We Weren’t Fated, I Just Played My Cards Right - Chapter 34
“Can you tell me how long someone like Zhuo Ran would be imprisoned after being caught?” Liu Mumu asked.
“Haven’t you already guessed?” Yan Xiu glanced at her. If she hadn’t already suspected, why would she have taken action herself?
He replied, “Although exchanging fates is taboo, her attempt was unsuccessful. It depends on the specifics, but the maximum sentence wouldn’t exceed ten years.”
Liu Mumu pouted. Just as she thought.
Yan Xiu stood up and walked over to her, looking down. “Let me say it again—even if they’re bad people, you don’t have law enforcement authority. You can’t interfere arbitrarily. Understood?”
“We masters have always followed our hearts.” Liu Mumu shrank back into her chair under his stern gaze but still stubbornly retorted.
“Masters also need to be obedient. Be good.” Yan Xiu’s tone softened as he flicked the plush rabbit on her head.
Fang Chuan stepped out of the meeting room and stood at the door, talking to two subordinates.
He looked up and saw Yan Ling heading to the second floor.
“What brings you here?” Fang Chuan raised a hand in greeting.
“I heard there was a case, so I came to take a look.” Yan Ling walked toward him without preamble. “I saw the injured person downstairs earlier. I heard they’re one of the masterminds of this case?”
“That’s right. Any thoughts?” Since she was from headquarters, Fang Chuan wanted to gauge her expertise.
“I have plenty of thoughts. That mastermind is likely in for a rough time.” Yan Ling said.
“How so?”
“I had someone help analyze her fate chart. It’s completely disrupted—not just from the interrupted fate-exchange ritual and the backlash.” Yan Ling asked curiously, “Do you know who did it?”
Fang Chuan tilted his chin toward the room. “The one inside, currently receiving a private lecture from your cousin.”
Yan Ling carefully pushed the door open a crack, peeked inside, and quickly pulled back.
“Liu Mumu?” She was shocked. “How did she manage that?”
“Calculated it, I suppose.”
“Are you joking?” Yan Ling’s expression turned odd. “What kind of misunderstanding do you have about diviners? If they could calculate everything, they’d have taken over the world by now.”
“Do you think this kind of life-swapping scheme can be easily calculated by just anyone? If it were that simple, why would we bother investigating cases? We might as well just let the masters do the divination for us.”
“These two must have had some tampering done to them beforehand, making it impossible to deduce anything.”
“Then how did Liu Mumu pinpoint it so accurately and interrupt the ritual at just the right moment?” Fang Chuan wondered.
Yan Ling glanced at the slightly ajar door, also puzzled. This Liu Mumu claimed to be a diviner, but her abilities were quite peculiar.
Perhaps her cousin knew something?
As both were lost in thought, Yan Xiu opened the door and stepped out. Seeing Yan Ling there, he casually asked, “Been to the scene? Notice anything?”
Yan Ling immediately felt the chilling sensation of being scrutinized by a strict teacher. She swallowed hard and answered cautiously, “After Zhuo Ran and the herbal sorcerer suffered backlash, their fates became completely disordered. There’s something strange—both their destinies are now tainted with ominous signs. They’ll have to live very carefully from now on.”
“As for the life-swapping, don’t even think about it. Zhuo Ran’s fate and that of the girl she targeted will never align again.”
As she spoke, Yan Ling found it rather coincidental that all potential threats had been resolved at once.
Yan Xiu nodded. “Not bad. You’ve improved.”
Yan Ling grinned widely but, remembering her cousin was still watching, forced the smile back, though the corners of her mouth still twitched upward.
That was her cousin—and he had actually praised her! She really was amazing! She could brag about this for a whole year after getting home.
“I’ll go help out now.”
Yan Ling, now full of energy, was ready to dive into work. After she left, Fang Chuan asked Yan Xiu, “Your cousin just told me that a normal diviner wouldn’t have been able to predict what happened today, let alone stop it so precisely. What’s the deal with Liu Mumu?”
Someone with such skills—Fang Chuan really hoped to keep her around.
Bringing her into the system was out of the question, but maybe he could occasionally ask for her help, especially since he had Yan Xiu on his side.
Fang Chuan had met masters before. The truly skilled ones tended to be eccentric and hard to get along with. Though Liu Mumu often stirred up trouble, in a way, she was quite normal and knew her limits.
