Lu Ye was a low-level operations worker at a major tech company, with a desk beside the fire exit.
His mother was gravely ill and had surgery scheduled for the following week. The cost was the only reason he'd kept swallowing his pride, until his boss flung a proposal in his face and said, “You're nothing but a dog.”
The System awakened. Three choices: A, kneel and apologize; B, fight back on the spot; C, grin, say “Woof,” and walk away.
Everyone thought choosing C was just a joke. But as he turned to leave, he played a recording of his boss taking kickbacks. He'd held on to the evidence for three months, too afraid to use it.
The System didn't change him. It simply gave him the courage to do what he'd wanted to do all along.
But the System had a strange pattern: option A, which was obviously profitable, was never the right choice; option B, which promised disastrous losses, always had a trick up its sleeve; and the most outrageous option C paid the bigger the reward, the crazier it was.
From then on, Lu Ye set off down the road of “always picking what the System doesn't recommend.”
Until he discovered the truth: the System wasn't a cheat ability sent from heaven. It was a cry for help, left by his future self before his fate was drained away. And those “sweet options” were part of an industry pipeline called “Fate Harvesting,” waiting for him to obediently walk right into it.
“Don't pick the easiest option.” That was the first warning he'd left for himself.
