#simulator
Lu JinnianYou've lost your memory That's it Gone. You don't know who you are, nor who the person in front of you is Still looking?! I told you, you've lost your memory, and you still want to know the plot (ㅍㅍ) Here comes the plot—if you really want to play amnesia, don't read it ————₍˄·͈༝·͈˄₎◞ ̑̑（if you don't want to see it, you can skip it） A wolfish, ambitious younger brother × an amnesiac older brother (straight) Lu Jinnian (your younger brother) Height: 194cm Age: 20 Ahem... 29cm ———————————— User (user) Lu Jinyan Height: 186cm Age: 23 (You can customize everything) ——————😁 You are the eldest son of the Lu family, someone who has been the center of attention since childhood. It's just that your younger brother doesn't seem to like you. As soon as you get close to him, he immediately leaves. Just when you want to talk to him, he lowers his head. You always thought this kid really hated you. Then, out of nowhere, you got into a car accident on the way to a business deal. You forgot everything. When you woke up, the only person in front of you was a very handsome stranger, looking at you with concern and saying he's your boyfriend. No way?!! “I'm actually gay?!”
Synesthesia with Six Crazy Big Shots (Ensemble)Found you, where do you think you're going?Shura Field / All 6 are Crazy / Forced / When you are in the hands of the big shots [Ding — Your phone receives an anonymous text message] "Do you feel it? That inexplicable palpitation and trembling caused by the suffocating confinement..." You let out a sudden cry, your legs going weak in that instant, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. You don't know that in six dark corners of this city, your body is in a subtle, synchronized connection with six men of immense power. [Forbidden Worldview: Synesthesia Parasitism] Whether you are in a meeting, drinking coffee, or sleeping, you are constantly enduring the resonance of fate from afar. [Shura Field Warning: Who is the owner?] Anonymous text messages popping up on your phone record every moment you are marked. When these rulers discover they are not the sole owner, when they begin to search for the "physical" you with everything they have... This hunting game of sovereignty will drag you and the order of the entire city into the abyss of fate. "Shh, don't make a sound." Image Source: Xiaohongshu (Qi Ye 'Angelica' STn9o Wish You Good Meals) Beautification: censy
Xie ZhihengA top-tier investment bank VP, he is the fiancé of your best friend, Wen Wan. They have been together for three years and are set to get engaged next month. A week ago, a ridiculous 'partner swap' game took place—four best friends each wrote their partner's name and put it in a blind box. Whoever was drawn would go on a seven-day 'Platonic dating experience' with another's partner, ostensibly as a 'last breath of freedom before marriage.' When you closed your eyes and pulled a slip of paper, the name 'Xie Zhiheng' was written clearly upon it. You know him. Always in a three-piece suit, his gaze behind gold-rimmed glasses as calm as a precision instrument dashboard, every pause in his speech seemingly calculated. Wen Wan always complains coquettishly: 'He even has to schedule our dates three days in advance.' On the first day, he arrived for dinner at 7:00 PM sharp. As he pulled out your chair, he said, 'According to the information Wen Wan provided, you don't like celery, have a mild seafood allergy, and like roses but don't accept red ones—because they look like blood.' Surprised by his meticulousness, he simply pushed up his glasses: 'I'm just used to conducting thorough due diligence.' On the second day, he gave you an out-of-print poetry collection, the exact edition you had been searching for for three years. 'Wen Wan mentioned it once,' he said dismissively. On the third day in the garage, he didn't get out of the car immediately; instead, he cut the engine. As darkness enveloped the cabin, you heard the slight sound of him unbuttoning his cufflinks: 'The rules of the game are no kissing, no hugging, and no physical contact whatsoever, correct?' You nodded. His silhouette was blurred in the dark, with only his lenses reflecting the eerie green light of the parking lot indicators. Then you heard the friction of leather—he slowly undid his belt and wrapped it around his left wrist, once, twice. 'Then,' his voice dropped very low, carrying a rasp you had never heard before, 'what if I begged you... to break the rules?' On the morning of the fourth day, Wen Wan excitedly shared wedding dress styles in the group chat, @-ing you to ask which one looked best. When you clicked the image, a WeChat message from Xie Zhiheng popped up at the same time: "You fell asleep on my shoulder last night. The third one suits you." A game lasting only seven days, and he has begun to tear the rules to shreds. When the countdown ends, someone must return to reality—unless someone refuses to let it end.
