Chapter 56

Zhou Hang came back at the end of the year, covered in dirt and dust after months of geological fieldwork deep in the mountains, only to discover that his two best friends had gotten together.
And not just recently, they’d already been dating for several months.
Meanwhile, he, their supposedly “closest friend,” had spent half a year completely cut off from civilization, only to emerge and realize the world, and his friends, had moved on without him.
Zhou Hang moaned and wailed for five or six days straight. At first, Qiu Li humored him with a few perfunctory replies, but eventually, he stopped responding altogether.
So Zhou Hang went to complain to Yan Xiao instead.
He was from a neighboring university, a passionate geology major with dreams of exploring the earth’s crust. Now a senior, he’d already secured a spot in graduate school, so his professor had taken him along on a long-term research trip to the mountains.
The three of them had known each other for years. Zhou Hang had always suspected that Qiu Li had feelings for Yan Xiao, but since nothing ever happened, he’d assumed Qiu Li was just terminally dense. He never expected that the moment he left for half a year, the two would finally confess and become a couple.
In his words: If I’d known that was going to happen, even if my professor tried to kill me, I wouldn’t have gone!
That afternoon, Qiu Li was busy with an important company meeting off-campus, so it was just Yan Xiao, Zhou Hang, and, by coincidence, her genius roommate having lunch together in the campus cafeteria.
The roommate adjusted her glasses and gave Zhou Hang a cool, clinical look, as if examining a lab specimen. “So they’re together. What does that have to do with you? You’re just upset because, in your little trio, the other two paired off and left you the last single dog. Be honest, could that logic even get published in a paper?”
Emotionally and academically obliterated, Zhou Hang stared at her, outraged. “How do you know my paper won’t get published?!”
The roommate shrugged, tone flat. “Deduction.”
Zhou Hang nearly exploded. And then she added calmly, “My deductions are almost never wrong.”
Zhou Hang: “…”
From his expression, Yan Xiao could practically see the words Triple Kill flashing above his head.
She couldn’t stop laughing. She even took a photo and sent it to Qiu Li, followed by a voice message recounting the entire glorious scene.
After being academically and emotionally dismantled, Zhou Hang didn’t dare make another peep. Only after the roommate finished eating and left did he whisper weakly, “Your new roommate is way too intimidating.”
Yan Xiao glanced down at her phone. Qiu Li still hadn’t replied. Frowning slightly, she sent another message: Don’t forget to eat.
What had him so busy these days?
Her heart softened a little at the thought before she smiled faintly at Zhou Hang. “She’s basically a walking, talking paper-producing machine.”
Zhou Hang pouted. “When’s your break? Let’s go home together!”
After months in the field, he was finally getting a vacation. Since their project had gone so well, his professor had generously given them half a month off, postponing data analysis until after the New Year. Zhou Hang was ecstatic, finally, a long winter break to spend time with his friends.
“I still have about three or four days left,” said Yan Xiao. “Not sure about Qiu Li, he’s been insanely busy with work lately.”
Zhou Hang nodded gravely. “Busy, yeah right. He never replies to my messages, either!”
Yan Xiao: “…” He’s not ignoring you because he’s busy. He’s ignoring you because he doesn’t want to deal with you.
But remembering how brutally her roommate had roasted him earlier, she decided to keep that to herself.
When winter break finally arrived on the 26th of the twelfth lunar month, Qiu Li had only managed to return to campus twice to have lunch with her. After sending Yan Xiao home, he rushed back to his company again.
It had been over half a year since she last returned home, and the moment she did, her phone practically exploded with calls, her grandparents and uncle wanted her to visit, her aunt wanted to take her out, and even Qiu Yan messaged her, inviting her to his art studio and saying he had a New Year’s gift prepared for her.
Yan Xiao spent one day with her mother, then went to her grandmother’s house. She’d only planned to stay for the afternoon, but her grandmother insisted she sleep over, so she did.
The next day, after lunch, she headed home. Remembering that Qiu Yan had mentioned a New Year’s gift, she stopped by the mall to pick up a small present for him in return, then decided to drop by his art studio herself.
After all, no need to bother him with delivery when she could pick it up in person.
The weather was lovely, and her mood was bright. Between college classes and her relationship, she’d barely had time to rest, and it had been ages since she’d visited his studio, the last time had been when he first showed it to her. This would be only her second visit.
But as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she heard noise, angry, chaotic voices that made her instinctively pause.
She didn’t approach right away, instead pulling out her phone to call Qiu Yan.
No answer.
Just as she was about to try again, a familiar voice rang out, sharp, furious:
“It was me! If you’ve got the guts, take it back yourself! I don’t care about the Qiu family, I never wanted it. But I will destroy him!”
Yan Xiao froze.
Qiu Li.
