Aside from that, there wasn’t really any financial entanglement between them.
Qiu Zheng thought that was quite good.
So now, facing this obviously expensive gift, she felt a bit at a loss. But since she had already accepted it, there was no other option.
She took out her phone and, for once, opened Wen Yan’s chat. She felt like she should say thank you again—but how? What should she say?
And it was already late… would it be inappropriate to send a message now?
As she hesitated, scrolling up and down, her drowsiness had completely vanished. Before she could decide, a new message suddenly appeared at the bottom of the chat.
“Are you free this Saturday?”
The sudden message made her think for a second that it was a bug or that she was seeing things. She exited and reentered the chat, only then confirming it was real before replying.
She typed “I’m free,” then deleted it, changing it to—
“What’s the matter?”
Whether she was free depended on what he wanted.
There was no immediate reply, but Qiu Zheng wasn’t in a hurry. She scrolled up through their chat history and noticed that in the beginning, their exchanges were simple notifications and “received.” Later on, she had even stopped replying with “received,” “got it,” or “okay.”
This kind of real-time back-and-forth chatting… was a first for them.
Wen Yan’s reply came through, and she scrolled to the bottom.
“Not asleep yet? Grandpa wants us to go back to the old house.”
Grandpa Wen…
Qiu Zheng didn’t think long before agreeing. “Okay.” As for the first half of his message, she simply ignored it.
Wen Yan: “Then I’ll pick you up at your place at 9 a.m. on Saturday.”
Qiu Zheng immediately thought of the one time he had been there—his undisguised disdain still vivid in her mind. “No need. I’ll wait for you downstairs at your company at nine.”
There was a slight pause before he replied, “Okay.”
The chat fell silent, as if the topic had come to an end. In just this short exchange, they had already talked more than they usually did in half a year.
Qiu Zheng suddenly remembered the necklace and, while it hadn’t been too long, quickly added, “I’ve seen the necklace. It’s very beautiful, thank you.”
Wen Yan: “I’m glad you like it.”
Qiu Zheng: “I do.”
Wen Yan: “Mm.”
After that, the conversation was completely over.
Qiu Zheng exited the chat. It was too late—she needed to sleep. After all, she still had to face the upstairs “bombardment” first thing in the morning.
Wen Yan had just returned to the hotel from the company.
Still in his clothes, he sat on the sofa by the window, holding his phone.
“1, 2, 3…”
He counted the number of messages they exchanged this time, then took out his notebook again.
Another checkmark—next to “Do not exceed five messages per chat.”
Today… had clearly exceeded that.
He had sent one in the morning and added another at night.
Yet he had to admit that when he saw her reply finally appear, he could feel his heart quicken. With each message he sent, it was as if something lightly stirred his chest.
By the end, the once-still waters had been disturbed, and the ripples still hadn’t settled.
He knew this was the effect of pheromones.
Wen Yan closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa. In just one day, his bottom line had retreated another two steps. This matched partner of his was not to be underestimated.
Perhaps because she was truly tired—and because the upstairs construction had stopped that day—Qiu Zheng slept until nearly noon the next day.
She rented a studio apartment.
It wasn’t particularly small; it had a bathroom and a kitchen. Since she never had guests, she had placed her bed near the door, using the bathroom wall by the entrance to block the view from outside.
Near the window was a sofa, barely serving as a small living area.
Qiu Zheng had lived here for a long time. She hadn’t moved at first because she had already paid a year’s rent in advance.
Later, it was just laziness. She had too many things, and moving was too troublesome. Overall, she was fairly satisfied with the place—after all, when she had first come to this world, she had even lived in a pitch-dark basement.
Of course, when she renewed the lease, the upstairs “bombardment” hadn’t started yet. Otherwise, she would’ve forced herself to move no matter what.
After getting up and washing up, she picked a few scallions from her balcony and cooked some noodles. While eating, she chatted with people online.
She didn’t have friends in real life, but she did have online friends—mostly fellow web novel writers. They would usually chat, exchange ideas, or vent to each other.
At this moment, all three of them in their small group chat seemed to be free, chatting back and forth.
Kang Ya: [image][image][image]
Kang Ya: Girls, look! Pretty, right?
Qing Qiu: So pretty! Ya Ya, where are you?
Kang Ya: Gucheng! Seriously, it’s super beautiful here.
Qiu Zheng opened the images Kang Ya sent. As expected—green mountains and clear waters. Just looking at the photos lifted her mood.
Nan Xing: Beautiful. Ya Ya’s photography skills are great too.
“Nan Xing” was Qiu Zheng’s pen name.
