Before drifting off to sleep, Wen Chu suddenly remembered something. She opened her chat with Xi Liye and sent a “Goodnight.” Before the screen went dark, her finger brushed against something by mistake, and she succumbed to a muddled slumber.
On the other side, Xi Liye, who was about to turn in, saw the “Goodnight” followed by a “Muah” (blowing a kiss) emoji.
Xi Liye: “……?”
At 8:00 AM, a lecture on Algorithms was underway in the tiered classroom.
Wen Chu and her roommates were huddled in a corner of the very last row. Because of that post, she could feel waves of stares directed her way. She tried her best to hide herself behind her laptop screen and the back of the student’s head in front of her.
Her face was strictly covered by a mask, leaving only a pair of eyes that looked slightly drowsy from a lack of sleep.
It was all Xi Liye’s fault. Last night, she had dreamt for hours about being pursued and brutally retaliated against by the “madman” male lead.
On the podium, the Computer Science professor was eloquently explaining a certain algorithm, the PPT filled with dizzying flowcharts and code snippets. The sound of chalk hitting the whiteboard echoed in the quiet room, interspersed with the faint clatter of keyboard typing.
Drowsiness washed over her. Before transmigrating, Wen Chu had been a Computer Science student. Throughout four years of university, she had endured countless nights staring at computer screens, her hair falling out in clumps while she debugged code over and over again, finally managing to graduate with great difficulty.
How did she end up in the same “hellish major” even after transmigrating?!
Was this the legendary “Infinite Loop of Professional Purgatory”?
Actually, her grades had been quite good back then, and she had even received offers from major tech firms. However, because her social anxiety worsened after graduation in her previous life, she had stayed at home, half-abandoning her career to scrape by on freelance projects like building websites or training models.
When she woke up this morning, she saw Xi Liye’s “Goodnight” reply and didn’t think much of it. As for the emoji she had accidentally sent—well, she felt awkward for exactly one second after waking up before brushing it off. After all, she sent emojis like that to Xia Yaoyao all the time when asking for help with food.
Finally, just as she was about to doze off in class, a scene of Xi Liye catching her and strangling her neck suddenly flashed in her mind. His expression was indifferent, but the pressure from his fingers grew tighter and tighter.
Suffocation…
Wen Chu jolted awake.
Wen Chu: o.O
She couldn’t sleep anymore, but the professor’s lecture covered material she had already mastered in her past life; listening to it again felt tedious.
Taking advantage of the professor looking down to demonstrate code, she opened her memo app and created a new document, carefully typing out the title:
《Top Secret: The Breakup Guide for Safely Escaping Xi Liye》
She bit her lip in thought, her fingers flying across the keys:
Be “Clingy/Annoying”: I must be high-maintenance! But I need to do it strategically—walking the tightrope between annoying him and avoiding a “death flag.”
“Heat Violence”: Never stop the bombardment! Make him feel like his private space is being invaded and his freedom stripped away. Turn sweetness into a burden.
She then listed a series of specific implementation measures.
As she typed the last line, Wen Chu looked at the screen with a hint of pride, feeling her plan was flawless.
Xi Liye, get ready for my moves.
For the sake of my small life, I must win this breakup battle!
Just as she locked her screen, Xia Yaoyao poked her arm and whispered, “Chuchu, stop spacing out. The professor seemed to be looking this way just now…”
Wen Chu snapped her head up, catching the sharp gaze behind the professor’s glasses.
She had a bad feeling.
Sure enough, the professor’s voice rose in volume: “The female student in the back row by the window wearing a mask—yes, you. I’ve seen your head down for quite a while. Come, answer this question.”
Wen Chu froze. I knew it!
Xia Yaoyao and Li Yue, being in the same major, were sitting right next to her. Seeing Wen Chu being called out, they immediately started frantic searches for the answer, hoping to throw her a lifeline. This professor was notoriously strict; failing to answer would mean a deduction from her participation grade.
Wen Chu stood up and looked at the question on the PPT. The gazes of those around her made her nervous, but she steadied herself and tried to keep her voice level: “Professor, this question concerns the Longest Common Subsequence (LCS) algorithm in Dynamic Programming. Its core concept is…”
She clearly articulated the algorithmic logic, the state transition equations, and provided a simple example.
The professor’s stern expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “The logic is correct, and the example is well-chosen. It seems you’ve prepared beforehand. Sit down.”
Wen Chu felt like she had received a royal pardon. She sat down quickly, her palms covered in a thin layer of sweat. The panic of being singled out as a “socially anxious person” hadn’t fully faded.
Xia Yaoyao leaned over, whispering in awe, “Nice one, Chuchu! You’re a dark horse! I hadn’t even found the page yet.”
Li Yue also cast a curious glance. “But what were you looking at earlier with your head down? Were you chatting with your boyfriend?”
Wen Chu gave a vague smile, not daring to say she was actually contemplating how to dump her boyfriend.
Who could understand the pain of being called out for slacking off?
…
Back at the dorm after class, Wen Chu began thinking about how to execute her plan.
First: Message bombardment. Daily over-concern about his whereabouts and actions, making him feel surrounded until he gets frustrated.
Wen Chu took a deep breath and opened the chat with Xi Liye.
She decided to start by sharing her daily life and then transition into questioning.
【Class just ended. The wind is so strong outside; it’s messed up my hair.】
【How are things on your end? Are you out of class? What are you doing right now?】
【I was called out by the professor to answer a question today, it was so socially embarrassing.】
【Do you have any plans for tonight?】
After sending several messages in a row, Wen Chu nodded in satisfaction. Xi Liye probably had something to do and didn’t reply immediately. Great! When he replies, I’ll hit him with sharp questions like ‘Why didn’t you reply instantly?’
Suddenly, the phone in her pocket vibrated incessantly.
Wen Chu looked down; two words were flashing on the screen: “Mom.”
She sighed in her heart.
What was meant to come had finally arrived.
Since transmigrating, she hadn’t dared to contact the original host’s family for fear of being exposed. But now that the call was right in front of her, not answering would be even more suspicious.
She pressed the call button and lowered her voice: “Hello, Mom?”
A gentle but weary female voice came from the other end: “Chuchu? Are you at school? Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, I’m in class,” Wen Chu replied vaguely, her mind racing through the original host’s memories of her mother—Lin Xiuyun. Her ex-husband was a gambling domestic abuser; she had gritted her teeth to divorce him for her daughter’s sake and had struggled alone for years. She loved her daughter to the point of spoiling her, which was why the original Wen Chu had grown up to be so arrogant and vain.
“Do you have enough money? It’s getting cold; buy some thick clothes, don’t skimp,” Lin Xiuyun rambled. “I transferred three thousand to your card yesterday. Check it.”
Wen Chu’s heart tightened. The mother’s financial situation was actually quite average; three thousand was no small sum for her.
“Mom, I have enough money, don’t keep sending it…”
“Enough? You’re studying away from home; you should spend what you need.” Lin Xiuyun paused, her voice dropping slightly. “That… Chuchu, this weekend… are you free to come home? Uncle Pei said he wants to treat you to dinner…”
Wen Chu’s fingers tightened around the phone.