This… won’t work.
That… won’t work either.
Her pen traced countless lines across the paper, each plan dismissed one after another.
The two locations were far apart, and no matter how hard she wracked her brain, she couldn’t figure out how to make one person go to both places.
Not to mention…
Her sister didn’t even seem to plan on finding the villain at all!
Zhu Shuiwen stole another glance. The stack of competition papers lay beneath Zhu Feifei’s elbow, completely blank.
If she didn’t even do the problems, how could she possibly go ask anyone for help!?
“What happens if I fail the mission?” she asked the system.
The system’s reply was concise: [Boom.]
The thought, “Maybe failing once won’t matter,” immediately went up in smoke in her mind.
It was the last self-study period on Friday, and everyone was a bit restless. She saw Deng Xujie twisting in his seat, chattering away about all the wonderful things he imagined for tonight’s birthday party.
Zhu Feifei twirled her pen, occasionally responding with a word or two.
When her sister spoke to others, there wasn’t that faint trace of aversion or impatience—this gave Zhu Shuiwen the courage to look a little longer.
She turned her gaze away, solved a few language questions, and then returned to the “distance problem” scribbled on her draft paper.
If her sister were willing to cooperate, there was an extremely tight strategy: first go to the East City bar and complete the “first encounter” with the male lead, then rush to West City to discuss the math problem with the villain, and finally return to East City to trigger the next plot point.
But this was bordering on a gamble. After school was also peak traffic hour in Fuhai City.
Of course, the biggest gamble was…
Why would Zhu Feifei cooperate with her?
If she revealed the “patching” mission, she could predict her sister would furrow her brows and coldly say, “Are you out of your mind?”
Just when she felt completely at a loss, Zhu Feifei, as if unable to bear it any longer, turned her head and looked at her.
Then she stood up and walked straight toward her.
“Sister!”
The girl’s eyes lit up, and she called out in surprise.
This was the first time her sister had approached her voluntarily!
But soon, from the tight line of her sister’s lips, she realized something obvious: the conversation that followed was unlikely to be friendly.
“Come out.”
After saying this, Zhu Feifei walked out of the classroom without looking back.
As soon as Zhu Shuiwen stepped outside, Zhu Feifei immediately launched her barrage of questions:
“During class, the teacher suddenly called on me to answer a question. Were you the one behind it?”
Zhu Shuiwen froze.
Before her mind could catch up, Zhu Feifei’s next words followed immediately:
“Sleeping in class is your own problem. Why drag me into it? You had to see me make a fool of myself to feel satisfied, didn’t you?”
Though she lowered her voice somewhat because they were still in self-study, the anger swept through the air with an almost tangible force.
It seemed she had been holding back since answering the question, only letting it pour out now—and what leaked was but a tiny fraction of the fury stored in her heart.
Zhu Shuiwen’s face went pale. “N-No! I didn’t mean to make you look bad…”
Zhu Feifei cut her off. “I’m just asking—was it because of you that the teacher called on me?”
Even if Zhu Shuiwen denied it, it wouldn’t change anything. In Zhu Feifei’s mind, there was only one answer:
“…Yes.”
The girl paled further, mumbling.
The scene in class had been too obvious; anyone with a shred of reasoning could guess the connection.
“Are you crazy, Zhu Shuiwen? Can you stop bothering me?”
She hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but the girl had been sneaking glances in class. That gaze… to put it bluntly, it could make a corpse jump out of its coffin!
Zhu Feifei’s chest was tight with frustration; her tone sharp and merciless.
“I’m warning you, Zhu Shuiwen. If you try any more tricks like this, I don’t care what my parents think,” she said slowly and deliberately. “I will throw all your things out and make you leave my house!”
The corridor was silent for a long while.
The girl kept her head down. The strands of hair falling by her ears made her look especially meek, like a floppy-eared, terrified rabbit.
For a moment, Zhu Feifei wondered if she had spoken too harshly. But the instant she felt even a hint of softening, all her defenses shot back up—a hatred for her own lack of resolve.
Heaven knows, the first time she saw her cousin, she had actually liked her.
The girl’s round eyes blinked sweetly as she called “Sister,” looking obedient.
