The dragon race is an incredibly proud and powerful species—longevous and strong, originally living on an independent planet. The reason they attached themselves to the human race and became one of the four great noble houses was because the dragons had one fatal weakness—reproduction.

Ninety percent of dragons cannot produce offspring in their lifetimes; this is the side effect of their immense power.

Now there are barely a hundred of them in the entire dragon clan.

Secondly, by a twist of fate the previous emperor and the Dragon King became friends. When the emperor set out to unify the empire, the Dragon King lent a hand; once the empire was united, the dragon clan naturally rose to become the foremost of the Four Great Noble Houses.

Although they are attached to the human race, the dragon clan does not serve the empire—only when the empire faces a dire crisis will the dragons intervene to help.

Put bluntly, the Four Great Noble Houses are essentially decorative symbols for the empire.

The dragon race was a proud people, refusing to intermarry with other species, yet there were only a few dozen dragons, and females were painfully scarce—most dragons remained bachelors.

Moreover, even if two dragons in the clan took a liking to each other, there was a high chance they could not produce offspring.

In the end the Dragon King, with no other choice, decreed that dragons could marry outside their race to increase the chances of producing young; otherwise, over the long stretch of time, the dragon race would inevitably edge toward extinction.

As the only nine-clawed Azure Sky Dragon among them, Nong Jiu Si was someone the Dragon King desperately wanted to see pass on his bloodline; if Nong Jiu Si married, perhaps a new nine-clawed Azure Sky Dragon would be born into the clan.

By seniority, Nong Jiusi was a generation above the Dragon King—effectively the Dragon King’s uncle. When he brought up the suggestion, the Dragon King felt uneasy, and sure enough, Nong Jiusi refused outright and beat the Dragon King up.

After ending up bruised and battered, the Dragon King whimpered and didn’t dare mention it again.

To Nong Jiusi, not a single female in the entire universe could catch his eye; he felt no interest whatsoever.

Of course, it wasn’t about his orientation, but about a pride that stood above everything else.

As the sole Nine-Clawed Azure Dragon, if he were really going to marry, his mate would at least have to be a Nine-Clawed Azure Dragon.

—The Dragon King had been hoping that after marriage he might gain offspring with Nine-Clawed Azure Dragon blood; where on earth was he supposed to find such a mate for him?

So the matter was dropped.

Having been a single dog for a thousand years, Nong Jiusi didn’t care whether he would have any bloodline heirs; he’d never even thought about it.

He had seen the offspring of other races—almost all fragile at birth, requiring endless effort and care. What a hassle.

With that time, he’d rather sleep a few more times and go “collect” more twinkling gems to decorate the palace.

So he had even less interest in the so-called raising-a-cub game. If the game visuals hadn’t been projected so lifelike, and if the little thing hadn’t been so pitiful and tugged at his sympathies a bit, he would have ignored it long ago.

Niu Jiu Si wasn’t averse to younglings; he simply thought they were troublesome and didn’t want to deal with them. That didn’t mean he would be indifferent when he saw a pitiable little creature.

Until that moment, the soft “Daddy” drifted into his ear and brought him a strange, indescribable, once-in-a-millennium thrill. The blood coursing through his veins trembled slightly, as if resonating, and miraculously he felt a sense of “becoming a father for the first time.”

How marvelous.

Long Jiusi lowered his long lashes, his gaze falling on the tiny figure soaking in the water. After that gentle “Daddy,” she quieted, eyes closed, half-reclining in the basin, a single finger of Long Jiusi pressed against her back to support her, like a little princess asleep.

After a moment, Long Jiusi tentatively prodded the little one’s flushed cheek with his other hand, brow slightly furrowed. The touch felt as if something lay between them, blocking the feedback from the skin.

At that moment, Nong Jiusi suddenly remembered that this little figure was a character from a game and did not exist in reality, so of course he could not physically touch the real her.

Yet the strange sensation in his heart did not disappear. His ice-blue pupils contracted slightly as Nong Jiusi fell silent over a thought that had just arisen.

