"You… are amazing."

The words popped up in the chat box.

"Hahahahaha…!"

Xu Wenxi threw her head back with exaggerated laughter, fair legs propped on the desk, her ample chest trembling with each boisterous chuckle. Even her jade-smooth toes curled slightly.

This proved one thing:

Xu Wenxi was happy. Truly, deeply happy.

Happier than she’d been in days—unprecedentedly so.

As the Xu family’s young mistress, genuine joy rarely touched her life.

Material comforts had saturated her since childhood; a pretty dress or limited-edition sneakers brought no lasting thrill.

Beyond school routines, she dismissed flattery—whether about her flawless beauty or her figure, just a shade more mature than her peers’.

Indifference was her default.

Few knew: only in this virtual world could she shed restraint and unleash her true self—the self she masked daily from disappointment.

Then she met an interesting man.

He repeatedly refused her voice-chat requests. Even as she played the sweet, delicate girl—mastering subtle manipulation—he remained utterly unmoved.

By her nature, if truly enraged, she’d have traced his IP and paid a visit.

But… wouldn’t another method satisfy her starved sense of accomplishment?

Thus, a long-planned scheme was born.

She never believed Fei Hua meant "You’re amazing." She preferred to imagine him cringing, covered in goosebumps—as if swallowing a bowl of toenails.

Perfect revenge.

A boy who ignored her? Didn’t exist.

As the Xu family’s little princess, the future "Ice Queen" in others’ eyes, she felt zero guilt toying with people.

She believed no one was innocent.

Laughing until her body swayed, eyes flickering with graceful allure and sharp mischief.

"Hmph. You should thank your lucky stars I didn’t trace your IP and show up at your door," she muttered, wiping her satisfied smile. Pride swelling, she typed:

"Don’t be mad~ If Brother Fei Hua serves me obediently, this won’t happen again, okay~"

Sent cheerfully. Then waited for submission.

A fleeting triumph—she’d discard him once she learned the trick.

No hesitation. She repaid every grudge.

Then a notification flashed:

"Send failed. Please add the recipient as a friend first."

…

What…?

What does this mean?

Her hands trembled off the keyboard.

Eyes turned glacial, murderous.

Each word grated between clenched teeth: "He… deleted… me?!"

Laughter vanished. The bright room froze.

She kicked her legs off the desk and shot upright.

Humiliation burned. Fists clenched until knuckles blanched white.

She stared at the screen. Time stilled.

She would not click "Add Friend."

Calling him "Brother," acting like a rank-grinding flirt—that was playful teasing. A queen’s condescending mercy.

But re-adding someone who deleted *her*? That struck pride.

Online, she could wear masks… but lines existed.

And he’d crossed hers.

Slowly, she sat.

In the vast room, Xu Wenxi logged in, found the name, and moved—

After that soul-cringing voice message, her fingers flew:

"Delete Friend!"

"Confirm!"

A quick message sent. The bafflingly cringey "Cutest Female Knight in the Entire Server" vanished.

Fluid. Humans unlock peak potential in crisis.

For Lu Huai, secondhand embarrassment was unbearable. He protected his fragile heart.

A pretty netizen? Pleasant voice? Deleted. Did she think he’d dare meet offline?

His little world stayed solid.

Blue seas. Clear skies. Not a cloud.

Lu Huai logged into the game. Ready for dailies.

MMOs worked this way: daily quests retained players, rewarded resources for gear. Fair to paying and subscription users alike.

Lu Huai liked it—spending bought style, not instant power.

Used to soloing, he noted no angry messages from the "Cutest Female Knight." Slightly odd… but fine. If she ranted in-guild voice chat? He’d just… leave the guild.

He cleared mobs, trivial bosses, delivery quests—smoothly, efficiently.

Except today’s mandatory group quest.

Party invites flooded in the second he opened the menu.

"Paratrooper No.1": swordsman.

"Boar Charge": shield warrior.

Plus a healer and formation support specialist.

Sect names mattered less than roles in chaotic raids—standard in modern MMOs.

Teammates chatted. Lu Huai ignored them. He just wanted to finish, log off, end this messy day.

Simple task: five positions, activate mechanisms, clear three mob waves, defeat the boss. Thirty to forty minutes.

He’d solo it if he could.

First twenty minutes: flawless. Veterans with near-complete gear. Minimal voice needed.

Good—no girls in voice chat. He kept his headphones on.

Half-asleep as the snarling boss appeared…

Then two words cut through:

"Attack!"

Attack? The boss?

He barely registered it—until crimson text flashed:

"ALERT! You are under bounty by 'the Cutest Female Knight in the Entire Server'! Beware, hero!"

He remembered: gear dungeons and guild wars protected teammates.

But dailies? No safety.

Killing an unmarked player meant heavy kill points, hunted by "righteous" bounty hunters.

But *he* was marked now.

Killing a bounty target? Zero penalty. Shared reward.

"Attack" didn’t mean the boss.

It meant *him*—the boss’s arrival was their cover.

Four gazes locked onto him.

As they lunged, Lu Huai didn’t wonder *why*.

He moved.

Fast.

A blur before them.

His opener seemed rushed—but buffs flashing on-screen were undeniably real.

The bounty wasn’t on Fei Hua.

It was on all four of them.