But the moment her father said, “From today, Xiao Shui will live with us,” that little fondness vanished without a trace.
All that remained in her heart was one thought: Why?
Her father thought she was being unreasonable—he had just given Zhu Shuiwen a spare room. What was there to be angry about?
So, in the five minutes after Zhu Shuiwen entered, a new round of family warfare erupted right before her eyes.
The girl had been trying to pick up the oranges she had dropped on the floor—she had carried a large bag, riding the bus all the way home with them.
They were supposedly a new, sweet variety grown at home.
Because she was small, she tripped at the entrance and all the oranges fell. She squatted down, flustered, trying to pick them up.
Hearing the quarrel, she froze for a while, then mustered courage, picked up an orange, and timidly said, “Sister…”
Zhu Feifei’s reaction was to shove her hand away hard. “Don’t pretend to be nice!”
The orange fell to the floor with a dull thud, bruised and split open.
At that moment, the girl’s reaction mirrored the current one—frozen, speechless.
The only difference this time: she didn’t walk away silently.
Her timid, quivering voice sounded: “…Okay.”
After a pause, she whispered in an even smaller voice, “I’m sorry, sister.”
The other party didn’t utter a single word in protest, as if they already knew that whatever was said at this moment would only be seen by Zhu Feifei as “excuses.”
—Which only made her more irritated.
She would rather have her cousin reveal her ugly, nasty side and get into a shouting match with her than deal with this obedient, submissive act.
No, what is she trying to pretend?
Deng Xujie’s words from earlier looped in her mind again—
“Sister Fei, the country bumpkin is glaring at you.”
“Sister Fei, I guess it’s probably because you actually got the answer right on that question, and it made her furious.”
“Sister Fei, she’s glaring at you again.”
Daring to do it but not daring to admit it, huh?
Just as her anger was about to peak, the bell rang loudly.
School was over.
Not wanting to face the throngs of students pouring out, she simply turned and left—after all, she wasn’t doing homework over the weekend, so she didn’t even take her backpack.
Deng Xujie ran out and, passing Zhu Shuiwen, clicked his tongue a few times.
Unfortunately, the girl didn’t react at all, which made it rather boring.
Only when Zhu Feifei called out in a displeased tone, “Not in a hurry, huh?” did he finally leave Zhu Shuiwen alone and happily chase after her: “Sister Fei, I’m coming!”
The students surged out of the teaching building in a wave, and the campus became bustling. The sudden spike in density made it almost uncomfortable.
Somehow, still some distance from the school gate, Zhu Feifei suddenly stopped and glanced back.
—Their eyes met unexpectedly.
On the railing, Zhu Shuiwen, dressed in a blue-and-red tracksuit, leaned over, looking down at her.
One girl stood below, shrouded in the shadows carved by the teaching building; the other stood above, bathed in the fiery sunset light.
The rich, vivid light washed over the side of the girl’s face, and large halos of sunlight gleamed across her black hair, radiating brilliantly—almost dazzling.
For a fleeting moment, Zhu Feifei had the illusion that the next second, the other would cup her hand into a megaphone shape and, just as always when they met, joyfully shout, “Sister!”
—But that didn’t happen.
The girl seemed not to have expected her to suddenly turn. After a brief gaze, she stepped back two paces.
Like a suddenly popped-up groundhog, she vanished from view in a swift motion.
“Sister Fei?” Deng Xujie called, puzzled. “Aren’t we going? We’ll miss the ride.”
“…Mm.” She responded softly, slowly turning her head and walking in the exact opposite direction from the girl.
The distance between them grew, until the split of light and shadow completely separated them into two halves.
She didn’t know where the faint melancholy came from, but in that moment, a low yet unusually firm voice flashed through her mind—
“Big sister can do it.”
…Ugh, stop thinking about such pointless things.
The girl stayed standing in the corridor until the classrooms emptied completely.
A few people found it odd, but since they weren’t close to her, no one asked.
After a while, the system couldn’t help but speak: […Little host?]
“…Mm.”
Her speech was slow, seemingly normal at first, but as she said more, the sobs she tried to hold back kept escaping.
