Chapter 21

Lin Qimian struggled to exit the warning interface but couldn’t get out.

Her phone had frozen solid, completely unresponsive.

Just as she was about to power it off and restart, another phone started ringing.

Lin Qimian ignored it, still fiddling desperately with the first one. Huang Xiaoyi, who had been watching her intently from across the table, finally couldn’t take it anymore and stood up. “Qimian, your phone’s ringing. What’s going on? You’re not even answering it.”

“A bit busy,” Lin Qimian said with a frown, genuinely anxious deep down.

The plan they’d all agreed on had been thrown into chaos ahead of schedule. She’d figured she could just cover whatever shortfall was left at the end, but now PK time was almost up—and she couldn’t.

Huang Xiaoyi circled around the table. “Want me to pick it up for you?”

The relentless vibrations were getting on Lin Qimian’s nerves. “Yeah, see who it is.”

Huang Xiaoyi fished the phone out of her bag and froze in place. “Qimian… it’s the police station…”

Lin Qimian: “…”

She snatched the phone. Below the flashing landline number on the screen was an automatic label: S City XX District Jinshui Street Police Station.

Under Huang Xiaoyi’s tense, fearful stare, Lin Qimian picked up. “Hello.”

A righteous male voice, speaking flawless standard Mandarin, came through from the other end. He stated his identity and badge number, then informed her that she might have fallen victim to a scam and urged her to come down to the station.

Lin Qimian: “…”

She cleared her throat, which had grown hoarse from her earlier frustration, and slipped back into her usual calm, composed tone. “Officer Zhang, thank you so much. But every transaction on my account was made by me personally. No one coerced or deceived me—please don’t worry.”

Officer Zhang: “Did you send multiple large transfers to the same account in a short period of time?”

Lin Qimian: “Yes.”

Officer Zhang: “And was that receiving account logged in from an unfamiliar device?”

Lin Qimian: “Yes.”

Officer Zhang: “Silly girl, you’ve fallen for the latest internet scam. We’ve had tons of cases like this. They all regret it once they snap out of it. Stop whatever you’re doing right now…”

Officer Zhang went on with earnest, painstaking advice, determined to talk some sense into her if it killed him.

Lin Qimian tried explaining several times, but she couldn’t win the police’s trust.

Finally, worn out from talking, Officer Zhang cut straight to it. “Where are you right now?”

Out of respect for the police, Lin Qimian gave him her location.

The call finally ended. Lin Qimian glanced at the time—Moon’s PK battle had wrapped up.

Her backup phone was hopelessly frozen, its screen black. Her main phone still had the Orange app; she could log in and check the results.

But suddenly, she didn’t dare look.

It was like knowing you’d botched a problem but still having to face your test score.

Lin Qimian stared at her phone, lost in hesitation.

Huang Xiaoyi was scared out of her wits.

Lin Qimian had been off all day. On the drive over, she’d been all smiles during her meeting with earbuds in. At lunch, she’d been distracted, her mind elsewhere. She’d finally settled down, back to her normal self, and they’d enjoyed a proper meal together—until two phone buzzes yanked her away again.

Then she’d clutched that phone, frowning one minute, relaxing the next.

Her fingers flew across the screen, eyes darting back and forth in a frenzy.

Anyone else might get a pass—everyone has their moments.

But this was Lin Qimian: the picture of unflappable calm, her face unchanging as mountains crumbled before her, her gaze steady even as a herd of deer bounded past. That’s exactly the image Huang Xiaoyi had in her head when memorizing those lines in Middle School.

Lin Qimian wore a perpetual icy mask, as if she had no desires in the world and just wanted everyone to leave her alone.

So how had she ended up like this?

Not only a call from the police station—but afterward, she looked utterly lost and defeated.

What on earth could it be?

Huang Xiaoyi’s mind spun with one horrifying possibility after another, each one enough to make her knees buckle.

She opened her mouth several times before managing to speak. “Qi… Qimian… what happened? Whatever it is, just tell us. We’ll face it together…”

Lin Qimian looked up at her, her gaze still a little unfocused. “Nothing.”

Those two airy words didn’t convince Huang Xiaoyi for a second. “Really—no matter how bad it is, we’ll figure it out together. Rules are rigid, but people can adapt…”

Lin Qimian: “Really nothing.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “You…”

Lin Qimian frowned slightly. “But there might be some trouble.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Huh? What kind of trouble?”

Lin Qimian didn’t answer—because the answer had just walked right up to them.

The restaurant manager led a uniformed officer into their private room. Sweat beaded on the officer’s forehead as he glanced around. “Which one of you is Lin Qimian?”

Huang Xiaoyi’s eyes went wide. “!!!!”

