Chapter Forty-Eight: A Visit

“Don’t pay any attention,” Qi Leyu reminded them. “There are a lot of scammers these days.”

“How do you know? Did you run into one?” Unreliable asked.

“I did. I accidentally answered a call without checking the number. I realized too late,” Qi Leyu replied.

“How much did you lose?” Unreliable pressed.

“Just a few drops of spit, I suppose,” Qi Leyu said.

Yuan Zhong spoke up, “You shouldn’t even answer those calls. Scammers are really sneaky nowadays; you never know what tricks they’ll pull. Just don’t pick up any suspicious numbers.”

“Exactly,” Qi Leyu agreed. “The trouble came after. Once I answered, the police contacted me. But I thought they were scammers too, and it turned out they were real officers.”

Unreliable laughed, “Did you curse them out?”

Qi Leyu replied, “I wouldn’t say that, but I might have said a few things.”

“Well, you’re always so proper. I bet they didn’t even realize you were insulting them,” Unreliable teased.

Yuan Zhong, still skeptical, asked again, “Are you sure they were real police? What if it was just a follow-up scam?”

“They were real. The police monitor these numbers now. If someone answers, they’ll know and might reach out, even send you anti-fraud information,” Qi Leyu explained.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it all. With your IQ, I’m worried for you,” Unreliable joked.

“As long as you didn’t get scammed, just be careful in the future,” Yuan Zhong said.

Cong Wenbin, who hadn’t spoken for a while, finally muttered, “Idiot.”

“Hey, hey!” Yuan Zhong exclaimed. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Just check the comments people leave you, and try to be a little less paranoid,” Cong Wenbin replied.

“That’s true,” Yuan Zhong admitted. “Hey, look, he says he’s a pro player, and that my skills aren’t bad.”

Cong Wenbin frowned. “That’s a stretch. What can you tell from one match?”

Unreliable chimed in, “You’d feel differently if you were up against Qianjin.”

Qi Leyu added, “Just look at the data panel and you’ll see.”

Cong Wenbin retorted, “What would you know? You just coast to victory every time.”

Unreliable chuckled, “Come on, getting to coast to victory every time with a tightwad on your team isn’t easy.” Then he turned to Yuan Zhong, “Did he say which team he’s on?”

Yuan Zhong glanced over, “No, he didn’t.”

“How about we play a round?” Unreliable suggested.

“I’m not interested in playing pro,” Yuan Zhong said. “Playing games every day makes me sick.”

Unreliable was speechless.

Cong Wenbin clarified, “No one’s selling you, just boosting your rank.”

Qi Leyu said, “We could climb now, you know.”

Cong Wenbin sighed, “I’m tired.”

Qi Leyu thought to himself, This guy is a bit much. Still, he seems pretty close to Qianjin. Without him, I’d be getting to know Qianjin better myself. Strange.

Yuan Zhong, who was used to standing up for the tightwad, said, “I’m not tired—let’s keep going!”

They played two more rounds. The more they played, the more Qi Leyu felt certain something had happened between these three. He sensed a distance between himself and the group, and a vague uneasiness crept in.

Lately, he really had been unlucky. That wretched Wang Shanshan had made a mess of things, messed up the contract, and now was pressuring him to rush his manuscript. Normally, he wouldn’t care about breaching a contract, but he truly liked this story and was loath to give it up.

His mind wandered, and on the mid lane, he was solo-killed by the opposing mage.

“Sorry about that,” Qi Leyu apologized.

Yuan Zhong was playing as Han Xin. He rushed over, dove the tower, and killed the enemy mage in retaliation. “No worries, it’s fine.”

“Well done!” Unreliable praised him. “I love how Qianjin always defends his teammates.”

The game ended in victory.

It was getting late; Yuan Zhong was ready to log off, and Qi Leyu followed suit.

The next morning, the editor-in-chief called Yuan Zhong to the office.

A bit nervous, Yuan Zhong wondered what was going on. His colleagues always said that when a leader called you in, it meant one of two things: something good, or trouble.

Thinking back, he couldn’t recall any recent mistakes. Yuan Zhong steadied himself.

“Xiao Yuan, I heard from Shanshan you did well at the last event,” the editor-in-chief began.

Yuan Zhong was baffled. Wang Shanshan had spoken well of him? The tightwad always said, ‘When something unusual happens, be on your guard.’

“Very good. I saw potential in you from the start, so I arranged for our best staff to mentor you,” the editor-in-chief went on.

Not knowing how to respond, Yuan Zhong simply listened attentively, nodding now and then to show he was paying attention.

“Recently, Shanshan had an urgent matter come up, but she’s swamped with important work. After much consideration, we’ve decided to trust you with it.”

Here it comes. Yuan Zhong focused even more.

“It’s like this: You know our popular author, Seven Nights, don’t you?” the editor-in-chief asked.

Yuan Zhong nodded quickly, thinking, Of course I do. The last event was all about Seven Nights.

“He’s been struggling lately. His manuscript is severely behind schedule. Shanshan’s been urging him to keep pace, but now she’s too busy. So we need you to help remind Seven Nights to submit on time.”

Why did this need the editor-in-chief’s direct involvement? Yuan Zhong was a little confused.

