Chapter 3: Red Envelope Received

Despite muttering complaints about this person in charge, he still exited the call screen as instructed and tapped the messaging app lying quietly on the desktop—true or false, he'd find out for himself.

Once opened, what greeted his eyes was a conspicuous unread message; from the red dot in its upper-right corner, the time hadn't been displayed wrong either. The institution that sent the message was called Guicheng Mu Family Land Purchase Office.

"…" Staring at a text that was both familiar and unfamiliar, the boy froze on the spot, slow to speak, as if trying to recall what exactly he'd been doing at that point in time.

Racking his brain to no avail, he still tapped to expand the message—he had to find some clue, otherwise staying completely confused the whole time wouldn't be great.

Once the message field expanded, the words were rather long; it took a full minute to finish reading and fully understand. To put it simply: "he" had purchased a plot of land from the other company's company at that point in time, and they were very honored by his patronage, and so on and so forth…

"Hmm… seems like I have a bit of an impression. Could you explain specifically how I placed the order? I've kind of forgotten." The boy stroked his chin and deliberated with a slightly mature air, not denying the incident had happened, but he'd just finished a game and his brain was still mush—he couldn't recall anything, or maybe he'd just glanced past it and paid no attention.

But how could he possibly have spare cash to buy a graveyard? That was the part he couldn't figure out the most. Better to wait and see for now—if it came to it, he'd call the police; Officer JC would surely be happy to help.

"Sure, may I ask whether you've visited our company's website or received a call from one of our staff?" The person in charge didn't understand why the customer suddenly asked this, but since the question was asked, it had to be addressed. There were countless ways to place an order, but these two were the most common, so they could only start ruling things out from here—hopefully it wouldn't upset the other party; he had no idea whether this boss was easy to get along with.

"Website… isn't your website called Safe Coffin Burial?" Hearing this, a flash of inspiration struck the boy's mind—he finally recalled a key point: that annoying ad!

"Yes, yes, it seems you placed the order through the website. We received your full payment on our end at the time. We're truly honored by your trust in our company, and we hope to continue working together in the future. Do you have any other questions? I'll do my utmost to answer them." The person in charge caught on too, quickly buttering him up—his groveling was very much on point. If it weren't a remote call, serving tea and pouring water and the like would surely have been included.

"Wait… forget it, never mind. Just send me the address, no need to search and look for it slowly." The boy had originally wanted to ask more, but then he remembered that ad and was eager to know the answer, so in the end he didn't say anything conclusive. He figured he might as well hang up—but before hanging up, he still needed to know the address; he couldn't be bothered to search, so why not let someone else do it? Even though the thing seemed a tiny bit inauspicious, for him, who'd realized he was broke, there wasn't much to fear. I'm poor and proud, I save fabric for the country—even ghosts would have to offer me a cigarette.

Alright, that's a bit of an overblown boast—set it aside for now; finding the truth is the goal right now.

"You got it. If you have any further instructions, feel free to call anytime. Our one-stop service won't be put on hold. Wishing you, Mr. Jia, a pleasant life." After he finished speaking, the boy decisively hung up the phone—better confirm it quickly, save himself the constant unease. Could it really be that he'd stupidly forked out money to buy a graveyard?

Returning to the computer once more, after a series of practiced operations, the dark-screened laptop lit up again; after simply entering the password, he was back at the game interface.

Although the game had already ended,

he didn't want to bother with it—pressing three keys at once brought up the Task Manager, and he force-quit the game directly.

After clearing the background, he couldn't wait to enter the browser. Luckily he hadn't enabled incognito mode, otherwise even the history would be unfindable.

Soon, among the many study-material web pages, he found such a distinctive website link.

To speak of his connection with it—well, the long story must be cut short. He purely clicked in by accident, then auto-clicked the pop-up "claim for free," and the page redirected to a website that sounded like it sold coffins. At the time, his hands moved fast and he chose to close it, but it seemed he'd seen his own information partway through.

But since he hadn't registered an account on this website, he hadn't paid much attention. Now that he thought about it, it seemed his information had unknowingly been leaked.

This was serious—if it led to owing loan-shark debt, everything would be over.

So, how to solve it?

Perhaps, finding the redirect point of the website link would reveal the answer.

Returning his gaze to the history once more, before this graveyard website, he did indeed find the redirect location, but after clicking it, it showed that the claim had already been successful.

Hm? What does that mean? Successfully claimed a graveyard? What's with the urge to smash the computer?

What exactly is going on—if I don't get to the bottom of it, my heart, it's so uneasy.

Just at this moment, a Lanyue game popped up from the bottom-right corner; the character inside was "strenuously" beating up small monsters. After a few slashes, the spider fell, dropping a string of god-tier equipment and a large amount of ingots. Then the screen jumped, a familiar actor appeared, and opened with the unchanging line: "If you're brothers, come slash me. I'm waiting for you in Lanyue."

Below, several lines of large text were displayed: high-price ingot buyback, 888 yuan just for trying the game, we look forward to your arrival.

Looking at such an ad, the boy's already unsettled heart grew even more irritated; he grabbed the mouse and was about to click close.

Everyone knows ads can hide the X—the boy clearly fell for the trick. With one click, the browser that hadn't been closed got redirected, and the game interface finished loading in an instant—enough to show that the school's internet speed was still fairly decent.

When the game successfully ran, a red envelope also popped up. Above it was written: "Lanyue Official lovingly presents an 888 yuan red envelope." The "Open" character below was edged in gold, looking rather dazzling—it was really hard not to feel the urge to open it.

"Making it so fancy, but since it looks decent enough, I'll click and take a look. If it's fake, I'll close it right away." Looking at the gorgeous red envelope basically occupying the center of the screen, the boy was a bit stunned. They say beautiful things should be appreciated—appreciated he did, but no matter how he looked at it, it seemed a bit unreliable. Who'd be so bored as to play this?

Despite the endless complaints in his heart, his mouth and hands truly betrayed his thoughts. He slowly moved the mouse to the "Open" interface and, without further hesitation, left-clicked to open it. Whether it was real or not, at the very least he'd never seen such a pretty envelope before. If he could snag a red envelope cover in the process, that'd be good too—after all, it was just an ad, he wasn't losing out.

Besides, games want data, so this should count as padding the numbers, right? A win-win situation couldn't be better than this.

At least in his view it was so. Whatever—he didn't take it seriously anyway. If he couldn't get the cover, there'd be some regret, but not too much. After all, trying to fleece something from an ad could only be called naive and laughable. He only clicked with a mindset of relieving his troubles—getting it or not didn't matter; the key was to make himself happy again.

After the graveyard-purchase incident just now, he still hadn't recovered. He didn't even know if his roommate was back; he even wanted to ask his roommate to run an errand for him. It was just too headache-inducing—how on earth did he get tangled up with something so weird and graveyard-related? Damn, that's just not scientific.

*Ding—trial-play red envelope successfully claimed, please check! *