Chapter 128
Chapter 128: I’m Already Dead. If You Have Business, Send Money.
When you sit at the top long enough, you start believing the world should answer when you speak. Rejection stops feeling like an inconvenience and starts feeling like an insult.
Tang Yun De liked to think he was kind. Patient. Gentle, even.
But after being refused—and ignored—again and again by Qian Qi, a thin strand of irritation tightened in his chest.
A student should be thrilled to meet the chairman of the Dungeon Association.
So why was this kid treating him like spam?
Qian Qi would’ve considered that accusation deeply unfair.
She wasn’t brushing him off.
She was answering him very seriously.
And more importantly, she had finally understood System.
“So answering questions for money feels this good,” Qian Qi whispered, grinning like a criminal. “Hahahaha…”
System: …
[You shameless thing. Are you copying me?]
Qian Qi cleared her throat, closed Tang Yun De’s chat, and started working through the rest of her messages.
[AAA lightbrain seller Little Wang]: Big shot!
You okay?!
Contact me when you wake up!
I’m coming to see you!
[I’m Your Grandpa]: Awake. Hurry up and bring gifts if you’re visiting.
[Old Zhang don’t die]: Classmate Qian Qi!
We heard you’re in a coma. Everyone’s worried, but the hospital won’t let us in!
[I’m Your Grandpa]: They’re letting people in now. Come with gifts. The more people, the better.
[Middle-Age Baldness Panic]: Qian Qi, how’s your body?
[I’m Your Grandpa]: Not great. But if you send me some money, I’ll recover instantly.
She skipped over Mo Yin Qiu and Li Hong Sheng’s messages and kept going.
[Old Li loves walking magic beasts]: Little Qian, how are you?
Contact Grandpa after you wake up. Grandpa will buy oranges and visit.
[Old Sun loves watching the gate]: Little Qian, I heard you took down over a dozen D-rank magic beasts?
Amazing!
Contact Grandpa after you wake up. Grandpa will visit!
[I’m Your Grandpa]: Come on, Grandpa. Bring lots of oranges. Sour ones.
[Wang]: Awake?
I’m at a nearby hotel. Call me anytime.
[I’m Your Grandpa]: Bro, wait for me at eight tomorrow morning. Bring a few durians and a few boxes of stinky tofu. Much appreciated.
[Sheng Qing Hong]: Qian Qi!
You okay?!
Don’t die on me!
[I’m Your Grandpa]: I’m already dead. If you have business, send money.
The replies came fast.
[Wang]: Okay.
[Middle-Age Baldness Panic]: Fine. I’ll bring you cash tomorrow. That work?
Qian Qi’s brow lifted.
Her principal… suddenly generous?
Something stank.
[I’m Your Grandpa]: Flattered. Money is enough. You don’t need to show up.
[Middle-Age Baldness Panic]: …
Across the city, in the office where that handle belonged, Principal Zheng turned and smiled at Tang Yun De like a man guiding a lamb toward a cliff.
“Just go see her tomorrow,” he said. “She looks like she’s recovering well. She can meet people.”
“Fine,” Tang Yun De said, stroking his beard. Then he paused. “If I can just go see her tomorrow… why did I transfer her all that money today?”
Principal Zheng coughed once, straight-faced. “That was a heads-up. If you show up tomorrow without warning, it’ll be too sudden.”
Tang Yun De hesitated, then nodded. “Fair enough. Little Zheng, I’ll go first. Want to come with?”
“No,” Principal Zheng said instantly, smile tight. “I’m… busy.”
He was not stepping into a hospital full of reporters with Qian Qi awake and opportunistic. Absolutely not. He could already picture her charging him a “bravery fee” with three cameras zoomed in on his face.
Nope. No. Never.
As Tang Yun De turned to leave, Principal Zheng added, with suspicious kindness, “One more thing, Chairman Tang.”
Tang Yun De glanced back.
“Use money,” Principal Zheng said. “Use it a lot. Use moral pressure and threats less.”
Otherwise, you’re going to have a very bad time.
Tang Yun De nodded, unreadable, and left.
—
Qian Qi had been out too long to feel sleepy at night.
When the ward lights clicked off, she sat by the window, letting moonlight spill over a magazine she’d grabbed from the shelf without thinking.
She read. She stared. She drifted.
By the time she checked her lightbrain again, it was 4:15 a.m.
She got up, washed her face, and studied herself in the mirror. Dark circles. Cracked lips. A faintly tragic aura.
Perfect.
Satisfied, she climbed into bed and promptly slept until eight.
Xiang Wen Yun and Little Min were already there when she woke. They rushed to fetch hot porridge, only for Qian Qi to stop them with a lazy wave.
“No. I’m not hungry.”
Xiang Wen Yun frowned at her dry mouth. “Your lips are cracked. Want some chicken soup?”
“No, no.” Qian Qi sat up quickly, protective. “This took effort to set up.”
She beckoned Little Min over, reached into Little Min’s bag, and pulled out a packet of powder.
“Director,” Qian Qi said, tucking the powder inside her hospital gown, “I’m going to meet the reporters. Bring them in later.”
Xiang Wen Yun nodded. Qian Qi always had a plan, and she wasn’t the type you could steer anyway. She left the room.
Qian Qi opened her lightbrain, fired off a few messages, and waited.
It didn’t take long.
The reporters poured in like floodwater—cameras, microphones, flashes. The air filled with the click of lenses and the sharp smell of impatience.
“Classmate Qian Qi, how do you feel about killing over a dozen D-rank magic beasts?”
“They say you were an ordinary person in school. Why did you suddenly become an awakener? Were you hiding it? Did something trigger your awakening?”
“What’s your awakened skill? Is it S-rank? Can you show us?”
“People online are angry you didn’t act at first. They say you could’ve killed them all immediately, but you waited and more people died. What do you say to that?”
Qian Qi stared at the microphones hovering inches from her face, coughed twice like a dying actress, and rasped, “You came to visit and didn’t bring fruit or milk or anything?”
The room froze.
Then came confusion.
Then offense.
Qian Qi pulled her blanket over her head and sighed dramatically.
“Sigh.”
Another.
“Sigh…”
And another, like she was trying to summon sympathy by volume alone.
The reporters looked at each other, baffled. Finally one scratched his head. “Uh… should we go buy some gifts?”
Silence.
Three seconds later, one reporter bolted out of the room with his camera like it was a relay baton.
The others realized what was happening and started shouting.
“Holy shit—he’s stealing the lead!”
They stampeded out after him.
Xiang Wen Yun and Little Min peeked in from the doorway. “Why did they leave so fast?”
“To buy gifts,” Qian Qi said, sticking her head out from under the blanket. “We’re going to get a lot today. If you’re free tomorrow, you can set up a stall outside.”
Little Min pressed her palm to her forehead. “Sister Qian Qi… you really can’t quit fleecing people.”