Chapter 29

Call her!

Forty minutes later, Su Dai showed up at Chen Yi’s apartment, lugging big bags and small ones like some McDelivery staffer.

~~~

The McDonald’s employee stared blankly as she screeched up to the door in her sports car, snatching the food with frantic urgency.

“Eat it while it’s hot,” Su Dai said. She pulled the food out of the bags and plopped down with Chen Yi on the living room floor. Seeing Chen Yi’s eyes all puffy and red from crying, Su Dai sighed helplessly.

“So, what now?” she asked.

“What is there to say?” Chen Yi replied.

“Did she get back to you?”

“Nope.”

Su Dai wanted to curse again but held it in. Instead, she handed Chen Yi the Coke nearby.

“How about we head out this afternoon?” she suggested.

“I’ve got a stream,” Chen Yi said.

“You think you can stream like this?” Su Dai shot back.

“I promised the fans.”

Chen Yi crammed a fry into her mouth and grinned at Su Dai. “Besides, they won’t even notice from my voice alone.”

“They’re fans, not idiots.”

“Fine, then. Later, I’ll join your stream, and we can play some horror games together?”

Chen Yi laughed. “Su Dai, that’s a huge sacrifice.”

“Isn’t it all to draw attention away from you?” Su Dai pouted. “It’s settled.”

“No need.” Chen Yi shook her head. “I want to play solo for a bit.”

Su Dai agreed.

When Chen Yi’s stream time rolled around, she shut herself in the gaming room. Su Dai, still worried, pulled out her phone to watch from the living room while an idol drama droned on the TV.

Xu Yixiao was watching the stream too.

After a few minutes, her brows furrowed. She padded over to the study in her slippers, knock-knock, and rapped on the door.

Xu Yan called from inside, “Yixiao, what’s up?”

Xu Yixiao cracked the door open and poked her head in. “Little Aunt, did something happen between you and your apprentice?”

Xu Yan smiled as usual. “What are you imagining? Were you sneaking phone time again? Go do your homework.”

Xu Yixiao wanted to press further.

She’d thought Little Aunt had been acting off since coming back yesterday—no more gaming, not letting her log on. And now, watching Vegetable Sister’s stream, her voice sounded hoarse, her mood all low. Sure, Vegetable Sister told the chat it was just feeling under the weather, but Xu Yixiao was convinced it all tied back to her Little Aunt.

Little Aunt was blood family, sure, but Vegetable Sister was her real big sis. She’d been a fan since middle school first year, and Vegetable Sister’s gameplay streams had gotten her through so many rough patches. At her age, having an idol was totally normal. Vegetable Sister was hers.

Under Xu Yan’s steady gaze, Xu Yixiao lost her nerve to keep asking. She gripped the doorknob tight, hemmed and hawed, then blurted, “Little Aunt, she’s actually really great.”

Afraid of Xu Yan’s reaction, Xu Yixiao slammed the door shut and bolted.

Creak.

The door swung shut, the latch clicking into place.

The smile faded from Xu Yan’s face. She flipped open the tablet face-down on her desk, where “I Love Eating Vegetables'” stream was playing.

She didn’t even need Xu Yixiao to tell her—Chen Yi wasn’t doing well.

It was her fault. Xu Yan owned it. All her doing.

She stared at the screen, watching the usually cheerful LIVE2D avatar fall silent.

Part of her itched to explain, to come clean, to respond. But Xu Yan reined it in. Her reason always led the way over her feelings. In the end, she did nothing—just used her scrambled-ID account to toss Chen Yi a gift amid the flood of donations.

Chen Yi read it out evenly, thanking the gifter.

Something softened in Xu Yan’s chest, so she sent a few more.

Chen Yi let out a light chuckle, her voice faint.

“Thanks, user *. First time here? You really don’t need to send so many—it’s pricey.”

Xu Yan typed back in the chat under her garble: No worries. You deserve it.

Chen Yi’s nose stung. She mumbled a thanks.

Did she deserve it?

If she did, why couldn’t she even get a single reply from the person she liked? Hell, it didn’t have to be a reply. As Chen Yi played her game, her mind wandered. Fade could’ve just been straight with her. If she hated it, say so. If she was annoyed, say that. Chen Yi wasn’t some unreasonable brat who’d throw a tantrum. She wasn’t that shameless.

At least say something. Don’t just vanish without a word.

After a bit, chat exploded: Vegetable Sis, Vegetable Sis, how’s things with your online fling?

Before Chen Yi could answer, the other viewers jumped in for her.

[With Sis’s skills? No way she’s scoring a date.]

[OMG mentioning it reminds me—I almost forgot about the online romance… Did Sis get dumped?]

[Don’t cry, Sis! One door closes, another opens!]

“Don’t speculate, guys,” Chen Yi said. “We never got together. For real. And probably never will.”

Xu Yan stayed silent, but breathing suddenly felt hard. Her reason whispered that this was her choice—she had to live with it.

Yeah. Her choice.

