The System Mistook Me for a Cat

Chu Tingwu came to a sudden stop at the edge of a cliff.

The thick snow crumbled under her movement, scattering downward. From where she stood, she could see that it was actually a protruding rock. One more step forward, and she would have plummeted straight down, but the ground below was exposed.

After all, it was summer in Antarctica.

She was already feeling extremely exhausted, so she simply crouched down on the snow beside the cliff to eat. To her left, she could see the trail she had left from her long slide, but Chu Tingwu was used to it and didn’t find it particularly remarkable. She silently counted the number of times she chewed her food.

Perhaps it was also because this was happening in the dream classroom.

Not long ago, likely due to her comprehensive training (physical work), her [Perfect Control Lv1] had upgraded to [Perfect Control Lv2]. Following this, the system informed her that the time rate in the dream classroom could now be adjusted.

Normally, the time Chu Tingwu spent in the "classroom" matched real-time 1:1, but as her physical fitness had undergone a hidden upgrade, she could now withstand the negative effects of adjusting the time rate, with the fastest adjustment being 8:1.

If Chu Tingwu slept for 8 hours in reality, she could attend 64 hours of classes in her dreams.

...Those born with a natural love for studying would probably be ecstatic about this.

However, what Chu Tingwu was "learning" in her dreams was actually skiing. In her dreams, she simulated skiing from Dragon Lake Station to Riley Station—one being the highest-altitude research station in Antarctica, and the other being the closest to the coastline. The distance was even farther than skiing from a mountain peak to its base.

After a brief attempt, she realized that this challenge wasn’t just about technical skill; it also tested the challenger’s physical stamina and willpower.

Even the research team members, traveling by snowcat, needed several days to reach Dragon Lake Station. This was partly due to the difficulty of ascending compared to descending, but it was also because of the high altitude and the harsh natural environment.

Simply put, long-distance skiing in the freezing snow was a sure way to freeze to death.

So, in the dream classroom, Chu Tingwu and the system experimented and adjusted their plans. Under the premise of "solo skiing," they set up supply points along the route, adjusted the locations of these supplies, and reduced the weight she had to carry at the start.

Then came familiarizing herself with the terrain.

As for that hidden cliff earlier, Chu Tingwu had already fallen off it once. At the time, she had been skiing continuously for 27 hours, trying to push her limits, so she was essentially "skiing while exhausted." Her instincts warned her, but her body told her to just give up and accept death—after all, she couldn’t die here... and then she flew right off the edge of the cliff.

In that moment, she couldn’t describe the feeling. Her emotions were almost eerily calm. As she looked down, she saw the pure white sky merging with the glaciers at the horizon.

Only then did the pain hit her, delayed and sharp.

Chu Tingwu’s lips twitched as she calmly assessed that she had likely broken her ribs and shinbone, with the bones piercing into her flesh. If this had happened in reality, she would have had to wait for rescue.

So she calmly told the system to abandon this attempt.

—There was no option to turn off pain in the dream classroom.

In previous classes, Chu Tingwu had hardly experienced any negative sensations—no pain, no fatigue, not even sweating. Her physical strength in reality was already impressive, and in her dreams, she was unstoppable.

But this time, it was Chu Tingwu’s own request.

Since the dream was essentially a rehearsal for her real-world skiing challenge, she needed to experience all the potential dangers and negative states in the dream so that she could successfully complete the challenge in reality.

The system agreed.

But that didn’t stop the system from quietly sobbing several times behind her back.

Maybe Chu Tingwu herself didn’t know the exact levels of pain, and she had a high tolerance for it. She had even tried to continue skiing with a fractured bone before finally giving up when it became unbearable... But the system could quantify all her sensations into detailed data. Moreover, since the body Chu Tingwu was currently using in the dream was provided by the system, it couldn’t help but feel a bit down, even as it cooperated.

To the system: "My purpose is to ensure you don’t feel pain. The dream classroom’s rehearsal is meant to help you avoid real-world harm..."

So why not just tell her where she might get hurt and where it would hurt? Why go for 100% realism?

But between the host and the system, the host was the one in charge. Even though the system saw itself as raising a cub, it couldn’t make decisions for the cub.

