216: Chapter 216 The Companion Robot Goes Online, and Single Otaku Go Completely Crazy

Su Qingxue looked at that string of black market prices and raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Buying this over there now is almost like buying underground luxury goods."

"Pretty much," Lu Li said lazily, "and it's addictive, too."

"Are you talking about the games?"

"No," Lu Li glanced at her, "I'm talking about their anxiety over the fact that 'the future didn't originally belong to them.'"

When these words were spoken, Su Qingxue paused slightly, then immediately understood.

The more something is prohibited, the more it makes people realize—

This thing might actually be important.

Important enough that even the national level doesn't want ordinary people to touch it.

And this psychology, conversely, will push the Virtual Helmet step by step into becoming some kind of black market religion.

As she was thinking this, Lu Li casually flipped a page forward; on the page was not helmet data, but sales feedback for another hardware line.

That was the companion-type Bionic Robot that had suddenly launched at the end of September.

No press conference. No teaser posters. Not even a single decent public appearance.

It was just that one late night, a purchase link quietly appeared in the Guanghui Technology mall and helmet ecosystem, and by the next morning, more than half of the stock had been swept away.

Over the next few days, buyer reviews and feedback across various platforms exploded.

Someone posted an unboxing video with an extremely straightforward title—"For the first time, I feel that the word 'companionship' can actually be created."

Someone else posted a long article in the middle of the night, their tone as excited as if they had just had their first love—"She will wait for me to get off work, remember what I said yesterday, and sit quietly beside me when I'm in a bad mood."

[I know she is a Robot.]

[But I also know that no one in reality has treated me this seriously for a long time.]

Of course, it was even more exaggerated over on "Little Green Book."

A portion of extremist accounts practically treated Lu Li as a thorn in their side, cursing him for "creating pathological intimate relationships," "reversing progress for men," and "destroying normal gender ecology," with words getting harsher one after another.

Lu Li glanced at it twice and couldn't even be bothered to frown.

To put it bluntly, he had offended these kinds of people too thoroughly.

Bionic companionship, virtual partners, emotional feedback systems—once these things mature, the people most impacted were never normal people.

Normal women didn't really have much of a reaction. Many people originally held a very peaceful or even quite favorable attitude toward "companion Robots" and "family Robots."

The ones screaming the loudest online were actually a group of people who relied on emotional value to manipulate others and were used to treating the opposite sex like ATMs and long-term laborers.

Of course they were anxious. Because they knew better than anyone that once "controllable, stable, low-consumption, and timely emotional feedback" companionship was created, the implicit advantages in certain old relationships would immediately begin to loosen.

Instead, most ordinary women had their attention entirely elsewhere. Compared to whether those companion Robots would "affect any ecology," they cared more about—

When the Doraemon series would be restocked.

When the Lazy Sheep companion Robot would have new skins released.

There were even quite a few people in the comment section seriously debating whether "Doraemon is more suitable for the living room" or "Lazy Sheep is more suitable for the bedroom."

In a sense, this was the reaction a normal world should have.

Lu Li turned these thoughts over in his mind, and his finger had already slid back to the main page.

Looking further down, it was the profit statement.

At first, the profit per Virtual Helmet unit wasn't actually that exaggerated. When Lu Li made the helmet, he never intended to make much from the hardware itself.

The real bulk of the profit had always been in the ecosystem behind it. Platform revenue sharing. Mall partnerships. Game revenue. Content in-game purchases.

Now that the volume had piled up, those profits that originally looked unremarkable were immediately magnified to a quite astonishing degree.

Not to mention the in-game purchase sector. In resident evil, a large number of limited outfits and character skins were selling fast. In world of warcraft: Virtual Remastered Edition, mounts, transmogs, and holiday appearances were selling fast. In minecraft: Virtual Remastered Edition, building packs, mods, and crossover appearances were also selling fast.

And perfect life, which Lu Li hadn't even taken too seriously originally, had a payment capability that was somewhat exaggeratedly strong.

From Panameras to private jets, from river-view villas to island estates, from sword-flying techniques to hot spring resort experience packages, buyers were coming in wave after wave.

Even things like "scenic spot crossover travel photography outfits" and "limited edition panda charms" were swept clean.

But what really made the entire Guanghui Technology ecosystem explode wasn't just the Virtual Helmet. Air imaging devices and bionic Robots, these two hardware lines, had also simultaneously entered a period of skyrocketing growth.

At the very beginning, air imaging devices were indeed more like luxury goods in high-end living rooms.

Having one device in the home was like replacing the entire TV wall along with the background space; ordinary people would only think it was high-end, but if they really wanted to place an order, they would still weigh it carefully.

But after the first batch of quick-reacting traditional hotels followed up, the vibe changed. They no longer used air imaging devices as "new-style TVs." Instead, they directly launched "virtual holographic guest rooms."

Without needing major demolition or renovations, or needing to redecorate the style, after one device was plugged in, the entire room's visual and spatial atmosphere could be completely reconstructed.

The summit of a snowy mountain. A deep-sea tunnel. A primeval forest. A starry campsite. A desert sunset.

As soon as a guest walked in the door, what they saw wasn't a hotel room, but another scene.

And the most crucial point was that these scenes weren't just about pasting a layer of wallpaper or changing the lighting. It was the air imaging device that encompassed the entire space's sense of depth, light and shadow, and atmosphere.

For those who travel on business all year round, this experience was almost a dimensionality reduction strike. For travel enthusiasts, it carried an even fresher, almost irresistible attraction.

After all, who could refuse to open a door during an ordinary night of business accommodation and see themselves sleeping at the foot of a snowy mountain? And how many people could refuse to see a flowing galaxy overhead when lying in bed after a day of traveling?

Consequently, the air imaging device, which was originally just a "rich person's living room toy," was quickly pulled into another track by the hotel industry. And once it was pulled in, it was a huge wave.

Lu Li casually flipped through two pages of channel data, and when he saw that list of procurement names, his eyebrows twitched slightly.

"This group of hotel people reacts fast enough."

Su Qingxue stood by the floor-to-ceiling window and replied calmly: "Because they know better than anyone what users are willing to pay extra for."

"Before, it was room type, location, and service."

"Now, they are selling scenes."

Lu Li gave a hum of agreement. This was indeed the smartest way to play it. Real-world experience and virtual experience did not kill each other off. On the contrary, they began to raise each other's value and enhance each other.

And even more exaggerated than air imaging devices were the bionic Robots. Especially the batch of highly realistic companion-type bionic Robots recently launched by Guanghui Technology.

Once this batch of products came out, the market reaction could only be described with one word—exploded.

Especially those single otaku men who couldn't afford the "Goddess Authorized Edition" but had a strong need for "companionship," they swept up most of the stock almost immediately.

After all, what they truly cared about was never the word "Robot." It was the simulation. It was the warmth. It was the feedback. It was that sense of companionship that could only exist in fantasies in the past, finally made into a real product that could be placed at home.

In contrast, the Doraemon series was originally focused on family companionship, child interaction, and early education assistance. It had always taken a more gentle, more mass-market route.

As a result, no one expected that the one to crash the complaints department first would be the other line.

The matter occurred the next morning when Chen Shuyu, clutching a stack of printed exception work orders, stormed directly into Lu Li's office.

She didn't even knock on the door, slamming the documents onto the table with a "thud," her expression as dramatic as if she had stayed up for three nights and then been struck by lightning. It was thirty percent speechlessness and seventy percent breakdown.

"Look at this!"

"See for yourself what these users are actually doing!"