“What do you want to know?” Yan Xiu glanced at him.
“Is there really someone who can just casually divine anything?”
“Yes.”
Yan Xiu’s answer was firm.
“How is she different from ordinary diviners?”
“That’s her private matter. Don’t pry.”
“Tch, not even me?” Fang Chuan was burning with curiosity.
Yan Xiu remained expressionless, clearly unwilling to share.
“Fine.” Fang Chuan relented. “Your cousin won’t report her, will she?”
When it came down to it, Liu Mumu was in the wrong here. If things went by the book, it wouldn’t end well for her. Headquarters had a habit of dealing with independent masters—alternating between the stick and the carrot. Liu Mumu would definitely lose out if she tangled with them, which was why neither he nor Yan Xiu had any intention of reporting her.
“She wouldn’t dare.”
“Good.” Fang Chuan relaxed slightly. Then he added, “You should give Liu Mumu a good talking-to. Next time she notices something, she should clue us in before charging in headfirst.”
“I already did.” Yan Xiu’s tone was calm. Whether she’d listen or not was up to fate.
The two walked to the window. Yan Xiu looked down through the second-floor glass. The ambulance had already left, and some students had been allowed to go. Their faces showed panic but also poorly concealed curiosity.
These were all young people, around the same age as Liu Mumu, yet entirely different from her.
Diviners and mystics were slightly distinct. The diviner school relied entirely on skill and a certain degree of innate talent. The barrier to entry wasn’t particularly high—ordinary people could try their hand at divination at home, and some even got it right.
But there was a kind of person whose talent was maxed out from the start. They didn’t even need to learn techniques to divine fortunes. Such individuals were called “Divine Seers” by diviners.
It meant they could perceive the world as if they were gods.
Rumors said Divine Seers never needed to calculate—they only needed to look. A single glance was like experiencing your future firsthand.
Records showed there were still two living Divine Seers today.
Liu Mumu was likely the third.
She was young, and her fate still had some issues, so every time she activated her Divine Sight, she encountered various troubles. But it was indeed an incredibly powerful ability.
Powerful enough to make many covet it.
Did the grandfather she mentioned know about this? If he did, why hadn’t he taught her anything?
“Yan Xiu, what’s going on downstairs?”
Fang Chuan’s voice snapped Yan Xiu out of his thoughts. He shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
…
After being questioned by Fang Chuan, Xue Lan was given a formal statement by another officer. Liu Mumu went through the same process.
After over an hour of this, it was completely dark outside before they were finally allowed to leave.
By then, the lobby downstairs was nearly empty. Most of the banquet attendees had given their statements, left their contact details, and departed.
Zhuo Ran had been taken to the hospital. On the table where they had played cards earlier, a few unclaimed gift boxes remained. The playing cards had been collected as evidence.
Only two people still sat on the stage. Upon closer look, it turned out to be Wei Xue and Qian Xiaomeng.
Qian Xiaomeng, drowsy from waiting, had dozed off on Wei Xue’s shoulder. Finally seeing the two come down, she stretched and walked over. “You’re finally done! Everything okay now?”
“Seems like it’s over,” Xue Lan glanced at Liu Mumu. She still didn’t know what had happened—only Mumu likely understood.
Wei Xue looked around and said, “Let’s talk back at the dorm.”
No one objected. Then Xue Lan suddenly asked, “Have you seen Xu Anze?”
Wei Xue replied, “Not long after you were taken upstairs, he was brought up too. He hasn’t come down yet. Should we wait for him?”
Xue Lan was about to say there was no need to wait when she saw the police officer who had questioned her earlier come downstairs, accompanied by the strikingly handsome man who clearly didn’t seem like a policeman, followed by several officers escorting Xu Anze.
Xu Anze looked ashen, as if he had suffered some devastating blow.
When he saw Xue Lan standing to the side, he paused as he passed by her.
Surprisingly, the officers escorting him didn’t hurry him along, seemingly allowing them to exchange a few words.
“Lanlan,” he said hoarsely, “I never meant to harm you. I was only thinking about our future…”
Xue Lan didn’t fully understand what he was referring to, but she replied, “I don’t know what you’ve done to harm me, but there’s one thing you’ve got wrong—our future isn’t something you alone can decide. The moment you thought that way, we were already doomed to not make it together.”
