We Weren’t Fated, I Just Played My Cards Right - Chapter 27
Xu Anze must have sprinted up the stairs—his chest heaved violently, and his hair was damp, as if drenched in water.
Gasping for breath, he hurried to Xue Lan’s bedside, gripping her hand as he asked, “Lanlan, how are you feeling?”
“I told you I’m fine—same as before.”
This had happened occasionally during her senior year of high school, even landing her in the hospital twice. They were already together then, so Xu Anze was well aware of her condition.
He reached out to touch her forehead—it was slightly warm—and his tense expression eased slightly. Softly, he asked, “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Are you hungry?”
“I’m hungry, but I don’t want porridge. I want noodles.”
Seeing she still had an appetite, he relaxed slightly, a faint smile appearing on his face: “Got it. I’ll go buy some for you later.”
“And strawberries too.”
“Okay.”
While the young couple was being all lovey-dovey, Liu Mumu and her single friends got force-fed a whole meal of “dog food” (couple’s public displays of affection). When it was time to leave, Xu Anze saw them out since he was heading downstairs anyway to run errands.
Outside the hospital room, Xu Anze thanked them: “We really owe you today. Lanlan’s health has never been great. If she ever feels unwell in the future, could you let me know?”
“No problem at all! Let’s make a group chat right now.” Qian Xiaomeng enthusiastically pulled out her phone while creating the group, adding, “If you know any single guys as handsome as you, please add them to the group—do us all a favor!”
“Sure, I’ll arrange that as soon as I get back,” Xu Anze replied with a laugh.
His considerate response instantly raised their opinion of their roommate’s boyfriend by several notches.
“May I ask—has Lanlan seen a psychologist?” Wei Xue suddenly inquired.
At the mention of Lanlan’s condition, a pained expression crossed Xu Anze’s face: “Her mother equates psychological issues with mental illness and is strongly against therapy. Actually, I secretly took Lanlan to see a psychologist once, but the evaluation showed no psychological disorders.”
“I don’t mind if you laugh at me, but I’ve started wondering if her mother might be right—that Lanlan’s condition isn’t an illness. This summer, we visited numerous temples, though it didn’t help much. It was more for peace of mind.”
They all understood his dilemma. Having a definite diagnosis might actually be better—at least it would provide some certainty.
Being stuck in this limbo, not knowing what might happen next, was the hardest part.
When science fails to provide answers, some people do turn to divine intervention, clinging to that sliver of hope.
After seeing them to the hospital entrance, Xu Anze went his separate way—first to buy fruit, then dinner for Lanlan.
Liu Mumu and her friends decided to take a taxi back to campus. The stifling heat made buses unbearable.
As they waited by the roadside, an empty cab pulled up. Qian Xiaomeng and Wei Xue got in first. Liu Mumu was about to enter when she spotted a familiar car slowly exiting the hospital’s underground parking lot.
She abruptly shut the door, telling her friends inside: “Go ahead without me. I’ve got something to take care of tonight.”
With that, she dashed off.
The taxi drove away while Liu Mumu sprinted toward the car with the winged angel hood ornament, waving her arms.
Yan Xiu had just exited the parking garage when he noticed Liu Mumu bouncing excitedly by the roadside like a little rabbit. Since he hadn’t reached a proper stopping point yet, his car continued moving slowly forward.
Thinking he hadn’t seen her, Liu Mumu jogged after the vehicle.
Finally reaching a legal parking spot, the car stopped and the door opened from inside.
Her eyes lit up as she nimbly slipped into the passenger seat.
“Chasing cars?” Though Yan Xiu’s tone wasn’t exactly scolding, it still made her scalp tingle.
“I was just afraid you wouldn’t see me. Acting in the heat of the moment deserves forgiveness.” Glancing at his expressionless face, Liu Mumu added in a small voice, “I won’t do it again next time.”
“You could call or text me next time,” Yan Xiu said coolly, giving her a sidelong glance.
“And you’d stop the car?”
“…Depends on my mood.”
“Hmph, I bet you’d drive two kilometers before answering my call.” Liu Mumu didn’t believe him at all.
The corner of Yan Xiu’s mouth lifted slightly. “Where to?”
“Back to school. Oh, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“You could have asked me over the phone.”
“That’s totally different! I can’t see your face over the phone, and you refuse to video call me.” Liu Mumu wore an expression that clearly said, “You heartless jerk, not even willing to video chat with me.”
Though they hadn’t met since leaving the hotel that day, they occasionally chatted on their phones—mainly with Liu Mumu initiating and Yan Xiu reluctantly responding.
For several days, Liu Mumu had been asking him about the weather every day, to the point where Yan Xiu suspected she’d turned him into her personal weather forecast machine.
