“Sorry, I’m late.”
Chen Yi sat frozen in front of her computer. The only name in her friends list on the screen had turned gray.
She glanced at the time. Ten minutes had passed since Fade had gone offline.
Chen Yi could no longer console herself with excuses like a sudden power outage or a crappy connection.
Fade must have been scared off by those two words she’d accidentally sent with her shaky fingers.
Chen Yi’s head throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to slam her forehead into the desk.
She must have been badly misunderstood.
Would Fade think she was some kind of shameless flirt? They’d known each other for less than a day, and here she was asking someone to call her “wife.” And they were both girls…
Wait.
Chen Yi pursed her lips and opened her QQ, messaging a gaming friend from her main account.
I Love Eating Vegetables: You around? Got a question.
Taro Coconut Milk: What’s up, Vegetable Sister~?
I Love Eating Vegetables: If you meet a girl in-game and ask how she wants you to address her, and she says “call me wifey,” what would you think?
Taro Coconut Milk: Is there really such a good thing in this world?!
Taro Coconut Milk: Vegetable Sister, did you run into a girl like that?
Chen Yi didn’t reply. She switched to someone else.
She asked the same question, and her friend ID’d as Very Busy Fighting Fires replied: Scary as hell.
Chen Yi: ?
Very Busy Fighting Fires: Girls who casually throw around “wifey” are definitely straight!
Very Busy Fighting Fires: I can’t handle that type. I’d just nope out.
Very Busy Fighting Fires: Did she hit on you?
Chen Yi sent a smiling emoji and said nothing more. She closed the chat window and gathered her thoughts.
Fade’s reaction had been so intense. Could it be that she liked girls too, making her extra sensitive—and thus extra offended—about stuff like this?
The little suspicion had just bubbled up when Chen Yi sighed again.
From what she’d observed of Fade today, regardless of her orientation, the girl was someone who took things seriously, both in actions and with people. She wasn’t the type to brush off calling someone “wifey” as a joke.
Chen Yi couldn’t assume the whole world was gay just because she was a lesbian, right?
Anyway, she had to explain things clearly to Fade.
Private chat in the game was no longer an option. In Miracle, you could only message privately if both friends were online at the same time.
Chen Yi laid out the whole story in painstaking detail, filling the email to the brim without missing a word. She even attached a cute little pet as an apology gift.
The moment she hit send, a helpless, bitter smile tugged at Chen Yi’s lips.
She had a bad feeling about this.
No matter how Fade responded, it seemed like she was taking the whole thing way too seriously.
That wasn’t a good sign.
To stop her brain from spiraling, Chen Yi threw herself into a tough game. That night, she went live again, streaming a horror game. Her fans were thrilled.
[Vegetable Sister is on fire today! PS: Not saying she’s not usually fierce.]
[Is Vegetable Sister’s internship not going well? She seems like she’s venting on those NPCs!]
Chen Yi glanced at the chat, bristling at the mention of her internship.
Come to think of it, nothing had gone right for her today.
“Don’t ask,” she snapped, irritation bubbling over. “Asking just means I volunteered for this hell.”
“Low pay, tons of crap work, and getting yelled at? It’s a dream life, really.”
The chat exploded with laughter.
[Alert! Another one lost it!]
[Who doesn’t go nuts at work??]
Chen Yi streamed straight through to 2 a.m., beating the game before logging off to crash.
After washing up and setting her alarm, she lay in bed but couldn’t resist pulling out her phone. She logged into the game on her alt to check if Fade had replied.
Fade’s ID was still gray. But there was a new email in her inbox.
Chen Yi tapped it open, joy surging—only for her smile to freeze.
Official customer service, stop spamming her!!
Damn it!!
~~~
The next day at work, Chen Yi dragged herself in with dark circles under her eyes.
She worked at a fashion magazine, surrounded by urban beauties, trendsetters, influencers, runway models. Everyone was meticulously put-together.
It was fall, but Chen Yi had just thrown on a trench coat and sneakers before heading out. She clashed hard with the office vibe.
When Yu You’an arrived, she brought her a coffee. “Morning, Chen Yi.”
Chen Yi slumped over her desk like a corpse. “Mooorniiing—”
Yu You’an clicked in on little heels, sporting a chic little Chanel-style jacket. She was going full ladylike today.
“Still bummed out?” Yu You’an whispered. “I heard about it.”
Chen Yi’s heart skipped.
What? Had her game crush on “sis” somehow leaked to the office?!
Yu You’an sighed softly. “Chief Editor Xu was a bit harsh yesterday, but Chen Yi, she was just venting. She won’t fire you over it.”
“Oh—” Chen Yi blinked.
That?
“How’d you find out?” she asked.
Yu You’an: “I joined the company group chat. Saw it there. They said some intern pissed off Chief Editor Xu yesterday and nearly got canned. Knew it was you right away.”
Chen Yi gave her a thumbs-up. “You’re made for intel work.”
Yu You’an smiled sweetly. “Want me to add you to the group?”
Chen Yi waved it off.
She wasn’t into gossip chats.
“Coffee—thanks.” Chen Yi cradled the cup Yu You’an had brought. “I’ll get you one tomorrow.”
Yu You’an beamed. “Awesome, I won’t stand on ceremony then.”
“Mm.” Chen Yi smiled back and took a sip. Perfect sweetness—just her usual latte.
Yu You’an looked a tad smug. “Saw you buy a latte yesterday. Nailed it, huh?”
Chen Yi was genuinely impressed by Yu You’an’s eagle eyes.
They chatted a bit before diving into work. Interns didn’t get big tasks—just low-skill stuff. Chen Yi’s habit was to power through it all at once. She’d thought finishing early meant more downtime. Nope—more work just piled up.
At lunch, after Yu You’an gave her some tips, Chen Yi got it: At a company like this, you couldn’t be too eager or too slack. Had to hit the sweet spot.
It gave her a headache.
She sucked at office politics.
She’d rather be at her computer cracking a puzzle game.
Even worse: At the end of the day, just as she was about to sneak out, a senior from the department stopped her. Chief Editor Xu was inviting everyone to dinner to celebrate the new interns.
Chen Yi pulled a sour face. “Do we haaaave to—”
The senior clapped her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Chief Editor Xu isn’t that scary off the clock. It’s a department tradition. You two pick what you want.” The last bit was aimed at Chen Yi and Yu You’an.
Chen Yi thought: She wanted to go home and play chicken dinner.
The electronic kind.
But she couldn’t say that.
After some back-and-forth, the group settled on a Cantonese spot.
Chief Editor Xu seemed swamped. She didn’t show until everyone else had started eating.
“Sorry.” Xu Yan undid the belt on her leather jacket, revealing a low-neck inner layer. When she glanced down at people, her double-lidded eyes had long, thick lashes. “I’m late.”
The crystal shrimp dumpling clamped in Chen Yi’s chopsticks plopped straight into her bowl.
Everyone who’d been staring at Xu Yan instantly turned to Chen Yi.
Xu Yan looked over too. She didn’t speak, just arched her perfectly groomed right eyebrow. Her face turned icily aloof, her gaze frosty.