“How…can…fix it like this…won’t…fix anymore…”
She wiped her eyes, trying to act as if nothing had happened and continued talking about the mission: “I’m sorry, I’m too stupid… I can’t think of any way to make my sister happy and complete the mission…”
The first few words were clear enough, but by the end, her congested nasal sound almost made her words unintelligible.
“I thought…uh…maybe if I take a taxi…might make it… but…uh…sister now…definitely…uh-uh…”
System: […Forget the mission for now. Go cry first.]
The system, which usually only urged her to complete tasks, for the first time said something comforting.
Five minutes later.
At the washbasin, she splashed water on her eyes again. Cold droplets slid down her cheeks straight into the ceramic basin.
In the mirror, the girl’s forehead was wet, her eyes red and swollen.
[Are you okay?]
“I feel a lot better.” She nodded, her tone full of gratitude. “Thank you.”
[…You’re welcome.] The system was silent for a few seconds before muttering, [Why is the female lead’s temper so bad?]
“It’s not my sister’s fault.” Zhu Shuiwen shook her head.
In this situation, anyone would misunderstand—Zhu Feifei had held her temper for an entire class before exploding; she even felt her sister’s restraint was exceptional.
System: …?
Fortunately, the “sister-obsessed” didn’t get into a debate over the definition of “restraint.”
Right now, she had only one thought.
Mission, mission, mission…
Time passed by second by second, and all she could think about were the few plans she had just calculated.
No matter which method, it required Zhu Feifei’s cooperation.
But…
“Are you crazy, Zhu Shuiwen? Can you stop bothering me?”
Even though her phone was in her pocket, she couldn’t summon the courage to call.
Suddenly, with a flash of inspiration, the girl tentatively raised her hand, covering the lower half of her face.
She bore about a sixty-percent resemblance to Zhu Feifei, but their temperaments and overall appearances were completely different—the biggest difference lay in their eyes and lips.
After crying, the girl’s eyelids were so swollen that there was no trace of her original almond-shaped eyes.
And with her lips covered, her face became almost unrecognizable.
A few seconds later, she spoke in an uncertain voice: “System… I think I might… have a solution.”
…
September in Fuhai City was still synonymous with heat and stifling humidity.
The air conditioner ran endlessly, the hum of the motor evoking thoughts of words like comfort… or coolness.
But such words only applied to the master bedroom, where the air conditioner was.
They had nothing to do with the storage room tucked away in the farthest corner.
When He Xueqi opened his eyes, his pupils were still scattered and unfocused.
A narrow beam of light slipped through the small doorframe, barely outlining the ceiling.
It wasn’t until the dusty bulb in his line of sight went from three lights to one that He Xueqi slowly sat up.
The boy’s lips were pale, cracked, and dry. His T-shirt and the bed sheets beneath him were soaked with sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of water.
On the small table next to the bed sat an empty cup and a few fever-reducing pills.
His colorless fingers pressed against his temple, feeling the pulsing beneath his fingertips.
It was as if countless snakes were writhing under the thin layer of skin, trying to consume his flesh.
The broken-screen phone on the table buzzed once.
Su Qiming: “Did you bring the money?”
The sudden glow illuminated the boy’s pale neck and thin jawline, faint blue-purple veins visible beneath the skin like quiet rivers stretching across a snowfield.
Yet under his raven-dark lashes, his pupils were pitch black, without a glimmer of light.
After a few seconds, the screen dimmed automatically, plunging the boy’s face back into darkness.
He turned his head, got up, and picked up the phone.
As his figure moved, the light shifted slightly. His knuckled fingers rested on the unlocked door edge, and the door swung open silently.
The moment the door opened, everything was bathed in light.
He Xueqi stepped out to find his mother, Xu Huifeng, in the kitchen, preparing vegetables.
Hearing the noise, she muttered: “You can really sleep, huh? From morning to night, then from night to morning…”
Her son didn’t reply, and she didn’t mind—it had always been like this, and over time, there was no need to care.
Without looking up, she took a few colorful little buns from the fridge and quickly placed them in the steamer. “I called you a few times, but you didn’t get up. Didn’t even know if you’d eat, so I didn’t save any rice for you… I’ll make some porridge instead; it’ll be ready in half an hour.”
Seeing him still silent, Xu Huifeng finally looked up and noticed he was staring at the buns she held.