Yan Xiu: “…”
“I don’t video chat with anyone while showering.” If only she’d apply her divination skills to something more useful, he might be more appreciative.
“What a shame!”
This was genuine regret. Yan Xiu’s fate was difficult to divine, so she could only indirectly calculate when he might encounter water each day.
Such divinations unrelated to herself were much easier—about three out of ten attempts would be accurate.
Eventually, she didn’t even need to divine anymore because his life was so regimented, with even shower times fixed.
Such a pity he wouldn’t let her admire him. So sad.
“Enough,” Yan Xiu said, unwilling to continue this topic. “I’ll take you back to school.”
“Thanks. I’ll treat you to bubble tea.”
“I don’t drink bubble tea.”
“Oh, you’re so hard to please.”
Yan Xiu silently accepted her assessment.
As the car passed through a traffic light, Liu Mumu finally remembered her question: “By the way, have you heard of false hysteria?”
Having just arrived at school, she hadn’t brought her grandfather’s notebooks with her and couldn’t conveniently go home to check now, so asking Yan Xiu seemed ideal.
“What are the symptoms?”
“Well… coughing, constant severe coughing at night that won’t stop, the person can’t be woken up, and their body temperature is very low. It’s happened during daytime too, with bloody coughs, but medical exams show no problems.”
Liu Mumu actually agreed with how Xue Lan’s family and boyfriend had handled things—at least they’d ruled out physical causes first.
If it’s truly unrelated to physical or mental conditions, then we should consider other possibilities.
“Are these the only symptoms?”
“For now, that’s all I know.”
Yan Xiu pondered for a moment. “There are many possible explanations for similar symptoms, but the ‘false hysteria’ you mentioned is indeed one of them.”
“Oh? Tell me more.” Liu Mumu turned to him with interest.
“In ancient times, swindlers were rampant in some northern regions. These people would ‘drive epidemics,’ pretending to be deities descending to earth, and exploit the situation to amass wealth.”
“‘Drive epidemics’? You mean like plagues?”
“Yes. Whenever they arrived in an area, a ‘plague’ would break out—characterized by severe coughing and vomiting bl00d for several days, though it wasn’t life-threatening.”
Liu Mumu frowned. “Was that really a plague?”
In the profession of mystics, there were good people, but there were also scoundrels.
Though most traces of mystics in history had been erased, from what she knew, some had once attempted to overthrow imperial power, using ruthless methods that harmed countless people.
Plagues weren’t beyond manipulation either—some had tried to engineer them by processing corpses, though legend said those mystics later suffered backlash and died gruesome deaths.
Compared to those power-hungry mystics, the most skilled diviners at most engaged in political maneuvering, far more principled by comparison.
Her grandfather had told her these stories to help her understand the subtle differences between mystics and diviners. Liu Mumu suspected he might have been a little resentful that mystics had more varied methods than diviners.
By modern times, no mystic would still practice such abominable methods as manipulating plagues.
“That’s why they were swindlers. It wasn’t a real plague—just a relatively mild poison refined from the pollen of a certain plant.”
“So you’re saying my classmate was poisoned?” Liu Mumu asked.
“What I mean is, if your classmate lives in the north, she might have accidentally encountered that plant in the wild and inhaled some pollen, leading to these symptoms. Of course, deliberate poisoning isn’t out of the question.”
Liu Mumu understood now. The so-called “false hysteria” was originally called “false epidemic,” and after hearing Yan Xiu’s explanation, it didn’t seem too serious.
“Then she doesn’t need treatment? Just wait for the pollen to leave her system naturally? I heard this has been going on for a year.”
“If it’s confirmed to be a false epidemic, treatment isn’t necessary. As long as she doesn’t keep inhaling the pollen, she’ll recover in two to three years. That said, there are folk remedies if she wants to speed it up.”
“Tell me.” Why wait two or three years if she could recover faster? Liu Mumu pressed eagerly.
“Take five different colored beans, soak them in vinegar for five days, then fish them out. Each day, pick five different beans, cook them, and eat them. Improvement should be noticeable after five days. Three full courses should completely purge the pollen from her system.”
“That… doesn’t sound very scientific?” What kind of bizarre detox method was this? And how had anyone even come up with it?
Yan Xiu sighed. “Hence why it’s a folk remedy.”
A diviner and a mystic discussing science—which of them was the more scientific one here?
“Alright then…” Though unimpressed, at least it was a solution. “I’ll have her try it when I get back.”
There weren’t any better options anyway. If Xue Lan was willing to visit a shaman, surely she wouldn’t mind her roommate being a diviner or something, right?
…
“So, you can really tell fortunes?” Xue Lan hadn’t returned yet, so Liu Mumu decided to explain things to her other roommates first.
Then she found herself cornered against the wall by two dormmates.
“Normally I can only predict trivial little things,” Liu Mumu raised a finger.
