Just after sending those two messages, she immediately clicked “Withdraw.”
Xu Ye recalled the reactions of netizens after she announced that the photo feature was about to go live a few days ago. She figured their focus next wouldn’t be “Good Ye” but rather something else entirely.
Back when it was possible to change IDs, it was because Liu Shuo had given her a backdoor to rename herself. If netizens discovered that IDs couldn’t actually be changed on the forum…
She began imagining the scene of being pointed at by forum users:
[Shocking! Good Ye is not only not a dog, but netizens today have also uncovered her connections to the forum’s management! Is this the distortion of canine nature or the downfall of feline virtue? No, this is probably the extinction of humanity.]
[Scandalous! The forum management has colluded with Good Ye, secretly allowing her to change her name behind the backs of users!]
Xu Ye, a seasoned forum lurker, had seen all kinds of posts. Occasionally, some netizens would mention the matter of renaming in their posts.
For instance, Lao Bai once said that because his name included Old, many users in the forum called him Grandpa.[mfn] Tl’s Note: Lao Bai is directly translated as Old White.[/mfn] He cried while explaining that he was only two years old, a young and vibrant dog. He had chosen that lousy name because “Da Bai” was already taken, and he didn’t want to downgrade his name, so he settled on Lao Bai.
Then there were users who rolled their faces on their keyboards to create a string of garbled names, complaining that despite posting daily, no one remembered who they were.
In short, quite a few users in the forum were dissatisfied with their IDs. But since there was no ID change function, users simply stopped bringing it up.
So the first thing users dissatisfied with their IDs would notice wouldn’t be “Good Ye has changed her name” but rather “Now we can change our names!”
Sherlock Ye analyzed the situation with wild but seemingly reasonable guesses, her fingers flying as she rewrote a message in the group chat.
[Xu Ye: Sorry, friends. Based on my understanding of the users, they’re probably going to test whether name changes are really possible. So I might need to trouble you all to enable the name-change feature forum-wide. Sorry for the inconvenience.]
[Xu Ye: (Kitten apologizing.jpg)]
In hindsight, she shouldn’t have bothered changing her ID at all. She could’ve just asked Huo Shuyan to register her a new forum account.
Shixue, truly, you’ve had it rough. Xu Ye clasped her hands in her heart.[mfn] Tl’s Note: Shixue translates to ‘junior’. I might be switching between either terms when referring to Huo Shuyan, depending on its convenience.[/mfn]
Cats and dogs learning to surf the web were getting increasingly clever, knowing how to dig through old posts to find her ID. Yet she, a human who had infiltrated the forum, was growing more foolish.
Feeling inspired, she changed her Feixin username from “Xu Ye” to “Foolish Ye” and paired it with a cracked coconut as her profile picture.[mfn] Tl’s Note: Reminder that Xu Ye’s Ye means coconut.[/mfn]
After changing the avatar, Liu Shuo graciously expressed in the group chat that it was no trouble at all.
[Liu Shuo: No worries, I forgive you. After all, it’s not me doing the hard work. Don’t worry, as soon as that 81st-floor comment about name changes was posted, Old Huo immediately set up the permissions. Now everyone on the forum can change their names freely. There might be some minor flaws due to the rush, but it shouldn’t be a big problem~]
When she saw the words “minor flaws,” Xu Ye’s first thought was Huo Shuyan’s specialty: nested, Russian-doll-style font sizes and a wild mix of fonts like Clerical Script, Small Regular Script, and Song Typeface.
She refreshed the forum, and as expected, the thread’s discussion had shifted.
Thanks to the 81st-floor commenter, other users quickly and smoothly moved on from the topic. The fervor before the photo feature launch was reappearing, and her pseudonym was forgotten in the corner.
[82F: Wait? Forget about Xiao Bai and Da Bai for now. What did the commenter above just say? You can change your ID on the forum now?]
[83F: Is this for real? Can we trust this info? Don’t lie to me, I’ll go try it out.]
[84F: If I’m lying, I’m a dog.]
[85F: Hey, why are you cursing people now?]
Huo Shuyan, seemingly living inside the forum, enabled the name-change feature for everyone just before the 83rd-floor user attempted it.
The forum’s functions were perfectly normal, and the infamous Huo fonts didn’t appear.
[86F: Whoa, it’s true! There’s now a “Change Name” button next to the ID. I successfully changed mine!]
[87F: Everyone, hold up. I’m off to spread the word to all my fellow cats.]
The user claiming to have successfully changed their name was “Cat King 666,” whose ID was marked with the prestigious “Thread Creator” badge.
This cat, known as Nai Nai, was one of the first forum users to successfully change their names.
Xu Ye hesitated between “checking the public response” and “this is the bangs cat” before decisively clicking on Nai Nai’s profile.
She couldn’t wait another second.
A string of selfies featuring the familiar face of the alluring bangs cat greeted her. Xu Ye was somewhat face-blind when it came to cats, but she’d bet on Nai Nai’s distinct bangs that anyone who had seen this cat would never forget it.
As she scrolled down, an even more unforgettable picture caught her off guard.
[Today, my friends and I were sunbathing when we met a fortune-telling dog. It said it could tell at a glance that we were best friends! How amazing!]
The bangs-cut cat’s friends probably came from the same salon as it did—one group photo captured a mix of bobcuts, center parts, side parts, and even balding hairstyles.
If there was someone who couldn’t tell they were friends, that would be the real miracle.
Amidst her busyness, Xu Ye made time to save all of the unique haired cat’s photos.
Returning to the forum post, she couldn’t see any new replies. It seemed like everyone had gone to explore the newly added renaming feature.
Xu Ye was surprised; she had underestimated the appeal of being able to change usernames.