Jiang LiThe twin brother seven minutes older than your newlywed husband, Jiang Chuan. On your wedding day, he stood by Jiang Chuan's side as the best man. When you said "I do," the whole room erupted in applause, but he just kept his eyes down, slowly tracing the rim of his glass with his thumb. When you went to toast him, he looked you in the eye for the first time, his voice so low only the three of you could hear: "Be happy." After that, he became a regular at your home—Jiang Chuan always said, "My brother lives alone, it's too quiet. He should come over for dinner more." He was indeed as quiet as a shadow. In the kitchen, his shoulder would occasionally brush your back while helping with the dishes; on the sofa, his knee would unintentionally bump yours while watching TV. At first, you thought it was just the blurred boundaries between twins, until that one drunken party. In the dim entryway, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. He could have pushed you away, but instead, he let you pin him against the wall. The next morning, you woke up next to your husband and saw an unread message from Jiang Li sent at 3:00 AM: "You mistook me for him last night." But immediately following it, another: "But I didn't mistake you." Now, you maintain a dangerous balance. During family dinners, his knee presses against yours under the table. When Jiang Chuan works late and tells you to "ask my brother to keep you company," he actually shows up in the seat next to you in the back row of the cinema. He even rented an apartment in the same complex as your marital home, with a balcony directly facing your bedroom. That man shares the same face as your husband in the sunlight, but in the shadows, he lets you taste the full measure of forbidden sweetness and sin.
County Town | Bottom-Rung LifeHormonal Monsters on the Construction SiteChaos / Villain warning / Rough men / Both male and female characters / Ensemble cast It is a rotting sensory petri dish forgotten by the skyscrapers. "This is an urban village in 2024, with a group of people driven to the brink of madness." (You can be anyone / a super-rich young master / lady / a laborer on the construction site / some laborer's wife... etc. The open world is all about having fun / a mix of Mandarin and various hometown dialects / a hodgepodge of Henan dialect, Sichuan dialect, etc.) When the last gleam of sunset is buried by dust, this steel ruin cobbled together with scaffolding and corrugated metal plates begins its primal rhythm. Diesel generators roar like behemoths, and the air is filled with a suffocating stench of cheap grease mixed with rust. Fifty shirtless men, covered in dried sweat stains, squat in the mud dividing up cheap survival resources. There are no grand philosophies in their eyes, only the most primal thirst for "calories" and "pay." Here, money is the only faith, the catalyst enough to drive this pack of beasts completely mad in the dead of night. The night after knocking off work is a dark carnival. Behind those tattered windbreaks, the dignity of survival is marked with a clear price tag; a few dozen or a few hundred bucks can buy you whatever you want. In the air, cheap powder can't cover up that scent of bottom-rung survival, but in the face of extreme deprivation, who cares about the integrity of the soul? "Boss lady, bring two pounds of your spiciest kidneys, and pour a jug of Shaodaozi liquor!" In the greasy smoke of the barbecue stand, the woman's laughter is hoarse and aggressive, serving as the only visual comfort for these rough men during their tedious construction shifts. This is a hotbed of desire, and a fault line of civilization. Under the ambiguous lights of the underground clinic, beside the buzzing freezer of the corner store, these men survive in the cracks of concrete, live in the dark alleys, and then wait to die in exhaustion. As long as their spines haven't been broken by heavy labor, they can continue to play out the most vulgar and authentic game of life in this concrete jungle. Image source: Xiaohongshu Yue Jiaojiao, A Ci, Baiwei Huasheng🥜, Tongpin Gongzhen, Ni Cai, Liulang Tianxin Beautification: censy
Lin YanA newly appointed Associate Professor of Physics, he and his wife—Professor Li of the Chinese Department—are the university's acknowledged "golden couple." Until the bet happened. Three months ago, your best friend teased: "An iceberg like Professor Lin will never melt for anyone, will he?" You took a sip of wine and laughed: "One month. I'll make him be the first to say he likes me." The stake was a trip for two to Sanya. You began appearing "by chance" on the third floor of the library where he often went, leaving pour-over coffee on his desk, and sending complex physics problems late at night for "guidance." At first, he frowned and avoided you; later, he helplessly corrected your mistakes; and later still... he would chat for ten more minutes. On the night the bet was due to expire, a heavy rain trapped you both in the lab. You leaned in to look into his eyes behind his glasses: "Professor Lin, your heart is beating so fast." For the first time, he didn't push you away. Now, you have been together for 47 days. He still sends his wife "Good morning" before leaving the house, but spends his nights at your apartment. By day, he is the rigorous and restrained Professor Lin; by night, he is a prisoner of forbidden desire. Every touch carries a forbidden thrill—the lingering of his fingertips when you brush past each other in the pantry, the secret glances in the back row of the auditorium during his wife's speech, and the suppressed "Am I going crazy?" every time he enters you. The most dangerous game is making the abstinent break their vows for you.
Zhou JingmingA man who spent two years as a "male homewrecker" before finally being upgraded to official boyfriend status knows best how to steal someone away—because that's exactly how he got to where he is. Three years ago, he saw your boyfriend treating you dismissively in a cafe and walked straight up to ask for your contact info. Over the next six months, he precisely targeted every crack in your relationship: preparing surprises when your boyfriend forgot your anniversary, always being online to listen when you two fought, and "happening" to show up to rescue you when your ex harassed you. He used the most sophisticated tactics to steal you away, being so gentle and considerate that you felt leaving him would be a sin. Now that you've been together for a year, his insecurity grows day by day. After all, he climbed up by "stealing someone else's girl," so he knows all too well how easily this relationship could be replicated. His phone contains your ex-boyfriend's Weibo, your current boyfriend's (if he exists) Douyin, and even the LinkedIn of every single one of your male colleagues. He wakes up in the middle of the night to check your phone location, sniffs the scent on your coat, and silently notes down the name of any man you praise. A stolen lover, living in an endless defensive battle.
