Chapter 81: Reasons

That day, after finishing the editing, Wu Yuchen finally relaxed a bit—the other post-production tasks could be handed over to others. These people had been working with him since Car 44, and after making The Night the Comet Came, their experience was nearly sufficient; Wu Yuchen couldn’t handle everything himself forever.

Of course, he wouldn’t shortchange them either—when distributing red envelopes to the crew of The Night the Comet Came, the behind-the-scenes staff received their share too.

After leaving Qingying Factory, Wu Yuchen strolled around the campus of Jingying, stretching his limbs. As he walked, he spotted two familiar faces near the classroom building.

“Chen Kun, the exam is over, don’t overthink it. Wait for the results and tell me. If you don’t make it, I’ll think of a way.”

Chen Kun nodded. He had just returned to Beijing after taking the college entrance exam in Shancheng, eager to earn money. When Teacher Cui called to check on everyone’s status, he came straight to school for a face-to-face chat.

Every year after the college entrance exam, the admissions teachers for the performance classes felt anxious, because some promising students would fall short in academic scores.

For example, Zhang Ziyi didn’t even take the exam—she was out performing on exam day. When Teacher Chang learned this, she was frantic. Eventually, she combed through every regulation and found one exception: a student who had won the Taoli Cup could be exempted from the academic test, so she pulled Zhang Ziyi in.

Cui Xinqin felt the same way. Although she had a few slots to apply for lowered admission thresholds for students, she couldn’t lower them too much.

“Teacher Cui!”

Cui Xinqin turned around and smiled: “Oh, Wu Yuchen? Why are you still on campus during summer break?”

Wu Yuchen smiled: “I’m just wandering around. Didn’t expect you to still be busy on such a hot day.”

At this time, the college entrance exam was still held in July—it wouldn’t move to June until 2003.

Then Wu Yuchen turned to Chen Kun: “You’re Chen Kun, right?”

Chen Kun was surprised and nodded: “You know me?”

“I saw your performance at the Oriental Song and Dance Troupe. I’m friends with Li Xiaoran.” Wu Yuchen smiled. Chen Kun immediately understood.

Seeing the two students chatting, Cui Xinqin didn’t linger. “You two talk. I need to handle other students.”

After Cui Xinqin left, Chen Kun asked: “How’s Xiaoran lately?”

“Probably fine. I’ve been busy lately and haven’t contacted her.” Wu Yuchen realized, upon Chen Kun’s question, that he hadn’t spoken to Li Xiaoran in months.

These past months, he’d been filming We Two and The Night the Comet Came, had Jiang Qin around him, and often called to check on Ceng Li’s exam prep—he’d simply forgotten.

Seeing Wu Yuchen’s expression, Chen Kun ventured: “You didn’t know?”

“What?”

“Xiaoran quit her job.”

“What? When did that happen?” Wu Yuchen asked, startled.

“I don’t know exactly when. I quit my job and returned to Shancheng to take the exam right after the art test. A friend in Beijing told me just the other day.”

Chen Kun spoke with a mix of regret and envy. Though he and Li Xiaoran were both in the Oriental Song and Dance Troupe, their incomes were worlds apart—he had no official position. If he had one, he wouldn’t have considered taking the art exam at all; household registration and income issues would’ve been solved instantly. Yet Li Xiaoran had quit anyway.

Wu Yuchen frowned: “What exactly happened? Do you know more?”

“I heard something went wrong in the troupe. I only caught a snippet—I don’t know the details.”

Wu Yuchen nodded, then said to Chen Kun: “Thanks! I didn’t introduce myself earlier—I’m Wu Yuchen, about to enter my second year. If you ever need anything at Jingying, come find me!”

“No problem.” Chen Kun shook Wu Yuchen’s hand.

Wu Yuchen had no more interest in chatting with Chen Kun. He hadn’t expected Li Xiaoran to quit, just as she had in his past life. As he walked, he pulled out his phone and called her—no answer. He called her home instead, asking her mother a few cautious questions. The family seemed completely unaware—still thinking she was working at the troupe.