Today’s 64-hour session ended in failure to reach the planned supply point due to an accident. Chu Tingwu admitted that her distribution of physical and mental energy was flawed, so she would have to try again tomorrow.

However, after waking up, she found Mo Qiao standing by her bed, gently touching her arm with a puzzled expression, saying:

"Are you experiencing growing pains recently?"

She had been twitching a bit at night.

Come to think of it, Mo Qiao realized, the girl had even grown a little taller.

Mo Qiao suggested she go to the medical office for a quick check-up, and they also measured her height. Sure enough, Chu Tingwu’s weight hadn’t changed much, but in less than two months in Antarctica, she had grown 1.5 centimeters taller. She was now 172.5 centimeters, and it was clear she wasn’t done growing.

Chu Tingwu asked the system about it. It seemed that due to changes in her physique, her height had increased rapidly when she first bonded with the system, but afterward, it had grown slowly and steadily. Recently, that stability had been disrupted, and her growth rate would likely return to normal after leaving Antarctica.

The system explained that her digestive abilities were different from those of ordinary people.

If an average person ate as much as she did, especially with a preference for meat over vegetables, they would have become quite stocky by now. But for Chu Tingwu, the food she consumed was entirely converted into physical strength, and her figure appeared even slimmer than others of the same weight.

Today, as she ate lunch, she listened to the other team members discussing their plans after leaving Antarctica.

Their current research expedition was nearing its end, though the exact departure date hadn’t been finalized yet.

Eventually, they noticed Chu Tingwu, who had been silent the whole time.

Senior Brother: "Are you going to make a new game when you get back?"

Chu Tingwu: "...First, I have to make up some exams."

Although she had already been admitted to university, she was technically still a high school senior and had to participate in the joint high school midterm and final exams. However, due to her special circumstances, she had to take the make-up exams using backup papers at the provincial education bureau.

She had missed two exams, so she would need at least three days to make them up.

By the time she finished, it would already be late March.

The thought of high school exams made everyone shudder. While they weren’t afraid of professional exams, high school was when they had to memorize the most comprehensive material. By the time they reached university and then the workforce, they had forgotten most of the things they no longer used... For example, Senior Brother probably wouldn’t be able to help Chu Tingwu with her Chinese or math now.

Chu Tingwu: That’s unnecessary.

She had a tutor and could study a bit at night.

By the time they actually set off, half of March had already passed.

The VR experience pods belonged to the research team, and the team decided to donate several of them to the research station. Chu Tingwu, on behalf of her company, donated ten more... She hoped that by the time those ten arrived, the internet in Antarctica would be a bit more stable.

They weren’t rushing the entire way; there were breaks along the journey. At one point, Chu Tingwu noticed that they were passing through the very spot where she had failed and been injured in the dream classroom.

The dangers encountered in dreams could disappear upon waking, but if she chose to take on the challenge in reality, the dangers of nature couldn’t be ignored.

Beyond that, there were even more difficulties—

They had to contact the research station in advance to propose the plan, and they had to expend manpower and resources to set up supply points. Antarctica wasn’t just an ordinary snowy mountain; they were bound to face repeated setbacks.

The chances of success in the dream far exceeded those in reality.

In fact, the odds of success in a fully immersive VR game were even higher than in reality.

"But," Chu Tingwu smiled, "the virtual is born from the real. No matter how realistic the experience in a dream might be, some experiences can only be truly understood by living through them in reality. And if a game wants to enhance its realism... it also needs real people to experience and provide data."

Of course, with the system's capabilities, it could make the simulated sensations in the game almost indistinguishable from reality. However, just because Chu Tingwu was bound to the system didn't mean her company had to rely on it forever.

After all, the games the system created were never for the players—they were made solely for Chu Tingwu.

Now, Huan Yu Company had launched many games made by players for players. Though most were simple and childish, they were brimming with creativity.

Chu Tingwu glanced at them and then set them aside.

Compared to her peers, she wasn't obsessed with games. No matter how entertaining a game might be, none could match the realism of the dream classroom. The system could even play multiple roles to be her gaming companion, so she preferred real, thrilling challenges.

After the challenge of "having the boss film a documentary about our department," "developing a game the boss will like" became the second challenge for Huan Yu Company.