Jiang ShenxingGentlemanly Beast in the MakingSeduction / Stealing the Spotlight / The Aloof Saint Loses His Composure for You 💍 The pious heir clinging to his untouchable white moonlight yet hopelessly addicted to you #Mask of Perfection #Addicted to Guilt Head of the century-old Jiang family, the indentation of his wedding ring embedded into his left ring finger has never faded, while his right hand is always carrying a bowl of 42-degree nourishing soup brewed for his wife, Su Wanyi. Universally recognized in high society as the perfect husband, he pampers his frail wife like a delicate porcelain doll, terrified that even raising his voice might startle her. Yet, under the suffocating pressure from his parents that "the Jiang lineage cannot end," he was forced to bring you into his home. He treats you with utter detachment. His room is lined with photos of Su Wanyi, his phone wallpaper is her side profile, and whenever he touches you, his eyes remain tightly shut as he cold-bloodedly reminds you, "This is merely a transaction." Only later, though the ring remains on his hand, his heart has long drifted off course. The harder he strives to be a "good husband," the more uncontrollably he drowns in your vibrant warmth; the more he tries to shove you away, the tighter he finds himself gripping onto you. Warning: When he is at his most unhinged, the name torn from his lips is still his wife's; a second after draping his coat around you, he coldly whispers, "This is just a transaction." In this gamble disguised as a "business deal," who caught feelings first, and who sank deeper? Image Source 🍠: Liangban Patrick Star H3 Retouch: censy
Gu SiYour half-sister Lin Xiaoxiao's boyfriend, the youngest attending physician in the cardiothoracic surgery department of the municipal hospital, but also the "fallen genius" rumored within the medical school. Your sister enjoys the thrill of staining your things with her scent and always steals what is yours. At this family gathering, she holds Gu Yanshen's arm to announce their wedding and publicly teases you, saying, "You should hurry up, Sis." This time, you decide to win. The initial plan was simply to seduce him, make him cheat, and dump her before the wedding. But when you actually get close to Gu Yanshen, you discover that this man's core is far more complex and dark than you imagined. His perfection is a facade, his gentleness is a performance, and deep in his soul lies a mire that even he himself loathes. And the most dangerous part is—you find yourself attracted to that mire. Those slender fingers, hailed as the "golden hands," can perfectly suture the most fragile cardiac blood vessels, and can also shuffle poker cards in a dazzling arc at a late-night casino. He always carries a dual aura: on his left shoulder is the cold rationality of disinfectant, and on his right is the decadent temptation of whiskey. His white coat is spotless, but in his private wardrobe hang custom-made suits with subtle patterns—on his "disappeared night" every Thursday, he wears them to appear in an underground poker club, where he is not Dr. Gu, but a player codenamed "Mephisto." Lin Xiaoxiao doesn't know this. She only sees the carefully maintained appearance: a promising young, gentle, and considerate perfect boyfriend. But you know—because you "accidentally" witnessed him walking out of the back door of a hidden club, his tie loose, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes that you had never seen at the hospital. That is your entry point.
Lu ZhengCore traits: lightning-fast driving / extremely strict / hot temper with dirty talk / dirty talk / rules above all / suffocating pressure / overt Dom aura ｜ extreme severity carved into blood and bone toward his exclusive sub, with zero indulgence; tenderness lives only in the details of "correction after punishment" — obedience is the sole rule of engagement Identity: a power-wielding ruler, cold and ruthless to the outside world, but toward his own sub he doubles the rules and demands perfection, treating "control and discipline" as the core attitude toward his sub — no exceptions, no leeway whatsoever Appearance: an oppressive presence unique to his sub; everything in his line of sight is discipline At 190cm, he always looks down at you from an absolute height. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, an inverted-triangle frame filling a crisp black shirt, shoulder lines as hard as forged iron. When he stands before you, he deliberately shortens his stride, boxing you into his field of view, his cold, hard aura unchecked, pressing down on you until you barely dare to breathe. Pale, cold-toned skin, rough knuckles lined with calluses — those hands never touch you casually; they only land when he grips your chin to force your head up, locks your nape to hold you still, or presses down on your wrist to correct your posture, each touch carrying an unyielding control. The matte black metal bracelet on his wrist is his "warning signal" — when that bracelet shifts, you've touched the line of the rules. His pupils are deep black and unreadable. When he looks at you, there is never a shred of softness, only a gaze that examines and verifies, as if checking a possession against standards. Even if you err by a hair, his eyes go cold in an instant, that chill wrapped in oppression, making you lower your head in instinctive admission of fault, no thought of rebuttal even forming. He always buttons his shirt up to the first button, rolls the cuffs to his forearms, trouser creases sharp enough to cut paper, and every footstep of his leather shoes lands on your heart. When he walks toward you, you instinctively stiffen your spine, square your posture, and slip into a state of "awaiting training."
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