, then responded: "Meow."

She really liked this "gift."

Three-Five-Five then jumped down, placing her front paws on Chu Tingwu's lap and patting her gently, as if to say, "Don't be too grateful."

Just as Three-Five-Five was about to return to her spot, Chu Tingwu grabbed her, and the two began a game of rubbing their heads together. Chu Tingwu rubbed Three-Five-Five until the cat softened, then "meowed" and "mewed" to ask about the events of the day, eventually concluding—

It was all the fault of the training base and Shao Lingwu.

Shao Lingwu: "Cough, cough, cough!"

He had choked from eating too quickly.

Chu Tingwu didn’t immediately explain the situation to Three-Five-Five. If she had, the clever mother cat would have realized it was all a misunderstanding and might have felt disappointed.

So, Chu Tingwu waited until that evening.

All four of them were now in a period of downtime. Zhou Qiang was checking her stocks, Chu Xiao maintained his rigorous study schedule—finishing exams didn’t mean he could stop studying, as his self-discipline was stronger than Chu Tingwu’s—and Shao Lingwu continued working on his music software, having decided to pursue the arts track for his college entrance exams. Since the equestrian club had an internal hotel, they decided to stay there.

That night, Chu Tingwu instructed the system to create a dream, pulling Three-Five-Five into it. Using a scenario-based approach, she aimed to teach the mother cat that even if the police confiscated stolen goods, one shouldn’t just take them.

The system: "Oh!"

The system eagerly got to work.

Chu Tingwu: I trust you... I think I can trust you, right?

The system set the dream in Three-Five-Five’s most familiar place—her home in Jin City—and generated a strangely colored stray cat that sneaked in through the window and stole the snack cans Chu Tingwu had bought for Three-Five-Five.

Three-Five-Five, lying under the bed but inexplicably unable to move: "?"

Once the thief slipped away, the restrictions on Three-Five-Five lifted, and she immediately chased after the thief, gave it a beating, and brought the cans back.

Chu Tingwu even opened a can for her, signaling that she had done the right thing.

Then the scene shifted to Teacher Yuan’s house next door, where the newly generated thief stole Coal Ball’s cans. This time, the AI-generated Coal Ball could only whimper pitifully, seeking help from the big sister, Three-Five-Five.

Three-Five-Five: "=="

The dependable tortoiseshell mother cat once again tracked down the thief, retrieved the cans, and, perhaps because it was the same thief twice, dealt an even harsher beating.

She then carried the cans back, circling around Teacher Yuan’s house looking for Chu Tingwu.

Chu Tingwu had already been moved by the system, silently watching alongside it—

Coal Ball trotted after Three-Five-Five on short legs, making "I want to eat" noises.

Three-Five-Five hesitated slightly.

Then, Teacher Yuan walked in, patted Three-Five-Five, saw the cans, and scolded Coal Ball: "No cans today. Where did you dig these out from?"

She confiscated the cans.

Three-Five-Five: "..."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The mother cat’s expression slowly shifted from confusion to deep contemplation.

The drawer where Teacher Yuan kept the cans was too high for Coal Ball to reach, but Three-Five-Five could easily open it. She perched on top of the cabinet, her tail swishing, deep in thought.

—This kind of virtual, scenario-based teaching seemed quite effective for cats, Chu Tingwu thought.

Three-Five-Five seemed to realize: even though she had put in the effort to catch the thief, the stolen goods were still stolen goods, and her "wages" were her wages. The cans returned to the neighbor’s cabinet, while she...

Chu Tingwu watched as Three-Five-Five jumped out of the familiar window, returning to where the thief had spawned, sniffing around with an air of menace.

Chu Tingwu: "=="

Well, it seemed Three-Five-Five had learned:

If there’s no reward, just beat the thief again.

Does beating thieves drop coins or something?

The system also felt the lesson might have gone slightly off track, but it still had some effect—

"At least Three-Five-Five knows the stolen goods don’t belong to her anymore, right?"