Zhuo Ran had merely been the catalyst that revealed their incompatibility.
Her appearance proved that they had never been suited for each other in the first place. Back then, confined to a small environment, Xue Lan had lost herself in her feelings for him and failed to see the truth.
“I’d already made up my mind yesterday. I planned to tell you after Zhuo Ran’s birthday party, but now is just as good a time,” Xue Lan said seriously to the young man standing before her. “Xu Anze, I don’t think we’re right for each other. Let’s break up.”
Xu Anze stared at Xue Lan, whose face showed no resentment or any other emotion—only calmness. Finally, he laughed bitterly. “Understood.”
His gaze swept over the three girls accompanying Xue Lan—all her friends. Ever since starting university, she had changed from how she used to be.
In high school, the environment had been small. He had many admirers, but few genuinely befriended Xue Lan.
But in university, after meeting these friends, she no longer relied on him for everything. She developed more ideas and grew stronger.
Perhaps she was right—they weren’t compatible. Their relationship had been a mistake from the start, destined not to last.
Everything before had just been his self-deception.
“Take him away,” Fang Chuan said after witnessing the breakup, waving his hand to have Xu Anze escorted out.
As an accomplice, since the life-swapping ritual hadn’t been completed, his crime would at most be considered an attempt. Even if sentenced, his punishment wouldn’t be severe.
Though Xu Anze had tried to downplay his involvement, Fang Chuan could guess what he had done. Most of Xue Lan’s belongings used in the ritual had likely been taken from him.
What kind of relationship was this? Just a con artist playing with emotions. The farther away from such a person, the better.
Before leaving, Fang Chuan gave Liu Mumu a look that said they’d talk another day.
Liu Mumu turned her face away, having no interest in speaking with him.
With the police gone, the four girls hurried outside to hail a taxi. They made it back to campus with half an hour to spare before dorm curfew—safe and sound.
Once inside their room, no one bothered with washing up. Everyone gathered around Liu Mumu’s desk, waiting for her explanation.
After organizing her thoughts, Liu Mumu finally spoke: “Actually, when I was calculating Lanlan’s romantic fortune, I discovered that Zhuo Ran planned to swap lives with her.”
Seeing everyone’s confusion, she took the opportunity to explain: “Basically, Lanlan and Zhuo Ran share the same birth date and time, which created the conditions for a fate exchange. She thinks your fate is better than hers and wants to swap your destinies. What she’s been suffering would then become your fate.”
Xue Lan caught on immediately: “Was my poor health before related to this so-called fate exchange?”
Her health had deteriorated from good to weak, then back to good—clearly something was wrong.
She hadn’t known before, thinking it was just a weakened immune system with no identifiable cause. But now that Mumu mentioned it, everything clicked.
“Ah!” Qian Xiaomeng screamed. “That talisman—was it that talisman?”
She had personally seen the talisman turn to ashes in Mumu’s hand.
“Right,” Liu Mumu nodded. “Xu Anze was probably Zhuo Ran’s accomplice. He gave you some items to facilitate the fate exchange, including that supposed ‘protection talisman.’ Your declining health was likely caused by these objects temporarily swapping your destinies.”
“Such a big deal, and you didn’t tell us earlier? We even went to her birthday party like nothing was wrong—that’s terrifying,” Qian Xiaomeng couldn’t help complaining.
“If we’d known earlier, could you have done anything about it?” Wei Xue asked.
“At least we could’ve been prepared! We didn’t have to go to that birthday party at all.”
Wei Xue shook her head helplessly: “Remember how long Xu Anze and Lanlan have known each other? They planned this a year in advance—even Xu Anze as her boyfriend was part of their scheme. Do you think Lanlan could’ve resisted whatever they planned?”
Then she looked at Liu Mumu.
Liu Mumu nodded: “Avoiding this time wouldn’t prevent the next attempt.”
The best solution was to disrupt their plans when she saw the opportunity—ending it completely without leaving room for another attempt.
“Alright…” Qian Xiaomeng thought about it and found some logic there. “But you should’ve at least told us! Facing them alone—if something dangerous had happened, we wouldn’t even have known what was going on.”
Everyone agreed with Qian Xiaomeng’s words.
