Chapter 4: Chapter Four: The Importance of Surfing

“Huh? That fake?” The boy didn’t believe the “claimed” message on screen, but combined with the earlier cemetery claim, he couldn’t rule out it might be real—there was a contradiction, yet not a full conflict.

After all, realistically, whether or not he claimed the red envelope, he didn’t lose anything—just wasted time, which couldn’t be recovered, unless what he’d done wasn’t in vain.

“Alipay received 888 yuan.” Just as he was bored and about to close the browser and shut his laptop, his phone vibrated with a notification sound, making him jump straight up—luckily the ceiling was high enough he didn’t hit his head, but his phone wasn’t so lucky; in his sudden movement, he lost his grip and it crashed hard onto the floor, the sound of breaking parts clearly audible.

Still, without checking it thoroughly, he dared not confirm whether it still worked.

He scrambled down the ladder in a panic, and when only two rungs remained, he leapt without hesitation.

After barely steadying himself by gripping the bed frame, he slowly stood up, picking up the phone at the same time. From behind, no cracks were visible—only the front revealed its damage, since it had fallen face-down; the impact was strong enough he himself couldn’t withstand it, let alone a phone—its inner screen was surely damaged.

The feel in his hand was grim; he nearly got pricked by sharp fragments—broken components were to blame. All he could do now was hope it still worked; otherwise, he couldn’t even leave the house—cash was gone, and his phone was dead. That would be unbearable.

“Ow!” As he carefully pressed the power button, fate seemed to play a small trick—another shard pierced his skin. Fortunately, it didn’t break the surface, so no bleeding or bandaging needed.

The sudden pain while he was intensely focused was the last thing he expected—he nearly dropped the phone again, and quickly gripped it firmly by the camera area to prevent another fall.

“Phew, careless!” Switching hands, he blew on the pricked finger repeatedly, trying to dull the pain. It worked—within moments, it felt much better. Or maybe it was psychological—he definitely felt a coolness around it, not chilling, just soothing.

Though he enjoyed the relief, he didn’t dwell on it—he hadn’t achieved his goal yet, so there was no time to relax. He had to confirm one thing: had he hallucinated? And his account wasn’t even linked to any game—how could money have been deposited? Only investigation could reveal the truth.

This time, no obstacles—the power button pressed, and the screen lit up as expected. Everything seemed normal. Of course, if you ignored the tiny cracks, it could still be called intact—at least the internal components were still quietly functioning, which was reassuring. OPPO forever the god!

After his sigh, it was time to check if Alipay had malfunctioned. Though the locked screen showed the app running and one unread message, he still doubted—what if it was just an ad? Since downloading it, ads never stopped—how could he know when another would pop up? This possibility couldn’t be ruled out.

He didn’t care whether it was real or not—right now, the truth was easy to uncover. Since it was right there, unlocking was all it took.

Damn,

Why do I keep typing wrong? Too nervous and anxious? Phew…

Seeing the phone prompt that he had three more attempts before locking for three minutes, the boy’s hopeful heart turned irritable. Earlier, the phone call interrupting his game and killing his character had been bearable due to shock—but now even his phone was bullying him? It was too frustrating.

Though his mood was bad, he still had to unlock it properly—otherwise the truth would remain out of reach, and that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Ding!” The phone finally unlocked on the last try. He’d actually forgotten his password—better reset it later, or he’d forget again and look like an idiot. But for now, he had more urgent matters.

Scrolling down, though many messages appeared—including the earlier cemetery purchase (claim) confirmation—none could overshadow the top-pinned Alipay alert: clearly, 888 yuan had just been deposited one minute ago. Even though the sender’s company name was unfamiliar, the fact of the deposit was undeniable.

The truth seemed clear, yet still shrouded in layers of mystery. Where had things gone wrong? Why did it still feel inexplicable?

Checking the Alipay interface confirmed he hadn’t been fooled—the ￥888 sat there quietly, as if waiting to be used. But its owner stood frozen, still not grasping the gravity of the situation.