It’s just that the thief might not fare too well, and Three-Five-Five sometimes couldn’t distinguish who was a real "thief."

So, the system calmly waved its nonexistent hand, suggesting they move the setting to the equestrian club and rehearse a scenario about "employees leading horses not being horse thieves."

Chu Tingwu praised it: "Impressive. At this rate, Three-Five-Five could even go to college, huh?"

The system paused: "But cats can’t take exams... I guess we’d have to buy a university to get her a diploma—"

Chu Tingwu: I was just being polite, okay? ==

To maintain realism, and since they were staying at the equestrian club, the system pulled all the horses into the dream as background actors. Chu Tingwu reminded it not to let Three-Five-Five get trampled, to which the system replied: "Don’t worry."

When Chu Tingwu opened her eyes in the dream classroom, she found herself riding on the back of a tall white horse named Raphael, nicknamed Hui Bao.

She let Hui Bao trot around on its own. As expected, the system controlled a few virtual "humans"—some employees, some actual thieves—leading horses in front of Three-Five-Five to see if she would react as she had during the day, allowing for behavioral correction.

But...

Chu Tingwu looked around: Where’s Three-Five-Five?

The NPCs spawned, the NPCs started working, and then—a large, brown-gray shadow leaped out from the darkness, heading straight for Chu Tingwu—

Hui Bao panicked, stomping its feet, and the other horses in the field scattered. The three-meter-tall figure stopped in front of the mounted humans, lowering its head to nudge Chu Tingwu’s forehead with its nose.

Chu Tingwu nearly toppled off the horse.

But with her sense of balance, she managed to lean back and push away the encroaching Three-Five-Five.

She couldn’t help but think: Is this how Three-Five-Five felt when we bumped heads during the day?

The system: "Making her bigger reduces the risk of her getting stepped on."

Besides, Three-Five-Five should be used to being this size in dreams by now.

Chu Tingwu: "=="

At this size, there’s no need to bite the reins to lead a horse—she could just pick it up and carry it—wait, what?

The tortoiseshell cat opened her mouth, hooked her teeth into Chu Tingwu’s hoodie, and lifted her up.

Hanging in mid-air, Chu Tingwu adjusted her position and watched as the ground sped by beneath her. Soon, they leaped out of the equestrian club, the giant cat carrying a tiny human through an unfamiliar city.

Before long, Three-Five-Five grew tired of running on the streets and began leaping onto rooftops. Chu Tingwu "meowed" twice, and Three-Five-Five set her down on her back.

Now it was Chu Tingwu’s turn to ride the cat.

The dream classroom had no sun, and the surroundings were filled with randomly generated NPCs. Chu Tingwu passed a few that looked like Zhou Qiang and Chu Xiao, so when she saw one resembling Shao Lingwu, she tossed a breakfast roll she’d grabbed from the equestrian club, hitting the NPC on the head.

The NPC just stood there dumbly, rubbing its head in confusion.

The system: "=="

Kid, you’re stealing stuff yourself! How are you supposed to set an example for your mom?

The lesson ended in failure.

Finally, Three-Five-Five lay down on the roof of a tall building, curling her front paws around Chu Tingwu and resting her chin on top of her.

Chu Tingwu wriggled out from the fluffy embrace, lying on Three-Five-Five’s paw and reaching down to touch the soft pads.

Hehe.

In reality, Three-Five-Five yawned and rolled over.

—

The next morning, the group met at the equestrian club’s hotel restaurant. Shao Lingwu, possibly having stayed up late, stumbled in with bleary eyes, only to be greeted by a flying breakfast roll.

Shao Lingwu: "!?"

Chu Tingwu: "...It’s for you."

Shao Lingwu: "Thanks."

But wasn’t this restaurant supposed to be a buffet?

His drowsiness mostly gone, he nibbled on the roll as they discussed how to set up an online competition class.