Lin Qimian raised her hand. “That’s me.”

The three of them headed to the police station together.

It wasn’t surprising that the officer was so suspicious. Online scams were rampant these days, and there was indeed one variety that closely matched the suspicious activity flagged on Lin Qimian’s phone.

When people fall victim to these cons, their heads get all foggy. Officers often have to drag them back to their senses by force.

Seated in the station, Lin Qimian pulled out her phone and walked Officer Zhang through everything, step by step. Only then did she finally earn his trust.

“Whew, glad you weren’t scammed,” Officer Zhang said, frowning deeply. He clearly still disapproved of her actions. “But this obsession with live streams is seriously messing up your life.”

He stood and called Huang Xiaoyi in. “Both of you, have a seat. Let me explain the dangers of getting hooked on online games, live streams, chasing idols, and all that junk.”

Huang Xiaoyi blinked in confusion. “???”

But she didn’t dare say a word.

It was the first time in her life she’d set foot in a police station.

Officer Zhang lectured them for a solid half hour. When he finished, Huang Xiaoyi jumped to her feet and swore to the heavens, “Officer Zhang, I promise I won’t get addicted to the internet! I’ll live right! No idol-chasing! No live streams! I’m trash at games anyway—I just mess around occasionally, and I never drop cash on them. I just play for free… Ah, not that kind of ‘free’! I mean, I absolutely won’t spend a dime!!!”

Officer Zhang nodded approvingly. “Good. And look after your friend more, too…”

“My friend? No way she’d fall into that. She doesn’t touch any of it. She’s a doctor—just works and reads all day. Getting her out for a single meal is like pulling teeth…”

Officer Zhang: “…”

Lin Qimian: “…”

Officer Zhang: “You have no idea why she’s here, do you?”

Huang Xiaoyi: “???”

Officer Zhang: “See, even a doctor. You professionals and cops bust your asses for every penny, and you dumped your whole savings on some streamer…”

Huang Xiaoyi: “!!!!”

Half an hour later, the two women finally walked out of the station.

The muggy sky cracked open with a distant thunderclap. In an instant, howling winds and sheets of rain hammered down.

Huang Xiaoyi and Lin Qimian huddled under the station’s eaves. They couldn’t plunge into the downpour, and neither had called for a ride.

Silence stretched on—a long, empty hush.

The rain brought a chill, whipping up the hem of Huang Xiaoyi’s shirt. She pressed it down and finally found her voice. “It’s… Moon, isn’t it?”

With everything laid bare, Lin Qimian felt strangely calm. “Yeah.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Did it start… after that dinner we had last time? Is that when you began watching her streams?”

Lin Qimian: “Yeah.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Are her streams… that mesmerizing? You haven’t even seen what she looks like in person these days…”

Lin Qimian: “I have.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Huh? When?”

Lin Qimian: “She came to our hospital to get her wisdom teeth pulled. I was the one who did it.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Oh…”

Silence settled over them again.

Huang Xiaoyi had no idea where to even begin with her questions. Lin Qimian didn’t know how to start explaining.

After a long moment, Huang Xiaoyi forced an awkward smile. “Back in Middle School… and still now… you’re really into her, huh.”

Lin Qimian said nothing.

Huang Xiaoyi: “Haha, well then, next time you’ve got a chance, invite her out. We can all grab a meal together. We’re classmates, after all—it’s rare we’re in the same city now.”

Lin Qimian: “She has no idea it was me who pulled her teeth.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Huh???”

“She booked with another doctor, and I had my mask on the whole time,” Lin Qimian said, pausing. “Even without it, she probably wouldn’t recognize me anyway.”

Huang Xiaoyi was utterly deflated.

The wind roared and the rain pounded as she tilted her head up, gazing at Lin Qimian’s stunning profile under the lamplight—stray locks of hair dancing in the gale. She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. Why would someone like her, with everything going for her, put herself through the torment of love?

And not just any love—this was the kind she’d already suffered years ago, only to dive right back in. The deepest cut of all.

“Let’s call a car,” she said. “We didn’t even finish dinner… Wanna go grab drinks instead?”

Lin Qimian: “No.”

Unable to hold back, Huang Xiaoyi added, “That habit of yours… seriously, cut back on the spending. The officer’s right—money doesn’t grow on trees. There are tons of cheaper ways…”

Lin Qimian turned to her. “Want to see my account balance?”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Huh?”

Lin Qimian fished out her phone, logged into her mobile banking app with a casual swipe, and held it up for her to see.

Huang Xiaoyi instantly lost her temper. “Whatever, screw it—you spend it however you damn well please. How the hell did I forget? You’re a freaking rich kid! You’re paying for meals next time!!! We all followed you right into the police station…”

Lin Qimian smiled. “Okay.”

