Shuyu was just about to take out her phone to receive the payment.
Suddenly, Tie Dan screamed, “Ahhh—don’t do it! Don’t reach for your phone, Shuyu! Your ATM is right across from you—it looks like he’s already testing you!”
In an instant, cold sweat broke out all over Shuyu’s back. For a moment, she didn’t know where to put her hands, and she dared not even glance up at the man opposite her. She was terrified that if she met Si Yiheng’s gaze, he would recognize her.
But her hand was already halfway out, clearly reaching for her bag. If she suddenly pulled it back, it would look extremely suspicious.
Making a split-second decision, she lowered her hand and grabbed a bag of cucumber-flavored potato chips—the flavor she hated most.
Shuyu: Σ(-`Д′-;)
She picked up the chips, turned around, and walked away at a calm, unhurried pace. The whole sequence of actions was so smooth that no one could spot anything wrong.
Yet inside, her heart was “crying.” She should have grabbed the tomato flavor—tomato was always a safe choice. Cucumber-flavored chips were just awful.
In her mind, Shuyu asked Tie Dan, “How can he be this sharp? We haven’t even met face to face, have we?”
Tie Dan was equally stunned. “Probably because of the photos you sent him. He’s seen your hands and your legs before!”
Shuyu was even more shocked. What kind of monster was Si Yiheng? He could remember something from just one glance?
“What if it wasn’t just one glance?” Tie Dan added.
Shuyu: w(Д)w
She looked at Tie Dan with a resentful expression. “Wasn’t he supposed to be indifferent to women, pure and unworldly?”
Tie Dan fell silent for two seconds before answering, “Maybe he just has an exceptional memory?”
Shuyu decided to go with that explanation. After all, that was the male lead’s setting in the novel: the story stripped him of the affection of his parents, but in return gave him a brilliant mind, a photographic memory, endless wealth, and extraordinary professional ability.
“Looks like we can’t send him any more photos from now on,” Tie Dan warned.
Shuyu spoke slowly, “Do you think Si Yiheng has dropped his suspicions about us now? We used to collect money the second it was sent.”
Tie Dan wanted to scream again—right! If she didn’t collect it, wouldn’t that make him even more suspicious?
His “CPU” began spinning wildly, trying to find a solution.
“Tie Dan, let’s go home right away,” Shuyu said. “Once we’re there, I’ll put a band‑aid on my hand. We’ll pretend I hurt myself—then it makes perfect sense why I didn’t see his message or collect the money right away.”
Si Yiheng had clearly seen the girl across the counter reach her hand toward her bag. Just as he thought he was about to confirm it was Shuyu, she instead picked up a bag of cucumber‑flavored chips.
He frowned. Had he been mistaken?
After the girl left, Si Yiheng went on to pick out the items he needed. But the red envelope he had sent still hadn’t been claimed, and that made his doubts resurface.
Then, as he was checking out, his phone lit up with a new message.
A Little Fish Swimming Along: [Image.jpg]
It was a photo of a hand. The girl’s fair middle finger was wrapped in a beige band‑aid printed with a tiny cartoon cat.
Si Yiheng stared at the band‑aid for two seconds, then opened the second message.
It was a voice note.
He tapped to play it.
Shuyu’s voice came through the speaker, thick‑nasal and unmistakably tearful: “Si Yiheng… my hand hurts.”
Her tone was muffled and whimpering, sounding utterly pitiful—like a hurt kitten with no one to comfort it, on the verge of crying.
Si Yiheng quickly finished paying, loaded his purchases into the car, and slid into the driver’s seat. Only then did he suddenly realize—he had no idea where Shuyu lived.
ATM: How did it happen?
Shuyu sent another voice reply: “Just now, while I was cooking… I got burned by the steam.”
ATM: I see.
Si Yiheng was about to ask for her address so he could take her to the hospital, but an incoming call interrupted him. There was a problem with some lab samples that required his immediate attention.
ATM: Transferred 100,000.
ATM: Something urgent came up. I can’t come take you to the hospital. Go get it checked yourself.
Shuyu and Tie Dan both breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Tie Dan, do you think this will work?” she asked.
“No problem at all,” Tie Dan replied confidently. “Those samples were already flawed anyway—I just moved them around a little so his junior colleague would notice the issue sooner.”
That put Shuyu’s mind at ease.
“Baby, complain to him a little more—act all wronged and upset,” Tie Dan urged. “It might seem a bit dramatic, but it fits your persona perfectly.”