For a moment, she felt caught off guard, unsure whether to move her hands forward or back.
In the end, the lid of the pot slammed down with a “bang,” and the steamer made a heavy metallic scraping sound.
“That’s Rui Rui’s dinner. You’re not a kid anymore—taking a child’s food, isn’t that shameful?”
He Xueqi looked away, silent.
After a long pause, Xu Huifeng softened her voice: “Are you feeling better?”
“Better,” he replied.
“Oh, that’s good.” She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled a little. “Then, later, go to the kindergarten and pick up Rui Rui.”
This time, the silence stretched even longer than before.
It wasn’t until he made her anxious that He Xueqi finally asked slowly: “Why doesn’t Aunt go herself?”
Rui Rui wasn’t Xu Huifeng’s son; he was the child of her younger sister—He Xueqi’s so-called “little aunt.”
This so-called “little aunt,” Xu Huidan, had suddenly shown up one day during He Xueqi’s middle school years, carrying a suitcase.
That day, when He Xueqi returned home, he found three huge piles of luggage on the floor, and his room had been cleared out. A baby bassinet was placed beside the empty bed.
A few-month-old infant lay inside, wailing hysterically due to the unfamiliar surroundings.
Upon seeing He Xueqi, the baby pouted, then let out a loud “Wah—” as a toy slid off his leg and clattered to the floor with a deafening “thud.”
From that day on, He Xueqi’s room became a storage space.
The reason?
“Most of the time, you’re at school anyway; at least there’s somewhere to sleep.”
“The baby’s so small, a small room isn’t suitable for care. Your little aunt won’t stay long. Once your uncle apologizes, she’ll go back.”
“You just have to endure it for now.”
Back then, his younger sister Xu Huidan sat on the sofa, legs crossed, cracking seeds and adding, “Boys need to go through a little hardship.”
That temporary stay ended up lasting five years.
The reason kept changing—from “your little aunt just had a fight with your uncle” to “your little aunt is a divorced woman raising a child; life is hard for her”—but the purpose was always the same: to delay and keep things as they were.
On the eve of He Xueqi’s high school entrance exam, Rui Rui caught a chill from playing, and that night ran a high fever.
Amid the child’s heart-wrenching cries, He Xueqi was woken up and came out of his room.
Xu Huifeng scrambled to apply fever patches on the child and told He Xueqi to fetch a basin of water.
He brought the water and was about to leave when she asked him for a clean shirt.
Glancing at the clock, he stated the facts flatly: “I have five hours and twelve minutes left before my first exam.”
All she could squeeze out was: “Once the child goes to school, he won’t bother you. Just endure it.”
His response was an indifferent “Oh.”
From that moment, He Xueqi’s expression never changed—no matter what she said.
—Just like now.
She said, “Your aunt said she’s not feeling well and asked me to pick up Rui Rui. I don’t have time either—I still have to cook.”
He Xueqi’s response was the same: “Oh.”
Every time in moments like this, Xu Huifeng felt an illusion, as if her son wasn’t standing in front of her at all, but somewhere extremely far away.
—So far that even if she stretched out her hand, she couldn’t touch a strand of his hair.
Do all teenagers go through this “distance from parents” phase?
She knew he harbored resentment, but… after all this time, wasn’t it enough to let it fade?
Yes, the child had been a little noisy, but how could anyone scold a sick, naive child for crying?
Besides, didn’t it still allow her son to score high and get into Fuhai No. 9 High School? They were all family—why couldn’t they show a little understanding for each other?
A surge of irritation rose in her chest for no reason: “What does ‘oh’ mean?”
He Xueqi fell silent.
The silence, in a house with terrible sound insulation, allowed every movement in the master bedroom to carry outside.
The repetitive, noisy music from a short video and Xu Huidan’s loud laughter sounded exceptionally harsh.
“Not feeling well?”
He Xueqi recounted the situation flatly, without a trace of emotion, yet Xu Huifeng’s face went pale and then flushed repeatedly, flickering with unease.
Buzz, buzz, buzz—
The boy’s phone vibrated relentlessly in his pocket, as if someone were constantly messaging him.
