Chapter 236 – Extra – Sister Blood Bull and Fighter Jet’s Love Dungeon (Part 1)

[Sorry, the password you entered is incorrect.]

[Sorry, the password you entered is incorrect.]

After two failed attempts, Lin Yi gave up. It was clear—Wang Hao had recovered and changed the password. That guy was always like this, doing whatever he pleased without a care for how it affected others.

Lin Yi felt a pang of regret. Not for rejecting him, but for failing to notice the signs in their last phone call.

Wang Hao was never one to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Whether happy or annoyed, as long as things stayed within tolerable limits—neither ecstatic nor furious—he maintained the same careless expression. Unless you were close to him, you wouldn’t notice the slightest shift in his mood. Just like earlier, despite having his calls hung up repeatedly, he could still cheerfully admit fault when the call finally connected: “You’re gaming? That explains it. My bad—go ahead.”

Until she said those words: “I don’t want to even remember I ever knew you.”

Lin Yi rarely resorted to harsh words. Even during the fiercest arguments, she always took a moment to think before speaking. To her, reckless speech was the most terrifying skill—low MP cost, devastating damage, with the added bonus of instant gratification. Once it became a habit, it’d sit at the top of your quick-slot attack skills, and over time, you’d end up hurting everyone who loved or cared about you in countless moments of “temporary satisfaction.”

But just then, she had genuinely lost her patience.

And so, the skill damage landed.

Wang Hao rarely dropped his playful demeanor to speak seriously, but when he did, it meant you’d successfully pissed him off. In all the time they’d known each other, Lin Yi had only managed to anger him three times—and every single time, she was the one who suffered for it.

Her phone lay quietly beside her computer, silent as if the previous bombardment of calls had been an illusion. But that didn’t mean Wang Hao had given up. On the contrary, he knew exactly how effective this tactic was against her—he was just waiting for her to surrender and reach out first.

Lin Yi suddenly felt relieved they had broken up. After dating for so long, he still hadn’t bothered to understand his girlfriend’s temperament—like how she yielded to softness, not force.

—Shut it down.

Something she hadn’t done even when the harassment drove her to the brink earlier.

For the rest of the night, Lin Yi switched to YY and continued tutoring struggling students. It was her principle—helping others to the very end.

Dawn had broken by the time Lin Yi finally went to bed, and she slept straight through until afternoon. Her mind was still foggy when she woke, only clearing after stepping outside her dorm and letting the cold wind hit her. The campus was deserted, the cafeteria already closed, leaving the supermarket as the only lifeline for students staying behind. She grabbed instant noodles, crackers, and bottled water at the checkout, then, after a moment’s thought, added a chocolate bar from the display.

It had been years since Lin Yi last ate chocolate. She never thought to buy it, and none of her relationships had ever overlapped with the kind of occasions where one might receive it. Well, Wang Hao—who she’d dated for over a year—was the exception, but why would he do something as cliché as gifting chocolate on Valentine’s Day? He’d given her a down jacket instead. At the time, she’d felt nothing but warmth and happiness. Looking back now, though, maybe he just couldn’t stand the sight of her faded old coat anymore. But none of that mattered. The past was the past, and while she still wore that jacket, it was purely for its practicality—clothes were innocent, and there was no reason to lose both a boyfriend and a perfectly good coat.

The graduate dorms were the liveliest spot on campus at this time. Unlike the carefree underclassmen, many students had chosen to stay over the break due to job hunting, thesis writing, or part-time work. But this didn’t affect Lin Yi—most of the time, her two-person dorm was hers alone. Her elusive roommate appeared at most three or four times a year, to the point where Lin Yi still couldn’t quite recall her face.

Back at her desk, Lin Yi booted up her computer, logged into YY, and left a brief message for her guild leader. She didn’t mention Wang Hao, only that her account had been stolen, she was feeling down, and with school matters piling up, she likely wouldn’t be gaming for a while. The guild leader was online but didn’t reply—no doubt busy wreaking havoc in the Flagship area, tormenting countless Huaxia players. The thought made Lin Yi chuckle, but the laughter soon faded, leaving only a deep reluctance.

“Won’t be playing for a while”—what about later?

Probably not then, either.

She shut her laptop, tore open the chocolate wrapper, and broke off a small piece. The initial bitterness gave way to the rich aroma of cocoa, mingling with the creamy sweetness of milk.

Sometimes, a piece of chocolate and a good book were all you needed for a long, peaceful moment.

The one who shattered this peaceful moment was 2B Fighter Jet—rude, brash, and charging in headfirst—

[Where are you?]

If this text had come from a Taobao customer service rep, she wouldn’t even need to check the product—instant one-star review.

Lin Yi realized it was already midnight. Closing her book, she curled up in bed with her phone. Maybe Wang Hao had realized how shameless it was to reclaim her account, or maybe he was still stubbornly waiting for her to surrender—either way, there’d been no calls or messages all day.

