Chapter 26
Chapter 26: The Transmigration Starter Pack—Orphan Status!
Mo Yin Qiu got goosebumps just looking at Qian Qi’s grin. She rapped the desk with a knuckle. “Qian Qi. Can you fight less?”
“Of course!” Qian Qi said quickly. “Except for Chen Tong. I absolutely won’t fight anyone else.”
Mo Yin Qiu stared at her.
“…Then what the hell is the point of that promise?”
“Chen Tong’s family has money,” Mo Yin Qiu said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. “And he’s petty. You keep provoking him, you’re asking to get burned. Be careful when you leave campus.”
“Got it,” Qian Qi said, smiling like she hadn’t heard the warning at all. “So…”
Mo Yin Qiu nodded. “You can go.”
“…I have a few contracts,” Qian Qi said, and pulled out her Magic Plant Studies textbook from behind her waist like it was a concealed weapon. She slid a stack of papers out from inside and laid them neatly on the desk. “The classmates listed here agreed to transfer me their remaining magic-plant application quotas.”
Mo Yin Qiu blinked at the book. Then at the contracts.
Then back at the book.
“You carried that during a fight,” she said, voice flat.
Qian Qi smiled.
Mo Yin Qiu’s mouth twitched. She remembered the principal’s words and instantly understood what Qian Qi had been doing. She wanted to ask, but she also didn’t want to give Qian Qi the satisfaction of explaining it.
So she stood up. “I’ll go get your seeds.”
“Thank you, mentor,” Qian Qi said, beaming. “You’re the best!”
Mo Yin Qiu rolled her eyes as she walked out. She was going to find out exactly what Qian Qi had been up to lately—one way or another.
With money in her account, Qian Qi slowed down her hemostatic medicine production and focused on fulfilling her contracts, teaching classmates how to grow magic plants.
Meanwhile, the campus forum had already gone feral.
The legend of the hemostatic magic potion spread like wildfire.
A thread titled “#Qian Qi—hemostatic magic potion” shot up the rankings and then refused to come down.
[— Hey, did you hear? Magic Plant Department has a big shot named Qian Qi. Her hemostatic magic potion is insane!]
[— What? What potion? Can someone explain?]
[— Quick explainer: during duel practice, someone in the Skills Department got an arrow through the neck and started bleeding out. He was about to die. Then a bag of hemostatic magic potion saved him.]
[— No way. That’s real?]
[— Real. I was there. It felt like a dream.]
[— Impossible. I’m in Magic Plant Department. Qian Qi is a bottom-tier slacker. How could she make something like that?]
[— You think we’re lying? Big shot Qian Qi cut the principal once herself, and even the principal said it worked.]
[— Holy shit!]
[— Holy shit!!]
[— That’s insane!]
[— What a warrior. Where’s big shot’s dorm? I’m going to buy right now!]
[— Magic Plant Department girls’ dorm, Building C, room 302. Sisters, I’m going first!]
The thread climbed past a hundred replies like it was nothing.
Chen Miao Miao lay on her bed scrolling, eyes dripping jealousy and disgust. She slammed out a comment:
[— Are you all stupid? Qian Qi is a famous trash bag in Magic Plant Department!]
“Idiots,” she muttered, and tossed her light-brain aside.
Then her gaze landed on Qian Qi’s bed. Her eyes narrowed.
She’d been avoiding Qian Qi these past few days—mostly because she was terrified Qian Qi would make her pay for food again—so she had no idea what had been happening.
But if the forum was right…
Qian Qi had made something incredible.
What a joke. Everyone in the Magic Plant Department knew Qian Qi was dead last. How could she possibly—
Wait.
Chen Miao Miao bit her nail, thoughts turning black and sticky.
That night. Qian Qi’s neck wound had looked bad.
But later she acted like it was nothing.
Was it because of the hemostatic magic potion?
Two thousand per bag.
Two thousand.
Just thinking about that kind of money made Chen Miao Miao’s chest ache with envy.
Why did it have to go into Qian Qi’s pocket?
How was it made?
If she could get the formula…
Then she could make money too.
A lot of it.
The idea hit and hooked her.
Stealing the recipe wouldn’t be hard. She just needed to sneak into the instructor’s records and check what magic-plant seeds Qian Qi had applied for.
She refused to believe Qian Qi could do it and she couldn’t.
Decision made, Chen Miao Miao hopped off the bed, threw on a coat, and hurried toward the office building.
—
People kept coming to buy medicine.
Qian Qi sprawled on her bed, opened her account, and stared at the number glowing on her light-brain.
500,000.
Her lips stretched into a grin that probably qualified as a public safety hazard.
“Ahhh,” she sighed. “Now I don’t have to worry about switching majors. And I’ve got living expenses for the next three years.”
She leaned back and spoke to the air, cheerful as a villain. “System, I count as a little rich now, right? If you ever want pocket money, tell your big sis. I’ll feed you immediately.”
[System: Yeah, no. Save it. In five seconds you won’t feel that way.]
“Huh?”
Her light-brain lit up again.
A voice call.
Qian Qi recognized the ID immediately—someone in the original owner’s call log who contacted her on a fixed schedule every month.
After a beat, she answered, voice lazy. “Hello?”
A gentle, husky middle-aged woman came through the speaker. “Qi Qi… you’ve used up your living expenses, haven’t you?”
Qian Qi froze.
Was this… the original owner’s mother?
“Not yet,” Qian Qi said, tapping the table. The background on the other end sounded quiet. “Are you at home?”
“Home?” The woman paused, then gave a soft, warm laugh that sounded a little choked. “Mm. Home. I’m at home.”
Qian Qi let out a casual “Oh.” Then, as if it were nothing, she said, “Send me your location. I need it.”
“Ah? Okay.”
The woman didn’t ask why. A location pin popped up.
Qian Qi opened it and went still.
Bright Orphanage.
Her fingers brushed over the words on the screen like they might burn.
Numbness spread through her arms and legs, followed by a sudden wave of emotion so sharp she couldn’t tell where it came from—hers, or the original owner’s.
In her previous life, she’d been an orphan too.
Even the orphanage had the same name: Bright Orphanage.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
But if transmigration stories taught anything, it was that matching identities wasn’t exactly rare.
Name. Background.
And, apparently, even the orphanage.
Oh, right. Her face.
She’d been here nearly a week and still hadn’t looked in a mirror.
She didn’t even know what she looked like now.