Lin Xi didn’t hesitate before clicking "Yes." Immediately afterward, another notification popped up on her phone screen.
[System Notification: Upon confirmation of agreement, a countdown will begin. During this period, remaining group members may exchange items without restrictions through the intermediary.]
"Without restrictions" meant no limits on the number of exchanges or whether the items were living beings. The group instantly buzzed with excitement. There had been times when the one-exchange-per-day rule simply wasn’t enough for all the things they needed to trade.
The notification vanished after two seconds, and the chat screen, which had been lively just moments ago, fell silent. No one spoke.
On Lin Xi’s end, message alerts chimed one after another.
Lin Duxi sent Lin Xi an infrared laser gun.
Xu Huanhuan delivered a package of knockout drugs and their antidote.
Ah Huahua passed along a special spicy plant.
Ye Bingbing handed over a newly produced, safety-confirmed grenade from her dimension.
Yao Xiran transferred a signal jammer.
Xiang Qianlan, lacking any handy weapons, instead sent over the pancakes and boiled sweet potatoes Widow Liu had prepared that morning.
Chu Qianmo gave Lin Xi a vial—the same disguise pill she had taken before—along with a spatial storage ring.
Lin Xi gathered all these items and forwarded them to Wen Wan.
Wen Wan darted through the alleyways like a fish, her lungs and throat burning as she pushed her body to its limits.
She had been planning this escape for a long time. As she had said, Qiao Yisi would never let her leave M248 alive. The only reason he had kept her around was to play a cat-and-mouse game.
Now that he had marked Zhao Xuanqi, Wen Wan was expendable. After all, once an Omega was marked by an Alpha, resistance became nearly impossible.
In the two days since she had joined the chat group, the only thing Wen Wan had received from Lin Xi was a drop of genetic repair serum. That single drop had enhanced her physical abilities beyond what they had been before.
But she was still just a Beta. In this ABO world, biology dictated one’s potential. Even after being altered by dimensional travel and consuming the genetic serum, she couldn’t match an Alpha’s prowess.
Like now—while Wen Wan felt like a half-dead dog, the Alphas chasing her remained infuriatingly composed.
Her wristband vibrated. She glanced at it, then at the pursuers behind her, before ducking into a narrow alley. In three quick strides, she vaulted over a wall into someone’s courtyard.
The house was empty. Wen Wan slipped inside and headed straight for the bathroom.
In this interstellar era, the Star Network was omnipresent, and surveillance cameras lurked in places ordinary people would never notice. The only blind spots were usually bathrooms.
Hiding behind the bathroom door, Wen Wan accepted the supplies from Lin Xi, silently praying the homeowners weren’t the type to install hidden cameras here.
Items clattered onto the small bathroom floor. Following Lin Xi’s instructions, Wen Wan grabbed the unremarkable wooden ring, bit her finger hard enough to draw blood, and smeared it onto the ring.
The pain made her hiss. She had endured hardships growing up, but she had never deliberately hurt herself before.
A flash of light later, she felt a connection to the spatial storage ring. Relieved, she stashed all the scattered items inside.
Only then did she finally exhale.
After lurking in the group chat for a day, she knew members could exchange goods through Lin Xi as an intermediary. The idea had tempted her, but back then, she had nothing to offer. She couldn’t bring herself to ask for help.
Yet now, when she was in trouble, the group had rallied for her. Warmth swelled in her chest, so intense it ached. Her eyes grew damp. The saying "when one is in trouble, all come to help" had become tangible, wrapping around her like a lifeline.
Wiping her face, Wen Wan studied the gun Lin Duxi had sent, figuring out how to use it.
She was about to climb out through the bathroom window when a thunderous knock rattled the front door. She froze.
Footsteps descended the stairs. Wen Wan’s expression tightened. Moments later, the door creaked open.
"Official business from the Planetary Lord’s estate. We’re searching for a fugitive. Cooperate, if you would." The voice dripped with arrogance.
The Planetary Lord controlled all resources on M248. Here, he was practically an emperor—even if the planet itself wasn’t rich.
As his subordinates, even non-Alphas carried themselves with unbearable haughtiness.
Wen Wan, having lived in the Planetary Lord’s estate for two months, knew this better than most.
"There’s no one here you need. Leave." A man’s voice, clear and pleasant, cut through the tension.
"Ah, General Zhou Min! Our apologies, our apologies. We’ll go right away." The Planetary Lord’s men instantly switched to groveling politeness.