“Any problem with that?” the editor-in-chief asked.

Yuan Zhong was just about to reply when he was cut off. “We know you’ll have no problem with it.”

So it wasn’t really a question—there was no room to refuse. That’s how superiors assigned tasks, after all. Yuan Zhong could only nod.

He used the word “we”—meaning himself and Wang Shanshan? Strange. Why would Shanshan want him to handle Seven Nights’ affairs? Something was off.

There was another thing: Seven Nights was always a steady writer. How could he be so behind now?

Yuan Zhong wanted to ask, but the editor-in-chief said, “I’ll have Shanshan fill you in on the details.”

With that, Yuan Zhong understood he was dismissed.

Fine.

Back at his desk, Yuan Zhong looked over at Wang Shanshan. She kept her eyes forward, clearly not intending to acknowledge him. Since the editor-in-chief would speak to her, he decided to wait patiently.

After lunch, Yuan Zhong finally received an email from Wang Shanshan—a scanned copy of the contract for Seven Nights’ new work, “The Phoenix Dynasty.”

Yuan Zhong knew that Seven Nights was wrapping up a long novel. This new one had just begun, with daily updates not too extensive, but already fifty to sixty thousand words in. He’d never missed an update.

Seven Nights always started the next story slowly as the current one wound down—a steady routine.

Looking closely at the contract, Yuan Zhong frowned. Was the date wrong? With the word count, how could he possibly finish by the end of this year?

He wanted to ask Wang Shanshan, but she ignored him. What now? Ask the editor-in-chief? He didn’t dare.

Unable to consult anyone about such a detail, Yuan Zhong compared a few other contracts—the terms on this one were harsh.

What to do? After some thought, Yuan Zhong decided to contact Qi Leyu directly. That guy could be difficult, but was easier to talk to than Wang Shanshan or the editor-in-chief.

He called once—no answer.

The second time, the call connected. “Hello?” came a nasal voice.

“Hello—oh, hi,” Yuan Zhong recalled how Qi Leyu disliked overly polite language and quickly switched to a casual “you.” “I’m Yuan Zhong. I have something to ask you.”

“Achoo!” Qi Leyu sneezed. There was some rustling before he asked, “What is it?”

“Um, about your new book,” Yuan Zhong began, trying to phrase it right.

Qi Leyu sneezed again, cutting her off. “Chasing the manuscript? I’m working on it.”

“No, not exactly. Besides the manuscript, could I take a look at the original contract?” Yuan Zhong doubted Wang Shanshan would set him up, but it was safer to check the original.

“Don’t you have it?” Qi Leyu countered.

“I have a copy, but it’s a scan,” Yuan Zhong explained. “I won’t trouble you; I can come by and see it myself.” Asking for a photo might annoy him—Qi Leyu didn’t seem easygoing, and if he could push back against Wang Shanshan, Yuan Zhong knew his limits.

Qi Leyu didn’t reply. There was more soft rustling on the line.

“Um, do you have a cold? Should I bring you some medicine?” Yuan Zhong offered kindly.

“No need. Just come over,” Qi Leyu relented. He guessed Wang Shanshan had dumped this mess on the rookie, who was still clueless, but not too dumb—asking to see the original contract was smart.

“Great!” Yuan Zhong was delighted. “I’ll send you a friend request on WeChat later. Please accept it.”

Qi Leyu grunted in acknowledgment and hung up.

Wonderful! Yuan Zhong let out a sigh of relief.

The company provided work phones, so Yuan Zhong used his number to search for Seven Nights and sent a friend request.

The request was accepted without issue. Yuan Zhong sent a smiley face, then typed out the address for Qi Leyu to confirm.

Qi Leyu replied with an “OK.”

Yuan Zhong printed out the scanned contract to compare later and took it along.

He stopped by the pharmacy, asking in detail about the medicine—nothing with pseudoephedrine allowed—eventually settling on a herbal remedy.

Next, he bought some kiwis and oranges for vitamin C.

Last, he ordered a chicken soup delivery from his phone.

Satisfied, Yuan Zhong drove his little car to see Qi Leyu.

Qi Leyu was at his computer blowing his nose. The cold wasn’t serious, but the stuffiness made him dizzy.

The doorbell rang—so soon? Qi Leyu shuffled to the door in his slippers. A delivery man was there.

“I didn’t order anything. Must be a mistake.” Qi Leyu closed the door.

Soon, the bell rang again.

He opened it once more—the same delivery guy. Qi Leyu frowned.

“Sir, I double-checked. This is the address,” the delivery man said, showing him the receipt.

Qi Leyu glanced at it. The address was right, but the phone number was wrong.

Just as he was wondering, the elevator doors opened and Yuan Zhong poked her head out.

Unable to get his car into the residential parking lot, Yuan Zhong had parked at a nearby supermarket and walked over, sweat beading on her nose.

“Oh, the chicken soup’s here already?” Yuan Zhong approached, beaming. “That was fast—five stars for service.”

The delivery guy said, “You ordered this? Great! This gentleman said it wasn’t his.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” Yuan Zhong took the food.

Qi Leyu looked at her—she was carrying two boxes of fruit as well, arriving with proper courtesy. Fine, he turned and went back inside.