~~~

The next day at work, Xu Yan arrived early, only to find Chen Yi already there.

“Morning, Chief Editor,” Chen Yi said brightly, handing over a coffee like nothing was wrong. “Iced Americano, low sugar, right?”

Xu Yan pressed her lips together, took the coffee, and murmured thanks.

Acting out of character, Chen Yi piped up. “Chief Editor Xu, anything you need me to handle today?”

Xu Yan looked at her steadily for a moment, then glanced away. “Nothing for now.”

Chen Yi deflated a little. “Okay.”

“Oh, and Chief Editor Xu—this is the brooch you lent me before.” Chen Yi handed over the neatly wrapped jewelry. Xu Yan took it.

She couldn’t quite hold back. Before walking away, Xu Yan doubled back to Chen Yi’s desk, tapped the surface, and asked, “You okay?”

Chen Yi blinked, confused. “I’m great, Chief Editor Xu!”

She flashed a brilliant smile. “Got any work for me?”

Xu Yan thought: She doesn’t look okay at all.

Yu You’an thought Chen Yi was off too.

“What, you possessed or something?” Yu You’an gaped. “Here this early for once! And volunteering for work!”

Chen Yi just smiled, not mentioning her sleepless night—how she’d gotten dressed and taken the subway right on time, desperate not to idle lest the emotions crash in.

But the universe had it out for her. Mornings were dead, and it wasn’t until afternoon that Zhouyu stormed the office, dark circles under her eyes but buzzing with energy. Finally, Chen Yi had something to do.

“Look, look—my design draft!” Zhouyu grabbed Chen Yi. “Tell me what you think.”

Chen Yi, hopeless at it, could only gush like an illiterate. “Looks great.”

Zhouyu, impatient, dragged her to Xu Yan’s office to hash it out with Xu Yan. Chen Yi played scribe, jotting down every detail and tweak they discussed.

“Overall, it’s solid. Just needs some fine-tuning,” Xu Yan said. “Keep pushing. It’s good.”

Zhouyu puffed up proudly. “Who do you think designed it?”

Buoyed by the praise, she was all cheer despite the all-nighters. She rallied on the spot. “Alright, after work, dinner’s on me—then drinks. You two in?”

Xu Yan frowned. “No need.”

“Sure!” Chen Yi said.

Xu Yan eyed Chen Yi.

The look made Chen Yi waver. “Chief Editor Xu, can I go?”

Zhouyu slung an arm around her shoulders. “Why ask her about off-hours stuff? She’s your boss, not your wife. She doesn’t get a say in everything.”

“It’s a plan, then. I’ll wait downstairs after work.”

Chen Yi clutched her laptop and nodded.

As quitting time neared, Chen Yi remembered Su Dai saying she’d pick her up for dinner.

“You’re in heartbreak recovery mode,” Su Dai had declared. “I’m sticking with you.”

Brain fart total. She’d blanked.

Chen Yi scrambled, coordinating between Zhouyu and Su Dai. In the end, it became a trio outing.

They went for hotpot, the red broth bubbling fiercely, steam rising in clouds, chopsticks dipping into platters of food, aromas filling the air.

“So, she got played?” Zhouyu summed up after Su Dai recapped Chen Yi’s saga.

“Totally,” Su Dai agreed.

Zhouyu tsked and clinked her Coke against Chen Yi’s. “Chin up, Little Yi. World’s full of women—don’t get hung up.”

Chen Yi sighed wistfully. “Teacher Zhou, you saying that to me?”

Zhouyu: “…”

Su Dai: “Spill! What gossip?”