Footsteps shuffled away. Then, a knock came at the bathroom door. "Leave. Quickly."
Silence returned. Wen Wan didn’t take the disguise pill yet. Instead, she slipped out through the window. As she dropped from the wall, she glanced back and saw a tall man standing by a second-floor window.
She recognized him now. Zhou Min—a federal garrison officer stationed on M248. The military and the Planetary Lord’s government operated separately. Their sole duty was protecting the planet from starbeasts and space pirates.
Unless the Planetary Lord’s laws violated federal statutes or interests, the military wouldn’t interfere.
Whatever his reasons for driving off her pursuers, Wen Wan owed him.
Committing his name to memory, she resumed her escape—this time with a much-needed breather.
Activating the signal jammer Yao Xiran had provided, Wen Wan confirmed that certain technologies transcended dimensions. Within seconds, all networks within a 500-meter radius went dead. Surveillance feeds blanked out.
After testing her wristband to confirm, she swallowed the disguise pill, deactivated the jammer, and strolled out of the alley like any ordinary citizen.
The blackout lasted only two minutes. Most people never even noticed.
At this moment, Wen Wan had completely transformed her appearance. Originally, her looks matched her name—graceful and dignified. Even in the interstellar era, her beauty was exceptional.
After taking the Disguise Pill, her features became utterly ordinary, the kind that would vanish in a crowd.
Every checkpoint was guarded by the planet lord's forces. As Wen Wan passed by, she was stopped and questioned extensively.
She answered flawlessly. As for her citizen ID number, the planet lord's guards didn’t even ask to see it.
After all, population counts fell under taxable categories. For minor planet lords like Qiao Yisi, who sought to minimize taxes paid to the Federation, many Betas on M248 Star lacked official Federation citizenship.
They did have M248 Star identification numbers, but these weren’t recognized by the Federation. During routine inspections, the city guards never even thought to check for IDs.
The planet lord’s guards carefully compared Wen Wan’s face to the wanted criminal’s image on their wristbands. Finding no resemblance, they let her go.
On M248 Star, those without citizenship couldn’t access Federation welfare. Food, clothing, and daily necessities were limited to the bare minimum, and they were subjected to grueling labor.
Wen Wan’s attire was no different from the ordinary people on the streets. Once permitted to leave, she jogged away with the others who had been released.
But she didn’t relax just yet. Her top priority now was securing a permanent residence and obtaining a Federation citizen ID.
Leaving M248 Star wasn’t urgent. As a remote planet, it only had two public spacecraft stops per month. According to Wen Wan’s intel, the next one was in fifteen days.
She wasn’t in a hurry to depart. Qiao Yisi, unable to find her, would surely stake out the spaceport. Anyone boarding or disembarking in the coming days would face intense scrutiny.
Wen Wan estimated she’d need to stay on this planet for at least three more months.
During that time, she couldn’t afford even the slightest slip-up. If caught, the consequences would be unthinkable.
Wen Wan spoke in the group chat again around 8 PM Earth time.
[Wen Wan (ABO World): Everyone, I’m safe now.]
The group members across different dimensions had stayed awake, waiting for her update. Relieved to see she was unharmed, they collectively exhaled.
Lin Xi was the first to ask: [Lin Xi (Earth): Where are you staying now? Is it completely safe? Do you still need help?]
Her question reflected the group’s sentiment. Yao Xiran added: [Yao Xiran (Wanderer of the Stars): If there’s anything we can do, just say the word. According to my system alerts, we can send unlimited supplies today.]
Having already accepted their help, Wen Wan didn’t hesitate to ask, despite her current poverty in the ABO world: [Wen Wan (ABO World): I’m short on food and supplies. Also, @Yao Xiran, could you make me a wristband that can evade network tracking?]
[Lin Xi (Earth): Make a list of what you need. I’m stuck at my family’s place right now, but Ye Bingbing can gather everything. I’ll handle the transfer.]
[Ye Bingbing (Villainess CEO): No problem, I’ll arrange it immediately.]
[Yao Xiran (Wanderer of the Stars): If you have any spare wristbands, send one over first. I need to assess your world’s tech level.]
M248 Star had its own isolated network. Without a Federation ID, citizens could only access the internet via temporary wristbands, sold at local shops.
Wen Wan’s current residence was a cramped shack in the slums—just a few square meters with only a bed. The nearest restroom was a public facility 500 meters to the left of her door.
