Keypad Phone

After chatting casually with the old man for a while, Ye Shuang returned to the house where he had once lived with Bai Yuyou.

There’s a saying that holds quite true: if a house is left uninhabited, it ages quickly. The moment Ye Shuang inserted the key and opened the door, he found everything covered in a layer of dust—even the furniture had white plastic sheets draped over them.

"Cough, cough… so much dust." Ye Shuang turned on the water valve, washed his hands, and then put away the groceries he had bought.

Though they hadn’t lived here for long, every corner seemed to evoke memories of Bai Yuyou—whether it was her first attempts at cooking, collapsing on the floor from hunger, or running around stark naked. Ye Shuang didn’t consider himself overly sentimental, but seeing these familiar objects still brought a smile to his face.

If not for concerns about Bai Yuyou’s safety, staying here permanently wouldn’t have been so bad.

A house didn’t need to be big—just cozy enough for two.

"Still, with people breaking in and others barging in, who could stand it?" Ye Shuang grumbled inwardly before starting his search for Bai Yuyou’s documents and other important materials.

Most of the crucial items had already been taken away, but during their last rushed move, they hadn’t been thorough. So when Ye Shuang unearthed a few boxes in the corner, he discovered some important certificates still inside.

"Hmm…" Ye Shuang flipped through the booklets, even finding the marriage certificate of the human trafficker who had abducted Bai Yuyou. Naturally, he left those untouched—his focus was solely on Bai Yuyou’s belongings.

After rummaging for a while, Ye Shuang suddenly found an old phone in the box.

It was a model from many years ago—a chunky Nokia keypad phone, the kind with buttons as thick as two fingers. Surprisingly, it didn’t look damaged, though the battery was probably dead after all this time.

Ye Shuang stared at it for a moment, and a window appeared in his vision.

[Item: Nokia 8210

Released in 1999. Can crack walnuts, play Snake. Maybe try turning it on?]

"Turn it on, huh?" Ye Shuang chuckled. Though he didn’t take it seriously, he found the matching charger and a universal battery charger in the same box.

Hoping it might contain clues about Bai Yuyou’s past, Ye Shuang plugged in the nostalgic keypad phone.

He continued searching the boxes but found nothing else noteworthy—except for a photo of Bai Yuyou.

She must have been just a few years old in the picture, dressed in a pretty princess dress, her face radiating innocence and joy as she smiled at the camera.

"If Yuyou smiled like that now, she’d be just as adorable," Ye Shuang murmured, comparing the yellowed photo to the face in his memories.

He quietly slipped the photo into his pocket.

Just then, he noticed the phone beside him vibrate.

Surprised, he picked it up and tentatively held down the power button. To his amazement, the phone booted up, displaying the iconic "handshake" logo.

"No way…" Ye Shuang muttered in disbelief.

He tested the buttons—everything worked. Then he opened the contacts.

There were only two entries: "Wife" and an unmarked phone number.

Ye Shuang glanced at the number but didn’t dwell on it.

Next, he browsed through the phone’s files and accidentally opened the inbox.

Older keypad phones lacked internet functionality. It wasn’t until later models that rudimentary 2G browsing became possible, though painfully slow. Back then, owning a phone that could run QQ was considered high-end.

This phone had no internet, relying solely on calls and texts.

Among the few messages in the inbox, one immediately caught Ye Shuang’s attention—sent from the unmarked number in the contacts.

["Half the money’s been transferred. Don’t disappoint me. Take the child to the agreed location, then cut all contact. Delete this message. Remember."]

Ye Shuang stared at the message for a full ten minutes.

In the silent room, only his heartbeat echoed.

What did this mean?

Bai Yuyou’s abduction wasn’t random—it was orchestrated?

By whom?

The Zhou family?

Or someone with a grudge against them?

Ye Shuang sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto the phone number. He quietly noted it down on his own phone, then searched for the associated WeChat account.

No results.

After a pause, he dialed the number directly.

"Beep—"

"Hello? Who is this?" A young woman’s voice answered almost immediately. Ye Shuang hesitated briefly before replying with a light tone,

"Hey, is this your number?"

"Obviously. Weirdo." The call ended abruptly, as if he’d been mistaken for a scammer.

Ye Shuang frowned, realizing the inconsistency. After a moment, it clicked—the number had likely been recycled by the carrier and reassigned to a new user.

Years had passed; such things were common.

He exhaled deeply. He’d only come back to retrieve Bai Yuyou’s forgotten documents, never expecting to stumble upon something like this.

Tracking down the original owner seemed nearly impossible. Back then, SIM cards didn’t require ID verification—you could buy one with cash and pick any number.

In other words, there was almost no way to trace who had sent that message.

Rubbing his temples, Ye Shuang continued scouring the phone’s inbox for more clues.

But the moment he opened the next message, the screen went black—the phone had shut down.

Ye Shuang: "…"

Seriously?

The sudden blackout left him speechless.

Resigned, he fiddled with the charger, hoping to restart the relic.