Chapter Forty: Increasingly Likely

Qi Leyu went to find Unreliable. Unreliable was a little surprised—at this hour, the Penny-pincher and her mentor were usually gaming together and wouldn’t pay him any mind.

“Not today,” Qi Leyu said. “She has a friend over, looks like they’re settling in for a long chat by candlelight. She’s not gaming at all.”

“That friend must be something special.”

“Yes, she even brought her home. Tell me, she’s just started working, where did she get such a good friend?” Qi Leyu was puzzled.

Unreliable heard something else in his tone. “Hey, you seem pretty concerned.”

“Is there a problem?” Qi Leyu retorted.

“No problem at all.” Unreliable grinned.

After a moment, Qi Leyu couldn’t hold back any longer. “Send her a message on WeChat, ask what’s going on.”

Unreliable sighed deeply.

“What, toothache?” Qi Leyu asked.

“No, I just don’t get it. If you care so much, why don’t you add her yourself?”

“Are you having an episode of senility? I’ve explained this before.” Qi Leyu was impatient.

“Forgotten. What’ll you do about it? Bite me!” Unreliable snorted. “Is this the attitude you take when asking for favors?”

Qi Leyu ground his teeth, held back, and said, “No.”

“Right, then change your attitude.” Unreliable insisted.

“That’s enough,” Qi Leyu said. “Hurry up!”

“Hey, when are you updating today?” Unreliable asked.

“I’ve already finished, before dinner.” Qi Leyu replied. Recently, he had kept a strict routine: update three chapters before dinner, play two matches with Miss Yuan You Qianjin in the evening, then write until around eleven and sleep.

“Why not write a bit more? How long has it been since you did a big update?” Unreliable said. “If you want my help, show some sincerity.”

Qi Leyu frowned.

Unreliable waited a while. “Hey, are you still there?”

“I’m here. Thinking about whether I should drop into your livestream and say a few words.” Qi Leyu said.

“No, no, no! Thank you, I’ll send the message right now.” Unreliable shook his head vigorously—he couldn’t afford to provoke a keyboard warrior.

“By the way, your favorite character—I was going to give him more scenes, but now I’m thinking maybe I’ll kill him off.”

“Seventh Master, I’ve already sent the message. Asked what Miss Yuan You Qianjin is up to, waiting for a reply.” Unreliable was very earnest.

Qi Leyu snorted. See, it took only a minute to handle you.

Yuan Chong was drinking with Lin Hui. To be precise, Lin Hui was drinking; Yuan Chong hadn’t finished her first glass, while Lin Hui had already downed half a bottle of red wine.

“This wine goes down so nicely,” Lin Hui said.

Yuan Chong noticed Lin Hui seemed to have a bit of a drinking problem, and asked, uneasy, “Are you alright? I’ve never seen you drink like this before.”

“No worries. My sleep’s been bad lately, so I have a little sometimes.”

“Something’s bothering you?” Yuan Chong asked, unsure if Lin Hui wanted to talk.

Lin Hui sighed. “There’s nothing much to say about my family, no point in getting upset. Let’s talk about you—how’s work?”

“Not great, pretty boring, and I’ve run into a troublesome person.” Yuan Chong followed Lin Hui’s lead and began telling her own story, recounting the recent days.

“Just ignore her,” Lin Hui said.

“That’s hard. She’s my mentor, and the boss wants her to train me.”

“Well…” Lin Hui frowned.

Yuan Chong didn’t want Lin Hui to worry about her and took over the conversation. “It’s fine. I’m evolving—my resilience is getting stronger and stronger. When I’m upset, I go to the King’s Canyon and kill a few enemies. Still upset? Kill a few more. It always helps.”

Lin Hui laughed. “I haven’t played much lately.”

“It’s a great stress relief.” Besides her gaming skills, her apprentice was entertaining too. “If you have time, we could play together.”

Lin Hui nodded absently and finished her drink.

Seeing Lin Hui reaching for more wine, Yuan Chong stopped her. “Why don’t we play a couple of rounds instead?”

Lin Hui shook her head.

“Or I could tell you more about my boring daily life?”

“Just get a boyfriend. You won’t be bored anymore,” Lin Hui said.

Yuan Chong chuckled. “I’m trying. So far, work comes first.”

“You’re not Zhang Cheng—you aren’t that career-obsessed. I can see you’re suited for romance.”

“You scared me. Luckily you didn’t say I should have kids.”

“My guess is you’ll be the first among us four to get married,” Lin Hui reached for more wine.

Yuan Chong wouldn’t let her. “Ha, alright.”

“I’ll just have a bit more,” Lin Hui insisted.

“Sleep, don’t drink anymore.”

“Just a little, just a little.”

Yuan Chong’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t we play Truth or Dare? It’d make drinking more fun.”

“Alright.” Lin Hui put down her glass. “Pour.”

Yuan Chong topped up her wine. “I’ll go first. How much can you drink now?”

“That kind of question…” Lin Hui was speechless. “About a bottle, I guess.”

Yuan Chong took a sip. “Your turn.”

“How do you plan to win over Zhang Shun?”

“Uh, that’s tough.” Yuan Chong looked at the ceiling. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Then you drink,” Lin Hui laughed.