She walked into a nearby store, calmly purchasing a week’s worth of nutrient packs and a temporary wristband.
Exiting the shop, she silently thanked Chu Qianmo for the Disguise Pill’s three-month duration. A short-term disguise would’ve been far trickier.
Back in her shack, she sent the wristband to Lin Xi, who forwarded it to Yao Xiran.
Yao Xiran had already booked a ticket off the junk planet, but departure wasn’t until tomorrow. With her tools still unpacked, she immediately began dissecting the wristband.
To her surprise, the temporary device could connect to their star network. Raising an eyebrow, she got to work modifying it.
Meanwhile, Ye Bingbing gathered Wen Wan’s requested supplies. After transferring them, Lin Xi received a private message from Xu Huanhuan.
Xu Huanhuan wanted Lin Xi to send Caor the cat over for a visit, to be returned just before the countdown ended.
Life in the primitive world had settled into a routine, but Xu Huanhuan still missed Caor terribly. Though Lin Xi regularly sent photos and videos, being unable to touch the cat only deepened her longing.
Xu Huanhuan dreamed of holding Caor again. With Wen Wan’s safety confirmed, her thoughts turned to the feline.
She knew the primitive world was no place for Caor. The wilderness teemed with predators, and a small cat would be at the bottom of the food chain—even the rabbits she kept outside her cave might terrify it.
After sending her request, Xu Huanhuan anxiously awaited Lin Xi’s reply, her heart trembling like the last time she’d asked Lin Xi to find Caor.
Moments later, the stone in her hand vibrated, and her pulse quickened:
[System Alert: Group member (Intermediary) Lin Xi (Earth) has sent you one (1) living calico cat. Accept?]
Hands shaking, Xu Huanhuan tapped “Yes.” In an instant, a plumper Caor materialized on her stone bed.
Tears spilled the moment she saw the cat. Gently cradling Caor, Xu Huanhuan wept uncontrollably.
Caor blinked up at her, nuzzling her chin. The affectionate gesture only made Xu Huanhuan cry harder.
After a long embrace, she released Caor and fetched a handmade toy—a feathered wand with soft white plumes and tiny, colorful gemstones that chimed when shaken.
Caor’s ears twitched, eyes locked onto the dancing feathers. Its tail swished excitedly before it finally pounced, leaping and darting after the toy with glee.
Ahua's face lit up with a genuine smile. Whether in the past or now, being with Caor was always when she was happiest.
Just being able to tease Ahua with the cat teaser one more time, to hold her again—Ahua was already content.
Ahua and Caor snuggled together all night. During the day, Ahua didn’t dare take Caor outside or let her eat any meat or water from this world, afraid of unknown viruses.
Fortunately, Lin Xi had thought of everything. When delivering Caor, she had also sent over her litter box and cat food. In the morning, when Ahua woke up, she even received fresh chicken breast delivered by Lin Xi, which she used to prepare a homemade meal for Caor.
After eating, Ahua held Caor tightly, unwilling to let go for even a moment. Unlike at Lin Xi’s place, where Caor would dart around and disappear, she stayed quietly by her long-lost owner’s side.
But happy times are always fleeting. By 8 PM, the unlimited delivery time for the day had ended. In the last two minutes of the countdown, Ahua sent Caor back.
Along with the cat teaser.
The sudden shift in space and time left Caor completely disoriented. Once she realized what had happened, she frantically searched for the familiar figure she adored.
At Lin Xi’s home, she looked everywhere—under the beds, even in the pigpen.
Her frantic running back and forth caught Chi Xiangping’s attention. "This Caor," she chuckled, "who knows where she’s been playing? Ever since she got back, she’s been running around like there’s a mouse to catch!"
Village cats aren’t much better than village dogs. Though Caor had been pampered as a pet in the city, after returning to the countryside, her boldness grew. In just over a month, she had explored every corner of the village.
Unlike in the city, villagers never shooed cats or dogs away. Wherever they wandered, someone would feed them. Even Lin Dajiang, Lin Xi’s uncle, now kept a special stash of cat food just for Caor.
Having not seen Caor since last night, Chi Xiangping didn’t think much of it, simply muttering that cats, like children, sometimes wandered off to play before dropping the subject.
Yue chased after Caor, giggling nonstop. Yao Yuran and Chi Xiangping had been keeping each other company these past few days, nearly finishing shelling all the corn at home.