Shuyu completely agreed. The more unreasonable and indignant she acted, the less likely Si Yiheng would suspect anything. And who knew—she might even squeeze more money out of him.
She sent another voice note: “Si Yiheng… you’re always so busy. Do you know how awful I feel? I’m hurting, and you’re not even here.”
Her voice trembled with sobs, sounding genuinely aggrieved.
It felt as though her words tugged right at Si Yiheng’s heart. His long, slender hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly against the leather. For a moment, he didn’t start the engine and drive toward the lab.
ATM: Transferred 1,000,000.
ATM: I’m sorry.
Shuyu clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud—her lips curving upward uncontrollably. No need to apologize at all! One million yuan!
Si Yiheng truly was a generous boyfriend. Shedding a few tears in front of him was all it took to open his purse.
There was a saying online: The weight of a tear depends on whose heart it falls upon. Shuyu felt that Si Yiheng was living proof of that. As long as someone held the title of “Si Yiheng’s girlfriend,” a few tears would make this human ATM spew out cash.
After putting on a good show, Shuyu softened her tone. She sent another voice message, quieter this time: “I understand you have work to do. Go ahead and take care of it. I’ll look after myself.”
Her voice still carried a faint nasal whine, soft and sweet, and her words sounded so understanding.
Si Yiheng felt as if something gentle had brushed against his heart.
ATM: Alright.
He finally started the car and headed for the university.
Outside the university gate, Shen Qinghan was about to go inside when he noticed a woman stopping passersby to ask questions. He didn’t pay much attention until he heard her say, “Excuse me—could you help me call Shuyu out?”
Shen Qinghan slowed his steps unconsciously.
The student she had asked replied that she didn’t know anyone named Shuyu. In the small county where Shuyu grew up, she might have been well‑known as the top student who got into University A, but in a campus full of talented students, she was hardly famous.
Shen Qinghan walked over to the woman with a polite smile. “Auntie, what do you need with Shuyu? And what is your relationship to her?”
Shuyu’s mother could tell at a glance that Shen Qinghan was no ordinary student. She smiled warmly and said, “I’m her mother. I raised her all these years, and now she’s turned her back on her own family—so ungrateful!”
“I happen to know Shuyu’s boyfriend,” Shen Qinghan said smoothly. “I can take you to him.”
He had never believed a word Shuyu had told him—especially her claim that her father had been hit by a car and she had given her parents 1.5 million yuan. Not a single word rang true. He had given Shuyu the chance to get close to Si Yiheng, yet she had apparently lied to him, swindled him out of money, and treated her own family like strangers.
The little curiosity he once felt toward Shuyu vanished the moment he saw her mother. A gold‑digger like her didn’t deserve any of his interest. Today, he would bring this woman straight to Si Yiheng and reveal Shuyu’s true colors.
“I know where Shuyu is,” Shen Qinghan continued, “but she doesn’t live in the dorms anymore. Her boyfriend works here on campus. Why don’t I take you to see him? You can tell him everything you want to say to Shuyu.”
Shuyu’s mother’s eyes darted around. If she couldn’t find Shuyu directly, confronting her boyfriend was the next best thing. That ungrateful girl wasn’t going to abandon her family and live a good life all by herself.
As soon as Si Yiheng arrived at the laboratory, he ran into Shen Qinghan—and saw the middle‑aged woman standing beside him.
His tone was cool and distant. “Is there something you need?”
Shen Qinghan smiled. “This is Shuyu’s mother. She couldn’t find Shuyu, so I brought her here to see you.”
Si Yiheng’s gaze fell on the woman. She wore flashy clothes covered in bold logos, but they looked ill‑fitting and out of place—giving off the impression of someone who had just come into money but didn’t know how to carry it. Her eyes darted nervously, as if she lacked confidence.
“Please wait here for a moment, Auntie,” Si Yiheng said calmly. “I’ll let Shuyu know you’ve come to the university to see her.”
Shuyu’s mother was pleased with his answer, though she was slightly intimidated by Si Yiheng’s imposing presence and didn’t dare make demands right away. Once he called Shuyu over, she could threaten her daughter into giving her money—she was sure Shuyu wouldn’t dare risk losing such a wealthy boyfriend.
Inside the lab, Si Yiheng placed a voice call to Shuyu—the first time he had ever called her on his own initiative.
Shuyu’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she saw his name on the screen. She answered in a soft, shaky voice: “Hello? What’s wrong?”
Si Yiheng’s deep, magnetic voice came through the line: “Your mother is here at the university. Come meet us, and we’ll have dinner together.”