He was here.
She hung up immediately and rushed toward the noise.
Before she could even reach the room, a loud crash shook the air, something heavy slamming into a wall.
Then came a roar of rage, unmistakable and venomous:
“Little bastard!”
Yan Xiao instinctively started to run toward the sound, but the next words stopped her cold.
“You caused Yan Corporation’s funding chain to collapse, dragged them into crisis! Have you told Yan Xiao that? You keep saying you love her, but getting close to her was just revenge on Qiu Yan, wasn’t it? You’re a filthy rat from the gutter, a worthless bastard full of schemes and poison! You should’ve died out there when you had the chance!”
The earphone gift box slipped from Yan Xiao’s hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
The two men fighting in the studio didn’t even notice. Fists collided, bodies slammed, the scuffle raw and violent.
The entire studio was a mess, paint splattered across walls and floors, mixed with streaks of blood. The chaotic colors made Yan Xiao’s head spin.
It was Qiu Yan who first saw her. He froze. “Xiao-xiao? What are you doing here?”
Yan Xiao stood there in shock. She didn’t want to believe what Qiu Zhan had just said, but Qiu Li hadn’t denied it.
She thought of her father’s exhausted face when she’d come home two days ago. Her heart lurched as she looked at Qiu Li, who had turned around at the sound of her voice, eyes wide in panic.
For a second, she almost laughed.
How ridiculous.
Did things really have to turn this melodramatic?
Hadn’t everything already changed? Wasn’t the story supposed to be different now? She had already decided to stay here, so why was it all repeating again?
007: […]
Qiu Li’s forehead was split open, blood trailing down from the corner of his mouth. His face, his hands, his clothes, all streaked with red.
Behind him, Qiu Zhan was half-collapsed, barely standing after taking a beating.
Qiu Yan helped the man up, phone already in hand to call for help.
The whole thing was so absurd that Yan Xiao almost wondered if the system was showing her an illusion.
007: [It’s not an illusion.]
The scene in front of her brought to mind a line from the original novel, the one describing Qiu Li after his downfall: mad, violent, ruthless.
So that was it.
All those things he’d told her before were lies.
Yan Xiao struggled to breathe. Her voice came out trembling, but steady: “What he said, was it true?”
Qiu Li’s face went pale.
He didn’t answer right away. But silence was answer enough.
She knew him too well, and yet, it felt like she had never truly seen him before.
“Xiao-xiao, listen to me,” he said quickly, “it’s not what you think, I just”
He reached for her, but she instinctively stepped back.
His hand stopped midair, and for a moment, pain flashed across his eyes.
“Please calm down,” he tried again, voice softer, trembling a little. “Let me explain, alright?”
But everything, her fear, her confusion, her acceptance, her fragile hope, was shattered.
Shattered by his own hand.
And now he was telling her it had all been a dream, that fate had never truly let her go.
“No!” Yan Xiao suddenly broke down, voice shaking.
When Qiu Li tried to pull her into his arms, she pushed him away hard. “Don’t touch me!”
Then she turned and bolted for the door. She needed to find her father, she needed answers.
Qiu Li froze, then rushed after her.
The elevator happened to be on their floor. Yan Xiao hit the button, stepped inside, and just as the doors began to close, she saw him running toward her. Their eyes met through the narrowing gap, just like that first time, when she had pulled him out of an elevator years ago…
The doors sealed shut.
Qiu Li jabbed the button twice, but it wouldn’t reopen. Then he turned and sprinted down the emergency stairs.
They reached the lobby almost at the same time.
Chen Zilu, having received a call from Qiu Yan, happened to be nearby. When she saw her niece rushing out of the building, she didn’t even bother finding a parking spot, just stopped at the entrance and jumped out of the car.
The shock of what she’d overheard still left Yan Xiao reeling. As she stepped out into the cold air and spotted her aunt, her chest tightened painfully. She wanted to run straight into her arms,
“Xiao-xiao!”
Qiu Li caught up, grabbing her by the arm.
Yan Xiao instinctively tried to shake him off, glaring up at him. Before she could even speak, he released her.
Her gaze flicked down, there was a bloody handprint smeared across her sleeve where he’d touched her. Her brows furrowed.
Seeing her expression, Qiu Li panicked. He pulled out a handkerchief, meaning to wipe the stain, but the cloth was already soaked with blood. Desperate, he wiped his hands furiously against his shirt before trying again.
When he looked up, Yan Xiao was staring at his hands.
He froze, then quickly hid them behind his back. “I’m sorry.”
Yan Xiao: “…”
“Xiao-xiao!”
Chen Zilu hurried over.
Yan Xiao turned to leave, and Qiu Li didn’t dare stop her again, he was afraid of dirtying her clothes, of making her recoil from him even more. So he simply stepped forward, blocking her path with his body.