"Maybe she saw a mouse. Caor isn’t usually this hyper," Yao Yuran remarked before calling out, "Yue, slow down! Don’t trip!"
A smile lingered on Yao Yuran’s face. These days at Lin Xi’s home had been the most relaxed she’d ever experienced in her life.
She didn’t have to wake up at dawn to cook for the whole family or constantly brace for her husband’s unpredictable beatings.
Her eldest daughter now had a quiet space to study. To help her focus, Chi Xiangping had even moved in Lin Xi’s old desk.
Now, her daughter sat on the bed in her room, the sound of her reading occasionally drifting through the slightly ajar door.
It felt like a dream.
Chi Xiangping grinned from ear to ear. In previous years, when Lin Xi was away working, the house had felt empty with just her, an old granny, with no one to talk to at night.
Now, Lin Xi was back, along with Yao Yuran and her two daughters—and a cat. Life had suddenly become lively and sweet.
Lin Xi didn’t join them in shelling corn. She had always hated the task—too much of it made her hands burn.
Instead, she went to the kitchen, pulled a rice cake from the water vat, sliced it thickly, and brought it to the living room.
The firepit was still burning. She used tongs to shift the embers before tossing the rice cake slices in. These cakes had been made during New Year’s at Gu Dahong’s place.
Stored in water, they could last a whole year.
The aroma of toasted rice soon filled the room. Chi Xiangping sniffed the air and said, "Tomorrow morning, let’s have rice cake noodles. Do you want yours sweet or savory?"
Rice cake noodles were simple—just sliced rice cakes boiled until soft, then served with either sugar or salt.
The savory version required more toppings: cabbage shoots, crispy pork fat, and optional garnishes like scallions, cilantro, or pickled vegetables—whatever you liked.
"I want mine sweet," Lin Xi said. She had always preferred the sweet version, especially the broth at the end, fragrant with rice and lightly sweetened—perfect in any season.
"I’m fine with either," Yao Yuran said. She wasn’t picky—when you had no choice, you ate what was given or went hungry.
Marrying Hu San hadn’t spared her from hardship. Fang and Yue had learned not to be fussy either, eating whatever filled their bellies. Under Yao Yuran’s guidance, the girls had also grown up polite.
Except for Hu Mingpeng. He was a carbon copy of Hu San—moody, throwing tantrums if he didn’t get his way. And Hu San doted on this son, born when he was already in his thirties.
If Yao Yuran tried to discipline him, she’d either be scolded or beaten. And every time Hu Mingpeng got his father’s backing, he’d smirk at her triumphantly.
Her heart had cooled bit by bit. Deep down, she had never wanted a son. That night when she struck Hu San, Hu Mingpeng’s words had been the final straw.
In the future, if she earned money, she might send him monthly allowances—but she would never take him in. Call her cold-hearted or inhuman—she didn’t care.
Chi Xiangping said, "Then we’ll make both. You can have sweet if you want, or savory if you change your mind."
She paused before adding, "I know you too well. You’ll say you want sweet now, but tomorrow you’ll switch to savory. Your grandpa spoiled you rotten."
Lin Xi just grinned sheepishly, not denying it—because Chi Xiangping was right.
Just then, the toasted rice cakes were ready. Lin Xi fished them out with the tongs, brushed off the ash on a wooden stool, and called Fang and Yue over.
The fire-toasted cakes were crispy outside, soft and chewy inside. No seasoning was needed—the natural rice fragrance was comfort enough.
After everyone had a piece, Caor finally gave up her search. Unable to find Ahua, she sulked, dragging the jeweled cat teaser to Lin Xi’s side.
She flopped onto the cushion Chi Xiangping had set out for her, listlessly batting at the teaser now and then.
Lin Xi updated Ahua about Caor’s antics and sent over a video of her earlier search. Ahua laughed and cried watching it, her emotions swinging back and forth.
The group chat buzzed with activity too, Wen Wan joining in. Everything seemed peaceful and warm.
In the early hours of the morning, Yao Xiran finally finished modifying the temporary wristband and had Lin Xi deliver it to Wen Wan.
After receiving the wristband, Wen Wan removed her old one and set it aside. Using her left hand, she put on the new temporary wristband and bound it with her fingerprint and iris.
Something utterly miraculous happened—a holographic screen popped up, and on the previously blank display, an eerily familiar app icon appeared.
