After sending the message, Lengjiang didn’t reply for a long while. Churan couldn’t help but worry slightly. Lengjiang and Shallow Peace were so close—according to Shallow Peace, had they really argued? Otherwise, why would Lengjiang ignore her?

All these thoughts were just Churan’s guesses. Lengjiang, who had autism, had run away from home. Churan could easily imagine how she’d struggle outside—answering even a simple question from a stranger might be difficult for her.

Unable to reach her, and knowing Lengjiang was a troubled girl, Shallow Peace’s worry was completely understandable.

Two days out there… would this little girl starve?

At this thought, sweat broke out on Churan’s palms. Still, no reply notification appeared on his screen. He began wondering if Lengjiang was even the one online.

“|*´Å`)ﾉ Woo-chu—” Finally, Lengjiang responded with her signature verbal tic. Churan confirmed it was really her.

Though her reply was good news, a new problem arose—what should Churan say now? What should he ask?

Lengjiang’s mood couldn’t be great, or she wouldn’t have run away. But if he didn’t ask, he’d fail Shallow Peace’s request to check on Lengjiang’s situation—even though he was genuinely concerned himself.

Churan thought for a moment, then had a flash of inspiration. He typed: “Wife, have you eaten?” Though it was late and long past normal mealtime, this common greeting felt safe.

Lengjiang fell silent again, making Churan’s heart race. Could even such an ordinary question cause trouble?

Thankfully, she seemed merely slow to reply, not ignoring him. After a while, her message popped up: “(Ｔ▽Ｔ) Eating now~ The net cafe manager is a nice guy. He gives me instant noodles~”

“…” Churan stared at the message, torn between laughter and exasperation. That Lengjiang had gone to an internet cafe after running away wasn’t surprising—but hearing her say it so cheerfully felt oddly amusing.

At least she was safe. A sweet, naive girl like Lengjiang was easy prey for scammers. Since this cafe manager seemed decent, Churan hoped he’d let her stay awhile.

But money was the real issue. Churan only had 5,000 yuan left—the remainder after selling his in-game weapon and a medical checkup. With his diagnosis, he couldn’t afford treatment anyway, so the cash was untouched for now.

How could he get it to Lengjiang?

Better ask first…

“Wife, did you bring your phone?”

“No—”

Lengjiang replied instantly. Churan froze. How could she leave home without that essential item?!

He pushed on.

“Wife, did you bring your bank card?”

“No—”

Same answer. Churan was stumped. No phone meant no Alipay or WeChat. No bank card meant no way to transfer money.

He couldn’t possibly ask for her address and rush over with cash—that was utterly unrealistic!

Head throbbing, Churan struggled for solutions. The cafe manager might give her one free bowl of noodles and internet time, but no one would keep running that kind of loss. This was a profit-driven world, after all.

Deep in thought, Churan almost missed Lengjiang’s next message. She’d apparently finished eating: “(｡･ω･｡) What’s wrong, hubby?”

Churan blinked. He’d been so focused on sending money, he’d forgotten it was “game time.”

But would Lengjiang even feel like playing? Whatever had driven her from home… though two days had passed and her mood seemed better, old wounds might still ache. Churan had no intention of poking them—he knew how that could backfire.

After fumbling through some game talk, he returned to the money problem. Without funds, Lengjiang would be stranded. Even with her cute charm, she’d soon be kicked out—or worse. Churan didn’t dare imagine further. He needed to “airdrop” cash to her, fast.

They played another hour or two until Churan’s eyelids grew heavy. “Wife,” he typed, “could you ask that noodle-giving manager to share his WeChat with me?”

“(￣.￣)…” To Churan’s surprise, Lengjiang sent only this emoticon.

“Hubby…” she added, without any emoticon this time. Churan felt a flicker of unease.

“Do… you like men?” Lengjiang typed slowly, word by word. Churan stared, dumbfounded. When had he ever liked men? Was it just about getting a WeChat ID…?

Ah… having his “wife” ask another guy for his contact…

Cold sweat beaded on Churan’s forehead. “Wife, let me explain—”

“Explain…? So you really *do* like men, hubby?” Lengjiang’s suspicion made words fail him. He’d wanted to hide Shallow Peace’s secret mission and handle it quietly—but now, silence was impossible.

Would confessing trigger negative emotions in Lengjiang? That was Churan’s deepest fear.

Seeing him go quiet again, Lengjiang panicked: “Uh… hubby, I was just joking! Don’t mind it QAQ”

Relieved, Churan replied: “Uh, it’s fine. Wife… I need to tell you something. Can you… stay calm while listening?”

Honesty was his only path to sending money. Though the cafe manager seemed okay, Churan couldn’t fully trust a stranger he’d never met.

“Hmm… Sister sent you, right?” Lengjiang guessed. Churan froze again. “You know?”

“╭(╯^╰)╮ Guessed it! This baby isn’t dumb!” Lengjiang huffed, feeling her intelligence slighted. She’d noticed Shallow Peace occasionally visiting Churan when she wasn’t around.

“Uh… I’ll be blunt then. Xiaoye asked me to send you money first. So you can stay out there comfortably… and not go home yet…” Churan almost slipped and typed “Sister An” out of habit but caught himself—this whole meeting with Shallow Peace was supposed to be secret from Lengjiang.

“Mmm… Sister’s the best (>^ω^^ω^<) Hubby’s the best to this baby!” Churan chuckled to himself. “Wife… so can you ask him now?”

“Hubby, don’t worry about money! I just found some cash Sister secretly stuffed in my coat pocket—I’ll eat well for now! And that big brother even offered me a place to sleep… if I make him my disciple~” Lengjiang happily spilled her situation, oblivious to how revealing her in-game fame might be.

*As long as he’s not a bad person…* Churan typed back: “Wife, promise you’ll message me daily so I can rest easy. If your ‘disciple’ tries anything funny, tell me. Watch your hubby flatten him.” He joked, but the last part held real meaning. Most gamers bonding over shared interests were decent—but some had hidden agendas. Churan could only pray this guy wasn’t one of them.

For now, she was safe. Exhausted, Churan bid Lengjiang goodnight and logged off.

He grabbed his phone, found Shallow Peace on QQ, and sent: “Temporarily fine.” Then he switched off the lights, shut down his computer, and collapsed onto his bed.

…

Shallow Peace read Churan’s message and let out a small sigh of relief. She’d just returned from another fruitless search around the city—just for show, but still tiring. At home, Qian Jingzhen kept sighing heavily. Shallow Peace said nothing and headed straight to her room.

*What’s the next move…?*

Tossing in bed, she reconsidered her original plan. She’d wanted Churan to tutor Xin Qian, but now that her parents were back, inviting him over would invite their scrutiny. If they discovered Churan’s illness, her entire scheme would collapse.

The urgent priority was getting her parents to accept Churan. Once they approved him as a tutor, Xin Qian could safely return home. Using that as leverage would work—but it would ruin Churan’s future. Shallow Peace had to make her parents accept him *first*.

She could only give Churan a slight advantage. The real test from her parents would come later—he’d have to pass it on his own.

*Decision made. Tomorrow, I’ll tentatively bring up the tutor idea with Father…*