Seeing this, Wu Yuchen headed straight to her rented apartment.

Knock knock knock. After several knocks, Li Xiaoran approached the door and peered out cautiously: “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Hearing Wu Yuchen’s voice, Li Xiaoran sighed in relief, opened the door, pulled him inside, then slammed it shut immediately.

Wu Yuchen looked at Li Xiaoran—her hair messy, eyes half-asleep, wearing a short home pant and revealing her pale legs; her top was loose and bulging.

But he had no time to notice that. He saw how carefully she’d opened the door and knew something was wrong again.

“Xiao Ran, why did you quit?”

“Huh? How do you know?”

“Never mind how I know. Tell me what happened. I called your mom—she didn’t even know.”

“You didn’t tell my parents, did you?” Li Xiaoran asked anxiously.

“No, I kept it secret. So what’s going on?”

Hearing Wu Yuchen mention it, Li Xiaoran’s face fell.

“Don’t even bring it up. I’m sick of it. It’s all because of that guy Lu again.”

“Did he come back to harass you? And did it get you fired?!” Wu Yuchen frowned. He hadn’t thought that guy Lu was this powerful.

Li Xiaoran waved her hand: “No, just him alone. And he’s bankrupt.”

“What?” This twist stunned Wu Yuchen.

Li Xiaoran sat Wu Yuchen down, handed him a drink, and continued: “I don’t know the full story, but he kept shouting he’d been set up, lost everything. Soon after the New Year, he showed up at our troupe demanding every cent back for the flower baskets he’d sent.”

Wu Yuchen remembered hearing that this Lu guy had come once before, failed to get money, and left. He never expected him to become a pauper so quickly—and return again.

Wu Yuchen remembered hearing that this man Lu had come once before to demand payment, left without success, and never expected fate to turn so swiftly—he’d now returned as a pauper to beg again.

“Our troupe wouldn’t pay back! They threw him out. When he realized he couldn’t touch the troupe, he started harassing me—staying outside the entrance every day, yelling that I’d spent so much money on him and I had to take responsibility.”

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I paid him 5,000 yuan to leave me alone. But he got worse—he started claiming I’d swindled him 100,000 yuan, called me a seductress, and refused to leave unless I paid.”

Wu Yuchen frowned. He never imagined that once-intimidating figure had become such a shameless nuisance.

“Didn’t your troupe do anything?”

“That’s what makes me furious. I called the police several times, but they said it’s our own problem. I was already stressed, then my supervisor came and scolded me, telling me to fix it quickly and not bring shame to the troupe.”

“The gifts they received—I only got a small bonus, and I’ve already spent it all. Now they blame me! I argued with my supervisor and quit on the spot.”

Li Xiaoran pouted, clearly indignant and hurt.

Wu Yuchen hadn’t expected such a small incident to spiral into this. It completely surprised him—and now he finally understood why Li Xiaoran had quit.

He remembered how she’d peeked out nervously when opening the door. A thought struck him.

“Is that Lu guy still bothering you?”

Li Xiaoran nodded: “He found my place. He bangs on my door every few days demanding money. I’ve been trapped at home for ages.”

“Why don’t you go back to your parents’ place?”

“If I went back, he’d follow me to their gate and make a scene—how would they face people? They’d be humiliated.”

Wu Yuchen sighed inwardly. Dealing with someone this shameless was truly disgusting.

“Why didn’t you contact me?”

Li Xiaoran glanced at Wu Yuchen, then turned away: “I didn’t want to trouble you. Aren’t you dating someone?”

Li Xiaoran glanced at Wu Yuchen, then turned her head away. “I didn’t want to trouble you—you’re in love, aren’t you?”

Wu Yuchen wanted to scold her, but thought better of it. Instead, he said:

“I’ll stay with you these few days. Go get me a place to sleep.”

“Really?!” Li Xiaoran’s eyes lit up with joy. With Wu Yuchen staying, she wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore.

“Do you think I’d joke about this?”

