Oh my goodness.
Seeing that message, Shuyu reacted as if she had just grabbed something dirty off the screen—she flung her phone across the room as far as it would go.
She was this close to panicking completely.
Tiedan was also on the verge of a breakdown.
“I remember in the original storyline, they dated online for half a year without ever meeting in person!” Shuyu cried.
“That’s right!” Tiedan agreed. “The plot was supposed to have them chatting online for six whole months before ever meeting! Why is this happening now?”
Even Tiedan couldn’t understand why things were going off‑script. They hadn’t done anything against the rules; they were following all the standard methods used by previous hosts to get money. So why was the story changing?
“Don’t panic, Yubao,” Tiedan said quickly. “Give me a moment to look up how to handle this kind of situation.”
Shuyu nodded. “All right. I’ll wait while you find a solution.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling small and helpless inside. Her mind was in chaos—what happened to the “online‑only romance”? If they were meeting face‑to‑face, how was that even an online relationship anymore?
And hadn’t everyone said Si Yiheng was far too busy to find time to meet her? When did he suddenly have free time?
Couldn’t he just focus harder on his research, his experiments, and taking over his family’s company? This male lead had absolutely no drive at all!
Shuyu muttered all these complaints silently to herself.
After searching for a while, Tiedan found that many past hosts and systems had run into the same problem: the male lead suddenly demanding to meet. And most of them had managed to stall or talk their way out of it—though the excuses they used were wildly varied.
Host 1 claimed she had a terminal illness and couldn’t receive visitors. Result: the male lead flew across the country overnight with a full medical team and tracked her down at a street‑food stall, where she was happily eating barbecue. Later, she posted a warning on the system forum: “Never use ‘terminal illness’ as an excuse—the male lead will bring doctors along.”
Host 2 said she was actually an artificial construct and didn’t look like a real person. The male lead still found her and declared, “I don’t mind—I like you just as you are.” Host 2’s review: “He won’t even spare a fake person. Total weirdo.”
Shuyu flipped through several more pages with Tiedan, her expression growing more serious. It seemed every host who had faced this situation eventually ended up… well, dealt with by the male lead.
After a long silence, she spoke softly. “Tiedan… do you think I’ll end up…”
“Stop right there!” Tiedan cut her off. “Si Yiheng probably won’t be that direct. Those other male leads didn’t have much kindness in them to begin with—that’s why those hosts couldn’t escape.”
Shuyu rested her chin in her hands and looked at Tiedan hopefully. “So… does Si Yiheng have a kind side?”
Tiedan paused for a moment before admitting, “Well… not really.”
No matter how self‑disciplined, reserved, or gentle a male lead might appear on the surface, there was always a streak of possessiveness and obsession beneath. After all, wasn’t that what made these stories interesting—their intense desire to claim and protect the heroine?
“But don’t worry!” Tiedan hurried to add. “Those hosts just had terrible luck and ended up triggering the wrong story path. We aren’t the heroine anyway—we’re just a background character in the control group! There’s no way we’ll end up following that same route.”
Shuyu wasn’t entirely convinced, but she had no choice except to trust Tiedan. After all, the system was supposed to be just a little more experienced than she was.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Tiedan said. “Tell him you’ve broken out in a rash all over your face—it hasn’t healed yet, so it’s not a good time to meet.”
Shuyu took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”
Little Fish Swimming Along: Brother, I’ve got a rash on my face that hasn’t cleared up yet. It’s not very convenient to meet right now.
After sending the message, she bit her lip nervously and asked, “Do you think he’ll believe me?”
Tiedan ran a quick analysis. “According to the original plot, he should. Si Yiheng is the male lead, and you’re just a minor supporting character. He won’t pay that much attention to whatever you say anyway.”
That reassured Shuyu, and she finally relaxed a little.
Her phone buzzed twice. Si Yiheng picked it up and read her reply, his brows tightening slightly.
ATM: I see.
ATM: Get plenty of rest first. We can talk about meeting later.
Shuyu let out a long breath—Tiedan was right. She was only a background character, after all. To Si Yiheng, she would never be anything more than a casual distraction.
She leaned over the desk and sent a soft voice message: “All right.”
Si Yiheng hadn’t expected to hear her voice again. It sounded a little dull and listless, as if she really wasn’t feeling well. He typed out a long reply, then deleted it all.
ATM: Transfer: 100,000.
As soon as the money arrived, Shuyu perked right up again and accepted it instantly.
ATM: ……
Still low‑energy, but fully alert when it came to money. So it seemed she wasn’t seriously ill at all.
Si Yiheng turned his attention back to his experiments. Over the next few days, Shuyu remained a quiet but steady presence—finding time every day to send him messages. He would reply with short words like “Yes” or “All right.”
She would chat for a little while, bright and lively, then vanish for the rest of the day. And Si Yiheng never brought up meeting again.
One day, Shuyu finally ran out of everything in her refrigerator. She had no choice but to put on a face mask and head out to restock.
Tiedan loved dressing her up. “Put this one on, Yubao—it’s light and cool!”
It was a soft mint‑green sundress with thin spaghetti straps, the hem falling just above her knees. It made her skin look even fairer and her legs appear longer and more graceful—fresh, simple, and charming. She also carried a matching small green cloth bag, perfect for holding little things.
With her long hair loose around her shoulders, her smooth, porcelain‑like skin, and long, sweeping eyelashes that fluttered like butterfly wings whenever she blinked, she looked like a delicate, finely crafted doll.
Tiedan was so thrilled she almost squealed. “Yubao, I think I’ve become your biggest fan!”
Shuyu blinked, drawing out her words gently. “That won’t work, Dan.”
“You’re just a newly born system, but I’m already nineteen years old. You can’t be my mom.”
“What a shame,” Tiedan sighed.
As they walked out, Tiedan kept talking nonstop, trying to keep Shuyu’s mind occupied so she wouldn’t notice the crowds around them. Thanks to the constant distraction, Shuyu’s usual nervousness and awkwardness in public were much less severe—even though many people kept glancing in her direction.
When they reached the shopping mall, Shuyu decided to get everything done quickly. She filled her cart with bread, ice cream, milk, instant noodles, and stacks of snacks.
Meanwhile, Si Yiheng finished his work at the lab and realized he hadn’t bought groceries in a long time. He headed to the shopping center near his residential complex.
His eyes were scanning the shelves casually when suddenly they locked onto a pair of legs he recognized instantly.
Straight, long, perfectly proportioned, with slender ankles.
Si Yiheng had an exceptional memory—he could recall every detail of anything he had seen once. And these legs were something he had even dreamed about more than once.
He followed the line of sight upward. The girl was wearing a mask and a cap pulled low over her forehead, covering most of her face and leaving only her eyes visible.
Those eyes had long, elegant lashes, and the skin around them was pale and flawless. Even without seeing her full face, it was obvious how beautiful she was.
She was standing there, head tilted slightly upward, staring at the bags of potato chips on the shelf as if carefully deciding which flavor to pick.
Si Yiheng stood silently watching her for two seconds. Then he lowered his gaze, took out his phone, opened the chat window with Little Fish Swimming Along, and sent a red envelope.
Tiedan: Yubao! Your ATM just sent you money!