Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Why Does She Look So Wrong?

At first she hadn’t been mentally prepared.

Then she got busy making money and forgot.

Now it was probably time to see what the original owner looked like.

On the call, the middle-aged woman fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer—rough around the edges. “Qi Qi… how’s your major lately? Has anyone… died?”

Qian Qi paused, assuming it was concern. “No. Magic Plant Department has been safe lately.”

“I see…” The woman murmured, like she was soothing herself. “Good. That’s good. Then… what about before? Was there anyone?”

Qian Qi’s eyebrow lifted.

If it was just worry, why ask about the past?

Her finger tapped the table once, slow. “Yes. Why?”

“Oh. Just…” The woman hesitated. “Do you know anything about their family situation? Like… whether they want to adopt a child, or anything like that.”

A sting shot through Qian Qi’s temple. A memory flickered, out of reach, leaving only a dull ache behind.

She opened her light-brain and searched quickly, eyes narrowing. “Why are you asking? I’ve never heard of an orphanage calling people to ask if they want to adopt.”

The woman went quiet.

Qian Qi didn’t know what tone the original owner used with her, but the woman sounded gentle, timid—like she was bracing for a slap.

So Qian Qi decided to be direct.

“If something’s wrong, say it. Aren’t you my family? What’s there to be afraid of?”

There was a choking sound on the other end, two quiet sobs swallowed down. Then the woman finally spoke, voice trembling.

“Qi Qi… our orphanage’s land rights are about to expire. Renewing them costs 500,000. They said if we can’t come up with the money, we’ll have to send the children away.”

She inhaled shakily. “So I thought… before we’re forced to shut down, we should find places for the children to go. If even one gets adopted, that’s one less child with nowhere to land.”

Qian Qi slapped a hand to her forehead.

So this was why System told her to save it.

She’d barely made 500,000—and it was about to evaporate.

Qian Qi flipped through her class schedule and her magic-plant planting records, then made a decision. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

If the original owner was raised there, she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t her problem. She needed to see Bright Orphanage with her own eyes first, figure out what the situation really was, and then decide what to do.

“Okay,” the woman said quickly, relief bleeding into her voice. “You can come back whenever you want. And about the adoption—”

“Let me come back first,” Qian Qi cut in. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

She hung up and rubbed at her temples.

[System: Still happy?]

Qian Qi stared at the air for two seconds, then leaned forward and bit the System panel.

Her teeth met something that definitely wasn’t real, and the panel instantly vomited static like an offended modem.

[System: …%$#@—%$#@!]

Qian Qi spat, wiped her mouth, and felt her mood improve immediately.

Now she remembered the mirror.

She wandered over to Chen Miao Miao’s desk, leaned toward the mirror, and finally got a good look at herself.

She stared.

Then she stared harder.

“…Huh.”

It wasn’t her old face.

But if she had to describe it in Zhong Zhou terms, it was… complicated.

It wasn’t ugly. Not at all.

But the moment she tried a smile—

She startled herself so badly she nearly jumped.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Is my smile that terrifying?”

[System: You finally figured it out!]

The panel practically sparkled with smug joy.

Qian Qi glared at it and tried again, forcing her face into something gentle.

Ten minutes later, her cheeks hurt and her expression still looked like she was about to commit a felony.

“This face is so weird,” Qian Qi muttered. “The features are fine, but the second I make an expression, everything goes… wrong.”

When she kept a blank face, she looked normal. Ordinary, even. Just a little cold. A little distant.

But when she smiled?

Yeah.

She suddenly understood why she kept creeping people out.

On the bright side, it suited a shameless scoundrel persona perfectly.

Qian Qi admired herself a little longer anyway, because she was nothing if not adaptable.

[System: …You really are a pervert.]

The door opened.

Chen Miao Miao came back, saw Qian Qi making faces at her mirror, and looked like she wanted to evaporate on the spot.

Then something bright sparked in Chen Miao Miao’s eyes. She smiled—wide, smug, delighted—shot Qian Qi a look, and climbed into bed. Her light-brain turned on, and she started humming like life was wonderful.

Qian Qi frowned, watching her.

“Why is she so happy?”

Not that Qian Qi hated seeing her smile. If anything, she found herself oddly fond of Chen Miao Miao’s current, stupidly cheerful face.

Because sooner or later…

Chen Miao Miao might not be able to smile at all.

—

Bright Orphanage sat on the outskirts of Yan City.

Qian Qi looked it up. By subway, it would take two and a half hours.

The moment she stepped outside the campus gates, the world hit her full force.

The instances and magic plants had already made her feel like she’d dropped into a fantasy game.

But the hovercars screaming past on silent engines, the sky rails curving overhead like a roller coaster, the enormous glowing ads flickering across buildings—those made it impossible to pretend this was anything but the future.

Qian Qi tilted her head back, eyes tracking a sleek hovercar as it streaked through the air.

“System,” she said reverently. “I’m going to buy one someday.”

[System: One costs 378 million.]

Qian Qi blinked.

Then she turned on her heel. “Walking is healthier.”

She headed straight for the subway.

This world had plenty of poor people.

It also had plenty of rich people.

The appearance of instances and magic creatures had created new jobs and new fortunes. Bold ordinary people grabbed opportunities with both hands, gambling risk for wealth.

But that kind of rich only went so far.

Real tycoons were the business clans with A-rank Awakeners in the bloodline generation after generation.

And the ones who truly ruled—money and power, both—were the first generation of Awakeners. The people who, from the day the instance disaster began, fought to carve out space for humanity to survive, and built this new world with their own hands.

Only their heirs—those who inherited their will—were qualified to steer the future.

It was a height ordinary people could never touch.

Meanwhile, Qian Qi—tiny, broke by comparison, and very unimpressed—was squatting in front of the subway payment machine, poking at it like it had personally offended her.

After an embarrassing amount of trial and error, she finally got it to work.

Two and a half hours later, she stood in front of Bright Orphanage.

The building was large, and the outside looked exactly like the orphanage from her previous life.

Warmth surged in her chest before she could stop it.

She tightened her grip on the bag of fruit, inhaled once, and walked in.

The yard was clean and orderly. Along both sides of the wide front courtyard were racks holding sun-warmed blankets and children’s clothes. A few older children were washing laundry.

Spring water was still cold. Their small hands were red with chill.

But their faces held no complaint.

Qian Qi had no memories of this place, no idea where the director’s office was, so she cleared her throat softly to get their attention.

The children looked up at the sound.

And in the next second, Qian Qi witnessed something truly incredible.

They cycled through expressions so fast it was like watching a slideshow glitch.

Fifteen seconds.

At least twenty different faces.