Xia Yanchun is very close to the gods, but a bit distant from people.

Closing the system panel, Shen Nian brushed his teeth and washed his face while pondering the system's task.

So, what was Xia Yanchun's emotional knot? Was it her crush on Lin Xiyuan?

Did the knot untangle after learning it was just a rumor?

It made some sense, but also didn’t.

After all, if the knot didn’t loosen when the misunderstanding was first cleared up, how could it vanish overnight?

An epiphany in her dreams?

Did she realize her supposed decade-long nemesis was actually just a tsundere?

Kinda amusing.

Shen Nian didn’t buy it. Between him and Xia Yanchun, there was only pure malice.

He’d seen Xia Yanchun pick her nose once—he’d remember it for life and bring it up to mock her whenever possible. Heh.

Pure malice.

The task’s inexplicable completion was probably the system’s doing.

Then again, the system had always been a bit unhinged. If the system’s like this, might as well go with the flow.

After putting on his shoes, Shen Nian waited by the door for two minutes until Xia Yanchun stepped out too.

Both wore school uniforms—blue-and-white short sleeves paired with black pants.

Cinan No. 2 High School didn’t enforce full uniform sets, but the short sleeves had to be the school’s.

Some girls liked pairing the uniform with skirts, radiating youthful energy. Admittedly, that combo was unbeatable in high school.

Everyone, human or ghost, would sneak a glance.

Of course, skirts too short were a no-go—the dean would actually crack down.

Hairstyles, however, were far more relaxed at Cinan No. 2. As long as you didn’t dye your hair, anything went. Some boys rocked wolf-cut styles, which had their own charm.

Xia Yanchun gave Shen Nian a once-over. He looked lively—clearly hadn’t pulled an all-nighter.

She nodded approvingly. “Treat me to breakfast. You promised yesterday.”

“When? What time, exactly?”

“If you won’t, then scram.”

“You hate me that much? One breakfast and you’re sending me to my grave? I thought we were good friends.” Shen Nian’s smile faded, his expression crumbling slightly.

Xia Yanchun rolled her eyes—gracefully, annoyingly so. “Who could out-act you?”

“Not acting. Genuinely heartbroken.”

“Fine, I’ll Venmo you 50?”

“For real, sis?”

“Dead serious.” Xia Yanchun pulled out her phone and waved it. “Check WeChat.”

Shen Nian’s pocket buzzed twice. A glance at the notifications had him grinning.

[WeChat Messages (2)]

[Xia Yanchun]: Congratulations, prosperity and good fortune!

Suppressed laughter.jpg

“Psych! Appreciate the sentiment, but let’s not be friends anymore.”

“Knew it. Give me my money back!”

“No refunds, no lives taken.”

Shen Nian darted into the elevator, already opening his phone to claim the money.

Two messages: one a 50 RMB image, the other a WeChat red packet.

“Ain’t you fancy with the theatrics.”

“Hmph.” Xia Yanchun’s tone was arctic.

The more miserable Xia Yanchun seemed, the happier Shen Nian felt. He eagerly opened the red packet.

“?”

WeChat’s algorithm screwed him over—swallowed 49.9 of it.

“HAHAHAHA—honk—HAHA!”

Xia Yanchun had been holding it in. How could anyone be this dumb?

Just imagining Shen Nian’s smug face when he saw the red packet versus his “ate crap” expression at the 0.1 RMB payout made her feel like the skies had cleared, the world brightened.

“What kind of demonic laugh was that?”

Shen Nian scowled. Honestly, Xia Yanchun was closer to a deity than a human sometimes.

“Still more human than you.”

......

Shen Nian did end up treating Xia Yanchun to breakfast.

Six-yuan egg-and-pork rice noodle rolls plus soy milk. Shen Nian wasn’t hungry, so he just bought a bowl of century egg and pork congee. They walked while eating.

Fellow students occasionally shot them looks. They’d seen people munch on steamed buns on the go, but rice noodle rolls and congee? First time.

Under the scrutiny, Xia Yanchun sped through her meal, then sipped her soy milk in tiny, dignified gulps. Now only Shen Nian bore the weird stares.

Shen Nian couldn’t care less. He checked his bank balance.

The system had activated last Sunday. Today was Wednesday—just three days, and his account had ballooned to 5,000 RMB.

Five grand in three days, barely lifting a finger. Office workers would sob in their cubicles.

Shen Nian’s family wasn’t wealthy. Five thousand was serious money.

With 500, he could splurge. With 5,000? Better hide it.

Otherwise, Mom would deploy the ultimate forbidden jutsu: “Let me save this for you until graduation,” after which the money would mysteriously vanish.

Alternatively: “Where’d you get this? No illegal stuff, understood?”

How was he supposed to explain? “Oh, the wind blew it into my account”?

Yikes.

They reached the school gates. The poor freshmen were already assembled on the field in neat blocks, backs ramrod straight.

Shen Nian paused, then backtracked to a roadside fruit stall. “Boss, half a watermelon. Cubed, two boxes.”

“Comin’ right up!”

Xia Yanchun blinked. “Why buy watermelon this early?”

“Young lady, you don’t get it,” the vendor cut in. “My watermelons are huge, sweet—addictive! Teachers and students from your school buy ’em all the time. Here, try a piece—you’ll crave it daily.”

“You spiking it with ice?” Shen Nian quipped.

“Whoa, kid, don’t go accusing people!”

The vendor panicked. These two wore Cinan No. 2’s uniforms—wasn’t that school supposed to be elite? How’d they end up with this joker?

Couldn’t he recognize a sales pitch?

Future of the nation, my foot.

The vendor hastily packed two boxes and handed them over. Today’s luck was awful—time to close shop early.

After paying, Shen Nian walked off, Xia Yanchun trailing like a curious kitten. “Why the watermelon?”

“It’s 36°C today. We’ll watch the freshmen suffer during break.” He jerked his chin toward the drilling students.

“...You’re evil.”

“Wanna join? Bought two boxes.”

“What if they mob us?”

“Run.”

In a chase, you only need to outrun your companion.

No way Xia Yanchun could outrun Shen Nian. His schemes were flawless.

Xia Yanchun shook her head. “You go. I don’t wanna end up on Xiaohongshu.”

“Boring.”

In class, Shen Nian plopped the watermelon on his desk and tapped Chen Dong’s shoulder.

Chen Dong—aka Banana Bro—turned, eyed the boxes, then Shen Nian. His expression morphed from creepy to downright diabolical.

“Heh. So you’re in on this too?”

“You mean…?”

“Gonna grab an iced cola later.”

“Satan would get you tattooed on his shoulder.”

Xia Yanchun watched the two lunatics and sighed. Boys never grew up.

Maybe she’d browse Xiaohongshu later. If they got roasted, she’d anonymously join the mob as “momo.”

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