A car pulled up, and Huang Xiaoyi grumbled as she walked off.

Lin Qimian lingered in the breeze a little longer before calling her own ride and heading home.

She had been in such a rush earlier, but now she felt no urgency at all.

Her backup phone needed a restart, and it still hadn’t come back on.

Officer Zhang had been right. When you’re caught up in the heat of the moment, your mind goes blank. You lose all reason and end up doing things you’d never dream of in your everyday life.

Lin Qimian had lived her whole life without ever going this far off the rails about anything—except Xu Yueliang.

Xu Yueliang had captivated all her attention, bewitched her heart and mind, transformed her into someone else entirely—someone who shocked even herself.

Officer Zhang had also said that once the rush wore off, regret would set in.

Would she regret it?

Lin Qimian supposed she had regretted things before.

She regretted being so foolish in Middle School, throwing her heart away on a whim… but she had never once regretted meeting Xu Yueliang.

Those days of eagerly waiting for Xu Yueliang to sneak over to her classroom, the moments of munching on snacks and reading letters Xu Yueliang had slipped her, the times she watched Xu Yueliang from afar while waiting for that silly smile—they were probably the happiest days of her life.

If there was any time that could compare, it would have to be now, these days of running into Xu Yueliang again.

So, did she regret it?

Not one bit.

It was nothing short of a gift from the heavens. As long as she didn’t pin any extra hopes on it, she could count herself lucky day by day, happy hour by hour.

As for the money she’d blown, it wasn’t hers to begin with, so it didn’t sting at all.

When her father, Lin Haisen, had handed over those company shares, he’d looked at her with all the warmth of a mountain of paternal love. “Mianmian,” he’d said, “this is what Daddy owes you. I hope it makes you a little happier from now on.”

See? Money spent on happiness—what could be more perfect?

With those thoughts, Lin Qimian finally quelled the restless swirl of emotions inside her.

She washed up, slipped into comfortable pajamas, and climbed into bed, ready to dive back into her live-stream watching.

She restarted her phone, and messages came flooding in.

Lin Qimian first checked the live stream room. Xu Yueliang’s broadcast was still going strong—sweet smiles, high energy, not a hint of anything amiss.

She pinned it as a small floating window and pulled up the PK results next. The top hot post in Orange’s discussion forum was all about this matchup.

Little Moon had won. Even after unexpectedly losing her, the rest of the fans hadn’t let up for a second. They’d charged ahead without mercy, denying the opponents any chance to fight back and carrying it straight to the final second.

Xu Yueliang had won.

With a brand-new record high score—a landslide first place—she was back at the peak.

Lin Qimian felt a wave of relief and quiet pride, tinged with a sour ache in her chest like she’d swallowed a shot of lemon juice.

She scrolled back through the Voyage Group chat to the height of the charge, tracing the full arc: the frantic calls for her, the frustrated curses, the wild celebration, and then the calm speculation about what had happened to her.

Just moments ago, someone had asked if 11 Bigshot had pissed off an enemy bigwig and gotten her account nuked.

Lin Qimian replied: 【I’m fine.】

The group lit up instantly, question marks flooding the screen:

【So where the hell did you go????】

【Seriously, what were you doing????】

【You sounded the horn, ditched your bros to go die, and then what????】

Lin Qimian:

-【Sorry.】

-【Too many operations—phone crapped out.】

The group erupted, calling bullshit, demanding her phone brand so they could spam customer service.

Lin Qimian didn’t bother explaining further. She dropped a red envelope into the chat and @’d the admin: 【Sorry to trouble you, but could you tally up the gift amounts for any accounts that went over budget? I’ll refund everyone.】

That shut down any lingering gripes.

The mood turned cheerful:

【Man, what a mess.】

【We were just worried about you.】

【It’s not about the money—couldn’t handle a bro bailing like that.】

【Full refund? Sorry, man, but I’m taking it—got no living expenses next month otherwise.】

【What a beautiful victory today. Those idiots on the other side are losing their minds, still posting rants in the forums.】

【Went to Anna’s stream for a peek—folks were yelling for that top donor to smash her back to first. Hahaha, vanished the second PK ended.】

…

Lin Qimian didn’t stick around to chat. She left the group, ready to look into Just Playing.

The phone chimed with a “ding ding,” announcing another new message.

It was from one of your special follows: Little Moon.

In the middle of her live stream, Little Moon was still cooing to her fans on camera, “You guys are my absolute favorites—I’m not playing favorites at all!” Meanwhile, her hand sneaked under the desk to fire off a private message to z92565611: 【11, you there?】

Just the usual pointless opener for a chat.