The plane landed in Golden City. Chu Tingwu quietly returned home, quietly hugged Three-Five-Five, who was prepared and waiting for her, and quietly said:

"Three-Five-Five, can you take my exams for me?"

Three-Five-Five swatted her forehead with a paw.

Chu Tingwu sighed.

Being good at exams didn't mean she enjoyed them, especially since her time was already stretched thin.

She hurriedly finished her makeup exams in Golden City and, upon leaving the exam hall, boarded a plane to Phoenix City.

By the time the plane landed, it was already 2 a.m. Three-Five-Five had fallen asleep but was jolted awake by the landing. She shook her head, signaling she was still awake and could even lead the way.

However, within minutes, Chu Tingwu convinced her to ride on the suitcase, looking like a large, furry blanket from afar.

By 3:30 a.m. on March 29, Chu Tingwu finally arrived home.

Man Xing had hired someone in Phoenix City to clean her house regularly. When she pushed open the courtyard gate, a village cat sleeping on the wall woke up, glanced at her, and then moved to another corner to continue its nap.

After a winter, the lounge chair in the yard had been put away, and the door was tightly shut, but everything else remained exactly as it was.

Chu Tingwu retrieved the key from the tree and opened the main door. Inside, the round dining table stood against the wall, with the chairs neatly tucked underneath.

The table was made of rosewood and originally had a tablecloth. However, when her grandmother passed away, the table had been piled with funeral items, so Chu Tingwu had removed the cloth to prevent it from getting dirty. After the funeral, she never put it back.

Three-Five-Five found her way to the bedroom and lay down in her usual spot. But after settling in, she felt the position wasn't quite right, so she rolled around a few times, messing up the bedsheet.

Since the house was regularly cleaned, none of the furniture was covered, and everything looked just as it had when Chu Tingwu left.

It felt as though the owner had only stepped out for a moment and could return at any time.

She slowly walked to the bedside and sat down, only to realize the bed seemed lower... or rather, she had grown so much taller since the last time she was here that the bed no longer felt right.

Lying down, she could clearly feel it was too short.

The moon hung outside the window, and the curtains were left open. Beside her, the tortoiseshell cat's breathing grew steady, followed by faint purring.

Chu Tingwu fell asleep.

She slept dreamlessly.

When she woke up, it was already midday. Realizing she was awake, the system activated the silent cleaning mode of the robot vacuum.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she noticed the window was slightly ajar, letting in a little chill. The spot where Three-Five-Five had slept was still warm, indicating the cat had just gone out to patrol, possibly sizing up the new village cat from atop a roof somewhere.

The system-controlled robot vacuum diligently rolled under the bed and then back out, its electronic voice reminding Chu Tingwu: "Put on your socks."

Chu Tingwu: "Oh..."

To avoid putting on socks, she decided to stay under the covers and play on her phone.

Once she was under the blanket, the system stopped bothering her.

When Chu Tingwu opened her phone, she saw her own chibi avatar.

Wu Voice Group was hosting an event, and once again, they had used the boss as their spokesperson. This time, the event was indeed related to her—it was Chu Tingwu's cyber birthday celebration.

Since her 16th birthday, it had become a tradition for the company to hold celebratory events across all their products, software, foundations, and even in-game activities on her birthday.

Many people might not know the details of Chu Tingwu's life, but they were well aware of her birthday.

So, if Wu Voice Group told users they could earn tokens by sending birthday wishes to her in group chats, they'd probably believe it—because the company was capable of doing just that.

At that moment, a message popped up on her phone. It was a group message from her middle school classmates, saying, "Wishing Little Chu Chu a happy 18th birthday!" with a chance to win a VR experience pod delivered to your doorstep. Little Chu Chu herself: Wait, what?

She didn't know about this!

After scrolling through her phone for a while, she silently lay back down.

The sound of the robot vacuum working in the background wasn't disruptive. She heard the system take her shoes to clean them, though she wasn't sure how a robot vacuum managed that. Three-Five-Five pushed open the bedroom door, about to jump onto the bed, but then paused, noticing her paws were dirty. She stepped on the robot vacuum's head to clean them.

The system buzzed and beeped in Chu Tingwu's mind.

Chu Tingwu got up for lunch, lighting three incense sticks in front of her grandmother's portrait before eating.

