Churan met Shallow Peace’s gaze in silence, then finally looked away.

“It’s… not too bad, I guess.” A heavy boulder pressed on Churan’s chest, stealing his breath. This turning point—hope teetering on disappointment—was worse than anything. He felt like a man clinging to his last breath.

Thanks to the internet’s pull, even new online friends seemed like old companions. Seeing Churan nearly broken, Shallow Peace sighed. “In-game, you’d level up even when trapped in a siege. Why not plan for real life now?”

“That’s… different,” Churan replied with a bitter smile, shaking his head. Games gave infinite lives. Humans had only one. You could gamble in games. Not in life.

“You’re missing my point.” Shallow Peace propped her chin on her hand against the table. “If you had little time left, would you drift through life dazed? Most people chase joy in their final days, minimizing regrets. Your illness is undiagnosed—it’s not a death sentence. Why let a label condemn you?”

“Well… it’s close enough.” Hidden illnesses were unpredictable. Churan worried most because attacks struck suddenly, without warning.

He’d survived by luck so far. But what if luck ran out tomorrow?

That fear haunted him—any day, he might drop dead.

Standing with one foot on hell’s edge, who wouldn’t tremble?

His only wish now was to avoid burdening his aunt and uncle—or better, to help them. Churan valued gratitude deeply, especially filial piety.

“Listen…” Shallow Peace’s gaze pierced him like twin blades. “I reviewed your records. Your health’s decent. Yet you stay up late nightly.”

“Uh…” Though her age matched his, Shallow Peace radiated natural authority. Cold sweat slicked Churan’s back.

“Tsk. Forget your mindset—your sleep schedule’s messed up.” Shallow Peace smiled. To Churan, it felt like a homeroom teacher’s mysterious grin through a window…

Creepy…

“Sigh.” Churan stood resignedly, boiling water for tea at the table. He wasn’t too weak for small tasks.

He didn’t know why she’d come, but scolding would come first.

“Still, you’re not broken. Good.” Shallow Peace watched with quiet admiration as he cleaned the tea set.

Churan sighed. “I was like this weeks ago. But my friend—Recomposed Words—he dragged me into the OFO rabbit hole to distract me. Really, just chasing fun.”

The internet numbed pain well. But this mental drug couldn’t heal his wound.

Healing it was near impossible for anyone normal…

It was a scar that refused to close…

“Well, at least in-game you still shine.” Shallow Peace helped tidy the tea set, pouring water and brewing.

“Games…” Games were games. Reality was reality. Video games offered temporary numbness, not a cure. Only a healthy body let you truly live.

Without that foundation, online personas were facades. Reality stayed hidden. It was all fake…

“Sadly, fake…” Churan sipped tea and sighed again.

This was the hardest knot to untie…

“What about your future?” Churan had known his diagnosis for weeks. In-game, he wore sunshine. But reality?

His plans, his path—Shallow Peace was curious. That’s why she’d come, though his condition shocked her.

“The future…” Churan sighed. “I played games to earn retirement money for my aunt and uncle. Silly, right?” Shifting his sadness wasn’t easy.

That dream had twisted. By chance, he’d met likable companions. Gaming together was joyful. But feasts end—and he’d likely leave first.

“Yeah, silly. True gamers don’t play for profit.” Shallow Peace sipped tea, her sharp gaze locked on him. “If this illness stays like a heart condition, will you treat it like a bomb in your hands?”

“Then what’s the point of living? How many terminal patients crawled back? Was yours even called terminal? Did doctors say ‘no hope’? Or set an expiration date? Mistakes happen. What if a miracle comes?” Her words were cold, her stare predatory. Churan squirmed.

“Sigh. It’s up to you. If you won’t cross this hurdle, no one can help. Am I overstepping?” Shallow Peace smiled faintly. Churan refilled her cup, shaking his head. “Thank you.”

Though strangers in reality, gaming eased their awkwardness.

Seeing Churan hesitate, Shallow Peace narrowed her eyes. “Call me Sister An. I’m older.”

“Mm…” He admired her insight. Her in-game command—calm strategies, escaping enemy sieges—defied normal play.

“Um… Sister An, why come all this way?” Such meetups were rare. No coincidence—he knew she sought him.

But why? The question held little pull now. He cared more about surviving tomorrow.

“Even if I need help, you’re in no state to give it.” Shallow Peace stood, back turned, gazing out the window.

Churan recalled meeting Xiaoye in-game, her strange words. For small things like that, calling outsiders seemed foolish. Shallow Peace wasn’t that rash.

Her words confirmed she wanted his help. But how? His health allowed movement, not running or jumping.

He could barely save himself, let alone others.

“Sorry you wasted the trip.” Churan forced a smile. Her noble aura didn’t match his town. Maybe he was narrow-minded.

“Aren’t you curious why I came?” Shallow Peace turned, arms crossed, tired of his gloom.

“Uh…” Churan rubbed his forehead. This illness left no room for extra thoughts.

“Fine. I need a tutor.” Shallow Peace waved a paper she’d pulled from nowhere.

“A… tutor?” Churan blinked. His grades were decent, but countless tutors existed. Why him?

Because of Lengjiang?

Unlikely…

“Yes. Regular subjects plus psychological guidance.” She handed him the paper. Churan took it blankly, rubbing his temples.

“This… isn’t for me. I can teach basics, but psychology… and my aunt…”

“I’ll explain to them. I have reasons—they’ll agree. I’ll handle your hospital and school transfers. But only if…” Her sternness softened. She eyed the contract. “You sign willingly. But you won’t now, right? And your state won’t help my sister.” She cut off his worries mid-thought.

“Mm…” Tutoring was possible. But his mind…

“Huh? Teach… your sister… Lengjiang?” Churan’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes. Her real name is Xin Qian. My biological sister.”

“But… why?” He wanted to refuse. Showing his broken self to acquaintances felt unbearable.

“Because… besides me, she only accepts you.” Shallow Peace smiled faintly.

“I work full-time. She refuses school. You’re the only option—her shyness, you know it.” Shallow Peace explained patiently. Churan grew more confused but agreed.

This was hard to swallow…

“The choice is yours. But I want He Yucheng with spirit—not lifeless Churan. Understand?” She smirked. The offer tempted, but she asked as a friend, not with bribes.

“Late now. I must go. Sorry to disturb you.” Shallow Peace smiled lightly. Churan stood, shaking his head. “No—thank you, Sister An…”

“See you in-game.” She pointed to his bedside computer. Churan waved softly, watching her leave.

Outside, Shallow Peace’s face turned cold. She sighed to herself. “As expected… my sister must see it. She knows nothing, but she’ll understand…”

“Let’s go.” She strode toward the hospital exit, addressing her bodyguards.

“Yes!”