Chapter 11: It Smells Like Li Qingran!
“Huh?”
Chen Huai’an was utterly stunned.
Wait a second—did it really get delivered?
Is this how far these indie developers are willing to go?
And this game… it had to be the work of hackers, right? It cracked his reality wide open!
A normal person’s first reaction to something like this would be fear.
But Chen Huai’an wasn’t afraid. His life was already in shambles; at worst, he’d just drop dead. What was there to fear?
“Hey! You’re probably hiding in the hallway, right? Come out and talk! This game of yours is way too pay-to-win. Can’t you make it more affordable? I really don’t have much money!” He yelled into the pitch-black corridor. His voice echoed, bouncing down the stairwell, but no one replied.
“Well, fine. Stay hidden then,” Chen Huai’an muttered, shutting the door with a loud bang.
He knew these hackers wouldn’t show themselves; his shouting was just to test the waters.
“Let’s see what this is about.” He sat on the sofa and began unboxing the package.
Curiosity gnawed at him. If these people went so far as to recreate the in-game items and deliver them to his door, then they clearly cared deeply about the game. This meant the gift’s quality had to be top-notch, right?
Inside the box was a small, square pouch resembling a scented sachet.
The craftsmanship was exquisite. But as Chen Huai’an turned it over, his lips twitched involuntarily.
On the sachet were three traditional Chinese characters—"Chen Huai’an"—written vertically.
Beneath them were smaller characters: “Safe and Sound.”
Clearly, it was a protective talisman. But the handwriting…
Chen Huai’an couldn’t help but compare it to his elementary school days, when even his six-year-old self had better penmanship.
The crooked, shaky characters resembled something a dog might scratch out. The sachet’s elegance plummeted the moment he saw them.
“What’s inside this thing?”
He tried to open the pouch, but the material was sturdier than expected—it wouldn’t tear. So, to get a sense of its contents, he brought it up to his nose and sniffed.
That sniff changed everything.
A faint, elegant fragrance rushed straight into his nostrils.
It wasn’t sweet or cloying—subtle and serene, entirely unassuming. It was like a quiet girl silently conveying her longing.
He couldn’t pinpoint the scent, but Li Qingran’s image immediately sprang to mind.
It gave him the illusion that this was her scent!
“Wh-what?!”
Chen Huai’an was shocked. How could a game achieve this level of realism?
He’d heard of games where female characters gifted “authentic” items, like stockings with their “scent.” His college roommate had received such a thing once. But those always smelled like cheap perfume—tacky and artificial, stirring no connection whatsoever.
This talisman was completely different.
No matter how he sniffed it—lying down, sitting upright, or even while viewing his favorite teacher’s profile—it still brought Li Qingran to mind.
“Incredible!” Chen Huai’an slapped his thigh.
Why waste this technology on a game’s monetization schemes?
If they marketed a perfume brand with this kind of innovation, they’d be raking in billions!
In the end, Chen Huai’an decided to wear the talisman.
Why? Because it truly felt like it was made by Li Qingran herself!
By mid-morning, Chen Huai’an had his affairs in order.
He stopped by a shop near the hospital to shave his head bald. He uploaded his cancer diagnosis to his livestream account’s profile, recorded a motivational vlog with the help of his doctor, and reluctantly spent 1,000 yuan on advertising.
For lunch, he had three liang of dry noodles at a local diner.
By afternoon, he was on a plane to Mount Tais.
His livestream profile exuded boldness and a dash of melodrama:
"Youth has no price; life is lived only once. My name is Chen Huai’an, and I’ve been diagnosed with terminal cancer. In my remaining days, I will defy fate, mock death, and push my physical limits to make my life burn as brightly as possible. Today’s challenge: Climb Mount Tais in five hours!"
By the time he reached the base of Mount Tais, it was already 7 p.m.
His plan was to begin the climb at midnight.
Reaching the summit around dawn, he’d witness the sunrise and fulfill one of his small dreams.
As for how much money he might earn, he wasn’t sure. Terminal cancer patients climbing Mount Tais wasn’t exactly common, and on top of that, his legs were genuinely in terrible shape. His ankles were swollen to the point where even wearing shoes was painful. In this condition, walking was agony—let alone climbing a mountain.
He found a bench at the mountain’s base and lay down for three hours to conserve energy.
At 10 p.m., feeling rested, Chen Huai’an pulled out his phone again.
First, he opened the game to check on Li Qingran.
The girl was already awake, meditating on her bed. On the table next to her were some cleaned plates and a basket of fruit, barely touched.
These were all things he’d “fed” her earlier in the game.
Such a hardworking girl.
Just looking at her brought Chen Huai’an a sense of calm.
He took a deep breath, his lips curling into a faint smile, and opened his livestream account.
His vlog had already gained attention over the past half-day, and over a hundred people had set reminders for tonight’s livestream.
The numbers were nothing compared to professional outdoor streamers, but for Chen Huai’an, it was a promising start.
"The hardest part is always the beginning."
Chat comments:
"Streamer, how can you prove you’re terminally ill? You’re not just trying to scam people for sympathy donations, are you?"
"Climbing Mount Tais with terminal cancer? And in five hours? You said you have bone cancer, right? At least make your lies logical."
"Haha, this is so fake!"
As expected, the initial chat was full of doubt and mockery.
Chen Huai’an didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he silently invested in another wave of livestream promotions.
When his viewer count hit several hundred, he finally spoke:
“Hello, everyone. My name is Chen Huai’an. As a terminal cancer patient, I will climb Mount Tais in five hours, livestreaming the entire journey unedited.
“My profile contains my diagnosis, payment receipts, and medical records. If you suspect forgery, you can request verification from the relevant hospital—I welcome any scrutiny!”
With that, he flipped the camera to show his legs.
Pulling up his pant legs and removing his shoes and socks, he revealed his swollen ankles, mottled with burn-like marks.
Rolling the pants higher, he showed how the swelling extended up to his knees.
“As you can see, my body is in poor condition. Every step I take causes immense pain and places a heavy burden on me.”
Switching the camera back, Chen Huai’an rubbed his bald head and gave a carefree smile.
“But I will prove myself. I will trample this disease beneath my feet, mock fate’s impotence, and flip off the Grim Reaper. When the sun rises, I’ll share that moment of triumph with all of you watching!”
The combination of meticulously prepared medical documentation, his scarred legs, his glaringly bald head, and his relaxed, confident smile…
It silenced the livestream chat completely.