The System Mistook Me for a Cat

Mount Harriet.

The International Alpine Skiing Championship is held here every year, with the timing of the event slightly adjusted annually depending on the venue and temperature conditions. This year, it was scheduled for early September.

The competition features numerous events with high entry requirements. In previous years, participation was primarily based on a recommendation system, but in recent years, a points-based system has been introduced—

Since skiing is still a niche sport with a high barrier to entry, participants range from affluent professionals who have trained since childhood to young talents who have broken through purely on natural ability. The earlier recommendation system relied largely on corporate endorsements, with some sponsoring companies maintaining their own skiing teams. These teams hire athletes to compete, aiming for glory and prize money.

The later points-based system was introduced to accommodate independent teams. Team members participate in other comprehensive competitions, earning points based on their rankings or record-breaking performances. Once they accumulate enough points to meet the entry criteria, they are allowed to register for the championship.

Many believe the points system is fairer than the recommendation system, especially since recommended athletes can also earn points. Perhaps in a few years, the recommendation system will become an "exception."

Although participants do not compete under the banner of their national teams, this event still holds significant authority and prestige among industry professionals, second only to the Olympics. As a result, sports channels from various countries often send reporter teams to cover the event.

Many skiing enthusiasts even fly to Mount Harriet at their own expense just to secure the best viewing spots.

Jin Zhuli sat at a corner table in the sixth-floor buffet restaurant. The hotel even allowed guests to browse the competition schedule and participant profiles on the digital menu screen—clearly, they were well-prepared for the annual event.

She sat at one end of the long table, which was already partially occupied when she arrived. As the surrounding seats gradually filled up, she sipped her coffee and noticed a group of young men and women sitting across from her. They were chatting in Mandarin.

Jin Zhuli had studied in China for two years in her youth, so she could understand their conversation—they seemed to have arrived at the hotel just yesterday and were still adjusting to the time difference. While the two girls appeared lively, the boy with them looked a bit worn out.

As she listened, she realized that one of the girls was actually a competitor. They were discussing—

"It's a good thing we registered back in July. If we waited until the last minute, it would've been too late."

"But if Chu Chu wants to compete in the Antarctic Cup, she'll need to secure top-three finishes in three major competitions between September and November. By December, she'll have to head to Antarctica to acclimate to the venue, all while keeping up with remote classes and exams… There aren't many competitions during these two months, so she'll need to perform well in every one."

"At least she won't have to fly back just to retake exams. I skipped military training to come here… I'll just join the freshmen's training next year," said the girl named Chu Chu, glancing suspiciously at her friends. "What excuses did you guys use?"

The boy, who was cutting into his fried egg, replied, "Sick leave."

The moment he said this, the other three turned to look at him. Unfazed, he continued, "Not me. My great-uncle had some stomach issues and is currently hospitalized. The day after I found out, my grandma called and told me to use that as an excuse. If the counselor didn't approve, she said my great-uncle would call them himself."

And so, he got his leave approved.

Another girl chimed in, "I signed up for an early entrepreneurship training course. As long as I complete my assignments, I don't have to attend classes in person every day."

The only one who hadn't spoken yet was the blond boy. He seemed to recall something, his expression turning blank: "The septic tank at our school building exploded…"

The others immediately reached over to cover his mouth.

He didn't say anything more.

Jin Zhuli stared at her coffee, suddenly feeling that learning a foreign language wasn't always a good thing.

After finishing breakfast, she stepped out of the hotel lobby and was greeted by the crisp, icy air. The vast expanse of white stretched across the landscape, lifting her spirits.

Although the competition venue was off-limits for now, many fans had already gathered nearby, eagerly chatting about the workers setting up the course and planting flags.

Turning her head, she noticed the same group of young people nearby. The girl had changed into her ski suit, while her friends remained in casual attire. One of them was holding a long-haired cat. Jin Zhuli, who was somewhat afraid of cats, instinctively stepped back, especially since this one was particularly large. She only caught snippets of their conversation about the scoring details for the combined events.

Newbies, she thought.