Li Xiaoran happily hugged Wu Yuchen, beaming: “You’re the only one who truly cares for me~”

She pulled him inside excitedly, leading him to a desk with a computer.

“Let me tell you, computer games are so fun! I’ve been playing every day since I quit!”

Wu Yuchen looked at the outdated computer and asked: “You bought a computer after quitting? Do you even have money left?”

He knew computers cost over ten thousand yuan back then. Li Xiaoran wasn’t the saving type, had already paid that Lu guy 5,000 yuan, and hadn’t earned anything in months—she was probably broke!

Li Xiaoran wrinkled her nose and waved her hand: “I bought it before I quit. Don’t worry about it.”

She’d bought the computer out of spite after being annoyed by Wu Yuchen—but she was the type whose moods came and went quickly. That incident was long forgotten; now she just wanted to show off.

“Let me tell you, playing Monopoly is so fun! I’ll teach you later—you’ll be addicted in no time!”

Hearing “Monopoly,” Wu Yuchen felt a wave of nostalgia.

He didn’t need her to teach him—he crushed her in two straight games, making her scream in disbelief: “Impossible! I can’t be this bad!”

While Li Xiaoran went to cook, Wu Yuchen noticed the “Chinese Paladin” game icon on the desktop and felt a pang of nostalgia—lost youth.

When Li Xiaanan brought over two bowls of noodles, she saw Wu Yuchen opening “Chinese Paladin” and said: “This game’s fun at first, but after a week or two, it gets boring.”

“Boring?” Wu Yuchen asked, surprised. How could such a classic game be boring?

“Yeah. Just wandering around that fishing village, fighting little bees. I played for two weeks and got tired of it.” Li Xiaoran complained.

Wu Yuchen tilted his head, staring at her. If he could’ve sent an emoji, he’d have sent a confused black man face.

“What part of the story have you reached?”

“Story? Isn’t this just a game about fighting little bees?” Li Xiaoran said, eyes wide and innocent.

Wu Yuchen’s lips twitched. She’d been playing for two weeks—and still stuck in the fishing village, fighting little bees?

This idiot didn’t even know the game had a storyline?

He loaded a save file and saw Li Xiaoyao standing at Shili Slope, his level clearly displayed: 31.

“How many hours a day do you play?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got nothing else to do at home.”

Wu Yuchen was speechless. He’d heard of a player from Taiwan who spent half a year grinding at Shili Slope to reach level 71—called the “Shili Slope Sword God.” Now he met Li Xiaoran, who’d spent two weeks grinding little bees to reach level 31.

Wu Yuchen used the mouse to guide Li Xiaoyao to the docks, clicked the NPC, and the screen shifted—he was now on a boat at sea.

Li Xiaoran stared, dropped her noodle bowl on the desk, and gasped: “Wait! You can take a boat out to sea?!”

She forgot about eating, rushed over, and snatched the mouse to take control herself.

Wu Yuchen didn’t fight her. He watched her excitedly guide Li Xiaoyao around aimlessly, then sat aside and ate his noodles.

Li Xiaoran stared in awe, threw the bowl of noodles onto the table, and exclaimed, “Oh! You can actually take a boat out to sea!”

Now she forgot about eating, shoved over, and snatched the mouse to operate it herself.

Wu Yuchen didn’t argue with her; he watched as she excitedly guided Li Xiaoyao on a random tour, then went aside to eat his noodles.

At midnight, Wu Yuchen urged beside Li Xiaoran: “Sister Ran, it’s time to make up my bed.”

“How old are you? Make it yourself!” Li Xiaoran didn’t even turn her head—she was hooked on her computer.

“If you don’t, I’m sleeping on your bed!”

“Be my guest~” She shoved Wu Yuchen aside.

Wu Yuchen knew she’d get lost in her game and ignore everything, so he stopped bothering her, took a shower, put on a tank top and loose shorts, and collapsed onto the bed to sleep.

The next morning, half-asleep, Wu Yuchen felt something pressing against his chest—he opened his eyes to find a pale, bare arm lying there.