“Could it be a glitch? Or did I just imagine it?” The boy couldn’t be sure—these were all guesses. Without solid evidence, he considered them illusions, refusing to fully believe what he saw.

“Ouch! That hurt?” After hesitation, he resorted to the old trick—pinching and twisting his slightly delicate cheek hard. The pain was real. The earlier shard prick was forgotten—this was his only self-reassuring excuse now. So whether he got pricked or not didn’t matter; his mind wasn’t on that.

“It… seems all real. But why can’t I believe it?” The boy muttered to himself, like he was possessed—he wouldn’t stop until he had an answer.

His mind raced, desperately searching his active thoughts for a way to pierce through the fog of mystery.

There was only one way to solve this now—if the surreal effect still worked… he dared not imagine what came next, because it was far beyond science, too hard to accept. First the cemetery claim, then the effortless red envelope—both impossible, yet real. They said no spirits after the founding of the nation—could it be…

Well, results still needed verification. The best object for testing right now was the phone in his hand. Combined with the previous two events, his suspicion pointed clearly to: ads.

First came the perfectly located, cool-in-winter-warm-in-summer cemetery. Then came the “honest for all ages” red envelope with “Lan Yue” rewards. If you thought seriously, not to suspect ads would be abnormal.

So his target wasn’t wrong—maybe he could even multiply his funds. He just hoped it wouldn’t end in empty hands—if he hadn’t invested any capital, he wouldn’t lose.

With this mindset, he reached for the financial products open on the app.

Surprisingly, after searching long, he found no target for testing—either the time was too long or the funds too low, with not even a glimmer of hope.

Was he really going to leave empty-handed? That couldn’t be right—he remembered ads constantly popping up. Why were they so quiet now? Unscientific!

The boy was deeply discouraged. He’d once struggled desperately to find ad-free apps—now, when he desperately sought ads, he found nothing. The situation had hit a dead end.

He didn’t know what to test with. His phone had few apps—besides Alipay and the messaging app Xinxin, only some games. Was he going to search Baidu? Joking—

Hmm? Baidu! That was the all-purpose app—anything you wanted, you could find it. Just not for illegal stuff.

Now he had to place all hope on it. Supper time had arrived, yet he hadn’t eaten. A moment’s distraction, and his stomach growled. If he didn’t eat soon, he’d collapse. Earlier he’d been hyper-focused; now his attention was scattered, because hope was slim. In modern society, no one believed in this kind of mysticism—unless it happened three times.

They say things don’t happen thrice. Though two had already occurred and matched strangely, he was still half-skeptical. This was too mystical—how could a poor student believe? You say ghosts exist, I’ll believe. You say you have superpowers? I’ll question your sanity. Don’t force-feed me ideas—I only believe what I choose. What I don’t believe? All nonsense. That was his way of turning the tables…

Pfft, nonsense. Forget it. No explanations. Serious matters demand seriousness—better understand the function first.

“I wonder if I really got something extraordinary…” His fingers kept operating, but his mind was distracted. He’d already lost hope—he didn’t expect much.

He couldn’t yet confirm the effect since he hadn’t seen any ads in the app—but deep down, he was 90% sure. Even if he dreamed of flying high, he didn’t show it—this wasn’t realistic.

He just wanted a result—good or bad. At least he’d gained a sliver of vanity. He was actually satisfied. A man’s happiness was this simple: a little sweetness, and he’d be glad for a long time. Maybe he’d glimpsed a bit of life’s truth.

No more digressions—he’d entered Baidu’s search bar, but didn’t know what to type. Something missing? A simple messaging app? “Momo”? Or “Soul”? Some hint would help—otherwise he’d be stuck again.

When choices are limited, ideas flow freely—but when the scope expands, not a drop comes out. Ugh, so hard. Never thought he’d be trapped in such a dilemma. If only he’d surfed the web more often—he wouldn’t be this speechless now.