The System Mistook Me for a Cat

As they approached Dragon Lake Station, some members of the team began to experience altitude sickness and physical discomfort.

After disembarking from the snowcat, they were greeted by a vast expanse of white, devoid of penguins or seals. The only traces of life were the tracks left by the snowcat and the solitary Dragon Lake Station standing in the distance.

The geological survey team had arrived earlier, while Chu Tingwu and the others came with the supply convoy—which carried hundreds of tons of supplies, as well as equipment for the expansion and renovation of Dragon Lake Station.

With their team included, Dragon Lake Station now housed a total of 120 people, and the research team was set to stay on the ice sheet for two months.

Upon entering the station, the usual routine of settling in and introductions began. However, due to limited housing, Chu Tingwu and Misha were assigned to share a room with Mo Qiao, a long-term resident of Dragon Lake Station. Mo Qiao, in her early thirties, appeared sharp and efficient.

As soon as they arrived, Mo Qiao said, "We have more men than women here, and there’s a lot of construction work to be done. When there’s no research to be conducted, everyone has to pitch in. You two seem to be in good shape—no altitude sickness, right? Can you spare some time to help out?"

With that, Chu Tingwu and Misha set down their luggage and got to work.

The day’s task involved building a sauna outside the shower room. This required digging through the snow to lay underground pipes, laying a foundation, and installing solar panels. The interior decoration would also have to be handled by the team members themselves—many of whom were not only highly educated but also skilled in various trades.

Mo Qiao quipped, "Before I came here, I heard that the schedule was strict, the supervision tight, and there weren’t many opportunities to interact with outsiders. Plus, you could learn a trade. The only thing I could think of was prison."

But Antarctica wasn’t so bad. When boredom struck, you could always find ways to entertain yourself.

After finishing the day’s work, Mo Qiao asked if they wanted to go skiing.

The area wasn’t ideal for a ski resort, but if it was just for fun, you could ski anywhere there was snow.

Chu Tingwu hadn’t brought her own skis, and the only ones available at the station were traditional alpine skis. The terrain was relatively flat, making it necessary to use poles and skis to get any momentum. Dragon Lake Station stood alone in the snow, with no perimeter fence to mark its boundaries.

Misha was too exhausted and opted to go back for a drink and a nap, leaving Chu Tingwu to join Mo Qiao and a few other local researchers for some skiing.

Chu Tingwu followed quietly, listening more than speaking. Mo Qiao glanced back at her and asked, "Have you skied before?"

Chu Tingwu replied, "A little, but only snowboarding."

Mo Qiao smiled. "So you have some experience, but your movements are still a bit rough. Let me teach you how to turn and pick up speed."

They followed the tracks left by the snowcat, and Mo Qiao pointed out the communication base station they had built in Antarctica, which was essential for remote communication. At first, Chu Tingwu lagged behind, but Mo Qiao soon noticed that she quickly adjusted her speed and moved as naturally as if the skis were an extension of her body.

...And she hadn’t fallen once.

Over the next few days, Chu Tingwu continued to learn on the go, helping out wherever she could. She picked up new skills quickly, and the researchers were more than willing to teach her. One day, Professor Mi couldn’t find Chu Tingwu in the station. After searching outside, he finally looked up and saw the young girl operating a bulldozer.

Professor Mi: "..." Wait, how did it come to this? You don’t even have a driver’s license, let alone the proper certification to operate heavy machinery!

He looked around and realized that the workload wasn’t heavy enough for the others, who didn’t have Chu Tingwu’s boundless energy to ski and stay active after finishing their tasks. So, they decided to write a murder mystery script for a game night: *The Dragon Lake Station Murder Case During the Blizzard*.

They figured that having Chu Tingwu always act as the game master would be boring, and they didn’t want her to unbalance the game by playing. So, instead of a role-playing game, they opted for a detective-style murder mystery.

This time, Chu Tingwu wasn’t involved in the creation of the script. When she finally had some free time, the team enthusiastically invited her to join the game.

...And then she pointed out a slew of plot holes.

It turned out that high intelligence didn’t necessarily translate into storytelling skills, and those without real-life murder experience couldn’t spot the logical flaws in their creation.

But the team, determined to improve (or perhaps just desperate for some mental stimulation), discussed:

"Maybe... we should make a detailed PowerPoint presentation and study some logically sound murder methods?"

They decided to assign the task of drawing the building to the person most skilled at sketching geological formations, and the character illustrations to the one best at animal anatomy. As Chu Tingwu passed by with a towel on her head, she saw a lifelike sketch of the victim’s face posted on the door—it looked eerily similar to the station chief.

Eventually, Chu Tingwu couldn’t stand it anymore. She took the architectural floor plans and some close-up sketches from the murder mystery team and mentioned that she had a program that could generate 3D models and even create VR environments, similar to the login interface of *Cat House*.

She imported the data into a memory card and handed it over. The next day, the team member in charge of the building designs came back, dark circles under his eyes, and handed her seven or eight drawings, each in a different style. "Can you generate these into 3D models?"