“Okay, I’ll definitely be more careful next time,” Liu Mumu promised readily. Though there was no real danger to her, she appreciated her friends’ concern.
She had observed everything—what Zhuo Ran would do, who would help complete the ritual. The chance of mishap was small, and even if something went wrong, it wouldn’t be her suffering the consequences.
With her destiny as the Lone Star of Calamity, if Zhuo Ran tried anything with her, the unlucky one definitely wouldn’t be herself.
Still, Liu Mumu apologized to Xue Lan: “Sorry, Lanlan, for keeping this from you.”
Xue Lan quickly shook her head. At the time, she’d only been thinking about relationship troubles—whether to break up or not—while Mumu had been figuring out how to save her. How could she possibly blame her?
Realizing what she had narrowly escaped, she couldn’t feel any relief, though fortunately the matter had been resolved.
“Don’t apologize to me. I’m just glad I only learned the truth at the end. This kind of truth isn’t that important for me to know.”
Had she known earlier, she feared she might have completely broken down then. Learning everything only after it was all over left her with nothing but relief—even her resentment toward Xu Anze dissipated before it could fully form.
By the time he was taken away in handcuffs, he had already become an insignificant passerby in her life.
“Oh, by the way, Mumu, does that policeman know you?” Having finished discussing the unpleasant serious matter, Xue Lan finally had the mind to ask about other things.
“Oh… we’ve had a few encounters. You could say we’re somewhat acquainted,” Liu Mumu replied slowly. Acquainted—if you counted him dragging her into the interrogation room twice!
Liu Mumu suddenly recalled old grievances: he still hadn’t apologized to her for a whole day!
Seeing Xue Lan seemed quite interested, Liu Mumu casually added, “The protective charm I gave you earlier was drawn by their police consultant—the one in the suit. You must have seen him, right?”
Before Xue Lan could answer, Qian Xiaomeng had already covered her face and squealed, “Ahhh! I saw him! He’s so handsome!”
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, and an exceptional aura—though he gave off an unapproachable vibe, the kind you could only admire from a distance.
“Right? Right? I think so too!” Liu Mumu’s eyes instantly turned heart-shaped, convinced she had impeccable taste.
How had the topic shifted to this?
Wei Xue was at a loss for words. After some thought, she decided to pour cold water on their enthusiasm: “Wake up. Whether it’s age, status, or life experience, you two aren’t exactly compatible.”
Though, admittedly, he was pleasing to the eye.
“No problem,” Liu Mumu spun in place. “I used my family heirloom coin to divine it—we’re a match made in heaven!”
Wei Xue couldn’t help retorting, “That same day, you also used your family heirloom coin to divine Xiaomeng’s first crush, and she ended up falling in love at first sight with a kitten the size of a palm on the street.”
The little male cat had just been bought by a girl from a pet shop when Xiaomeng spotted it on the way back. She was so smitten she refused to move.
That was her so-called “crush.” Couldn’t she have fallen for a normal boy? Different species meant no happy ending!
Sometimes Wei Xue felt Liu Mumu’s coin wasn’t entirely reliable—at least a little off-kilter.
Xue Lan covered her mouth, laughing. Sadly, Xiaomeng’s beloved kitten already belonged to someone else—her crush ended in heartbreak almost immediately.
As the four chatted, the dorm lights mercilessly turned off.
Eleven o’clock—lights out for the entire building.
No one felt like chatting anymore. Each turned on their phone flashlights, placed them by their beds, then hurriedly changed into pajamas and washed up for bed.
No matter what thrilling stories had unfolded, they were still ordinary students. Thankfully, there was still one more day of vacation tomorrow. After a good sleep, everything would be behind them.
Life would go on, just as wonderful as ever.
While Liu Mumu peacefully drifted off, the Zhuo family in the capital was thrown into chaos over Zhuo Ran and Mr. Xu’s sudden loss of contact.
Late into the night, Lin Qiu still couldn’t sleep, repeatedly asking Zhuo Yongqi, who sat on the sofa, “Why hasn’t Ranran contacted us yet? Could something have gone wrong with the ritual?”
Zhuo Yongqi remained calm, comforting his wife, “Don’t worry. Even if something goes wrong midway, we can still fix it.”