Whatever Xu Huifeng saw, she felt compelled to comment: “What is it that you chat about with people every day…”
He Xueqi turned his head calmly and said, “Mom, money.”
“…Oh, right.”
Given an out by her son, Xu Huifeng suddenly felt relieved and stopped pressing about the messages.
She wiped her wet hands on her apron and pulled out a black plastic bag.
This stack of money should have been deposited in the bank long ago, but with a young child at home causing constant chaos—and Xu Huidan lying around doing nothing all day—it had been delayed again and again.
“Hold it carefully. Don’t lose it,” she instructed.
He Xueqi took the stack, his eyes falling onto the cutting board.
More precisely, they fell on the meat-slicing knife.
The thin blade, slightly curled at the edge, was coated with a thin layer of white pork fat and speckled with tiny drops of crimson meat residue.
He lowered his head and, as if casually, said, “Can this still cut?”
“Oh, it’s dull,” Xu Huifeng replied, oblivious, holding the knife under the tap to rinse it. “Take it; have the downstairs neighbors sharpen it when you come back.”
The harsh white light above cast deep shadows over the boy’s face, making his expression even darker and harder to read.
It was like a clump of underwater weeds thrashing in the mud, writhing wildly in silent revelry.
“Okay.”
Amid the rush of water, his voice remained astonishingly calm.
…
Rongjin Alley.
Once, this place had been called “Magouzi.” Its rise to prominence came from producing a distinguished official who broke Fuhai’s centuries-long drought of high-ranking figures, eventually ascending to the position of prime minister.
The alley was renamed, and the characters “Rongjin” became a symbol of hope and aspiration.
During major exams, people would come here to make offerings.
In Fuhai City, Rongjin Alley’s status could be roughly compared to the legendary wishing pool, whose “millennium turtle” everyone wanted to touch.
But outside exam season, the alley was sparsely populated; even during the day, it was eerily silent, like a place haunted by ghosts.
The back alleys, unkempt, were piled with trash, the air thick with the stench of fermenting waste water.
By a small, filth-filled ditch, Su Qiming leaned against the wall, lazily flicking his phone up and down.
He was dressed unmistakably like a delinquent, with several shiny earrings in his ears and rings on his fingers that jutted out like a frightened sea urchin, sharp and intimidating—many people avoided him at all costs just at the sight.
Suddenly, he shot upright and let out an impatient “tsk.”
The sound was so loud that an orange cat leaped several steps, scrambling quickly across the old tiles.
He cursed and kicked the wall hard, causing chunks of plaster to fall.
“Half an hour! Damn it! You messing with me?”
The “sea urchin” on his hand twirled unpredictably in the air before landing on the phone screen, leaving a line of text:
Are you coming or not?
His already thin patience was nearly gone, and one message after another shot out like bullets.
It’s just borrowing some money—stop dawdling! You think I’ll cheat you?
People in the streets live by trust, understand? Why would I ruin my reputation for no reason?
I need it urgently now. Once I have extra cash, I’ll pay you back immediately.
These weren’t the usual lines of a thug extorting someone—at least in Su Qiming’s eyes, he had a reason he had to “get the money.”
Xian Xian’s birthday was coming up.
Earlier, she had posted in her friend circle, saying she really wanted a branded bag but could only look at it through the display window.
He had wanted to buy it, but the bag was too expensive, so he compromised and decided to buy her a dress—something Xian Xian had also mentioned wanting.
Now, he was short about six hundred yuan and just couldn’t scrape it together.
He had borrowed everything he could; finally, desperate, he set his sights on the “school genius.”
By chance, that day, Su Qiming was idly wandering the campus and happened to pass the lab, just as He Xueqi came out.
It was dark at the time, and he didn’t recognize that this guy’s face was literally on the honor roll—a face he had even seen before. Squinting, he sized him up.
Alone, lean—if his personality was also easy to manipulate, wouldn’t he basically be a walking ATM?
So, the moment He Xueqi locked the laboratory, a hand landed on his shoulder.
Su Qiming, trying to project an aura of dominance: …
—Damn, why is this kid taller than him?
He could only lick his lips and, in a sly, almost sinister tone, say, “Kid, how about giving me some money? Let your brother buy a pack of cigarettes?”