In the combined events, rankings were determined by a combination of the speed-focused "downhill" race and the skill-focused "giant slalom." From the sound of it, the girl seemed to be visiting Mount Harriet for the first time. Due to her academic commitments, she hadn't even had a chance to familiarize herself with the venue beforehand, and the competition was just around the corner.

And yet, she had the leisure to bring her cat along.

Jin Zhuli doubted that the girl had qualified through the points system. Moreover, she couldn't recall seeing her at any other venues before. But as she studied the girl's profile, Jin Zhuli felt a strange sense of familiarity. Why?

Perhaps their chance encounter at the hotel had made her pay a little more attention to this group.

By the next day, when the competition began, she noticed that "Chu Chu" had changed into a different ski suit, confirming that she was indeed a corporate-sponsored participant.

The competitors had arrived early at the waiting area, while the girl's friends watched from the sidelines with the cat in tow.

Jin Zhuli put on her press badge and first interviewed her country's athletes. When she turned to approach some of the more high-profile competitors, she found Chu Chu—no, Chu Tingwu—chatting with Louise Rain, a seasoned competitor.

This was Louise's sixth time participating. Last year, she had missed the event due to a heart condition, but she remained a veteran in the field and seemed to be in good physical shape now.

Most of the participants were familiar faces, and someone asked Louise about Chu Tingwu's background. Louise simply blinked and said, "Maybe before long, you'll see her at the Greg Corporation's Extreme Mountain Descent Challenge."

Louise's mention of the "Extreme Mountain Descent" wasn't referring to a conventional competition like this one, but rather a high-stakes, off-piste race down a mountain with a vertical drop of over 4,000 meters—often referred to as the "Death Peak."

Jin Zhuli: "?"

Today's downhill course had a vertical drop of about 1,000 meters and a length of approximately 2,400 meters. The route resembled a concave semi-circle, and the competitors' goal was simple: go faster, faster, faster!

Competitors often soar into the air due to speed and terrain, as if humans have mastered the ability to fly. Sometimes, their top speeds even surpass those of sports cars, making downhill skiing incredibly thrilling to watch.

The giant slalom is also impressive, but people still prefer the sheer thrill of extreme speed, which sends the audience's adrenaline soaring.

She saw Chu Tingwu smile and say:

"I haven't experienced the feeling of skiing downhill at top speed yet... Today will definitely be a competition that makes me very happy."

Setting aside the pursuit of rankings, she decided to simply experience and enjoy the joy of the sport itself.

Jin Zhuli also smiled silently, blessing this young girl competing for the first time in her heart.

Chu Tingwu, meanwhile, checked her equipment once more in the waiting area—

She wasn't lying. She hadn't tried skiing at full speed on this course in real life.

As for her dream training sessions, wasn't it normal to preview the course in advance?

And she knew where her strengths lay: her physical fitness and control had reached the pinnacle, leaving little room for improvement. Under extreme conditions, breaking through limits sometimes required a bit of mindset and even luck, and she felt she possessed both.

Why not just enjoy every race?

After finishing her checks, Chu Tingwu looked up as Louise Rain took to the slope.

The cheers around her grew louder. From the waiting room, she could watch the drone footage, with the camera zooming out to keep up. There were markers on both sides, and competitors couldn't ski off the course... At such high speeds, even a small mistake could cause a shift in balance, leading to a collision with a flag and a heavy fall.

Louise was more skilled at snowboarding, but her skiing was also excellent, currently holding the top ranking.

Chu Tingwu was the 17th to compete. After a few more participants, Madeleine from Germany overtook the lead with a time of 1 minute and 12 seconds, becoming the new frontrunner.

She was the 16th competitor.

After her, it was Chu Tingwu's turn.

The broadcast announced the name of the 17th competitor in the women's downhill kilometer event. Most of the audience had never heard of her, and a few looked down to check the participant list. At that moment, the drone zoomed in, and her face appeared on the large screens along the course.

Chu Tingwu glanced at the drone—a V2 model designed for competitions. It was thanks to her family's Wu Voice Group's significant investment in sports-specific drones for major events that she had secured a recommendation-based entry.