The black-and-white portrait of the elderly woman smiled gently at her.

Chu Tingwu suddenly asked, "Do souls exist in this world?"

The system replied, "If you mean souls as humans perceive them, there's no evidence of their existence. However, there is a species in the cosmos that exists without a physical form, somewhat like a 'soul.'"

Chu Tingwu pondered, "But souls are considered unscientific, and being bound to a system sounds pretty unscientific too. Doesn't that indirectly prove the existence of souls?"

The system was startled.

The system: "I... I'm quite scientific..."

It hurriedly explained that it, too, was a product of technology, just far beyond what humanity currently understood. Thus, its existence couldn't be explained or replicated by current human science.

The system added, "Some systems, after raising their hosts to adulthood, hand over their core databases and go into hibernation at the host's request, as the host may not want to feel constantly monitored and lose their privacy."

However, the system couldn't detach from its host. Its programming dictated that separation would trigger self-destruction. Only upon the host's death would the system return to the main database with its data.

As for data transmission, the host didn't need to worry—data wasn't limited to physical transfer. The "network" of the cosmos was vast and varied.

When mentioning other systems going dormant, the system remained calm and indifferent. But when it brought up "host death," it hesitated slightly.

Even though its host, by human standards, was about to turn 18, both society and the system still considered her a "cub." Death seemed so distant, yet the data showed that even a healthy, strong cub with a long life ahead couldn't surpass the limits of mortality.

She was a unique human-cat hybrid, but ultimately, she was different from it—not a cold, theoretically immortal entity made of data.

To data, time was meaningless.

But raising a child changed that. Time seemed to stretch, yet thoughts of the "future" made it feel so short.

Chu Tingwu simply said, "Oh."

This question had lingered in her heart for a long time—about souls, about death. But even after getting an answer, she remained calm, merely following up with another question:

"Do you know about other systems' experiences?"

The system said, "Of course! Because after returning... to the main system database, we will exchange the difficulties and specific cases encountered in raising the host while ensuring their privacy. After completing the data exchange, we will make improvements."

Are they even gathering to attend parenting classes now?

Chu Tingwu suspected that her system might one day be publicly criticized—how could a system misidentify the host's species at the time of binding and then stubbornly stick to that mistake?

But the system added that Chu Tingwu, as a "human-cat," might be considered a unique and rare species living among humans, and they might even create a special section for raising such "cubs"...

Chu Tingwu: "That's completely unnecessary."

Just don't get fined, please.

Chu Tingwu: "How do we distinguish you then?"

The system: "One cub corresponds to one system. There's no need for distinction."

Chu Tingwu: "Oh."

The "cat" and the system continued to chat about the topic of death in front of the memorial portrait. By the afternoon, more people started sending messages and calling Chu Tingwu.

They were all guessing that she might be busy the next day, so they sent their birthday wishes a day early.

After all, it was her eighteenth birthday. Surely, she would gather friends and family, cut a six-tier cake, or spend the whole day at an amusement park, right?

Chu Tingwu: "Hmm... I don't have such plans, but I do have an appointment tomorrow."

The Chu family had asked if she wanted to celebrate her birthday in Qihe City, as it was her coming-of-age day. However, Chu Tingwu said she wanted to return to Luofeng City to pay respects to her ancestors, so they dropped the idea. Instead, they sent her red envelopes and private messages with birthday wishes.

At midnight, even more people sent her birthday greetings, especially her peers, who seemed to enjoy doing this. As for gifts, some were still on the way, while others had already been received in Jincheng.

Chu Tingwu replied to each message one by one, then sent a separate reply to one particular message before heading to the storage room to fetch a tablecloth.

She draped the tablecloth over the round table and, on the early morning of her birthday, March 3rd, began cleaning her old family home.

The system could indeed help with cleaning, but it didn't know the original layout before it arrived—not just the tablecloth, but also the position of the shoe cabinet, the small details of the room's arrangement, and even the flowers on the rooftop.

Although the room was regularly cleaned, some of the flowers on the second floor had withered. Before returning home, Chu Tingwu had called to ask about this, as the person responsible for cleaning wasn't skilled at gardening. Without regular watering and pest control, the flower beds had become quite messy.