The exchange of texts stretched on. Lin Yi hadn’t intended to tell 2B Fighter Jet much—just the same brief explanation she’d given the guild leader—but somehow, she ended up mentioning Wang Hao hijacking her account. By the time she realized it, it was too late.

2B enthusiastically suggested she start over or just buy a new account. Lin Yi wasn’t sure if this enthusiasm stemmed from guild loyalty or something else, but whatever it was, it belonged to the 2D world—ripe for endless imagination, but only imagination.

[Are you thinking of quitting?]

Had to admit, 2B was sharp in some ways.

Losing her account had upset her, but she didn’t want to admit it, nor did she want others to notice.

[Haven’t decided yet. Kinda gonna miss the guild leader, haha.]

2B’s reply came fast—

[Just the guild leader?]

Lin Yi froze. Even as she told herself he was just teasing—she could practically see the smirk on his face—something deep inside stirred uncontrollably, urging her fingers to type out a reply—

[Are you asking seriously, or just joking?]

2B didn’t respond.

Staring at her own message, Lin Yi suddenly laughed. This should’ve been an awkward moment, but all she felt was amusement—so much so that, for the first time ever, she voluntarily gave 2B an out, just to satisfy her sudden curiosity—

[Alright, let me ask you something instead.]

2B finally reacted—instantly—

[?]

Clearly, he loved this lifeline.

Smirking, Lin Yi imagined 2B heaving a sigh of relief as she typed out the question that now intrigued her—

[What name did you save my number under in your phone?]

The moment she hit send, Lin Yi held her breath, as if 2B’s answer might arrive any second and she’d miss it if she exhaled.

But even when she had to gasp for air, the last message on the screen remained her own stupid question.

Yes, she finally realized just how dumb it was to ask. She’d thought it was just a fleeting curiosity, harmless and trivial, but now she understood—this seemingly casual question had been lurking in her mind ever since 2B sent her that keyboard. She’d given him her real name and address, while he’d only left the courier station’s address and his game ID. Over time, as they interacted in-game, it had fermented into a knot in her heart.

Lin Yi was mortified. Words, once spoken, were like spilled water—impossible to take back. But she still wanted to scoop it up, or at least let it evaporate faster—

[Never mind, forget I asked. Too tired.]

Just like before, he went silent when faced with the question but pounced on the escape route—

[What about you? What name did you save me under?]

Using a counter-question to dodge the answer—how sneaky. And the fact that he could even ask this meant the idiot had no clue he’d never told her his real name.

Lin Yi suddenly wanted to curse.

Times like these made her appreciate how fitting his ID was—

[2B, goodnight.]

Shi Kuo fiddled with his phone until dawn, neither dialing the memorized number nor changing its saved name. He had no idea why he’d tossed and turned all night.

At least he’d made one decision—

“It’s 7 AM on a Saturday, and you’re calling me to ask for leave?!” His boss on the other end sounded like a raid boss at max aggro, fully berserk.

“I agonized over it, but out of a sense of responsibility, I figured you’d need time to adjust and delegate!” Shi Kuo’s sincerity was palpable, his concern for the greater good evident.

“Leave?! A long leave?!” His boss zeroed in on the keyword and exploded. “We’re in the critical phase of the new car design, and you, the lead designer, want to take a long leave?!”

Shi Kuo held the phone slightly away from his ear and added helpfully, “One of the lead designers.”

His boss caught the implication and instinctively reached for his wife’s kitchen knife. “So you’re telling me that during this crucial period, you’ve made the ‘difficult decision’ to take leave… to chase skirts?”

“No,” Shi Kuo corrected seriously. “To comfort a dear friend who’s just suffered a setback and desperately needs company.”

Boss: “Got anything more nauseating than that?”

Shi Kuo: “I spent all night and couldn’t come up with a single logical reason to go. Yet here I am, calling you. Sometimes irrationality just bulldozes through, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“You win.” His boss decided to tell his wife to skip his breakfast. “How many days?”

Shi Kuo: “Seven. I’ll be back on the 28th.”

Boss: “Today’s the 17th. The 28th is eleven days from now.”

Shi Kuo: “Well, there are two weekends in there~”

Boss: “…”

Shi Kuo: “Don’t worry, the designs are almost done. My team can handle the rest—quality guaranteed.”

Boss: “Better be.”

Hanging up, Shi Kuo earned praise from the taxi driver who’d overheard everything: “Smooth moves, buddy. Booking a flight and calling in leave on the spot.”

“A quarter of my salary plus this month’s bonus—not smooth, just dumb,” Shi Kuo sighed sincerely. “Since ancient times, beauties have been the downfall of men.”

As the plane took off, Shi Kuo felt a sudden wave of nerves. Was he afraid the pilot’s skills might prevent him from ever seeing Sister Blood Bull again? Or that they’d be so good he’d see her too soon? He decided to distract himself by pondering why he’d taken a photo of the courier slip when sending her the keyboard. Without it, he wouldn’t have her address, and without the address, even knowing she was staying on campus for winter break wouldn’t have helped.

