Churan hadn’t seen Coldshoulder online all day. Coupled with Shallow Peace’s vague comment yesterday, a trace of worry settled in his chest.

Ever since the medical checkup, Churan and Coldshoulder had grown closer—nearly inseparable now. Truth was, Coldshoulder was genuinely likable. Tough to approach at first, but her charm shone through with time.

Churan wanted to help his friend. But clueless about the situation—and trapped by his own poor health and finances—he felt powerless. Shallow Peace had offered a lifeline, yet Churan doubted he could grasp it. She radiated old-money elegance. A private tutor? In ordinary families, it was a luxury. For nobility? The standards would be sky-high. He was just a sophomore—degree unfinished. Even if Shallow Peace agreed, her family would never respect him.

That’s why unease gnawed at him. Too many disadvantages. His bond with Shallow Peace was shallow. With Coldshoulder? Just online friends. Digital ties were fragile. Turning them real meant hurdles.

Churan had no clue what Shallow Peace planned. Circumstances forced him into passivity. If she backed out now? He’d be helpless. He trusted her—but her family? Different story.

In the end, he could only leave it to fate. If heaven willed his downfall, resistance was futile.

Coldshoulder’s absence killed his gaming mood. Slumped on the hospital bed, Churan sipped cold water, staring blankly at his screen.

For two days, Song Qian had filled in as a substitute. But gaming with him was dull. Small talk went nowhere.

Song Qian skipped class to visit. Seeing Churan’s gloom, he joked, “Dude, you weren’t this wrecked when Shen Junyao dumped you. Are in-game marriages more serious than real relationships?”

Churan didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Song Qian coughed awkwardly. *Ouch. That stings, bro.*

“Hellooo?” Song Qian crept closer. This time, Churan’s hand shot up—palm flat against his face.

“See? You *do* react!” Song Qian grinned. “Seriously though—where’s your Coldshoulder? Sold her account? Hacked? Or dumped *you* and deleted you?” He rambled on, oblivious. Churan’s face stayed blank. His hand slid under the blanket, rummaging.

“Song Qian.” Churan’s voice was flat. Eyes still fixed ahead.

“Yeah?” Song Qian perked up. Rare to hear Churan speak these days. He leaned in with a goofy smirk.

“Got a treasure to show you.” Churan’s hand kept digging under the covers. *What’s hidden in there?* Song Qian inched closer, curious.

Churan’s hand stilled. Then—*whoosh*—a fly swatter smacked Song Qian square in the face. A mesh-patterned red mark bloomed on his cheek.

“Ow! Damn it!” Song Qian clutched his face. Churan murmured, “Punishment for your loose tongue.”

“Fine, fine! Can’t even joke now?” Song Qian grumbled. He’d come to cheer Churan up—and got whacked instead.

“What kind of joke was that? No self-awareness?” Churan rubbed his temples. That “joke” felt like a cursed flag. If it came true? Song Qian might die before Churan did.

*But really—why hadn’t Coldshoulder logged in for days?*

Just then, the bed vibrated.

“Your phone?” Churan eyed Song Qian. His own rarely rang. Song Qian blinked back. “My phone’s been on vibrate since your cousin yelled at me all day.”

“…” Churan fumbled under the blanket, pulling out his phone.

The caller ID read: *Shallow Peace*.

Churan froze. Then remembered—he’d messaged her about Coldshoulder’s sudden logout. Her reply: *I’ll explain in a few days.*

Song Qian peeked over, ready to tease *“Wow, player!”*—but Churan’s stern face shut him up. *Another swat? No thanks.*

“Hey, Jie?” Churan answered naturally. Song Qian’s jaw dropped. *Since when does he have another sister?!*

Churan ignored Song Qian’s frantic hand gestures. Too exhausting to decode.

“Churan?” Shallow Peace’s voice was calm but frayed with exhaustion. Churan frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“My sister ran away from home.” Her tone stayed even, but anxiety bled through.

“…” Churan knew her rushed departure meant trouble. But hearing it? He was speechless.

“Can I… help?” He knew he couldn’t. But the words slipped out.

“Yes.” Her certainty stunned him. *How?* Coldshoulder didn’t know his address. Unlike Shallow Peace, she wouldn’t just show up. And she’d be in Shallow Peace’s city—too far for Churan to search house by house.

The quiet room carried every word. Song Qian’s eyes widened. He started gesturing wildly. Churan didn’t hesitate—*whack!*—the fly swatter landed again.

“Yowch!” Song Qian yelped.

“What was that?” Shallow Peace asked.

“A fly buzzing near me,” Churan lied smoothly. “Its dying scream.”

“…” A pause. She knew he was joking. “Listen. Monitor the game. If my sister logs in, contact her. Tell her not to wander. I’ll transfer money to you—pass it to her. Just… keep her safe outside.”

“…” Churan hesitated. “Shouldn’t you pick her up?”

“No. She won’t want to come home. Won’t listen to me. I can’t go to her either. It’s… complicated. Just tell me if she’s safe. Please.” Her rare “please” shocked him. This wasn’t some grand favor.

*Why can’t she go to her? Why would Coldshoulder ignore her? They were close…*

Questions swirled. No answers. Coldshoulder hadn’t logged in for days.

“Alright. I’ll watch the game.” Easy enough. His only freedom now was online.

“Thank you. I have to hang up—before they notice.”

*Beep…*

She cut off mid-thought. Churan lowered the phone, bewildered.

Song Qian struck a dramatic pose. “Bro. You’re in deep trouble. *Serious* trouble!”

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” Churan waved him off, headache throbbing. He pulled up his friends list, centering it on-screen. “Go play. I’ve got work.”

“You’ll just wait for her to log in?” Song Qian had heard everything.

“Got nothing better to do. No raid mood. What else?” Churan shot back.

“Fine. Gotta study—exams soon. Call if you need cash. I’ll transfer.”

“Go.” Churan’s eyes stayed glued to the grayed-out *Coldshoulder*.

…

Four hours later—8 PM—Churan was about to sleep when *Coldshoulder* lit up.

Sleep vanished. He almost scolded her for running away. But this was a game—a world apart from reality. He typed carefully:

“Wifey, evening~”