Max Out All In-Game Purchases, Savings Exceed a Million

The coffee shop.

Su Bai stared at the girl across from him, who was cradling an iced latte and chattering nonstop, and began to question everything he thought he knew.

Who said Chen Yusheng was cold and aloof? Not even close. Just look at how she wouldn’t stop talking.

She was nothing like the image her classmates had of her.

Just moments ago, Chen Yusheng had initiated a secret handshake with him, and to Su Bai’s surprise, they were both die-hard fans of the same anime about a girls' band.

Chen Yusheng, as if finally meeting a kindred spirit, suddenly couldn’t contain her excitement.

The hallway of the lab building wasn’t the best place for a long conversation, so they moved to a nearby coffee shop.

They talked about everything and nothing.

To their astonishment, they didn’t just share a love for the same anime.

Their interests overlapped to an uncanny degree.

For example, the animations and movies they enjoyed, the music they listened to, the books they loved. Even their hobbies—gaming, binge-watching absurdist videos, cooking shows, and tech reviews—were eerily similar.

It was like meeting a carbon copy of themselves.

This revelation left Su Bai utterly baffled. Shouldn’t a high-achieving, aloof beauty have more refined tastes, like some aristocratic young lady?

Or, at the very least, fit the stereotype—obsessed with celebrity gossip, shopping sprees with her girlfriends, and an encyclopedic knowledge of luxury brands.

But instead, Su Bai saw his own reflection in Chen Yusheng.

It was genuinely amusing.

And yet, it filled him with an exhilarating sense of anticipation.

After all, "being understood" was a rare and profound emotional need—especially when the one who understood you was a stunning, long-haired beauty with an air of cool elegance.

As they chatted, they both happened to take a sip of their coffee at the same time. The air between them suddenly grew quiet, the café enveloped in the lazy ambiance of a leisurely afternoon. Their eyes met briefly, then darted away in mutual embarrassment.

"Um… I should get going. Professor Luo’s lab work won’t do itself."

"Right, responsibilities first."

Chen Yusheng gave Su Bai a lingering glance, lips parting as if she wanted to say something more, but in the end, she stayed silent.

She grabbed her bag and left.

Truth be told, Su Bai also had something he hadn’t gotten around to asking.

He wanted to know why Chen Yusheng, who already had income from her lab work, still took on side gigs as a gaming companion.

Not that there was anything wrong with it—it just seemed unnecessary for the average college girl to work herself so hard.

Clearly, she needed the money.

Oh well. He’d ask another time. Maybe it was something private she wasn’t comfortable sharing yet.

After finishing his coffee, Su Bai bought a few pastries from the café to take away.

This place prided itself on its aesthetic appeal—a trendy hotspot within Jiangcheng University’s campus, with desserts priced accordingly. Perfect for Su Bai’s current "treat yourself" mindset.

Back in the dorm, he shared the haul with Wang Haoran.

"Bai, you want me to write your lab report for you?"

"Why the sudden offer?"

"I’ve been mooching off you way too much. Feels bad, man. Least I can do is handle some grunt work for you. Oh, and if you ever get into gacha games, I can grind for you too."

Wang Haoran’s expression was earnest.

Gotta admit, the guy had integrity. Plenty of people loved freeloading without a shred of gratitude, but not him.

Speaking of gacha games, though, Su Bai had a new idea.

Whaling in a mobile gacha game was another excellent way to splurge!

Take the infamous "Genshin," for example. Rolling for every possible item in a new banner had an expected cost of around 25,000 yuan. With bad luck, it could easily hit 30,000+.

And if the banner featured two new characters? Double the pain.

Su Bai booted up his PC and logged into his Genshin account.

When the game first launched years ago, he’d tried it out but didn’t vibe with the gameplay. Sure, some characters were gorgeous, but the gacha prices were brutal.

Dropping a 648-yuan top-up felt like tossing money into a void—back in high school, 600 yuan could’ve covered his cafeteria meals for a month if he budgeted carefully.

But times had changed. Since the system counted gacha spending as "reckless indulgence," it was time to go all-in!

Su Bai whaled like there was no tomorrow, spamming ten-pulls until he emptied the banner.

Total damage: 50,000 yuan.

He didn’t even know who these characters were or their backstories.

Didn’t matter. All that mattered was the system’s 8x cashback—400,000 yuan!

Wang Haoran, watching from the sidelines, was floored.

He’d heard legends of whales treating gacha pulls like pocket change, but seeing it in real life was something else.

This was a whole different game compared to the F2P players who meticulously saved every primogem.

The power of the credit card—truly terrifying.

"Bai, uh… that overseas tycoon family that claimed you as long-lost kin… they need another son? Hook me up?"

"Pfft—what is this, a dating ad?" Su Bai logged out and tossed his account info to Wang Haoran. "Here, you handle the grinding. I haven’t played in ages, no clue where the story’s at now."

"Wait—you’re not even gonna try out the characters you just pulled?!"

"Try what? I quit ages ago. No idea how these new mechanics work. I’ll just watch you play."

"…Bai, if you’ll have me, I’d gladly call you Dad."

"Piss off, I don’t need a dumbass son."

Su Bai laughed, returning to his own desk.

Then something occurred to him.

"Wait, doesn’t miHoYo have two other gacha games?"

Wang Haoran’s eyes lit up. "Oh hell yeah, they do!"

…

Half an hour later.

Wang Haoran’s screen displayed two windows—Genshin and Zenless Zone Zero—running simultaneously, while his phone handled Honkai: Star Rail.

Three accounts, zero lag.

Su Bai was impressed. "Damn, you’re a natural at this!"

"Eh, just familiar with the grind," Wang Haoran said modestly. "Not that hard. Did some account grinding over the summer—this PC was paid for with that cash."

"Respect."

Su Bai started scheming. If he opened a gaming studio, let Wang Haoran manage it, and parked all his whaled accounts there, wouldn’t that count as "indulgence"?

After all, he was paying someone to play, not just letting the accounts gather dust.

No waste involved.

But that was a plan for later. For now, Wang Haoran could keep grinding the "miHoYo Trinity" for him.

A win-win for roommates—Wang Haoran got to play top-tier accounts, and Su Bai got his cashback.

Between the three games, Su Bai’s savings had already breached the million-yuan mark.

In his mind, Apple’s status as the "holy land of cashback" had been dethroned by miHoYo.

After all, you only needed to buy phones and tablets once in a while. But gacha? The sky was the limit.

Gacha mobile games refresh their banners almost every month.

For Su Bai, this meant a steady cash flow.

And it was incredibly easy—no need to even step outside. He’d top up the account, and his roommate would grind for him.

After repeating it a few times, Su Bai reminded Wang Haoran, "Remember to notify me when the next banner drops. I’ll top up and max it out again."

"...You’re going to max out every single banner?"

"Full send. No exceptions."

"..."

Now this was what real wealth looked like—spending money with pure, unbothered extravagance.

What’s more, Su Bai was low-key about it. No flashy displays, none of that "rich kid" attitude.

Compared to him, the other two roommates—the "local guy" and the "Shanghai elite"—were nowhere close.

Wang Haoran sighed inwardly.

[Ding! Host’s savings have exceeded 1 million yuan. Reward: Luxury car lottery ticket. Keep up the good work—spend and indulge!]

A luxury car lottery ticket?

Not bad.

Jiangcheng’s urban sprawl was vast, and public transport wasn’t as convenient as in first-tier cities. Having a car would be nice—relying on rideshares just wasn’t the same.

Su Bai summoned the system to check the details of the lottery ticket.