But damn it, he couldn’t recall why. He’d just snapped the photo on impulse, and in all the subsequent phone clean-ups, he’d always skipped past it.

He had no memory of the landing or the taxi ride. The next thing he knew, he was standing at the gates of Lin Yi’s university. Despite being the warmest part of the day, the sun hid behind thick clouds, and the biting northwest wind seemed to have forgotten it was supposed to be afternoon. After a two-minute internal struggle, Shi Kuo unzipped his down jacket, casually stuffed his hands into his pockets, and strolled into campus among the returning students, exuding a carefree, youthful vibe that bypassed security.

Only after escaping the guards’ aggro range did he hurriedly zip up again, shivering as a wave of “youth is gone” melancholy hit him.

With directions from a helpful underclassman, Shi Kuo soon reached Lin Yi’s dorm. But unlike the guards, the dorm auntie wasn’t just an aggressive elite mob—she was a dark NPC who’d pummel you to death if you so much as spoke. So he loitered by the bulletin board, pretending to browse ads while typing a message—

[I’m outside your dorm.]

Why not call? Truth was, ever since last night’s failed attempt, he’d developed phone phobia. It felt like the moment the call connected, he’d just drop dead.

The sent notification chimed.

Shi Kuo pocketed his phone, rubbing his hands for warmth as he tried to recall the last time he’d waited outside a dorm for a girl. Then someone spoke behind him: “Hey man, got a light?”

Turning, Shi Kuo smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

The guy looked about thirty, maybe two centimeters shorter than him—around 180 cm. His well-tailored black wool coat hung open, revealing a gray knit sweater underneath—casual yet elegant.

In his rush to catch the flight, Shi Kuo hadn’t put much thought into his outfit. Now, standing next to this guy, he felt like a Huaxia Express deliveryman next to someone in epic gear.

Failing to find a light, the man sighed faintly and pocketed his cigarette.

Two thirty-something men loitering by a women’s grad dorm bulletin board made for an awkward scene. Shi Kuo broke the silence: “Waiting for your girlfriend?”

The man paused, then smiled wryly. “Sort of. Pissed her off the night before last. Here to apologize.”

Shi Kuo wondered if he’d misheard. “Two days ago, and you’re only showing up now?”

The man spread his hands helplessly. “Private sector life. Even if the house was on fire, I’d have to wait till the weekend.”

The sheer audacity of this logic left Shi Kuo speechless. He couldn’t fault someone for prioritizing their career—no one said love had to come first. But he couldn’t help feeling a little bad for the guy’s partner.

When Shi Kuo didn’t respond, the man changed the subject: “You waiting for your girlfriend too?”

After a beat, Shi Kuo nodded to avoid a lengthy explanation. “Yeah.”

The conversation died there. Both men fell silent, then, as if choreographed, pulled out their phones—one to dial, the other to check for replies.

—The results were tragic.

Shi Kuo belatedly worried—what if Lin Yi wasn’t even in her dorm? But even if she wasn’t, she should have her phone. No reason not to reply. Wait, she hadn’t responded to his text after her “goodnight” either. Had she been mad since then? But he’d flown all the way here! This was the kind of grand romantic gesture that moved heaven and earth—how could it not move her? Movies were full of lies. If the female lead wasn’t on board, the engagement ring hidden in ice cream would get eaten, and the guy proposing under the overpass would get run over. TAT

“The number you have dialed is currently busy…”

The guy beside him wasn’t faring much better. Shi Kuo had lost count of how many times he’d heard that message in the past few minutes. Eavesdropping was rude, but the loud speakerphone wasn’t his fault. Whether the girl on the other end was genuinely busy or had blocked him, only heaven knew.

Just as Shi Kuo’s thoughts spiraled, the dorm door swung open. A girl with an oval face and black-framed glasses stepped out, scanning the area before walking straight toward the bulletin board. Shi Kuo’s eyes widened as if she weren’t just a girl but an angel bathed in holy light, descending to save his freezing, lost soul.

He instinctively raised a hand to wave—but the man beside him moved faster, stepping forward: “I was just about to swap SIM cards. Did you see me from upstairs?”

Shi Kuo’s hand hovered awkwardly mid-air.

Why are all the angels someone else’s girls?! TAT

Unexpectedly, the girl walked right past the man and stopped in front of Shi Kuo, eyeing him before asking flatly: “2B?”

The idiot who’d chosen that ID must’ve had his head smashed in by a door!!!

“Hey.” Shi Kuo forced a grin.

Wang Hao, now ignored, turned around, baffled: “Lin Yi?”

Shi Kuo was lost. He looked between them: “She’s your girlfriend?”

Wang Hao didn’t hesitate: “Yeah!”

Lin Yi shrugged: “Ex.”

Wang Hao frowned, finally catching on: “She’s your girlfriend?”

Now grasping the situation, Shi Kuo could only brace himself: “Yeah!”

Lin Yi yawned: “Guildmate.”