Wen Wan’s heart pounded like a drum. She immediately tapped the app, and there it was: the familiar little black silhouette beneath the Earth, the pinned group chat at the top, and beneath it, the one and only private chat window.
When she opened the chat, every single message was exactly the same.
She glanced back at the wristband she had obtained from Qiao Yisi—the WeChat icon was long gone.
At this moment, Wen Wan was truly overjoyed. She immediately stored the old wristband in her spatial storage. Since the space could halt time, it would surely block any tracking devices embedded in the wristband. Wen Wan didn’t believe for a second that Qiao Yisi hadn’t installed a tracker when he gave it to her.
The only reason she had kept it until now was for the chat app. Now that the app could be transferred to another wristband, the old one was no longer necessary.
If she had known earlier that WeChat was tied to her fingerprint and iris, she would have thrown that damned wristband away the moment she left the City Lord’s residence.
But it wasn’t too late.
Tonight, Wen Wan could finally sleep soundly.
Ten kilometers away from the slums, in the planetary governor’s mansion, Qiao Yisi lounged in his grand chair, a symbol of his power, with Zhao Xuanqi nestled in his arms. He swirled a glass of wine as he listened to his subordinate’s report.
"Boss, Wen Wan’s wristband signal has been lost. We can’t locate her anymore."
Qiao Yisi took a sip of wine, then turned and fed it to Zhao Xuanqi. When Zhao Xuanqi refused, the wine trickled down his fair skin, and Qiao Yisi’s gaze darkened.
He smirked. "Keep a close watch on the starport. For the next while, thoroughly investigate anyone buying or selling tickets. I refuse to believe she can sprout wings and escape M248."
Qiao Yisi was arrogant. A mere Beta—what tricks could she possibly pull? Besides, his control over M248 was absolute. A nobody like Wen Wan couldn’t possibly cause any real trouble.
With a dismissive wave, Qiao Yisi sent his subordinate away, then flipped Zhao Xuanqi beneath him.
"Darling, your little friend is quite resourceful. Not many can slip past my guards."
Zhao Xuanqi remained silent, but inside, he seethed with hatred. If Wen Wan had the ability to escape, why couldn’t she help him? He was of noble birth—if he escaped, wouldn’t she benefit too?
Sure, he had wronged her in the past, but couldn’t she just move on? Why cling to old grudges?
His clothes were peeled off like an orange rind, and Zhao Xuanqi closed his eyes.
He was a normal man! Never in his life had he imagined he’d be forced into intimacy with another man. Yet here he was, trapped in this nightmare after crossing worlds, powerless to resist, forced to submit again and again.
What hurt even more was the jealousy and indifference in his parents’ and sister’s eyes once they learned Qiao Yisi had marked him.
He had never wanted Qiao Yisi—never! So why did his family treat him like an enemy? He had only been marked because of them!
Zhao Xuanqi couldn’t understand. Had their transformation into Omegas also turned their brains to mush?
Qiao Yisi didn’t care about Zhao Xuanqi’s distraction. All he wanted was an heir—without one, M248 would fall into someone else’s hands.
The planet had been built by generations of the Qiao family. He would not let outsiders take it. Zhao Xuanqi had better be fertile enough to produce a high-potential Alpha.
If the first child wasn’t an Alpha or lacked talent, they’d try again. And if he proved infertile… Qiao Yisi’s body moved, but his eyes were icy cold.
In families like theirs, there were plenty of ways to dissolve a mark.
What happened to the Omega afterward was never his concern.
Unaware of the events unfolding in the planetary governor’s mansion, Wen Wan had already breached M248’s blockade and connected to the Starnet.
The Starnet was as vibrant and vast as the novels had described.
Since her transmigration, Wen Wan’s knowledge of this world had come solely from the governor’s staff. Now, with access to the Starnet, she navigated to the library and devoured everything about the ABO universe.
Unlike Yao Xiran’s interstellar world, this ABO society wasn’t lacking in natural flora, and each planet had its own specialties. However, in terms of technological advancement, Yao Xiran’s world was far superior.
Here, the ABO world relied too heavily on Alpha dominance. Alphas sat at the top of the food chain.
No matter how exceptional a Beta was, they could never rise to the highest echelons of power. Yet Betas formed the backbone of every industry, from middle management to the labor force.
This created a twisted societal hierarchy—Alphas, Omegas, and Betas coexisted like the Yellow River’s estuary: mingling yet distinctly stratified.