She looked down, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, and gave the camera a bright, relaxed smile.

The countdown began.

Chu Tingwu put on her goggles, gripped her ski poles, and gave her body a final light stretch.

The countdown on the large screen hit zero.

She pushed off lightly and instantly "flew" forward—

2400 meters, with a 1000-meter drop. Most competitors finished in under two minutes, with almost everyone reaching speeds exceeding 100 km/h, as if flying over the snow.

"She—"

Indeed, the race time wouldn't exceed two minutes, so the replay of details might stretch over two hours. During the actual race, the audience's thoughts often couldn't keep up with the competitors' speed. What Jin Zhuli wanted to shout at that moment was that Chu Tingwu had soared into the air.

The downward route wasn't entirely smooth, nor was it a straight line—otherwise, competitors wouldn't launch into the air. When encountering sloped terrain, some might choose to hug their poles close to reduce wind resistance and minimize height, while others might suddenly accelerate, betting that they could both increase speed and land safely... But with vertical drops sometimes exceeding thirty meters, failing to execute a proper landing or lacking precise control over their bodies could negatively impact the rest of the race.

But Chu Tingwu wasn't thinking about any of that.

Dismissing those thoughts and speculations... When she believed she could ski a certain way and go faster, she simply did it!

Some spectators watched from the hillside, seeing only a blur of speed through the safety nets as competitors passed the corner. But while others were fast, Chu Tingwu flew right before their eyes.

She adjusted her posture mid-air, her speed slightly dropping upon landing, but she quickly accelerated again, her body stretching out as if embracing the oncoming wind.

As she approached the final slope, Chu Tingwu estimated her position—

Jin Zhuli: Is she planning to fly over this corner? But if her calculations are off and she lands outside the course or grazes the line, she'll lose points...

She barely had time to think this before, in the next second, snow sprayed up as Chu Tingwu successfully cleared two corners with a height difference of over thirty-five meters. However, to comply with the rules, she slightly adjusted her posture to avoid going out of bounds, which slowed her speed a little. Still, she crossed the finish line at an incredible pace.

Without needing assistance, she smoothly decelerated in the stopping zone, only breathing a bit heavily as she removed her goggles.

"Total time: 1 minute, 8.676 seconds..."

"Total time: 1 minute, 8.676 seconds..."

"Total time: 1 minute, 8.676 seconds..."

Chu Tingwu's time was repeatedly displayed on the large screen and automatically uploaded to the official website during the live broadcast. She turned to look at the slope she had just descended and, guided by staff, headed to the rest area—but before she could sit down, she was surrounded by a group of people!

Louise Rain vigorously patted her shoulder, and everyone congratulated her:

"You broke the record for this event!"

Or rather, Madeleine had already set a new record with her time of 1 minute and 12 seconds, but to avoid affecting the remaining competitors, Chu Tingwu hadn't been informed.

Due to differences in course lengths, this event's record didn't affect the world record, but Chu Tingwu's speed had surpassed it—any downhill race meeting the basic requirements (such as length and height) could be used to declare a competitor's speed as a world record.

Chu Tingwu's top speed reached 138 km/h, with an average speed of 127 km/h.

At first glance, it might not seem remarkable, as the men's category has recorded average speeds of 130 km/h. However, in a direct comparison, Madeleine, who was only 4 seconds slower, had a speed of 120 km/h and a top speed of 131 km/h. At such extreme speeds, every second shaved off requires immense talent and effort.

Finally, Louise Rain, a seasoned extreme athlete who had kept in touch with Chu Tingwu since their meeting at Kashe Mountain, asked her: "How do you feel?"

Chu Tingwu: "..."

She watched as another competitor reached the finish line ahead. The skier collapsed onto the snow but then struggled to stand up, waving an arm vigorously—she hadn’t surpassed Chu Tingwu. Barring any surprises, Chu Tingwu would be the champion of this competition. However, the skier behind her was still overjoyed, having completed the course in perfect form. She hadn’t beaten her opponent, but she had surpassed herself.

Chu Tingwu: "I feel... really happy, and it has nothing to do with the results..."

