The adult world really is complicated.
Walking home, An Mengyue’s mind was filled with everything her senior had said.
It wasn’t without reason—President Ku was just an online big shot, a net friend. She didn’t even know his age or what he looked like.
But why did it hurt so much?
Her senior had spoken ill of him, so why did she feel angry?
Her mind was a complete mess right now. She sat on a bench in the neighborhood, kicking the loose gravel at her feet into the bushes, sighing as she looked up at the sky.
Why couldn’t she see the moon again?
Just as she was frowning in distress, her voice call ringtone went off, and she felt a bit flustered.
She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and pressed answer.
“Mm? You’re home? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She wasn’t good at lying, and her tone came out a bit stiff. “Oh… just got back. Bobby seemed a bit restless, so I hurried to take him out for a walk. Didn’t have time to.”
“Mm, then head home as soon as you’re done walking him.”
“Okay.”
The alarm went off, and An Mengyue scrambled up to check her phone.
The person she was thinking of hadn’t shown up.
She opened the chat with MZ on her own and typed out [I’m up].
She hesitated to hit send, then silently deleted it a second later.
Unless he reaches out to me first, then… there’s no then…
Right, I can’t let too much personal emotion creep in, and I can’t rely on him too much!
With that thought in mind, An Mengyue didn’t reach out to Coolest Villain again. Unexpectedly, without any warning, he really did vanish.
As her following grew, WAN TANG 2016’s popularity soared.
The legendary post about Coolest Villain spending 6 million in the Guild Tournament just to win a beauty’s smile—(520+1314)—went viral on Little Red Book, drawing countless curious onlookers to the livestream.
But for days on end, there was no sign of Coolest Villain.
The chatter around An Mengyue turned sour. For the first three days, no one paid it much mind.
But when he still hadn’t shown up by the fourth day, everyone sensed something was off, and she quietly hid her latest photo post.
In the makeup room, Dai Daiyu openly taunted, “Didn’t you say President Ku was going to send me some gifts? When’s that happening?”
With that, she burst into laughter with Xiaoyang beside her, her eyes full of mockery—the picture of petty triumph.
An Mengyue wasn’t one to swallow insults silently. She paid back grievances on the spot. “If you want gifts, just say so. How much? I’ll toss some your way.”
“Heh, hilarious. Your big shot ran off, and you’re still putting on airs! ‘Meeting you is my greatest luck’—” She drawled those last few words with exaggerated contempt, mimicking her in a nasty tone.
An Mengyue was already irritated, and she shot back without patience, “Even if someone from my camp runs, they wouldn’t run to yours. I can still beat you without him. Good luck to you!”
Dai Daiyu snorted coldly, got up and left the makeup room, opening a shopping app as she said to those around her, “President Ku doesn’t want her either. Let’s see how she acts so high and mighty now. I’ll show her a thing or two!”
That night’s livestream, An Mengyue encountered a new big spender named Xunfeng.
At the time, Shark couldn’t pronounce the character “Xun” and kept calling him Brother Feng, which happened to share the same name as the Brother Feng from Dai Daiyu’s camp. Now both she and Dai Daiyu were annoyed.
Shark quickly scrambled to look up the pronunciation—Xun was the same as Mu—and then laid on the flattery thick, calling him President Xun.
Xunfeng’s opening move was the Rose Series three-piece set, handed out like a clearance sale from a mystery shop—only the priciest, never the most fitting—and in the subsequent arena matches, he swept to a perfect record for himself.
This sudden new big spender also gave An Mengyue a chance to hold her head high again. At the very least, her mood improved, and facing the barrage of haters’ questions in her livestream, she finally had some backbone.
The company remarked that after losing Coolest Villain, along came Xunfeng—pretty girls just attract super whales!
An Mengyue even shouted joyfully in her stream: “Thank you, Boss Xun! You’re amazing!”
But it was another flash in the pan. Since that day, Xunfeng had vanished without a trace.
And Coolest Villain—after that night—had never shown up again. Seven days had passed.
Her emotions had run the gamut: panic, then anger, then sorrow, and finally, a hollow calm.
During that time, she’d even wondered if something had happened to him, only to see him post updates from the capital.
The words her senior had said—they’d come back to slap her in the face all too quickly.
An Mengyue told herself she should be grateful. At least it had all happened fast enough that she hadn’t fully lost her head, hadn’t done something reckless for this man.
It only took seven days for her to settle her heart.
But nights were always when melancholy crept in.
Scrolling through short videos, every other post was about the two of them under the hashtag #CoolCat—it was like pouring gasoline on the calm she’d just managed to restore. She switched straight over to Little Red Book.
Opening the app, the first image was a photo of her with red, tear-swollen eyes after winning the Guild Tournament, captioned: 【Is CoolCat over?】
What the hell?
Face dark, An Mengyue tapped into the post anyway.
【As the title says—Cool Emperor hasn’t been to Wantang for seven days, no leave requested either. Cat looks down, and lots of people in the fan group are asking, but Cool Emperor hasn’t replied. Is it over?】
The top-voted reply was just as meddlesome as the rest.
【520+1314 was only a few days ago? 6 million for just a few days of novelty?】
【Just said meeting you was the greatest luck—now the face-slap (so awkward)】
【Gifts stop, feelings hit zero (crying laughing)】
【Where’s the “slow and steady, long road ahead”? Already strangers to each other?】
【The sudden cutoff—did they meet in private and he got scared off by her looks?】
Reading the comments only made her more irritated. An Mengyue propped her head in her hands, knuckles pressing circles into her temples. She hated how easily her emotions could sway her like this. She tossed her phone aside.
She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with a glass of wine, gazing at the night view. There were no stars in the sky, only the shadows of trees cast by the streetlights below. This time of year, she should have been able to hear cicadas, but the house was utterly silent.
The feeling of loneliness surged back over her. It seemed she was alone again.
She turned on the speakers and let the music play, then couldn’t help but go back to the table to grab her phone. She slid down to sit on the floor, back against the sofa, burying her head in her knees. Candy and Bobby, her two little darlings, nestled against her.
Only a single floor lamp was lit in the room. Joe Hisaishi’s “Castle in the Sky” echoed through the living room as she quietly opened the chat with mz and scrolled through their conversation history.
Most of their exchanges had been voice calls, leaving too few text messages behind—so little to hold onto, so little to reminisce over.
She noticed their longest voice call had lasted two full hours. What on earth had they talked about for that long?
She couldn’t even remember anymore.
That bastard. The sooner she forgot him, the better.
Because of the increased intensity of dance training recently, my period this month has been unusually heavy, and even on the third day, my stomach still aches faintly.
After finishing my livestream, I changed clothes and headed to the restroom with a sanitary pad in hand. Just as I pressed the flush button and turned around, a bucket of water came pouring down on me, soaking me from head to toe.
“Ah!”