Su Dai sent over a screenshot.
It was a shot of the in-game mailbox receipt screen. Fade hadn’t written a single word—only a gun in the attachment box. Su Dai had made sure to capture the gun’s name.
[Absolute Shadow]
Its model drew from the SA58. Even in the tiny thumbnail, anyone could see how badass the weapon looked. And the one Fade had sent was a custom-enhanced version, its icon ringed in swirling dark red light effects.
Chen Yi froze.
She knew Miracle inside and out. Even if Su Dai hadn’t highlighted the name, Chen Yi could have identified it from the preview alone.
Absolute Shadow was a gun she’d coveted for a while but never obtained—not even on Vegetable Sister’s main account. The reason? It was a nightmare to craft. Early game was all about scavenging materials; late game was pouring in time and cash. Many components were limited-time drops from way back, and just gathering them all cost close to a hundred thousand RMB.
Chen Yi could afford it easily, but she didn’t have the patience to haggle with players for scraps, track down specialized crafters, or grind endless side quests.
No point.
She’d even tweeted about it once: Absolute Shadow might look slick as an early-game weapon, but its practicality had gone the way of the dodo. She was better off raiding more dungeons.
She wasn’t obsessed with looks or hoarding gear.
Sure, she’d drooled over it for a spell, but she’d gotten over that quick.
She never imagined it’d show up in her account like this.
“So, what now?” Su Dai’s voice message popped up. “You gonna log in?”
“What the hell does she mean by this?”
Su Dai was asking Chen Yi, but Chen Yi wanted to know the same thing.
What was Fade playing at?
She’d ghosted without a word, hadn’t bothered re-adding after Chen Yi deleted her, and now this—dropping an item like that in-game. Was it a pricey severance gift to cut all ties? Make a clean break?
Chen Yi pursed her lips and typed: Send it back to her.
Su Dai replied, “How?”
Chen Yi: Forward it back.
Su Dai said okay.
A moment later, Su Dai shared a new screenshot.
The same mailbox interface, but now with an added line.
[If you really don’t want it, I’ll just trash it.]
Chen Yi laughed, half in exasperation.
Since when was Fade so childish?
Oh, so she was online in-game now?
Su Dai: “What do we do?”
Chen Yi typed: Tell her to trash it.
Su Dai: “For real? The world chat’s blowing up about your gun.”
Su Dai wasn’t as deep into Miracle as Chen Yi, but she had a knack for drama. Ever since she’d logged in, the world chat had been lit up with one hot topic.
[Wind Moon No Pursuit]: Holy shit, announcement just dropped—our server’s got an [Absolute Shadow]?? Which whale pulled this off?? How’d they even craft it??
[SjiojoiAK]: I saw it too. Am I hallucinating or what?
[88132]: I remember the last Absolute Shadow that hit auction went for a million gold, right?
[I Am A Newbie ww]: Million gold coins? That’s chump change.
[88132]: Pat the newbie—it’s RMB, kid.
[I Am A Newbie ww]: !?!?!
[88132]: Materials aren’t bank-breaking, but good luck finding them all. Side quests are a total grindfest. Most players tap out.
[Wind Moon No Pursuit]: Plz tell me—which god-tier crafter? Can the noobs get a peek? Haven’t seen a live Absolute Shadow in years.
[SjiojoiAK]: Waaah, me too! Lemme see!
[Fade]: Not a god. Made it for my little apprentice. If she accepts it, you can ask her if she’s cool showing it off.
[88132]: Holy! Ultimate sugar mama! Signing in!
[SjiojoiAK]: Yay yay yay! Thx rich lady!
[Wind Moon No Pursuit]: ……Hold up! What if the little apprentice rejects it?!
Su Dai almost wanted to answer for Fade.
What else? Trash it and poof—gone forever!
She forwarded the whole gossip thread to Chen Yi.
Su Dai: “This thing’s a bitch to get. Why not just keep it?”
Chen Yi: Whose side are you on?
Su Dai sounded downright aggrieved. “She screwed you over— what’s wrong with snagging one lousy item?”
“So, you want it or not?”
Chen Yi was still stewing, a knot of resentment lodged in her chest. She hesitated, but Su Dai had run out of patience.
“Whatever. Log in and deal with your own account. I’ll bounce and play something else—no more meddling in your drama. Logging off now.”
True to her word, Su Dai logged out. Chen Yi’s phone pinged with the safe-logout notification.
Her head throbbed. She slumped over her desk, eyes glued to her phone. She’d already uninstalled Miracle. Now App Store stared back—re-download or not?
She was seriously pissed.
Yu You’an glanced up from her work. “Everything okay, Chen Yi? Something wrong?”
Chen Yi started to say, “No—”
Yu You’an cut in. “Don’t even. You look like death warmed over. I’ve heard you sigh like three times from over here!”
Chen Yi blinked. “Was I?”
Yu You’an: “Uh, yeah. Doubt me? I’ll record you next time.”