After leaving the library, Wen Wan pondered: Were the talented, hardworking Betas born into privilege truly as submissive to Alpha rule as the world believed?
Throughout five thousand years of Chinese history, ambitious figures had risen time and again. Could the Betas of this world really be so docile?
Driven by this question, Wen Wan researched the leaders of every major industry in the ABO world.
When she discovered that Betas now occupied eighty percent of mid-to-high-level positions across the Federation, she realized this Alpha-dominated, Omega-privileged society was on the brink of upheaval.
Just like the peasant revolts of ancient China.
The Betas had been suppressed for too long, and the Alphas had grown too complacent.
Wen Wan’s instincts were rarely wrong. She had no intention of getting caught in this impending world war—so before it erupted, she needed to secure her own safety.
She needed money. A lot of it.
Wen Wan began exploring ways to make money on the Star Network. As she wandered through various sections, she stumbled upon the entertainment section, where she was astonished to discover how incredibly backward the world's entertainment industry was.
Music and dance were one thing, but TV shows and movies were few and far between. The handful of well-rated films were mostly pretentious art-house dramas.
As for novels, they were still stuck in the era of prose and overly serious literature.
Wen Wan's eyes lit up instantly. She had been an avid reader since she was twelve. In the days before smartphones, when she had no computer, she would rent books from local shops.
Even if it meant skipping a meal to save a dime for a novel, she would do it. Books were her soul's nourishment!
Even after growing up and getting married, she never abandoned this hobby. It was also why she was so familiar with the ABO universe.
Speaking of which, the ABO world in novels was slightly different from the one she had transmigrated into—at least in fiction, there was no reproductive isolation between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas.
But that didn’t matter. Wen Wan had already decided to write melodramatic novels online to earn money.
As for her first story, the plot of a domineering CEO and a sweet, pregnant runaway immediately flashed through her mind.
She planned to tweak the sweetheart into a sweet Omega. She was sure such a soapy storyline would captivate Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike.
No sooner said than done. Wen Wan found a website that didn’t require citizenship number registration and started writing.
In the interstellar ABO world, consciousness input technology had advanced to the point where specialized software could transcribe thoughts into text—or even convert them into movies.
Immersed in her melodramatic world, Wen Wan’s writing endeavors soon became the talk of her group chat.
One by one, her friends joined in, fueling her creativity with endless inspiration.
Lin Xi couldn’t help but laugh every time she checked the group. She was beyond excited for Wen Wan’s upcoming masterpiece—a story where the sweet Omega not only flees pregnant but later stumbles into a time tunnel, landing in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, while the domineering Alpha scours the world to find them.
Amid the banter, New Year’s Day arrived. Lin Xi's homestay had its foundation dug out.
But after inspecting the construction site repeatedly, she felt the reserved courtyard was too small. She hurried to the village office and, after some wheedling, secured an additional hundred square meters of reserved land.
With the approval slip in hand, she consulted Boss Feng from the construction team. After discussions, he adjusted the construction plans to allow for future expansion.
Satisfied, Lin Xi headed home. The day before New Year’s, she took Chi Xiangping to visit Auntie Three’s place.
Auntie Three’s house wasn’t finished yet, so the family was temporarily staying in an old village home.
Despite their exhaustion, Auntie Three and Third Uncle wore smiles, thrilled about their son’s upcoming marriage and the new addition to the family.
Auntie Three held Lin Xi’s hand, fussing over her with affectionate words. When it was time to leave, the couple saw them off at the village entrance.
New Year’s celebrations in Lotus Village were low-key—just a chicken dinner as a treat. Xing Shui Elementary hosted a gala, where Fang’s class performed a choir.
Lin Xi and the others attended, and she even brought a camera to take pictures of Fang. Noticing this, Fang playfully struck a pose with a peace sign. Soon, Lin Xi ended up photographing every child in the village.
Time flowed smoothly after that, with everyone in the group chat busy with their own lives.
Wen Wan’s melodramatic novels gained massive popularity in the Federation, with readership growing by tens of thousands daily. Her earnings swelled, and she even made a few close friends on the Star Network.
After New Year’s, the Spring Festival drew nearer. The villagers started preparing for the annual pig slaughter. Lin Xi returned from Uncle Dahong’s place after the feast, slightly tipsy. When she woke up and checked her phone, she wondered if she was still dreaming—or if the alcohol hadn’t worn off yet.