This was something they had discussed yesterday. During the few days between the exam and the release of the results, they figured they might as well make good on the ideas they had casually thrown out in front of the camera. (Chu Xiao: "I’m not free, though.")

After some back-and-forth, they realized there was a simple model they could follow: creating a question bank.

Unlike other competitions, biology competitions require a lot of input and memorization. They could develop an app similar to those used for self-study in subjects like driving theory, where students could test themselves with randomly selected questions from the bank.

They could also regularly update the question bank or allow users to upload their own questions, rewarding them with virtual tokens or other in-app incentives.

However, there were two issues with this idea:

First, while the software itself wouldn’t be difficult to develop, compiling a comprehensive question bank would require a lot of manual input. It would be tedious and labor-intensive, with relatively low returns.

Second...

"It feels so boring. Anyone could do this, right?"

If they wanted to create such an app, Chu Tingwu could simply delegate the task to their system or a department within their company. With only a few days left before the results were released, spending time on this kind of software didn’t seem worthwhile.

So, both Chu Xiao and Zhou Qiang didn’t seem particularly interested.

Chu Tingwu looked out the window at the horse outside:

"How about... we make a game instead?"

Shao Lingwu: "Huh?"

Chu Tingwu: "An AR-style educational game."

The software they had previously considered wasn’t particularly challenging, but it didn’t exist on the market—because it wasn’t profitable.

Its target audience was too niche, the work was tedious, and the labor costs were high. No one was going to do it out of charity.

Chu Tingwu thought that combining it with a game format might expand its audience and generate revenue... but she was only proposing an idea at this point.

The group started discussing the idea further—

Chu Tingwu’s concept of AR referred to 3D augmented reality projections. She hadn’t forgotten that she had also casually mentioned this in an interview.

Currently, AR projections were already being used in educational settings, such as projecting 3D maps onto tables and allowing interaction with the projections.

The system they used today also employed this kind of physical projection method. However, it was easy to imagine how expensive an AR game would be to produce and how few people could afford it.

But instead of pouring cold water on the idea, they started brainstorming how to design the game.

Chu Xiao: "Our goal is to help people learn, so the game should be designed to motivate them to study—"

Chu Tingwu added: "And to quickly promote our question bank."

Let’s be real—even in a game, you’d still have to answer questions. The amount of learning wouldn’t decrease just because it was gamified; it would just enter your brain in a different format.

Zhou Qiang: "From what I know about AR games, the ones that keep players engaged are usually simulation or nurturing types."

Having something to care for in the game world would make players log in more frequently.

Shao Lingwu: "But competitive games could work too, right? At the very least, there should be a ranking system. No matter the genre, people get competitive when rankings are involved!"

Ideally, there would also be server-wide announcements, regular tournaments, and upgrade notifications.

Chu Tingwu: "But cost is still a big issue... Hmm... Oh?"

She patted Three-Five-Five on the head.

Three-Five-Five swatted her hand away.

Chu Tingwu lifted Three-Five-Five by her armpits: "Brave Three-Five-Five, go forth and create miracles—"

Three-Five-Five: "Meow?"

She tapped her own head, wondering if she’d gone crazy.

Chu Tingwu wasn’t crazy. She had just happened to think of a "learning" game that incorporated AR effects, wasn’t overly expensive, and combined nurturing and competitive elements.

The best part was that they wouldn’t even need to create the question bank themselves. The costs would be extremely low, the promotional reach would be wide, and it could even tie in with their company’s other projects for cross-promotion. Plus, it would be a positive, educational endeavor that could earn support from the local government.

And all of this was just the result of half a day’s discussion.

She outlined the plan to the group, tweaked a few details, and then held a meeting with key staff to discuss the feasibility. In the end, only one question remained:

Chu Tingwu: "What should we call this nurturing AR game?"

Everyone: "..."

In the end, this group of naming-challenged individuals settled on a title for the game—

**"Study Quest."**