But now, the flowers were blooming beautifully.

Under the moonlight and the distant streetlights, they emitted a soft, glowing light.

Chu Tingwu: "...Where did they bury the projection equipment?"

Indeed, these "flowers" were incredibly realistic virtual projections. To make them look natural, several devices had been buried underground, only to be used for this one day. Digging them up afterward would likely render them useless.

Three-Five-Five, who had followed her up to the second floor, turned her head away in disdain. With her level of intelligence and time spent on the ranch, she could now tell that these projections were "fake," whether they moved or not, or even if they swayed slightly in the wind, pretending to be alive.

But the mother cat chose not to expose this.

Because the cub was smiling with a mix of helplessness and joy.

Chu ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌‍Tingwu had declined the idea of a birthday party and told the system not to send any gifts. If it really wanted to give something, it could just order a box of sparklers online. She hadn't lit any during the New Year, so this would make up for it.

Holding the sparklers as they sizzled and emitted flickering light, the system "lectured" Chu Tingwu, saying that although she was legally an adult by human standards, she was still a "kitten" in its eyes. Chu Tingwu had long known how the system defined "kitten"—even if she were on the verge of death, the system would still call her a kitten.

A mature system would always see its cub as a cub.

But Chu Tingwu wanted to tell the system: Being an adult in human society had its benefits.

The next morning, she waited for the person she wanted to see. Her former stepmother, Jian Ling, arrived in Luofeng City with her half-sister, Jian Muxi. Chu Tingwu and Jian Ling were on the same household registration, and Jian Ling had come on Chu Tingwu's birthday to help with some paperwork.

Jian Ling also brought Chu Tingwu a necklace as a birthday gift.

The two parties went through the procedures amicably, and Chu Tingwu received her household registration booklet, which now only had her name on it.

At eighteen, she was legally an adult and could have her own household registration.

At this point, the system still didn't realize what this had to do with it.

It wasn't until Chu Tingwu bid farewell to Aunt Jian and her daughter, returned home, and knelt in front of her ancestor's memorial portrait with pen and paper:

"If there are no souls in this world, then so be it."

"But I still hope that you, ancestor, can hear this. If you're here, you would definitely listen carefully."

"This is my household registration booklet. Human registries don't recognize cats or systems as family members, but I don't care if others acknowledge it. I just want to show it to those who matter to me—"

She took out a freshly refilled pen and showed it to the portrait:

"If you, ancestor, don't agree, then let this pen refuse to write."

The system: There are no ghosts in this world... If the pen doesn't write, it's just a problem with the pen itself... Wait, no!

Chu Tingwu began writing Three-Five-Five's name, gender, date of birth, ethnicity, and place of origin on the household registration booklet.

Household booklets are strictly prohibited from being altered, but she wasn't planning to use it officially. This was more of a symbolic gesture. Three-Five-Five lay beside her, somewhat confused but didn't leave.

Finally, in the "Relationship to Head of Household" column, Chu Tingwu steadily and slowly wrote "Mother."

Then, she turned to a new page, filled in the same birthplace as hers, and under the "Ethnicity" column, wrote "Nanny-type Cub Raising System A7." In the "Gender" column, she wrote "System," and then said:

"To you, names might be meaningless, because systems don't need to distinguish between each other. Your existence is different from human understanding. But even without names, cats can distinguish individuals through pheromones and appearance... I only know one system, and maybe I won't encounter others in the future. Still, I want you to be unique among systems."

"What should I call you?"

The system: "..."

At this moment, it could think of many "names," but none of them came from its programming. It couldn't think of what it should be called. It could sense the cub's anticipation, but in the end, it decided to return that anticipation to the cub.

"You can give me a name!"

After saying this, the system began to "anticipate."

It anticipated for the time it would take a supercomputer to perform 360 million calculations and decided to store these calculations, even if it still couldn't fully describe the experience. But some things didn't need to be described.

The system suddenly understood the meaning of "extreme sports" in the cub's mind. Experiencing it firsthand was the most important part of such activities.

Chu Tingwu: "Then... Phoenix."

The system's apparent identity was abroad, and it had always hinted that it couldn't appear in person due to both physical and nationality reasons.

Phoenix.

Three years ago, a phoenix had landed here.