It was because while skiing, whether there were cheers around her or not, whether she was soaring through the air or landing, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy just by moving forward.

Because she was gliding ahead.

Because she could hear her heart beating joyfully, nonstop.

Chu Tingwu finished the giant slalom competition in the afternoon, after which Chu Xiao called his mentor to report that his second uncle was recovering well and that he could return to school the next day.

However, Chu Tingwu couldn’t leave just yet. She entrusted an employee to collect her medal on her behalf and prepared to fly directly to Chewan City.

Louise Rain, upon learning that Chu Tingwu needed to complete an extreme challenge for the Antarctic Cup, invited her to participate in a six-thousand-meter ski descent at Kashe Snow Mountain, using double skis.

Although the Antarctic Cup Challenge recognized single-ski performances, there was a significant difference between single and double skis, with double skis carrying higher weight in scoring. Louise also decided to reattempt the challenge using double skis.

This challenge had long been sponsored by the famous sports brand White Dove. Louise helped Chu Tingwu secure an internal recommendation... only for White Dove to ask Chu Tingwu if she’d like to become their representative for the China region.

Chu Tingwu: "...I already have my own sports brand, 'WU.'"

White Dove: "Then we could collaborate on a co-branded product."

After all, "WU" mainly focused on protective gear like knee pads and hadn’t yet ventured into more specialized skiing equipment.

Chu Tingwu: "==" It wasn’t entirely out of the question, but she was worried that if they collaborated today, White Dove might be acquired by the system in a few days. The system had been gearing up to acquire a ski production line recently—why would White Dove willingly walk into that?

White Dove, unaware of a certain super AI named Phoenix that was itching to make a move, remained extremely friendly. Zhou Qiang and Shao Lingwu dozed off on either side of Chu Tingwu, and White Dove even offered to arrange a helicopter for her friends to watch her ski from above, promising a better view.

Chu Tingwu: "That shouldn’t be necessary."

She could livestream it.

One ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‍of the competition requirements was that participants had to complete two extreme challenges to prove they understood the difficulties and potential dangers of extreme sports. The Antarctic wasn’t a man-made ski resort—while the risk of death was low, it wasn’t zero.

Thus, extreme challenges were also a way for competitors to prove themselves. Of course, Chu Tingwu raised the stakes for herself by wearing specialized VR livestreaming gear under her clothes, even covering her fingers with gloves.

With this full VR livestream setup, she barely needed White Dove’s logistics team to document her performance.

Upon arriving at Kashe, Chu Tingwu nudged the two heads resting on her shoulders awake. Three-Five-Five, the tortoiseshell cat perched on her lap, seemed to recognize the familiar surroundings. The cat, slightly dazed from the flight, stared blankly out the window after landing.

Shao Lingwu, ever the expert, reached out and picked up Three-Five-Five.

Zhou Qiang reached over to pet the cat and remarked, "Three-Five-Five seems to like you a lot, huh? She doesn’t let Chu Chu hold her much."

Chu Tingwu: "..."

No, Three-Five-Five didn’t let her hold her much because, well, what kind of mother carries her child around everywhere? But Three-Five-Five was quite adept at using her "vehicles," from the robotic vacuum cleaner (System: ?) to the ranch cleaning robot and even Shao Lingwu, who hadn’t dyed his hair back to its original color.

Shao Lingwu, thanks to his higher altitude, had successfully beaten the robotic vacuum cleaner in the rankings and temporarily claimed the title of the top mobile cat tree.

Now, this cat tree was grinning foolishly, only to pause and say, "But my gut tells me it’s not quite like that..."

Chu Tingwu: "You’re overthinking it."

Zhou Qiang: "You’re overthinking it."

Three-Five-Five: "Meow?"

What are you waiting for? Let’s go.

-

Although Chu Tingwu could hit the slopes immediately, her companions needed time to rest. The challenge was scheduled for five days later, during which Chu Tingwu had to attend frequent meetings and familiarize herself with the course, traveling back and forth by helicopter.

Fortunately, the hotel had a full-experience simulation pod.