“It’s not just today. You’ve been off all week. I ask, you brush it off.” Yu You’an gave a helpless smile. “Wanna talk about it?”
Chen Yi wavered for a second. “It’s nothing big. I was tight with this person, but she ghosted on purpose. I was just starting to get over it when bam—she’s back.”
“Did she explain why?”
Chen Yi shook her head.
“Do you want to know?”
“Of course.” Chen Yi didn’t hesitate. “I live by one rule: if I’m going down, I go down knowing why.”
She refused messy, unexplained endings.
Yu You’an grinned. “Then there’s your answer. She’s back— just ask her.”
Chen Yi: “Kinda don’t wanna.”
Yu You’an: “Don’t wanna… or too proud to?”
Chen Yi went still, then broke into a relieved smile.
“You’re right.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She just felt it’d make her look weak, like she’d lost somehow. But there was no game here. She just wanted the truth.
Chen Yi thanked Yu You’an and headed to the break area with her phone to download the game.
Yu You’an watched her go, took a slurp of milk tea, and sighed inwardly. Looked like her editor-assistant ship was officially sunk. The way Little Yi had talked about that person? Crystal clear crush vibes.
Alas.
Another CP down the drain.
Yu You’an chomped viciously through a boba pearl, silently mourning her lost pairing for three whole seconds.
Meanwhile, Chen Yi scarfed down the Miracle download on the company’s blazing Wi-Fi. She logged in.
Nothing had changed, but her heart was pounding, breaths coming short and sharp. It felt like stepping into an exam hall. Hell, she’d never been this jittery for a real test. Why the nerves? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Deep down, maybe she just dreaded hearing more words from Fade she didn’t want to hear.
That would hurt all over again.
But if she didn’t risk the pain, how would she ever know what Fade was really thinking? Love was a gamble, Chen Yi realized in a flash. In those uncertain moments, laying yourself bare to someone could be the height of romance—a true leap of faith. Or it could leave you exposed, ripe for the slaughter.
But asking her to shy away from the truth she craved out of fear? No way. She couldn’t.
She opened her mailbox and replied to Fade.
[Why’d you send me this?]
Fade fired back instantly: [To apologize.]
Chen Yi almost laughed.
[For what? Didn’t you say it was on purpose?]
[Exactly because it was on purpose that I want to apologize.]
[Then why not just say it? Why no message?]
Chen Yi knew she was letting a bit of temper slip.
No immediate reply.
Chen Yi stared at her own message. Barely seconds old, and she was already second-guessing if she’d come on too strong.
She hesitated, wondering if she should follow up.
Fade sent a new mail.
[Afraid you wouldn’t want to see it.]
[Can I message you?]
Chen Yi’s resolve melted.
She felt spineless.
Just like that, those two lines had her clicking open Fade’s friend chat first and firing off a single period.
Sister Don’t Hit Me: .
Snapping out of it, she decided it was genius. A period—perfectly neutral, brimming with possibility. Not too quick to forgive, not icy cold. Nailed it!
Fortified by her pep talk, Fade messaged back.
Fade: [confetti]
Fade: Thanks for letting me send you a message.
Something about Fade’s tone made Chen Yi squirm.
Sister Don’t Hit Me: Oh.
She was still playing it cool.
Fade: Truth is, I was scared to private message in case I saw you’d deleted me again.
Chen Yi stared at the message, the corners of her mouth curving up unconsciously.
Fade’s intentions were just too easy to read.
So she did care about getting deleted from WeChat?
Sister Don’t Hit Me: Didn’t delete.
She quickly added: In the game, as long as your name’s still on the friends list, I didn’t delete you.
Fade: Oh, I see.
Fade: Can I come find you?
Chen Yi’s first instinct was a jolt of surprise. Was she jumping straight to meeting up in person? They were still in the middle of an argument! Or at least, if you could call it that now. A moment later, realization dawned—Fade must mean in the game.
Chen Yi shared her coordinates, and Fade teleported right over.
The woman in battle-damaged red attire stood before her. She raised a hand in greeting, then offered an item directly.
It was Absolute Shadow.
Fade said: For you.
Sister Don’t Hit Me: What’s this? An apology gift?
Fade: No.
Fade: I just wanted to give it to you. I hope it cheers you up a bit. Of course, it’d be even better if you’re still willing to talk to me.
Chen Yi’s mouth curved upward again, though her in-game response came out blunt: Oh.
Sister Don’t Hit Me: No need for that.
Sister Don’t Hit Me: More than the item, I want to know why you, my master, vanished like that before.
Fade: So you’re still willing to call me master : )
Sister Don’t Hit Me: !!
Chen Yi nearly lost it right there.
Sister Don’t Hit Me: That’s not the point!
Fade: Okay, okay~
Fade: The story’s a bit long. I’m afraid the in-game private chat won’t hold it all. Would my little disciple mind if I added you as a friend? I’ve already sent the request—hope you’ll accept.
