My Unconventional Online Dating - Chapter 28

Lian Qiushui looked at the hand extended toward her and grasped it firmly, saying, “You promised not to avoid me.”

“Alright, I won’t avoid you anymore,” Xiao Nianyuan replied earnestly. Avoiding only Lian Qiushui was something she could accept.

The unspeakable “flaws” in her heart were known only to Lian Qiushui—no, even Lian Qiushui wasn’t entirely clear about them, only that she disliked others getting too close.

If this were real life, people might distance themselves from her because of her secrecy. But Lian Qiushui’s personality, combined with the fact that she was just an NPC, made everything feel just right.

“I heard the game has opened a social forum,” Lian Qiushui suddenly mentioned. “Do you want to check it out?”

Whenever the game updated something, Lian Qiushui would tell Xiao Nianyuan without needing to be asked.

Xiao Nianyuan asked, “Can you access it?”

Lian Qiushui paused, then shook her head. “No, the forum is only open to players for now.”

She sounded a little disappointed, so Xiao Nianyuan reassured her, “Maybe it’s not fully developed yet. You might be able to access it later.”

The game had designed NPCs with such intricate detail—it wouldn’t waste the opportunity to let them shine.

Xiao Nianyuan herself wasn’t particularly interested in the game’s social forum, but she figured she might as well take a look. Perhaps some players had reported system issues. If enough players brought it up, the developers would prioritize fixing it.

That was how all games worked—major player complaints got addressed first, while less critical issues were handled later.

Following Lian Qiushui’s directions, Xiao Nianyuan found the forum’s entrance.

The forum resembled other social media platforms, with trending posts at the top.

Xiao Nianyuan skimmed through them, but no one had mentioned any system problems. Feeling slightly disappointed, she debated whether to make a post herself and wait for others to support it.

After some hesitation, she decided against it. Just as she was about to exit, she accidentally clicked on a post—something about looking for an online romance. Without reading further, she immediately closed it.

Back in the game, Lian Qiushui looked at her expectantly. “So? Was it fun?”

“It was alright, nothing special,” Xiao Nianyuan blinked and said seriously. “Not as fun as playing with you.”

She meant it—there was nothing on the forum that interested her. Lian Qiushui provided far more engaging company.

Lian Qiushui grinned, her eyes curving with delight. She wished she could access the forum too—that way, she could chat with Xiao Nianyuan there instead of waiting for her to log in.

“Then play with me more often,” she said.

Xiao Nianyuan chuckled. “Don’t I always play with you when I’m online?”

She paused, realizing Lian Qiushui was hinting at her to log in more frequently. Hesitantly, she asked, “What do you do when I’m not online?”

Lian Qiushui answered matter-of-factly, “Wait for you to log in.”

Xiao Nianyuan was puzzled. “Why don’t you find other people to play with?”

Before, she could understand why Lian Qiushui didn’t seek out others—during the closed beta, there were few players. But now, with the game in open beta, the number of players had grown. Just walking down the street, you could easily run into one.

Lian Qiushui froze, as if the idea had never occurred to her.

Xiao Nianyuan looked at her, waiting for her response. Lian Qiushui remained silent for a long while before finally speaking, “I don’t know who else to look for.”

Xiao Nianyuan said softly, “Just use the same method you used to find me to find others.”

“Would that really work?” Lian Qiushui thought for a moment before replying seriously, “I don’t think it would.”

“Why not?” Xiao Nianyuan asked curiously. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Because others aren’t like you,” Lian Qiushui said.

“Everyone is different.”

“Exactly, they’re just not the same.” She pursed her lips. “I can find you this way, but I can’t do the same for others.”

Perhaps there was another way to get along with other players, but Lian Qiushui had no desire to try right now.

What if she played with other players and Xiao Nianyuan got jealous? What if other players came looking for her while she was with Xiao Nianyuan? What if Xiao Nianyuan needed her, but she was stuck dealing with other players?

Lian Qiushui’s mind swirled with endless “what-ifs” about Xiao Nianyuan. If her education had included modern slang, she would have recognized this behavior as “simping.”

But even if she had known, she wouldn’t have cared. She did what she wanted—whether it was considered simping or not didn’t matter, as long as she was happy.

Being with Xiao Nianyuan was the happiest thing for her right now.

Over the past few days, Xiao Nianyuan had managed to log into the game without Tan Xialan and the others noticing, so she gradually relaxed. Now, she wasn’t in a hurry to log off, instead spending time chatting with Lian Qiushui and searching for clues.

The so-called clues were about how Sky City came to be and how its inhabitants arrived. But with so many conflicting theories, Xiao Nianyuan still couldn’t tell which were true and which were false.

The most absurd story she’d heard was about Sky City’s origin.

Legend had it that many years ago, on a dark and stormy night, a couple eloped. Their parents, however, were powerful figures who, in an attempt to stop them, summoned a bolt of heavenly lightning.

The lightning struck, separating the lovers—but in its wake, Sky City appeared.

There were too many holes in the story for Xiao Nianyuan to even know where to begin mocking it. Needless to say, she didn’t believe a single word.

Despite collecting many strange clues, Xiao Nianyuan still felt that one of them might hold some truth.

Holding onto this hope, she kept playing the game regularly. But this couldn’t go on forever—she was still trying to figure out how to get the game developers to release Sky City or, failing that, how to infiltrate the company herself to find out the truth.

It sounded unrealistic, but how would she know unless she tried? If all else failed, she really might have to break into the company.