At that time, most of the lights were out, leaving only the ground lights converging into harsh beams, glaring on the mosquitoes dancing in the air and the boy’s faded white canvas shoes.
In the hazy night, all he could hear was the other’s voice.
“How much do you want?”
It was like a block of ice silently dropping into a still, dead pond.
He had already said such a stupid thing—wasn’t it only fair to squeeze a little more from this gift-wrapped fat sheep?
But he didn’t expect that what he thought was a done deal would turn into this: the kid “went home to get money” and then promptly “called in sick with a high fever.”
One day, two days… five days!
Su Qiming finally realized that this kid was probably stalling him.
As Xian Xian’s birthday approached, his impatience grew, and his messages took on a more aggressive tone.
The spikes of his irritation jabbed at the screen, “tap, tap, tap,” and impulsively he typed:
I’m warning you—if you don’t come, I’ll report what happened in the lab that night to the teacher.
Before he could type “teacher,” a cold, youthful voice abruptly interrupted: “I’m here.”
“Sh*t!”
To cover the goosebumps that suddenly rose on him, Su Qiming jumped up and shouted angrily, “Are you a cat? You make no sound when you walk!”
Seconds later, the only thing still noticeable was the stench of rotting trash.
He Xueqi calmly watched him, his expression so indifferent it gave off the impression that Su Qiming’s every move was nothing more than the antics of a clown.
—A clown who’s also utterly incompetent.
At this moment, the sun was still hovering near the horizon; the light wasn’t dim. Yet even with half his body bathed in brilliant sunlight, the boy’s aura remained as cold as ice.
“Say something!” Su Qiming barked. “Are you dead or what?”
Sometimes he felt like this kid was a corpse placed in a morgue.
Beautiful, refined features, yet utterly lifeless, inspiring no thought of interaction whatsoever.
The boy simply stood there, like malice itself, staring deeply at him—or rather, staring into a void of nothingness.
His unease fed his aggression. He shoved his phone into his pocket and marched over: “Where’s the money?”
An unnamed pressure pricked at him like needles, gradually turning into a stronger hostility as the boy remained silent.
Su Qiming grabbed the boy by the collar, repeating: “Where’s the money?”
Finally, the boy deigned to speak: “In my pocket.”
Seeing the ten yuan, Su Qiming couldn’t believe it: “Just this much?”
Five whole days of waiting, five days of hope—all of it came down to this, and in the end—
Only ten yuan?
He couldn’t accept such a letdown. His blood pressure soared, his face contorted with fury, chest heaving violently.
He had hidden it, the kid had hidden his money!
Where was his phone? He needed to see the balance himself!
But at that moment, the boy suddenly raised a hand, skillfully blocking him.
He Xueqi’s wrist was wrapped with several loops of cinnabar beads—bright red, striking.
Su Qiming instinctively glanced at it and noticed the boy was holding a heavy black plastic bag.
Catching his gaze, the boy seemed startled and spoke quickly: “This isn’t for you.”
The more he said that, the more it piqued curiosity.
“Give it here!”
When the boy didn’t move, Su Qiming went for it himself!
He Xueqi unusually struggled with him. During the tussle, the bag fell with a metallic clang.
—What’s in there?
Before Su Qiming could figure it out, the tied top of the bag came undone, revealing a flash of bright red.
For a split second, his head spun.
Then, in less than half a heartbeat, the shock gave way to wild exhilaration.
Money. All of it—brand-new bills.
The bag Xian Xian wanted… with this much money, he could buy it!
But He Xueqi staggered forward, his voice tight with urgency. “Don’t take it!”
That one warning triggered Su Qiming’s instincts. Like a starving tiger, he lunged.
But just as his hand was about to touch the bag—
Woo-woo-woo!
A piercing siren blared like thunder out of nowhere, making Su Qiming flinch, his body stiff as if cast in plaster.
Woo-woo-woo-woo!
The sound grew louder, and a female voice rang from the other end of the alley: “Police! Over here! I saw someone being robbed!”
Su Qiming’s face changed drastically.
After struggling for a few seconds, he spat out: “If you tell the police, you’re dead,” and scrambled toward the other end of the alley.
