Night fell. I opened An Li’s laptop, logged into QQ, and messaged the online female friend I’d met a few days ago:

“Are you there? I’m in a terrible mood today. So angry.”

Truth be told, I wasn’t truly furious—just deeply frustrated.

Little Mood Barometer: “What’s wrong? Did you and your long-legged beauty have a fight?”

“It’s not really a fight,” I typed after a pause. “She’s always in that grumpy mood anyway. I just wanted to help with her work, but she refused.”

Little Mood Barometer: “Makes sense. You’re kinda clueless—you’d probably make things worse.”

“I’m mad!”

Unbelievable. I’d always thought I was pretty sharp.

Little Mood Barometer: “Just kidding! But seriously, to actually help at work, you’d need training or internship experience.”

I replied: “How am I supposed to get experience without trying? Isn’t that what internships are for?”

Just then, that classic joke popped into my head—

*Boss, I want this job.*

*Where’s your work experience?*

*That’s why I’m here.*

*Nope. You need experience to get the job.*

*How the hell am I supposed to have experience before getting the job?!*

*Go get a job!*

“Never mind that,” I shifted topics. “Today, an unexpected visitor showed up—claiming to represent her master… or, well, her boss.”

Little Mood Barometer: “And?! Did her boss have a crush on you?!”

Honestly, her intuition hit so close to home I froze for a second.

“Yeah… you guessed right,” I typed hesitantly. “She seems… interested in my body.”

Awkward as it sounded, it was true.

Little Mood Barometer: “Whoa, so lewd!”

See? Everyone thinks so. That Queen of Night must have serious issues—zero mental or physical health points.

I recalled Lily’s suggestive gestures and seductive words during her visit and clicked my tongue.

Tsk, tsk. Crooked beam, crooked rafters. No wonder her subordinate was so shamelessly forward too.

“Worse,” I huffed, “she sent a lackey to ‘persuade’ me to willingly submit! Ranted for ages about how powerful and influential her boss is—telling me to hurry up and ‘seize the opportunity before it’s gone.’”

Little Mood Barometer: “SO IT’S A DOMINEERING CEO!!!”

Those three exclamation points screamed pure excitement.

Before I could reply:

Little Mood Barometer: “So, Clueless—what’s your pick? The domineering CEO or your Miss Grumpy?”

Was there even a choice? Do you have any idea how soft An Li’s thighs are?

And how nice she smells.

“I won’t go. I will never bow to lewd forces!”

Three words, pure righteous resolve.

Little Mood Barometer: “Aww, I kinda wanna see you follow that visitor and get… *disciplined* by the CEO… whoa!”

I facepalmed. “Which side are you on?! Weren’t you the one pushing me toward Miss Grumpy? And FYI—that ‘CEO’ is a woman too.”

Little Mood Barometer: “I’m neutral. I just wanna see *you*, Clueless, get disciplined. And so what if she’s a woman? Women + women = perfect match…”

“Bro. Something’s seriously off about you.”

Inwardly startled. Was my online female friend… also problematic?

Or is this normal between girls? At school, I often hear girls jokingly call each other “husband” or “wife,” swapping spicy banter like it’s nothing.

Hmm… whatever. Change subject.

“Drop it. Miss Grumpy won’t let me leave or join her work. What should I do?”

Little Mood Barometer: “Do *you* want to go?”

“OF COURSE!”

I sent a frantic-nodding GIF. For a fleeting moment, I remembered the woman with the broken leg—

Even near death, she refused to block others’ escape, even if it worsened her own injuries.

She was a good person.

But the malevolent spirit was harming innocents indiscriminately. It had to be stopped. Now.

Little Mood Barometer: “Then go! If Miss Grumpy says no—sneak out!”

“Sneak out?” I stared at the screen, dazed.

Little Mood Barometer: “YES! Door locked? Climb the window. Too high? Scale the drainpipe or tie bedsheets!”

My eyes lit up. Right! An Li can’t stop me—I’ve got legs. They’re mine.

“I’ll log off. Feeling sleepy. Good night.”

Weird. I napped earlier, yet midnight drowsiness hit hard. I yawned, then carefully cleared the local chat cache.

Little Mood Barometer: “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

“Come to think of it,” I murmured, closing the laptop, “she’s always online this late… Could she be overseas, living in a different time zone?”