Wei Xue grabbed her finger: “Can you predict whether I’ll pass the final exams?”
“Well… yes, but you still need to study hard.”
Qian Xiaomeng seized her other hand: “Can you calculate my success rate before I confess my feelings?”
“That’s also possible…”
With both hands captured, Liu Mumu looked like she was being held hostage.
“From now on, you’re our sister from another mother!!”
Though her roommates believed in her completely, Liu Mumu still gave them a small demonstration—predicting that someone would soon deliver milk tea to their dorm.
The two girls waited by the door for over twenty minutes until a girl from the neighboring dorm arrived with a cup of milk tea. Spotting Wei Xue, she handed over the bag.
“Some guy downstairs said he’s your hometown friend and asked me to give this to you.”
Wei Xue accepted the tea excitedly: “Thanks thanks!” before dashing back inside, leaving the messenger bewildered—was it from a crush? Why so excited?
“Oh my god! Someone actually brought milk tea! How did you predict this? It’s scarily accurate!” Qian Xiaomeng circled Liu Mumu in awe, practically itching to examine her.
Wei Xue was only slightly more composed.
They couldn’t believe they were rooming with such a mystical fortune-teller.
But being seen as a master wasn’t Liu Mumu’s main goal—she primarily wanted to discuss Xue Lan’s situation.
Since fate had placed Xue Lan in her dorm and she could help, it felt wrong to pretend ignorance.
Without mentioning the metaphysical master, Liu Mumu simply said she knew a folk remedy that might help Xue Lan.
Qian Xiaomeng agreed: “It’s just vinegar-soaked beans—harmless to try. Who knows? It might work!”
Wei Xue added: “Xue Lan will probably agree, but let’s keep this between us—especially from her boyfriend. He seems deeply devoted. If it fails, we don’t want him blaming you.”
“Deal. We’ll tell her when she returns tomorrow.”
The next day, Xu Anze brought Xue Lan back. During lunch break, Liu Mumu privately explained the plan, and Xue Lan readily agreed.
They decided to prepare a new jar of beans every five days—the full treatment would take just twenty days.
During the five days of waiting for the beans, Xue Lan only coughed incessantly one night. After being woken up by Liu Mumu and the others, she didn’t cough again.
Later, when the beans were ready to eat, they secretly cooked them every day using an electric heating cup to avoid the dorm supervisor. The room was filled with the overpowering smell of vinegar.
Similarly, Xue Lan truly stopped coughing.
Moreover, worried that three detox sessions might not be thorough enough, they simply soaked three more bottles of beans to consolidate the effects.
“I feel like I’ve been marinated through,” Qian Xiaomeng said as she sniffed her camouflage T-shirt while walking.
“It’s not just you. Remember that hometown friend who brought me milk tea? After seeing me once in the cafeteria, he never showed up again,” Wei Xue said gloomily.
It was the first time in her life she had been so thoroughly avoided.
“Only a feast can save us now,” Liu Mumu added.
“Right,” the three said in unison, turning to look at Xue Lan.
“No problem! You pick the place, and we’ll go out to eat tomorrow night,” Xue Lan agreed readily.
“No need to pick—the hot pot place next to the school. I’ve been craving it forever,” Qian Xiaomeng declared, and everyone agreed.
After settling on dinner plans for the next day, seeing that it was about time, the four hurried to the university auditorium.
Their military training had lasted half a month, and today was the final day, followed by the welcome party in the evening.
“I wonder if there are any freshman performances?” Qian Xiaomeng mused.
Standing at the auditorium entrance, a banner welcoming the freshmen hung overhead, with seniors handing out glow sticks at the door.
“I think so. Aze plays piano, and a few days ago, his department advisor asked him to perform a piano and violin duet, but he refused. It ended up being a violin solo instead,” Xue Lan said.
“Why not agree? It’s such a great chance to show off.”
As they chatted, they searched for their class seating.
“He said his skills were mediocre and didn’t want to embarrass himself… It should be the first two rows, right?” Xue Lan pointed to the fifth row. Their class had good seats, very close to the stage.
Since they arrived early, they easily secured four seats together.
They sat there for over an hour as the auditorium gradually filled up before the welcome party finally began.
The hosts announced the first performance—a freshman act, just as Xue Lan had said, a violin solo.
The performer was a freshman from the history department, Zhuo Ran.
Dressed in a blue mermaid-tail gown, her long curls pinned up to reveal a graceful swan neck, Zhuo Ran stood under the spotlight as the audience fell silent before erupting into cheers.
As the soothing music began, the crowd quieted down. Everyone watched the girl at the center of the stage, her steps moving gently with the music as if dancing with her violin.
With every step, the diamond fringe on her dress shimmered brilliantly.
When the music ended, Zhuo Ran lowered her violin and bowed gracefully to the audience.