“Fine.” Yuan Chong took another sip. “What do you think is a good way to win him over?”

“Take the initiative, be relentless, create opportunities, offer yourself.”

“Wow! Didn’t expect that, Huihui.” Yuan Chong smacked her lips. “Could you do it yourself?”

“I don’t like him,” Lin Hui finished her glass.

Yuan Chong frowned and had to ask, “Huihui, why are you really upset?”

Lin Hui was silent for a moment, then looked at Yuan Chong. “My grandmother passed away.”

Yuan Chong looked at her.

Lin Hui’s eyes were red. “She knew she was sick a year ago but never told anyone. She didn’t want to disrupt my studies. Really, if I’d known, I’d have preferred she get treated early—even if it meant not doing my postgrad and starting work.”

Yuan Chong understood—Lin Hui felt responsible for her grandmother’s death.

“My uncle—because of money—never wanted to treat her properly,” Lin Hui’s tears fell. “There was still hope, if only we’d acted sooner…”

Guilt and self-blame are the most tormenting emotions. Time doesn’t turn back, leaving no alternate outcome.

“Your grandmother wanted you to finish your studies. If she’s watching from above, she wouldn’t want you so sad.” Though the words felt weak, Yuan Chong did her best to comfort her. “For those who’ve gone, fulfill their wishes. Don’t let her efforts be in vain.”

Lin Hui cried. Ever since she’d come home, learned about her grandmother’s condition, argued with her uncle and aunt, and then lost her grandmother, Lin Hui had held back her tears—now she wept freely and fiercely.

To cry like this was a relief. Yuan Chong sat quietly by her side.

No one knew how much time passed before Lin Hui’s sobbing slowed and finally ceased. She doubled over, resting her head on her knees.

Yuan Chong patted her back and handed her a napkin.

Lin Hui wiped her face and looked up, her eyes swollen. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Perhaps exhausted from crying, or from holding back her emotions too long, after letting go, Lin Hui soon fell asleep.

Yuan Chong, on the other hand, found herself unable to sleep.

Fate, sometimes, was truly unfair. Lin Hui had struggled since birth; so many things weren’t her fault, yet she had to bear the pain—her parents’ marriage, her father’s betrayal, her mother’s death, and now her grandmother, who was her sole companion, was gone…

Yuan Chong sighed. She herself had nothing to complain about. Work well, live well, treat others kindly—especially Lin Hui.

A WeChat notification popped up. This time it was from Zhang Shun. Yuan Chong opened it.

Zhang Shun was concerned about Lin Hui. Yuan Chong replied, assuring him not to worry.

She thought for a moment, began composing a message. She wanted to ask Zhang Shun, do you like Lin Hui? But felt it was asking what she already knew.

Still, she couldn’t help but worry—if Lin Hui were with Zhang Shun, would she be happy?

After hearing about Lin Hui’s family troubles, Zhang Shun had rushed over, clearly caring. Now he was trying everything to help Lin Hui feel better.

Yuan Chong felt a bit envious, but also reassured. She thought: if Lin Hui likes Zhang Shun, she should bless them.

Glancing at Lin Hui, Yuan Chong decided she would ask her this question. Once she was sure, she could make her own choices.

Meanwhile, someone else was still waiting for Yuan Chong’s reply—Qi Leyu.

Unreliable had no choice; he’d already sent a screenshot of his WeChat message as proof.

“Do you think something’s happened?” Qi Leyu worried.

“She’s at home, catching up with a friend—what could happen?” Unreliable thought Qi Leyu was fussing needlessly.

“But surely she has time to reply to a message.”

“Maybe they’re chatting away, drinking a bit, doesn’t want to look at her phone.”

“She’s drinking?” Qi Leyu felt even more uneasy.

“What’s wrong with that? Miss Yuan You Qianjin seems like a bold person. Even though I haven’t met her, you can tell from her gaming style.”

Qi Leyu was silent.

Unreliable suddenly had a flash of insight. “Hey, are you worried her friend is a man?”

The words hit home. Qi Leyu stammered, “She’s still a girl, after all.”

Unreliable laughed. “You’re the one with the problem! Penny-pincher, you really have a problem.”

“You’re nuts!”

“You definitely like her! Don’t deny it, don’t give me that mentor-student nonsense. You just like her.” Unreliable was certain.

“You’re crazy!” Qi Leyu hung up.

Unreliable smacked his lips. “Alright, that’s embarrassment turning to anger. Makes it even more likely.”

Qi Leyu hadn’t noticed before, but Unreliable’s question made his heart skip. Was this what liking someone felt like?

Honestly, he enjoyed gaming with Miss Yuan You Qianjin. From the start, he envied her skills and liked the way she spoke in the game, always sharp and witty—but did that mean he liked her as a person?

Since she started working, they talked more, and he felt concern, even sympathy.

Was there more?

Today he heard she had a very close friend over, gender unknown, home together—he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Qi Leyu frowned. His attention to Miss Yuan You Qianjin had indeed grown, far beyond that of an ordinary gaming friend.

Was it just her gaming skill? It didn’t seem so. But aside from that, he couldn’t identify anything else.

Suddenly, Qi Leyu felt a bit panicked. Some things are frightening precisely because there’s no clear reason.