Soon, hotpot turned into a misery poker tournament. Sandwiched between Su Dai and Zhouyu as they vented about exes, Chen Yi suddenly felt like she might not have it the worst.

“But I clocked you as into girls the first time I saw you,” Zhouyu said with a grin. “Just knew we’d click.”

“You could tell?” Chen Yi marveled.

“Yeah. That dazed, lovestruck look? Dead giveaway.”

“What look?”

Zhouyu waved it off. “Local slang. Done eating? Let’s hit the bar next—my treat.”

Su Dai jumped in eagerly. Chen Yi, game to drown her sorrows, agreed too.

At the bar, from afar, Chen Yi spotted Xu Yan at the entrance. Black trench coat, hair pinned up, scarf draped loosely—one person crafting a whole winter scene vibe.

Chen Yi froze, didn’t dare approach.

Zhouyu explained, “Oh yeah, over dinner, your Chief Editor Xu said she wrapped work and asked where we were heading next. So I sent her the address.”

Su Dai leaned close to Chen Yi’s ear and let out an exaggerated “wah!” “Chen Xiaoyi, your editor-in-chief looks pretty good. Have you thought about switching targets?”

Chen Yi pushed Su Dai away. “Shut up.”

She didn’t dare provoke the Female Demon Head.

Chen Yi tugged Su Dai along with her head bowed as they headed for the door. When they drew near Xu Yan, she dipped her head even lower and murmured, “Chief Editor Xu.”

Xu Yan hadn’t even responded when Zhouyu let out a laugh. She stepped forward and slung an arm around Chen Yi’s shoulders, instructing her, “Chen Yi, why call her ‘editor-in-chief’? We’re out here to have fun, not to work. Right, Xu Yan?”

Xu Yan shifted her gaze away from Chen Yi and toward Zhouyu.

Zhouyu sensed something odd in the air, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She followed the direction of Xu Yan’s stare and realized it was locked on the spot where her hand rested on Chen Yi’s shoulder.

Zhouyu arched an eyebrow and deliberately kept her arm in place.

Chen Yi felt uncomfortable first. She ducked under Zhouyu’s arm and slipped free.

“Shall we head inside?” she said. “We’re kinda blocking the doorway out here.”

“Let’s go,” Xu Yan said. “What do you all want to drink?”

“Something strong,” Zhouyu replied. “Chen Xiaoyi’s heartbroken—let’s drink till we drop.”

Chen Yi: “……”

“Teacher Zhou—no, Zhouyu.” She ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Want me to grab a megaphone and announce to the whole bar how your ex-girlfriend wore the wedding dress you designed to marry some guy?”

Zhouyu threw up her hands in immediate surrender. “My bad, my bad.”

“I won’t say another word.”

Chen Yi huffed.

The four of them pressed onward. At some point, Zhouyu and Su Dai fell into step side by side, leaving Chen Yi walking next to Xu Yan.

“Heartbroken?” Chen Yi heard Xu Yan ask.

Chen Yi went rigid all over. “Not at all! Don’t worry, boss! Nothing’s gonna mess with my work performance!”

She spoke with utter conviction.

Ten minutes later.

“Wahhh.” Chen Yi sat on the booth sofa, tears streaming down her face. She stared at her phone, Fade’s chat window already open.

Su Dai was outraged. “Call her!”

“I don’t dare,” Chen Yi said, all pitiful.

“What’s not to dare? Call her! If you won’t, I will!”

Su Dai lunged for the phone. Chen Yi clutched it protectively to her chest, drew in a deep breath, hesitated a moment, and tapped the voice call button.

Her fingertip hovered for three seconds before—with an involuntary tremble—she pressed down softly. In that instant, Chen Yi felt as if she weren’t tapping a mere call button, but flipping the switch on a bomb. It was as though her very fate, life or death, balanced on this single moment.

Beep, beep—

“No one’s picking up,” Chen Yi said with a strained laugh to cut the tension. “Guess I’ll hang up.”

Click!

After the brief tone, the call timer inched forward.

0:01

0:02

~~~

The bar buzzed with noise, but Chen Yi’s ears rang with utter silence. Her breath caught in her throat, leaving only the frantic pounding of her heart echoing through her hollowed-out body. Her lips went dry, her throat burned—before she could utter a single word, the tears spilled free.

Drip.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end finally came through.