Thunderous applause followed, accompanied by cheers and whistles.
After the performance, she didn’t leave immediately but paused briefly. Soon, a tall young man walked up the stage steps, holding a bouquet of white roses.
Zhuo Ran, eyes brimming with a smile, accepted the flowers and cradled them in her arms.
The young man was about to step down when she pulled him back. The photographers in the front row were still taking pictures, so they stayed on stage a little longer before finally descending.
The combination of a handsome man and a beautiful woman always drew attention. If it hadn’t been Xu Anze on stage, perhaps the situation wouldn’t have felt so awkward for everyone.
He genuinely hadn’t been scheduled for any performance but was arranged to go on stage to present Zhuo Ran with flowers—roses, no less.
Many people in the rows around Liu Mumu were screaming excitedly, but their row remained as silent as a graveyard.
An unfamiliar pretty girl paired with their dormmate’s boyfriend—what kind of ship was that supposed to be? Who could possibly root for that?
Xue Lan seemed to sense their thoughts. With the surrounding noise too loud, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to their dorm group chat.
Xue Lan: Anze told me about the flower presentation yesterday.
She even attached a screenshot of last night’s conversation with Xu Anze, which clearly showed him explaining everything in detail, as if afraid of being misunderstood.
The other three dormmates sighed in relief. No misunderstanding—that was good.
With the tension dissolved, the atmosphere lightened. Qian Xiaomeng couldn’t resist teasing: “Interview time! How does it feel having such a popular boyfriend? I swear at least half those cheers were for him.”
Xue Lan: “I’m used to it. High school was even crazier—I witnessed it firsthand.”
Liu Mumu: “So he’s the prized husband you snatched from an army of competitors?”
Xue Lan: “Mmm… pretty much.”
Remembering those high school days made her smile.
Xu Anze had transferred to their class from Beijing during their second year. Back then, fearless and bold, she’d naturally wanted to pursue the boy she liked—except she wasn’t the only one with that idea.
On average, she’d see him get confessed to twice a week—upperclassmen, underclassmen, or peers handing him love letters or small gifts.
Her initial courage completely evaporated witnessing Xu Anze’s creative rejection methods, even though she’d never been among those confessing.
At the end of that semester, Xu Anze confessed to her—right after she’d received a love letter from a boy in the neighboring class.
They started dating smoothly, gradually getting to know each other while navigating numerous misunderstandings. Eventually, he began proactively informing her about anything potentially questionable. If he couldn’t explain immediately, he’d always clarify thoroughly afterward.
He gave her near-complete emotional security. Gradually, Xue Lan learned to trust him. Even after leaving their hometown for university, that trust remained unshaken.
After her performance, Zhuo Ran didn’t leave immediately. Standing backstage by the exit, she cradled the bouquet of white roses, lowered her head to inhale their scent, and smiled beautifully.
The passing boys couldn’t help but linger their gazes on her for a few extra seconds. Everyone enjoys looking at beautiful things and people, especially when she was truly stunning.
A few minutes later, Xu Anze entered the backstage. He had been summoned by someone claiming a classmate needed his help. When he saw Zhuo Ran, his brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t speak to her. He glanced around but couldn’t find the classmate who supposedly needed assistance.
Zhuo Ran was still wearing her blue evening gown—not provided by the school but brought by herself, its expensive price tag matching the breathtaking impression she made during her performance.
She lifted her chin slightly, revealing her somewhat heavily made-up face, and said to Xu Anze, “Stop looking. I was the one who had you called here. Thank you for the flowers.”
“That was arranged by the school,” Xu Anze replied coldly.
“Were the roses also arranged by the school? How thoughtful of you to remember white roses are my favorite.” Zhuo Ran’s eyes flickered. “What if your little girlfriend sees them and gets jealous?”
“Zhuo Ran.” Xu Anze’s voice turned icy. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is.” Zhuo Ran plucked one rose from the bouquet and placed it in Xu Anze’s hand. As she walked past him with the flowers, her lips curled slightly. “Give this one to her for me—a little greeting gift.”
After Zhuo Ran left, Xu Anze threw the rose aside and walked away with a cold expression.
No one witnessed this backstage encounter.
The welcome party concluded successfully, leaving everyone excited. Many continued discussing the standout performances back in their dorms, with Zhuo Ran becoming the talk of the freshmen class.
Rumors about her spread like wildfire immediately after the event. While having learned violin since childhood wasn’t particularly remarkable, what really captured everyone’s attention was her combination of talent and wealth.
Word had it that due to poor health, she’d been homeschooled throughout primary and middle school, only attending regular high school later. She’d since won several international violin competitions.
With her credentials, she could have easily gotten into Beijing Conservatory of Music. No one understood why she chose Qingcheng Institute of Technology instead.