After logging off, Xiao Nianyuan heard Tan Xialan’s surprised voice as soon as she came back online: “There’s a new post on the forums today—have you seen it?”

Du Xiaotong quickly put away her phone before being asked and asked, puzzled, “What’s so interesting about it?”

Tan Xialan sounded excited. “It’s—”

She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Xiao Nianyuan pull back the curtains. “Never mind.”

The way she looked at Xiao Nianyuan was too obvious—clearly, there was something she didn’t want her to know.

Xiao Nianyuan tactfully didn’t press further. After all, everyone has their own little secrets. If Tan Xialan didn’t want her to know, she’d pretend she didn’t notice.

As Xiao Nianyuan got out of bed to pour water, Tan Xialan kept stealing glances at her—those furtive looks that wanted to stare but feared being caught made Xiao Nianyuan so uncomfortable she had to excuse herself to leave the room.

She thought Tan Xialan would relax after she left, but when she returned, those strange looks persisted.

It wasn’t until Du Xiaotong tapped Tan Xialan’s head that the girl snapped out of it, pretending nothing had happened. But the behavior was too obvious. “Is there something you want to tell me?” Xiao Nianyuan asked softly.

“No, I was overthinking things. Probably just seeing things,” Tan Xialan replied.

Xiao Nianyuan sighed quietly.

“I’m really not hiding anything on purpose!” Tan Xialan hurried to explain. “There are… complications.”

“It’s fine,” Xiao Nianyuan said gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Though she said this, Xiao Nianyuan couldn’t help feeling slightly hurt. Still, she quickly adjusted her emotions. While they’d been chatting and laughing earlier, their friendship hadn’t yet reached that level of intimacy.

Strangely, Xiao Nianyuan’s refusal to pry made Tan Xialan panic. “I really want to tell you, but—”

Her face flushed with distress until Du Xiaotong intervened. “It’s not that we won’t tell you. We just don’t know how to explain it.”

At this, Xiao Nianyuan nodded with a smile. “Then tell me when you’ve figured it out.”

It wasn’t that Xiao Nianyuan trusted Du Xiaotong more than Tan Xialan—it was just that Du Xiaotong rarely spoke at all, let alone spoke up for others. If she said this much, there must truly be difficult circumstances preventing them from explaining.

Xiao Nianyuan glanced around. “Has Ji Rongxue returned yet?”

“She’s been busy these two days,” Tan Xialan said uncertainly. “Something about visiting a friend… or maybe a relative? I didn’t ask for details.”

“If she’s visiting loved ones, that’s good.” Xiao Nianyuan asked no further, though her concern was that Ji Rongxue might have gone to the hospital alone without telling her.

Her relationship with Ji Rongxue wasn’t as close as with Tan Xialan and Du Xiaotong. If asked directly, Ji Rongxue would surely just say, “It’s nothing.” This roundabout method was the only way Xiao Nianyuan could verify her well-being.

Though Xiao Nianyuan seldom interacted deeply with others, once she took a liking to someone, she became genuinely invested. After just one meal out together, she already considered her three roommates half-friends.

When shopping for clothes, each had stood up for her without hesitation. Not everyone possessed that courage—many would avoid trouble regardless of right or wrong, simply urging their companions to “let it go.” But Ji Rongxue and the others had done the opposite, speaking up for Xiao Nianyuan and offering solutions. Even when Xiao Nianyuan initially bought the clothes to avoid conflict before returning them later, they’d shown no resentment—only shared her relief.

After such gestures, Xiao Nianyuan had come to regard them as true friends.

Now she wondered whether to tell the other two about Ji Rongxue’s earlier health issues. Instinct said yes, but reason countered that they likely already knew—perhaps even from Ji Rongxue herself.

The matter of Tan Xialan and Du Xiaotong keeping secrets from her was brushed aside, and Xiao Nianyuan didn’t dwell on it. However, in the following days while walking on the street, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

People often glanced at her, but never with such persistent stares as these past few days.

The people around her were acting strangely, but Xiao Nianyuan was already accustomed to occasional lingering gazes. She simply assumed there must be something different about her appearance today that drew extra attention.

Her part-time shift at the library was longer than usual, so she arrived early in the morning. After checking the book placements—which were all in order—she could take a break.

Xiao Nianyuan manned the front desk, mainly registering visitors without student cards.

One freshman, his youthful face still bearing traces of sunburn, looked unmistakably like a first-year student.

While registering, he kept sneaking glances at her. Even after finishing, he lingered without any intention of leaving.

Thinking he might have a question, Xiao Nianyuan took the initiative. “Is there something you need?”

The freshman hesitated, opening and closing his mouth without speaking. Only when someone else approached to register did he finally step aside.

Xiao Nianyuan didn’t dwell on it and went back to her work.

Before long, the freshman returned. Assuming he was leaving, she was surprised when he stopped in front of her and asked, “Is that you?”

Baffled, Xiao Nianyuan had no time to respond before he whispered, “It’s you, right? The one who scammed so many people.”

The absurd accusation made her frown in displeasure, instantly labeling him as a troublemaker.

The freshman seemed taken aback by her reaction.

Half-convinced, half-doubting, he insisted, “But the person in the photo looks exactly like you.”

He muttered under his breath, “I’ve never seen anyone else who resembles you.”

It was true—Xiao Nianyuan had striking features, the kind that made her easily recognizable.

He was certain he hadn’t mistaken her, yet her confusion appeared genuine.

After a moment of hesitation, the freshman suddenly doubled down. “It has to be you. I never misidentify people.”