The mechanical voice continued coldly, "If five million were enough to unlock all the functions of this PS, then this PS would be running a charity."
An Ting snapped, "And that's exactly why there are so many pirated versions, you piece of trash."
"That is precisely why you have been bound to this PS," it replied. "This PS is not trash like you."
An Ting was instantly furious. She jabbed at the grayed-out icons on the interface and demanded, "Then tell me—how am I supposed to remove Ye Qianqian's filter when you only unlocked the basic panel? I can't even open Camera Raw! What am I supposed to do, fight her with the Pen Tool? Erase her face pixel by pixel?"
"If it were that simple," the mechanical voice said calmly, "I would not have chosen someone as capable as you."
An Ting paused. "…That's true."
Then she reacted. "No, that's not the point! The point is that you scammed me out of five million, and now you're still asking me to keep feeding you money!"
She started counting on her fingers. "If I want to unlock more features, I need another upgrade. And that means another five million. So tell me—where exactly am I supposed to get another five million for you?"
"Please remain calm," the voice said. "The next upgrade will not cost five million."
An Ting's eyes lit up.
"It will cost ten million."
She took a deep breath, grabbed a tissue from the table, and hurled it straight at the desk like it was the PS's face.
The system fell silent, graciously giving her time to cool off.
An Ting sat cross-legged on the chair, sulking for a long while. She pulled her car keys and apartment keys out of her bag, stared at them, then shoved them back in with a frustrated sigh.
The apartment was still in Song Qian's name. The car too. She couldn't sell either.
Once the shock of losing five million yuan wore off, she finally calmed down and stared at the interface. "So… what happens after I finish your task?"
"You will remain in this world," the PS replied. "And before I leave, I will grant you one final benefit."
That was at least some comfort.
That five million hadn't originally belonged to her anyway. If nothing else, it had unlocked the most basic functions. Otherwise, she'd still be slaving away trying to earn it from scratch.
"So what exactly do I need to do?"
"As you have seen," the system explained, "whenever Ye Qianqian uses the admiration buff on a man, you will be able to see the filter applied to him as long as you are within five centimeters of his body. Your task is to use this PS to modify or remove the filter until the effect is neutralized."
An Ting stared blankly. "You make it sound easy, but I only have basic tools."
"Please figure it out on your own."
An Ting: "…"
Perhaps sensing her rage, the PS added, "Do not worry. The current level of the admiration buff is limited. Its influence weakens significantly once Ye Qianqian leaves the target's line of sight or gets too far away."
An Ting froze, recalling how Song Qian had suddenly sobered up after leaving the café.
So that was why.
"But you're saying it'll get stronger later?"
"Yes. Each time the buff successfully controls a man, its strength increases by one point. Each time you break its control, it decreases by one point. Once it weakens enough, I will implant a Trojan virus and destroy it completely."
Before An Ting could fully process this, the dormitory door opened.
Several girls entered, laughing and chatting, dressed brightly and fashionably. When they noticed An Ting inside, their voices abruptly died down. They exchanged glances, then quietly returned to their seats.
The atmosphere instantly turned awkward.
An Ting noticed, of course.
The original owner of this body hadn't been sociable. She was rarely in the dorm due to part-time jobs and never really fit in. Most students in the music department came from wealthy families and spent their time shopping, dining out, and posting luxury hauls. The original owner couldn't afford that lifestyle, so she was gradually excluded.
Over time, aside from coworkers from her part-time jobs, she had almost no friends.
Her classmates didn't know her. Even her roommates barely noticed her existence.
After it came out that she had been dating Song Qian, the looks she received only became stranger.
After all, Song Qian was a campus legend.
Handsome, wealthy, and untouchable. His father had donated the school's most expensive music building and even secured a private parking space for teachers. Every morning, students would stop to stare at the bright red Maserati parked arrogantly among rows of Volkswagens and Audis.
At C University, art students lived in a completely different financial world. While regular students were buying two-hundred-yuan dresses online, art students were debating which designer brand looked best—where even a plain T-shirt cost over a thousand yuan.
Song Qian, from the School of Economics, was the undisputed richest student on campus.
So when someone like him dated someone like the original owner, attention exploded—envy, jealousy, disdain, and disbelief all mixed together.
Even her roommates couldn't hide their subtle hostility.
They considered themselves superior in every way except appearance. And since the original owner was prettier, resentment naturally followed.
After nearly a year of dating, the gossip cooled. Once Song Qian dumped her, people lost interest entirely. Her roommates were indifferent. If she missed class, they might not even remember to tell her.
An Ting flipped through those memories and felt relieved.
At least none of these people mattered.
Soon, the dorm filled with chatter again as the girls tried on their new clothes, discussing outfits enthusiastically.
An Ting glanced over—and immediately felt like a lemon soaked in vinegar.
Those Miu Miu handbags? Over ten thousand yuan each.
If they were this rich, why were they still living in dorms?!
No wonder the original owner became quieter and quieter.
If it were An Ting, she'd be throwing lemons at everyone.
She remembered the original owner's wardrobe—mostly plain dresses, T-shirts, and shorts, with a few mid-range luxury items bought only to save face when going out with Song Qian.
The five-million check had already been cashed by the PS through unknown means. After deducting the recharge, twenty thousand remained in her account. Combined with the original owner's four thousand savings, she now had a total of twenty-four thousand yuan.
Some people are alive but have no money.
Some people are dead… and still have no money.
An Ting wiped her tears and started thinking seriously about how to make money. After all, she was now raising a Photoshop.
In her previous life, Photoshop fed her.
In this life, she had to feed Photoshop.
Everyone carries debt in life.
Just then, a WeChat message popped up.
Sun Yiling: Remember to be on time for the recording this afternoon.
An Ting paused. Who?
After searching her memory, she remembered.
Sun Yiling was another campus heavyweight.
His father was the principal of C University. His mother was a famous local TV variety show director. A third-year media student, he was also the head of the campus TV station. The accounts he ran on Douyin, Bilibili, Weibo, and WeChat all had massive followings, with viral videos coming out regularly.
Thanks to his work, C University's publicity and enrollment rates were far higher than other schools.
With recruitment season approaching, Sun Yiling was busy directing the school's promotional video.
The original owner had been recruited into the broadcasting department for her pleasant voice and was responsible for some of the recording.
The recording time was 3 PM.
An Ting checked the clock.
2:30 PM.
She quickly replied.
An Ting: Okay. Have you left yet? If not, wait for me—I'll be right out.
She changed into a simple shirt and white shorts, tied her hair into a loose high ponytail, and added a bit of lipstick.
The original owner was undeniably beautiful—more so than Ye Qianqian. The difference was temperament. Where the original owner was pure and melancholic, An Ting carried blind confidence.
A different soul made all the difference.
She left the dorm without anyone noticing.
Only after the door closed did one girl glance at her back.
"What's she doing?"
Another replied lazily, "Probably going to a part-time job."
"She's dating Song Qian. He could feed her for half a year with pocket change. Why would she need to work?"
"Maybe she just likes pretending to be innocent. If Song Qian goes to a café, is he going to introduce the waitress as his girlfriend?"
Soft laughter rippled through the room.
"She might become Mrs. Song one day."
"Do you believe that?"
More laughter followed.
Who would believe that?
Certainly not them.