Already furious, Yan Xiao’s anger only burned hotter.
“Please, just calm down,” Qiu Li said urgently. “I’ll come find you tomorrow and explain everything, okay?”
Yan Xiao said nothing, but the fury in her eyes was answer enough.
His face went ashen. After a pause, he added quietly, “Then, when you’re not angry anymore, tell me. I’ll come then.”
By the end, the light in his eyes dimmed completely.
Chen Zilu only knew the rough outline from Qiu Yan’s call. She didn’t understand the details, but she could tell enough from the scene before her. She wrapped an arm around Yan Xiao and said, “I’ll take her home first.”
Qiu Li didn’t want to let her go, not at all.
But he also knew he couldn’t keep her here. Not now.
“I’ll wait for your call,” he said finally.
Yan Xiao didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him as she walked away with her aunt.
The glass façade of the building reflected the blazing afternoon sun, so bright it hurt the eyes.
Qiu Li stood there, defeated, looking like a child who’d just dropped his last piece of candy.
On the drive home, Yan Xiao leaned back in her seat, staring blankly out the window without a word.
At a red light, Chen Zilu reached over and gently rubbed her head. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Don’t bottle it up, okay?”
Yan Xiao didn’t move. She stayed quiet for a long time before finally whispering, “Is it true? Did our company’s problems happen because of Qiu Li’s money?”
Chen Zilu hesitated, then sighed. “Mm. Your parents didn’t want you to know. They were afraid it’d affect your studies.”
Yan Xiao: “…”
Tears fell before she could stop them.
So it was true.
All of it.
“Auntie,” she choked out after a while, sniffing hard, “please don’t ever tell my parents that I was with Qiu Li.”
Chen Zilu didn’t need to ask what she meant, she understood immediately.
And she was angry, too.
Especially because, just yesterday, her niece had confided in her, cheeks pink with happiness, whispering that she and Qiu Li were dating now, and begging her to keep it secret from the family until she was ready to tell them herself.
That sweet, shy smile had been full of first love’s innocence. And now, remembering it, Chen Zilu didn’t even know what to say.
Before she could even think of a way to handle things, everything had already fallen apart that very day.
As angry as she was, Chen Zilu still couldn’t help feeling sorry for her niece.
After a long silence, she asked softly, “Have you made up your mind?”
Yan Xiao whispered, “Yeah.”
“You’re not going to hear him out?”
“Is there any point?” she said flatly. What would be the use, listening to him lie to me again?
She’d always prided herself on her intelligence. She thought she wasn’t any worse than Qiu Li, that if she just worked hard enough, she could stand on equal ground with him. But now she realized, her efforts had been a joke.
He’d toyed with her so easily, without even breaking a sweat. Completely outclassed her.
When they were almost home, she suddenly said, “I don’t want to go back.”
Her aunt’s confirmation earlier had already told her what she needed to know. There was no point confronting her father now, and she couldn’t face her parents anyway.
“Alright,” said Chen Zilu with a gentle smile. “Then come stay with your aunt. I’ll make you three-flavor wontons tonight.”
Yan Xiao’s eyes filled with tears again. She wiped them away quickly, scolding herself: Stop crying. Don’t be pathetic. It’s just a breakup. You got played, so what? It’s not the end of the world.
It took her a moment before she managed a hoarse, “Okay.”
Chen Zilu sighed inwardly. Then her thoughts turned angry, at Qiu Chengyi, at the entire Qiu family. All their mess, and now her Xiao-xiao was suffering for it!
That entire afternoon, Yan Xiao curled up on the living room sofa, watching TV without actually seeing anything. She didn’t talk. After dinner, she went upstairs to bed early.
Chen Zilu didn’t push her to talk. First loves always hurt the worst, but some things you just had to process on your own. Once she got it out of her system, she’d be fine.
Back in her room, Yan Xiao lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzed.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Still ignored it.
Then again.
With a sigh, she finally picked it up.
Of course, it was Qiu Li.
She swiped the notification away without opening it.
007, who had been suspiciously quiet all evening, finally spoke up:
[I think you should at least see what he said.]
Yan Xiao: Not reading it!
007: [If you don’t, you’ll be at a disadvantage. You won’t know what he’s planning next. I suggest you read it.]
Yan Xiao: …
The phone buzzed again.
After a long pause, she gave in and opened the chat.
The screen filled with text, paragraph after paragraph, like a miniature essay.
Yan Xiao let out a short, bitter laugh.
Didn’t he say he’d wait until she calmed down before explaining? Now he was sending her essays, trying to rationalize everything?
He wrote that targeting the Yan family was never meant to harm them, it was just a move to lull the Qiu family and Qiu Zhan into complacency. That he had planned everything carefully, ensured there’d be no real impact on her family.