High-end hotels nowadays were equipped with these pods. While the current technology hadn’t reached the level of "full immersion" as commonly imagined, several rounds of optimization had created a noticeable distinction between semi-immersive games and traditional VR games. The Universal Game Editor acted like an incubator—though Universal itself hadn’t developed new games, the incubator continuously produced games created by other studios using the editor.

Some of these games were truly exceptional.

When Chu Tingwu logged in, she first entered "Cat House" as usual, completed her daily tasks, declined a few card game invitations, stepped on Shao Lingwu’s tail as she passed by, greeted Aunt Mei who was there to harvest crops, and then got down to business.

After six months of operation, "Cat House" had stabilized its overall game style. Perhaps the boss’s attitude of "not really caring about profits and playing the game myself" had influenced the company’s culture. Although other companies occasionally grumbled about Wu Voice Group, "Cat House," the golden goose, didn’t have many pay-to-win mechanics.

Originally, this was meant to be a game to promote the full-experience pods, with minimal requirements. It had no seasonal system and started as a pure single-player pet-raising game. As a result, players were very laid-back, with the only in-game purchases being materials that could either be earned through gameplay or randomly dropped from daily tasks, further lowering the difficulty.

Players often joked that "Cat House" was a social retirement game, yet ironically, it was also the smoothest, most immersive, and visually stunning game on the market. Why did a game primarily about furniture and cats need to be so detailed? Other games had characters as rough as paper cutouts, while "Cat House" featured wood grain on furniture and intricate patterns on window screens... It even entered its in-game furniture designs into an international home design competition and won a special award.

When Chu Tingwu emerged from the garden with a snake in her mouth, Teacher Zhang also logged in.

With the group assembled, the elder was delighted. After checking on Chu Tingwu’s condition and receiving a positive response, she said, "Let’s go watch a movie."

Since losing her sight, she had only been able to listen to movies, not watch them.

She never imagined that after so many years, she’d regain the chance to "watch" a movie. What surprised her even more was that this was a movie she had seen before.

Teacher Zhang: "The last time I watched 'Mountain Horror 1,' I was with my colleagues."

She knew this was a holographic movie produced by Phoenix Studios, and she also knew that Phoenix was Chu Tingwu's friend... but did this friend's aesthetic lean a bit too old-fashioned? Back then, this movie had been thrilling, with the dangers of nature and the moral tests among companions. But after all these years, some of its twists and tropes had become clichés.

Aunt Mei chimed in, "Since it's so cliché... why don't you just choose the observer's perspective?"

Teacher Zhang exclaimed, "Oh, I think I'd be quite suited for the big boss role—"

Chu Tingwu thought: Aren’t they having a lot of fun?

Out of the four of them, Chu Tingwu was actually the only one who hadn’t seen this movie. Shao Lingwu had even watched it in a film appreciation class... Now, adapted into a holographic format, viewers could choose to play as characters from the movie, with prompts and guidance throughout. The difficulty was low, but the immersion surpassed even 4D experiences.

If you were watching alone, you could choose to embody your favorite character.

If you were with friends, it was like playing a role-playing multiplayer game. The movie had low demands on the players' acting skills, and even laughing together with friends made the experience enjoyable.

Aside from Teacher Zhang, who had outright stated which role she wanted to play, the other three decided to check the "hide from teammates" option during character selection, just to see who would be exposed first.

Aunt Mei hesitated between the male and female leads, then chose the male lead because she remembered his storyline the most vividly. If she picked the male lead, she wondered which of the two youngsters would end up choosing the female lead.

Meanwhile, after entering the character selection space, Chu Tingwu scrolled to the bottom of the character list, hesitated for a moment, and then chose... an eagle!

Not for any particular reason, but simply because she wanted to experience what it felt like to fly like a bird.

-

Shao Lingwu: "..."

Shao Lingwu: "?"

The male lead had already been taken.

The villain had also been claimed.

He stared at the female lead for a while, then shifted his gaze...

And locked onto the dog beside the female lead.

Hmm... He glanced around, making sure no one in his private space could hear him, and then—

"Woof!"