What if he made her real?

A tiny being created by code and data—if he isolated her program, built a real body, and implanted the program into it, she would be like an intelligent robot.

Wouldn’t the little one then “really” exist?

Unexpectedly, the thought had barely flickered through when the system popped up a few bold, capitalized prompts: [DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!]

Niu Jiu Si arched a brow.

The system realized its phrasing had been inappropriate and hurriedly tried to make amends: [Of course, you can give it a try.] It was useless anyway.

[Physical cooling initially successful. But the edge is too small and the soaking time is too long; even if the temperature is lowered, it will cause irreversible damage to her body. Please adopt other physical cooling methods.]

[Note: Please adopt other physical cooling methods within ten minutes.]

“What a nuisance.” Nong JiuSi carried the little 点 out; this time his movements were much more practiced, and noticeably gentler.

The room was too dim. Although he could see in the dark, the nature of the dragon clan made him fond of all things “bright,” including lamps.

However, there was no electricity in the room; only candles.

Nong Jiusi suppressed the discomfort in his chest, expressionless as he entered the bedroom—after a punch broke the invisible barrier, the rest of the space was no longer obstructed, which slightly lifted his spirits.

In three quick motions he stripped the wet clothes off the little one, shoved the tiny body into the quilt, and then opened the wardrobe.

“…”

He casually picked up a small dress, his brow knotted as if it could pinch a fly to death, and turned to Nong Tang, who had also stepped into the projection: “This is supposed to be clothes?”

Nong Tang glanced over, wearing the same expression of disdain as Nong Jiusi, only more restrained. He thought for a moment and said, “Maybe it’s to highlight the character’s misery, so that players will spend money to buy better clothes for the character.”

Just like some holo-games, the starting gear is all basic equipment; if you want your outfit to look flashy, recharging and spending money is inevitable.

Faced with a whole wardrobe of clothes that hit all his triggers, Nong Jiusi couldn’t bear it for a moment longer and immediately opened the store—after that little one’s “daddy,” he had to buy her a few pretty dresses.

“…”

The “Clothing” tab was completely gray.

“What’s going on?”

The system remained silent.

Nong Tang said, “Maybe there’s a restriction set.”

After the words fell, the system popped up: [Current intimacy with Bian Bian is 0; aside from the basic laser gun, you cannot purchase anything else.]

Nong Tang also saw that prompt, was silent for a moment, then commented, “Sir, this game…is rather peculiar.”

It was the first time he’d seen a game where you couldn’t just throw money at it.

Nong Jiusì, almost sullenly, grabbed a dress at random and clumsily put it on the little one.

He’d never dressed a cub before, especially a human cub.

After finally managing to get the little one’s head through the neckline of the dress, she found that the arms wouldn’t go in. Nong Tang whispered, “Mistress, I think you put it on the wrong way.”

Nong Jiusi: “?”

Nong Tang said, “You’re wearing your sleeve like a collar.”

“…”

Finally changed, Nong Jiusi tried hard to ignore that ugly dress—if she couldn’t soak it to cool off, what other physical cooling methods were there?

Nong Tang quickly checked some information on the StarNet, then said to Nong Jiusi, “Sir, the internet says you can cool down by forcing yourself to sweat.”

In simple terms, it meant making the little one sweat.

Just a moment ago he soaked her in cold water to cool her down; now he was going to heat her up to force her to sweat… Aren’t human methods of physical cooling a bit bizarre?

Nong Jiusi: “Are you sure you won’t burn her to death?”

Nong Tang wasn’t sure—he wasn’t human, so he really didn’t understand.

[Biānbiān’s real-time body temperature is thirty-nine degrees and rising.]

Unable to find another way, Jiu Si had no choice but to wrap Biānbiān in a blanket, bundling her up into a zongzi-like bundle.

It didn’t take long before Bian Bian’s face grew even redder; sweat poured from her body, soaking the skirt she had just changed into.

It was unbearably hot.