He Xueqi’s expression remained unreadable as he watched the figure disappear, coldly picking up the black plastic bag left on the ground.
After a while, faint footsteps echoed in the empty alley.
The newcomer was a girl in a Fuhai school uniform.
Despite the heat, she covered herself completely with the uniform, mask on, giving off a sneaky, secretive vibe.
As her steps drew closer, the “woo-woo” sound grew louder. The source?
Her phone speaker, playing “Sound Sample 192: Siren.mp3.”
He Xueqi lowered his eyes.
…The original plan had been disrupted.
Meanwhile, Su Qiming ran, panting heavily.
He was genuinely scared.
For some, going to jail is a badge of honor; for a low-level thug like him, he was a mouse, the police were cats.
Only when the siren faded did he feel a bit safer.
But soon, he sensed something wrong.
Footsteps surrounded him.
A few people approached, wearing familiar—malicious—smiles.
Su Qiming backed away: “What… do you want?”
“Our boss heard you scored a little windfall today?” A blond pulled down his cigarette, grinning to show yellowed teeth. “Buying a pack of good smokes for the brothers—is that too much?”
He Xueqi’s phone lit up.
Found “him.” Don’t know who you are, but thanks, brother.
Expressionless, he deleted the message.
—Su Qiming, borrowing money so openly like this, it’s only natural that someone would take notice, right?
Su Qiming collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain, curling up tightly, screaming from his throat.
Fists rained down like raindrops, but above the pain, a furious anger burned inside him.
Who? Who betrayed him?
His mind spun, suspect after suspect, but he had too many enemies to pinpoint who it could be.
After what felt like forever—or maybe not—they finally stopped.
The emptied wallet lay beside him like a torn-up sheet of paper.
“Poor bastard,” someone sneered. “This is all? And you want to impress a girl?”
Hot blood surged. Su Qiming struggled up, roaring: “I’ll take you all down—”
In his mind, this final strike would be unstoppable, like thunder.
But in reality, he was thrown to the ground again.
—As easily as kicking down a chick.
Laughter rang in his ears, but this time he had no strength left to rise.
…
He Xueqi shook the bag in his hand.
The heavy metallic feel—money alone couldn’t weigh that much.
Pathetic, so unwilling, so desperate.
If there were a knife involved… it would have been different, right?
All this effort to bring it here… yet not to the one who needed it most. What a pity.
The boy lowered his gaze, eyes a calm, dead pond.
Zhu Shuiwen, pale-faced, stood in the alley, a sharp headache stabbing her temples.
A flash from her “dream” flickered before her eyes.
A post, with Fang Murou yelling:
Xiao Shui, look! It’s a student from our school! [web link]
Fuhai Daily: A violent clash occurred near Rongjin Alley, the scene blood-soaked.
Reportedly, the two sides didn’t know each other—they fought over stolen money. During the argument, the plastic bag was ripped open. Seeing a butcher knife inside, Su became emotional and attacked.
So far, three injured, one dead.
Breaking news: Su, the injured party, was sent to the hospital, but rescue failed—he is now dead.
Unlike the completely tense Zhu Shuiwen now, the girl in the dream—ignorant of everything—had only remarked, “Wow, that’s scary,” in a light, careless tone.
This “Su” is…
By now, everyone had already dug it up—Fuhai’s students had uncovered it long ago. Su Qiming’s name had spread across every high school in Fuhai, along with all the things he had done.
Extortion, campus violence…
During that time, even “Fuhai No. 9 High School” had made the trending lists several times—it was a complete frenzy.
And she only just now realized that the “student who got robbed,” the one the news never mentioned and who had only been whispered about among students, was actually He Xueqi.
In her “dreams,” she had stood on the sidelines, an observer outside the truth.
—But now, she was a firsthand witness.
Having just experienced a terrifying extortion incident, the boy showed not the slightest flicker of emotion. With calm, measured movements, he slowly tied the scattered plastic bags tight.
On his wrist, the crimson vermilion was wound in tiny grains, like one ominous, otherworldly drop of blood after another.
Not the string from her dreams.
But it still made her nerves jolt violently, her throat tightening as if something had grabbed it.
The next moment, the boy lifted his head, his dark eyes turning toward her.
—Their gazes met.