Chu Tingwu: "Has your murder mystery turned into a home renovation simulation? Why are there interior design samples now?"

The day after she helped generate the models, another person showed up with bags under their eyes, holding a stack of clothing designs. They asked if Chu Tingwu could—no, if she could generate these and test them in the VR pod to see how they looked.

Chu Tingwu: =v=

Everyone was clearly having a blast with the editor.

Yes, she did have such a program, and it wasn’t something she had to rely on the system for. The software was the VR game editor used by Universal Gaming Company, which included a vast library of free assets. It allowed users to transform simple sketches into fully realized 3D models without needing any system intervention.

Universal Gaming Company planned to release the software for free after the VR pods hit the market, and the editor was directly linked to the Universal Gaming Platform.

The purpose of the software’s release was clearly to promote the Universal Gaming Platform. The platform required that games created using the free assets on the editor and approved by the company could be sold on the platform, with pricing restrictions.

Low-quality games couldn’t be marketed with flashy titles and sold at high prices to scam unsuspecting players.

Users could also upload their own original assets. If they wished to sell them, they could set a price, and both the platform and the creator would receive a share of the profits when the assets were used in commercial games.

Once new assets passed the originality review, creators could apply for patents with a single click. If the application was made through the Universal Gaming Editor, the company would assist in legal matters, issuing warnings and protecting the creators’ rights—thus, the platform took a strong stance against plagiarism.

Although the software hadn’t been released to the public yet, Chu Tingwu had access to it and shared it with everyone at the station, encouraging them to use it freely... without having to come to her for help.

Recently, besides learning mechanical repairs, Chu Tingwu had been skiing with Mo Qiao. A few days ago, they even skied all the way to a Russian research station and enjoyed a traditional Russian lunch.

Although Mo Qiao knew Chu Tingwu’s skills were impressive, she still advised against skiing alone:

"The biggest issue with skiing alone is the loneliness. If you get lost, it’s hard to hold out until rescue arrives because, before your body gives out, your mind will break first."

Mo Qiao, being from the north, had far more skiing experience than Chu Tingwu. She could tell that Chu Tingwu had a natural talent, and there was less and less she could teach her in terms of technique. Instead, she focused on teaching Chu Tingwu how to handle potential dangers on the snow.

And this knowledge wasn’t without its uses.

Because Chu Tingwu once pointed at the vast snowy landscape during a break and said, "Maybe in the future, I'll challenge myself to ski solo from Dragon Lake Station to Riley Station."

From the interior of Antarctica to the coast, the straight-line distance is about 400 kilometers, with nothing but desolate, uninhabited terrain along the way. The only traces of human activity are the tire tracks left by vehicles.

But Mo Qiao didn't dismiss this as a child's boast or a sudden whim of Chu Tingwu's. Because when she said it, she was calm, as if she were simply stating that today she would ski from Dragon Lake to the Russian research station, even though the distance was farther, the fundamental difference wasn't significant.

She just wanted to ski.

Mo Qiao also knew that Chu Tingwu wanted to challenge herself to sail solo around the world without stopping, to try skydiving without a parachute, and to leap from the roof of the world in a wingsuit. Her attitude toward these "challenges" wasn't "I must do this," but rather "I will do this."

It was like lifting a foot to step onto a staircase.

Mo Qiao: "Then you'll need to know how to identify directions and find shelter when strong winds come."

When the two of them returned, they were caught by a senior waiting at the door, who was very excited: "Come on, you two didn't participate in the game design, so you're perfect to help test our scripted murder mystery!"

Chu Tingwu had an internal account, but since everyone had just started using the game editor, they wanted to try the multiplayer version. So, they needed to upload and get it approved first, then some would use VR live streaming devices, while others would use experience pods, allowing several people to play together.

Now that they had all tested it, they wanted Chu Tingwu to find any flaws.

Coincidentally, with the arrival of their supplies, Dragon Lake Station finally had limited internet access—meaning they could go online for five hours a day, and the speed wasn't fast, but everyone was already very satisfied.

...They just didn't notice that on the now-lonely Universal Gaming Platform, aside from Universal's own games like "Cat House" and "Flying Birds," there was only this one game.

"The Blizzard Antarctic Research Station Murder Case"

Players who discovered that the game platform had launched, but the editor could only be pre-downloaded and not registered, and that a VR experience pod was required to play, commented:

"What's up with this game? What exactly did your boss do in Antarctica?"

Meanwhile, other players who noticed that Chu Tingwu's name didn't seem to be in the credits confidently speculated:

"Totally normal, maybe Viking pirates from the icebreaker time-traveled here."

Anyway, the game was free and used a lot of custom assets, giving off a very sincere vibe... Let's give it a try!

On the other side, Chu Tingwu also nodded, took the device, and put it on.

But the players who were already online noticed that she hadn't logged in yet.

Chu Tingwu took off the VR headset.

Senior: "?"

Chu Tingwu: "What kind of assets did you put in there that got it classified as 18+?"

The 17-year-and-10-month-old player said, "I can't play."

She was banned.