Her brush-like eyelashes trembled slightly, her little face contorted in discomfort, and her body instinctively struggled, trying to break free from the searing heat that seemed ready to melt her.

But no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t escape the blanket wrapped tightly around her.

Nong Jiusi began to doubt whether this method was effective, worrying it might worsen the child’s condition; fortunately, the system chirped: [Temperature decreasing.]

Nong Jiusi didn’t notice that his body had relaxed somewhat, but Nong Tang did, thinking to himself: it seems the adult has already taken an interest in the characters in this game.

By the time the system indicated the edge temperature had roughly returned to normal, the skirt Bian Bian had just changed into was already soaked through and had to be replaced.

Looking at the little one again, breathing steady, sleeping very soundly.

Practice makes perfect; having changed the skirt once before, Lord Jiusi gained experience. To avoid making the same mistake again, this time he carefully aligned the neckline before dressing the little one.

As he slipped the skirt’s neckline over the fuzzy little head, his movements suddenly froze.

Previously most of the attention had been on cooling him down; only after the danger at the edge had passed did Nong Jiusi finally notice that the little one’s ribs on both sides were already protruding from being so thin.

Besides being thin, there were also some lingering bruises that hadn’t faded, which looked alarming.

—These were injuries from times when the child had carelessly bumped into things and fallen before; the older bruises had faded, but the more recent ones hadn’t fully healed.

Raising the little one’s slender lower legs, the two mounds of bruising at the knees were even more obvious—those were from when he ran out of the kitchen carrying cooking oil, slipped, and fell to the floor.

Children’s skin is delicate; when he first fell it was only a little reddened, but now it had turned into large patches of bruises.

A colder chill deepened on Nong Jiu Si’s face.

The one directly affected was Nong Tang; his body shuddered violently, he gave a cold tremor, stepped back, and withdrew from the projection.

Putting down the skirt to cover the little one’s calves, Nong Jiu Si sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze drifting away from the child’s face and falling into the dim air, thoughtful.

No one knew what he was thinking.

A few minutes later he asked, “How do you increase intimacy points?”

System: [The decision-making power belongs to Bianbian.]

He glanced at the candles in the room. If it hadn’t been for Nong Tang searching the Stellar Net earlier, Nong Jiu Si wouldn’t have known these things were candles — a lighting tool with few advantages.

“Nong Tang,” he said.

“Sir.”

“Bring over that magic orb you brought back last time.”

Nong Tang obeyed and went; half a minute later he returned, handing Nong Jiu Si a small ball pieced together from many colors.

When you press one of its colors lightly, the magic orb emits a light of the corresponding hue.

Nong Jiu Si had bought it from someone else for little money; it wasn’t valuable, but she liked that it could glow, all sparkling, so she bought it without hesitation.

He pressed the white button and the magic orb emitted a soft, bright light, enough to illuminate the bedroom as if it were daytime. The light streamed through the doorway into the living room, brightening even the bedroom considerably.

Watching this scene with satisfaction, Nong Jiusi placed the magic orb on the bedside table.

―Some holographic games can bring real-world items into the game through special devices. Although this pet-raising game couldn’t compare to holographic games, the NR device made up for that shortcoming.

However, the moment the magic orb was set down, it returned to his hand.

The unexpected turn made Nong Jiu Si’s eyes narrow slowly. His long fingers spun the magic orb, then closed together; a blue light flickered, and without any warning he slammed a fist into the bedside table.

[System malfunctioning…]

[System repairing…]

[System repair successful.]

Releasing his fingers, the magic orb rolled across the surface of the cabinet, moving about for a while before settling down, not returning to Nong Jiu Si’s hand.

“Quite cooperative,” he said appreciatively.

As the words left his mouth, his movements paused slightly—

The little one on the bed had woken up sometime; the bright light made her raise a small hand to cover her eyes.

“Uncle, are you here?”

The little one’s voice was timid, and somewhat hoarse.

The dignified, effortless aura of Lord Jiu Si froze in an instant—

Why aren’t you calling me Daddy anymore?!