Kang Ya: [sticker: hands on hips]
Kang Ya: Of course! A must-have skill for a traveler. When are we all going on a trip together?
Kang Ya was a full-time travel writer who often shared photos of food and scenery in the group.
Qiu Zheng looked through the pictures again, feeling more and more tempted.
She used to be undocumented.
Heaven knew how hard it was to live as an undocumented person in this world. Making money was hard; even basic necessities like food, clothing, housing, and transportation were difficult. Later, after finally getting legal status and saving some money, Qiu Zheng started thinking about buying a house.
She just hadn’t decided where yet.
Thinking about it now, seeing more places would be a good idea—choose somewhere nice to settle down. Anyway… she didn’t really like Haicheng.
After they finished talking about scenery, someone suddenly tagged her.
Qing Qiu: By the way, Nan Xing, your current book is almost finished, right? What’s next?
Nan Xing: Haven’t decided yet.
Kang Ya: Are you still going to stick with only two genders?
Nan Xing: …
Qing Qiu: Are you still going to make everyone have no pheromones?
Kang Ya: Still canceling compatibility matching?
Nan Xing: …
Kang Ya: How about it, Xing Xing—why not give up sci-fi? That genre is too niche.
Qiu Zheng slurped her noodles fiercely. Good grief—who exactly was the sci-fi one here? Whatever, even if something was sci-fi, it was the whole world, not her.
After the chat ended, everyone went back to their own things. Qiu Zheng continued scrolling on her phone. Maybe influenced by the conversation earlier, her feed was now full of travel scenery and travel planning content.
She tapped through them, liking as she watched.
The more she watched, the more she liked—and the more the algorithm pushed similar content.
Even after transmigrating, she couldn’t escape the era of big data surveillance.
Eventually, she tossed her phone aside. It was Thursday. She had to visit Grandpa Wen’s place on Saturday—who knew what would happen—so she needed to stock up on drafts in advance.
The new inhibitor had just entered clinical trials. On his way home, Wen Yan never let go of his tablet, handling work the entire time.
After finishing the last set of data, he returned to the home screen. Among a pile of work apps, his gaze fell on the only entertainment app.
Before he even realized it, his finger had already tapped it.
Wen Yan didn’t follow Qiu Zheng. Instead, he habitually entered a string of numbers—her account ID. No matter how her username changed, as long as the account remained, he could find it.
A cartoon avatar. The username: “Autumn.”
As usual, she hadn’t posted anything today.
He tapped into “Likes.”
Perhaps because she never posted, commented, or followed anyone—only saved and liked—she hadn’t enabled privacy settings, so he could see her recent likes.
Today, Qiu Zheng was liked more than usual.
Wen Yan opened each video one by one.
They were all travel-related.
Did she want to go out and travel? It made sense—she had never left Haicheng.
Wen Yan unconsciously grew more serious. When he realized he had actually started forming plans in his mind, he shut his eyes and turned off the screen.
The instinctive pull of pheromones was too pervasive—impossible to guard against.
He sat there, emptying his mind, clearing away those stray thoughts. But the moment he opened his eyes, one thought still surfaced—
The day after tomorrow… was Saturday.
On Saturday, Qiu Zheng got up early.
After all, she was going out to meet people. Meeting Wen Yan was fine—she could be casual if she didn’t have time to dress up. He had already seen her at her worst.
No, wait—he never really looked at people properly anyway. It didn’t matter what she wore.
But meeting elders required more care.
Qiu Zheng chose a blue dress and put on light makeup. Looking at herself in the mirror, the blue made her skin appear even fairer. She couldn’t help but admire herself a little.
When she dressed up, she was actually quite pretty.
The dress had a V-neck, leaving her neck looking a bit bare.
She thought of the necklace Wen Yan had given her. Since it was meant to help him keep up appearances, now was the perfect time to wear it. She took it out from her drawer.
After putting it on, she looked at herself again and couldn’t help admiring her reflection once more.
After watering the plants on her balcony, she finally headed out.
Her first stop was WK Group headquarters.
She parked in the lot. It was 8:50 when she stood by the roadside. Perfect timing. Qiu Zheng hesitated whether to message Wen Yan or call him.
In the end, she simply chose a good spot to wait and, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, decided to wait until nine.
She didn’t have to wait long. She had only glanced at her phone for a moment when a car slowly pulled up in front of her.
She recognized Wen Yan’s car—it was quite distinctive. She slipped her phone back into her bag and was about to bend down to pick up the fruit basket beside her when Wen Yan had already gotten out.
The man bent down and picked up the fruit basket before she could.
“Thank you,” Qiu Zheng said.