2:24 AM.

In the dimly lit room, the only light came from electronic devices. Occasionally, playful sounds drifted from the speakers beside the monitor—the idle character in the game chirped cheerfully:

“Big Qiuqiu’s sick, Second Qiuqiu checks; Third Qiuqiu goes to pick herbs…”

But the girl sitting in the chair—her high ponytail neatly tied, unmistakably lovely—had no energy left to pay attention to her favorite character. Her beautiful eyes were filled with exhaustion.

With practiced ease, she exited the infamous two-character game.

“Finally… finished farming…”

She let out a long sigh, picked up her cracked Xiaomi phone from the desk, swung her legs onto the gaming chair, and leaned back, stretching out fully.

Compared to before, she’d become noticeably smaller—her petite frame now fit snugly into the not-so-large gaming chair.

Opening her WeChat clone app, she tapped on a contact whose profile picture bore only two minimalist characters: “Dai Gan” (meaning “power-leveling service”). A flicker of hope lit up in Hua Xin’s eyes as she opened the chat window.

Hua Xin: “Boss, I’ve completed 100% exploration this time…”

She propped the phone on a stand, cupped her face in both hands, and waited cutely for a reply—but her eyelids drooped faster and faster as sleepiness quickly washed over her.

“Is it too late…?”  
“He’s probably asleep already.”

Hua Xin murmured softly to herself, a hint of disappointment creeping into her tone.

Rarely stepping outside, she survived by doing all sorts of odd online jobs—power-leveling that infamous two-character game and its six-character sibling from the same developer, editing videos, Photoshop retouching, and even providing AI voiceovers for manga.

After covering utilities each month, she still had a little left over, so starvation wasn’t a concern.

But sometimes gigs were scarce, so she needed to keep some savings—just in case.

About ten minutes later, the phone screen finally lit up.

Hua Xin’s drowsiness vanished instantly. She snatched up the phone.

“I love QQ Speed”: “Fully explored everything?”

Hua Xin typed back quickly: “Yes, 100% fully explored! Please transfer the 300 yuan we agreed on.”

She hit send.

But instead of the anticipated payment notification, a glaring red “❗” symbol appeared next to her message.

The girl froze.

Did she just…  
Did she just get scammed??!?!?

What happened to “there are more good people online”?  
What happened to “good people are everywhere”?  
What happened to “Hao Jian waiting on every street corner”?

“I love QQ Speed—I f***ing curse your ancestors!!” Hua Xin swore angrily, her fingers trembling as she opened the scammer’s profile and started typing a new friend request message:

“Boss, please don’t ghost me on payment... My grandpa and I rely only on selling tea and doing power-leveling jobs to survive. Please just pay me—even half would be fine… 🥺”

The phone’s glow clearly illuminated the tearful, pitifully adorable face of the single-ponytail girl—  
a real-life embodiment of sorrowful clown emoji 🤡.

At the same time—

At a small barbecue joint in Yongji District,

A guy with an earring set down his Blue Fairy cocktail, bursting into laughter as he read yet another “Add Friend” request.

“Bro Yan, check this out—more comedy! This clown’s even making up stories about selling tea. Honestly, if she’d used any other excuse, I might’ve felt bad enough to pay her.”

The man called “Bro Yan” frowned slightly, then relaxed with a faint smile after skimming the message. “Mufeng,” he said calmly, “you’re not short on cash. Why scam her?”

Mufeng chuckled, downed his drink in one gulp, and grinned mysteriously. “I just wanted to try the thrill of ghosting someone. Everyone else asks for a deposit upfront—only she agreed to get paid after finishing the job. Who else would I scam but her?”

Across the table, a tall, athletic guy in white socks and AJ sneakers—currently holding a skewer of grilled bullfrog—scoffed, “Bro Yan, ignore him. That’s just how these Genshin players are.”

“All they think about are Resin and pulls—they can’t even tell reality from fantasy anymore, constantly muttering about ‘getting that 5-star pity.’”

Mufeng sneered, “Xiang Guan, shut your trap, you fire-elemental idiot. Go run your 59-second 100-meter sprint with your ‘invincibility frame’.”

“Genshin players are like that,” Xiang Guan shot back lazily.

Xia Yan watched the two bicker with a helpless but familiar expression on his handsome face. He took a sip of his drink—this was nothing new.

Ever since the gaokao ended, they’d found each other through the dorm assignment app and university group chats. Discovering they all lived in Shanghai, they’d started hanging out regularly.

Tonight, Xia Yan had invited them over because he worked the late shift at this barbecue place. Since there were no customers after midnight, he figured they’d help him finish off the leftover food. As for their fourth roommate—

They still couldn’t reach him, but they’d meet him in person when school started in a week anyway.

“Buzz.” The phone lit up suddenly.

Xia Yan unlocked it curiously—who’d message him at this hour?

“Invincible Cat Fist”: “I swear I’ll f***ing kill you.”

“…”

That guy again.

Scrolling up to their chat history from a few days prior—when he’d given this person his address and then heard nothing until these random outbursts of rage—Xia Yan sighed.

He really shouldn’t have accepted that solo challenge…

Yet, despite it all, he hadn’t deleted the contact.

It was… kind of entertaining to check in once in a while.

“Bro Yan, chatting with who? Some cute girl?” Mufeng teased, noticing Xia Yan typing.

Given Xia Yan’s good looks and smooth way with words, he must’ve dated plenty of girls already.

“Just some online friend,” Xia Yan smiled, putting his phone down.

“Tch… boring.”

Back in the tiny room of our homebound girl—

Hua Xin’s tears had welled up again as she stared at her computer screen, now displaying a glaring “Incorrect Password” error for the game account.

Even the chance to delete the account herself had been taken from her…

She sniffled, her fair face streaked with tears, her usually bright eyes now red and swollen.

So mean…  
Just so, so evil…

“WAAAAAH!” Hua Xin cried out, flinging herself onto the bed and burying her face in the pillow, sobbing uncontrollably. 😭😭😭😭

“I’ll kill you, QQ Speed! I’ll murder you—I’ll kill, kill, kill, KILL you—cough, cough, cough!”

Choking on her own spit, she sat up, patted her chest, then kept crying and cursing.

This was her biggest order yet…

Three hundred yuan could buy so many things—it wasn’t just a random number in her WeChat balance.

After a while,

She pinched her nose and blew, her nose tip turning pink.

Glancing at her Hu Tao body pillow—who was still winking cutely—only made things worse. Instead of comfort, it now seemed to mock her.

Hua Xin: “…!”

She nearly burst into tears again.

Lifting her delicate foot, she stomped furiously on the innocent blanket, venting her helpless rage through repeated, futile trampling.

—

“Kill you… stomp you… kill you… neuter you…”

“Ding ding ding.”

A message popped up on her computer, halting her tantrum.

“Online #1 Big Bro”: “Stop cursing. Go to sleep already.”

“At least you still have a conscience…”

Hua Xin muttered under her breath—but surprisingly didn’t reply.

She shut down her computer, crawled into bed, and carefully pulled the blanket up to her belly button, ready to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, she started sobbing again.

“My 300 yuan… 😭😭😣🥺🤧”