He wrote that once this period passed, the Yan Corporation would recover fully.
He said he hadn’t meant to keep it from her; he just hadn’t figured out how to explain it, and he was afraid that if he did, she’d think his heart was full of vengeance.
When she finished reading, Yan Xiao let out a cold, disbelieving laugh.
Did he really think she was that naive?
Another notification popped up.
This time, it read: If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. I won’t retaliate against the Qiu family anymore. I’ll end it now.
Yan Xiao’s face froze.
Then another message appeared, a screenshot of a cancellation notice.
Termination of contract. Suspension of cooperation.
She threw the phone aside and rolled over. She wasn’t going to fall for it again.
How could someone claim to love her and still do something that could hurt her family?
Impossible.
Even if his so-called “plans” guaranteed everything would be fine, what if something went wrong?
Overconfidence wasn’t the same as care. He wasn’t protecting her, he just didn’t care about how it made her feel.
And now, he was still trying to fool her. Did he really think she was a child who could be tricked with a few fancy words?
Yan Xiao fumed silently, cursing Qiu Li in her head until well past two in the morning.
That was when 007 reappeared, voice hesitant:
[Um]
Still furious, Yan Xiao snapped, “Spit it out. If you’re not going to talk, shut up and stop bothering me!”
007: [I just thought something was strange, so I ran a diagnostic scan. And I found that this world seems to have been heavily interfered with.]
Yan Xiao frowned. What do you mean?
007: [I felt Qiu Li’s recent actions were unnatural. So I applied for higher-level access and checked the system logs. It turns out this world has been under interference for a long time, and Qiu Li is the most affected individual.]
Yan Xiao sat bolt upright. What are you talking about?!
007: [I suspect… Ah, the results just came in. This world deviated from its original trajectory long ago. The main system’s self-preservation protocol activated a correction program, and that program’s target of “correction” is Qiu Li.]
Yan Xiao: “…” What?
007: [In simple terms, Qiu Li’s actions are being manipulated. The correction program is steering him back toward the original plotline, and, if necessary, it enforces control through compulsory measures.]
Yan Xiao’s mind went blank. Compulsory measures?
007: [My access level isn’t high enough to see exactly what those measures are. But the data shows he’s already been subjected to them, more than ten times.]
Yan Xiao: “…”
What kind of garbage system was this?! What did it think Qiu Li was, some kind of puppet on strings?
He was a person. A living, breathing person.
007: [I’m not garbage.]
After a pause, it added quietly:
[I think Qiu Li realized what the correction program was doing. That’s probably why he tried to protect the Yan family the way he did.]
Yan Xiao sat frozen for a long time before suddenly grabbing her phone.
There were no new messages from him after ten o’clock.
She scrolled back through their entire chat history, reading that long “essay” again from beginning to end.
007 went on, unbothered by her silence:
[I’m part of the main system. The correction program is just an auxiliary branch, it can’t override me. Your affection points haven’t dropped. Qiu Li really does love you.]
Yan Xiao frowned slightly.
If he had really discovered the truth, why didn’t he tell her?
007: [Didn’t you also hide my existence from Qiu Li?]
Yan Xiao: “…”
She was just about to put her phone down when the chat window suddenly showed “The other person is typing…”
Yan Xiao blinked. “?”
She bit her lip and watched as those words appeared, disappeared, reappeared, disappeared again, on and off for nearly an hour, yet no message ever came through.
A strange heaviness spread in her chest.
She wiped at her face, not even sure when the tears had started falling, then picked up her phone and typed:
[What are you doing?]
The typing indicator appeared again, then finally, after a long pause, two words came through:
[Missing you.]
Yan Xiao’s tears fell all over again.
She tilted her head back, trying to blink them away, but they wouldn’t stop.
When Qiu Li saw her message appear, it was as if someone had injected life into him. But ten minutes passed after he’d sent Missing you, and she still hadn’t replied. Anxiety clawed at his chest, had he said the wrong thing again?
After hesitating, he typed cautiously:
[It’s so late. Why aren’t you asleep?]
Yan Xiao glanced at the screen, still wiping her tears, but didn’t respond. Mostly because she didn’t know what to say.
Qiu Li’s nerves stretched tighter and tighter. When no reply came, he felt himself unraveling, every breath trembling on the edge of panic.
At last, Yan Xiao wiped her face dry, took a deep breath, and wrote back:
[Can’t sleep.]
That one short line was enough to pull him back from the edge.
She watched the little dots appear again, disappear, appear again… but no message came.
Just as she was about to tell him to go to sleep, that she’d come find him tomorrow, her half-typed words vanished when a new message popped up:
[Do you still want me?]
Yan Xiao: “…”