If it hadn’t been for their previous setback in Qingcheng—where they lost Ning Yuan and were outmaneuvered by the local police, who managed to uncover some of their activities—he wouldn’t have had to send Mr. Xu alone this time. The fear of drawing attention with large-scale operations had forced his hand.
To make matters worse, that stand-in had insisted on going to Qingcheng to study, forcing his daughter to leave the capital. It was simply a streak of bad luck.
A little past one in the morning, the landline at the Zhuo residence suddenly rang. Lin Qiu hurriedly picked up the phone, calling out, “Ranran—”
Before she could finish, the rest of her words stuck in her throat.
Whatever the person on the other end said, Lin Qiu suddenly screamed, “What nonsense are you spouting? What do you mean my daughter illegally performed a life-exchange ritual? Where is she?
What—what have you done to her? She’s in poor health—if anything happens to her, I’ll make sure you pay!”
With that, she slammed the phone down.
Setting the receiver aside, Lin Qiu turned stiffly toward her husband, her face pale. “The ritual failed. Ranran’s been arrested. The police say she’s unconscious now. Honey, what do we do?”
Zhuo Yongqi stood up, his expression dark. “We’re going to Qingcheng.”
Zhuo Ran was their only child—they couldn’t just abandon her.
“But what if they—” Lin Qiu hesitated. Though they had connections in the capital, Qingcheng was another matter.
As the saying went, a strong dragon couldn’t crush a local snake. Without a clear grasp of the situation in Qingcheng, wouldn’t rushing there just give the police an opening?
“It’s fine. I’ll call Jiayue first.”
Zhuo Yongqi’s younger sister, Zhuo Jiayue, had married into the Qi family, an influential lineage in the metaphysical world. The Qi family’s standing was on an entirely different level from the Zhuos—they were a centuries-old dynasty.
Even if he were detained in Qingcheng, as long as his brother-in-law was willing to help, nothing too serious would happen.
Lin Qiu nodded quickly. “Alright, you call Jiayue. I’ll pack our things. We’ll leave tonight.”
The Zhuo couple arrived in Qingcheng the next morning. Lin Qiu immediately caused a scene at the police station, demanding to see her daughter.
After some negotiation, Fang Chuan agreed to let them see Zhuo Ran—but only from a distance.
Reluctantly, Lin Qiu accepted the terms. But the moment she saw her daughter lying in the hospital bed, she tried to rush inside, only to be stopped by the officers stationed outside.
Standing at the doorway, Lin Qiu clung to Zhuo Yongqi, sobbing uncontrollably. “My poor Ranran… She only made a small mistake. Who could be so cruel as to hurt her like this?”
Zhuo Yongqi patted her back, his gaze fixed on their daughter inside the room—his eyes burning with fury.
He turned his head and asked, “Officer, even if my daughter did something wrong, the law will punish her. But why is she unconscious? Please give us parents an explanation.”
Fang Chuan replied coldly, “This involves an ongoing investigation. I can’t disclose details.”
Zhuo Yongqi clenched his teeth, unable to do anything about it.
Fang Chuan continued, “The two of you will need to come to the station with me for questioning. Zhuo Ran’s life-exchange ritual has been going on for a year, and a year ago, she was still in Beijing.”
The implication was clear—they couldn’t escape involvement either.
“Of course we’ll cooperate with the investigation,” Zhuo Yongqi said calmly. “But if you want to charge us, you’ll need evidence first.”
Fang Chuan met his gaze, thinking to himself: This old man is surprisingly composed.
“Of course,” Fang Chuan forced a fake smile.
Zhuo Ran was actually awake, but her body was in agony—she didn’t even have the strength to open her eyes.
Lying on the hospital bed, she could clearly hear her mother’s sobs and the tense exchange between her father and the police.
Her life-exchange ritual had failed.
Zhuo Ran remembered now.
Just as she tried to call out to her mother, she suddenly heard a faint rustling sound—right beneath her bed.
The noise was accompanied by a soothing, delicate fragrance. Under its influence, the restless gu worms inside her body quieted down.
It was just like when she was a child, tormented by the gu worms, and Xu Anze suddenly appeared, calming them.
Had Xu Anze come?
Zhuo Ran’s consciousness began to fade. Amid the gentle fragrance, the gu worms that had lived inside her for over a decade silently left her body without her even realizing it.