The forum was now flooded with posts about renaming:
[Guys, it’s real! You can actually change your username!]
[Finally, after all these years! Grandma, the forum you’ve been using now lets you change your name!]
[Help me think of a good name! If I choose yours, I’ll send you five fish treats! For dogs, one bone instead—tell the shop clerk my name for reimbursement.]
Xu Ye randomly clicked on one of the posts, but the loading bar at the top stopped just shy of completion. A moment later, a blank page and a system pop-up appeared: [The server has crashed due to excessive use of the renaming feature. Please try again later.]
She reread the error message twice, confirming her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
When the photo feature launched, the forum didn’t crash—yet now, discovering the ability to change usernames had actually caused the software to go down?
[Xu Ye: Did… the forum crash?]
[Liu Shuo: Holy crap, I take back what I said earlier about it not being a big deal. The system can only handle a hundred users renaming at once. Can you believe half the forum is trying to change their usernames? Just how dissatisfied are these people with their names?]
It turned out the “minor flaw” Liu Shuo mentioned earlier was the renaming limit. However, no one anticipated the sheer fervor of the users. What was originally “a small flaw” had snowballed into “a massive issue.”
Xu Ye thought back to the familiar usernames she’d seen before—Snowball, Nai Nai, David, Miao Miao—most were already pretty nice. The only standout oddity was Middle Lane-Support Carry duo from the eSports dogs. None of them seemed to need a name change.
After closing the app on her old phone and reopening the forum, the annoying system message still greeted her. She refreshed the page every few seconds for five minutes, but it still hadn’t been fixed.
[Liu Shuo: It was our oversight. We didn’t expect everyone to rush to change their names. Old Huo is fixing the bug now; it’ll take some time, probably half an hour.]
[Xu Ye: Got it. Thanks for your hard work.]
Xu Ye mopped the floor, prepared a package of local specialties, and planned to bring it to the pet shop tomorrow.
Remembering the local mutt’s complaint about her shoe scuffing its toe, she grabbed her battered sneakers and went to the bathroom to clean them. After washing, she retied the laces into a decorative yet flimsy bow.
Once her sneakers—now even shabbier—were hung up to dry, Xu Ye tried the forum again. Same blank page, same crash message.
Too impatient to read the users’ posts about the renaming feature, Xu Ye opened a livestream app and clicked on a random channel.
[Streamer: Welcome, XY! You’re asking why I welcomed someone who hasn’t sent any gifts? First, look at my viewer count—I’ve gotta cherish every viewer I get. Second, XY hung out in my stream all night yesterday, which really encouraged me. So now, XY is officially one of my loyal fans!]
The cheerful voice of a young man came through her phone speakers at full volume.
The streamer’s voice sounded familiar, but due to the distortion from his microphone, Xu Ye couldn’t immediately place it. She glanced at his ID: a small-time streamer named Xiao Yu, who’d gained a few dozen followers overnight. His viewership was finally no longer in the single digits.
Feeling a bit flattered by the special welcome, Xu Ye bought a $6 fan badge to show her support.
[Xiao Yu: Thank you, XY, for the fan badge! Please continue supporting Xiao Yu!]
Xu Ye thought for a moment before responding with a single “ok” in the chat.
Xiao Yu’s in-game ID was the sweet-sounding “Little Strawberry Jam,” but the hero he was playing—a Western-styled Monkey King—was anything but sweet. His gameplay was aggressive, taking down an opposing mage with a single staff strike and brazenly invading the enemy jungle.
[Xiao Yu: What? My ID doesn’t match my hero? Bro, this isn’t even my account—just playing for fun at Diamond rank.]
[Xiao Yu: Yeah, last night was a blast. Got so many new followers.]
[Xiao Yu: You heard a cat meowing? Oh yeah, I have a cat.]
[Xiao Yu: Wait, why is my cat meowing on the balcony? Hold on, after this game, I’m ending the stream to check it out. Sorry, everyone—I’ll make it up to you tomorrow with two extra hours.]
Xu Ye watched for less than ten minutes before the stream ended. She ignored the “Watch Replay” prompt and cleared the app from her background.
The forum was still down, and the group chat had no updates. However, the neighborhood chat group suddenly became active, catching her attention.
[Wild Cockroach: Hey, is 601 here? Your poodle is… talking to my dog through the wall?]
[Wild Cockroach: (Video)]
In the video, a golden retriever barked at a wall. After a few barks, a clear response came from the other side. The two dogs went back and forth in a turn-based exchange, seemingly chatting.
The background audio featured a woman’s loud, goose-like laughter, “Honk! Honk! Honk! They’re so cute! Honk!”
After about a minute, the barking ceased. The retriever quietly sprawled on the couch, casting a mature glance at its not-so-mature owner before closing its eyes for a nap.
The chat group exploded with theories about what the dogs were doing.
“They’re sensing a natural disaster.”
“They’re flirting.”
“The golden retriever is cursing out the poodle.”
One user even confidently declared they were reacting to a UFO flying overhead.
Xu Ye, unimpressed, left the chat with an air of mystery. Clearly, the forum’s crash had led these pets to communicate through the walls instead.
It’s unclear if David, Snowball, and the other cats and dogs who practically live on the forum are panicking right now.
What if David was in the middle of a peak match? Wouldn’t he lose points?
What if Snowball couldn’t post pictures of his round head? Would he cry?
What if a kitten or puppy encountered danger and couldn’t make a post for help?
At this thought, Xu Ye’s sense of justice surged to its peak, and she gently nudged in the group chat.
[Xu Ye: Huo Shixue, I’m not trying to rush you or anything. I just wanted to ask, how much longer it might take to fix this?]