He gently lifted Li Xiaoran’s arm and moved it aside. Beside him, she lay sprawled in a completely ungraceful pose, fast asleep—he had no idea what time she’d finally stopped playing.

Wu Yuchen thought Li Xiaoran was truly gifted: her skin whiter than snow, her figure delicate and perfect.

There were certainly others in the industry with better bodies, but almost none with skin as flawless as hers—her skin glowed with radiance, the whitest he’d ever seen in a woman, without exception.

Li Xiaoran had a devoted fan named Chen Shu, who in his past life had repeatedly praised her beauty on various shows. Here’s what he actually said: “Back in school, I kept wondering how someone could grow up so perfectly! Thick eyelashes, porcelain skin, big, glossy eyes—so heartbreakingly lovely. Standing beside her made me feel like an ugly duckling—I was insanely jealous. She was clearly born with a golden spoon in her mouth!”

Wu Yuchen then quietly got up. He couldn’t stay here forever—he had to check on the post-production of “The Two of Us” during the day, and would come back at night to keep her company. If anything happened, she could call him anytime. As he left, he also began thinking of a way to deal with that bastard Lu San.

When he returned in the afternoon, Wu Yuchen carried a bag. Inside, he found Li Xiaoran awake, sitting motionless in front of her computer.

He set the bag down, walked over, and saw her legs curled up on the chair, eyes red and tears streaming down. He asked: “What’s wrong?”

Li Xiaoran, seeing Wu Yuchen beside her, sobbed: “What kind of garbage game is this?! Why did Lin Yueru die?!”

Wu Yuchen glanced at the screen—it was the scene where Lin Yueru perished. One of the most heartbreaking moments in the game, clearly, Li Xiaoran had broken down.

He chuckled:

“Should I delete this game?”

“You dare!”

Li Xiaoran shot him a glare, then burst into louder sobs: “My Yueru!”

Wu Yuchen smiled knowingly—this was a rite of passage for every Sword and Fairy fan. Girl, you’ve got an even sadder ending waiting for you!

…

Deep night.

Lu San, once Lu Boss, now Lu Pauper, shuffled toward Li Xiaoran’s door in flip-flops.

He had nothing left—his business gone, his thugs scattered, his former swagger and presence vanished. He dared not provoke anyone with influence; the only thing he still hoped to squeeze money from was Li Xiaoran. So he’d show up unannounced to harass her. The police couldn’t touch him—he had nothing but time.

As he reached her door, ready to bang as usual, he noticed the door wasn’t fully closed. A light push opened it.

Lu San peered inside. On the living room floor lay a makeshift bed—and on it, a muscular young man. He squinted: wasn’t this the soldier Li Xiaoran had dated half a year ago? Had he returned from the army? Was he sleeping here on purpose, waiting for him?

Lu San hesitated. He had no thugs now, just a forty-something man whose body had been drained by smoke and alcohol. He could bully women, but facing a soldier? He’d be beaten half to death.

Just as he turned to leave, the hallway light revealed several thick stacks of cash on the table—his eyes instantly burned red, his feet rooted to the spot.

He counted: fifty thousand yuan. He swallowed hard, clenched his teeth—this money was owed to him anyway!

Seeing Wu Yuchen still fast asleep, Lu San kicked off his flip-flops, tiptoed into the room. Wu Yuchen didn’t stir—his breathing deep and even.

Lu San grabbed the cash, stack by stack. His heart pounded, his excitement soaring—he’d flee Beijing tonight, head straight for Yangcheng.

Everything felt like a dream. As Lu San stepped one foot out the door, he nearly sprinted—no flip-flops, no hesitation. But before he took two steps, a kick from behind sent him crashing to the floor.

Wu Yuchen pinned him from behind, landed a few hard blows, then pulled out a rope and tied his hands, shouting: “Sister, call the police!”

Over an hour later, Wu Yuchen and Li Xiaoran had finished their statements.

Lu San initially denied everything—but caught red-handed, he couldn’t deny it. Then he switched to claiming it was his debt, that taking it was justified. Ha. Let’s see if anyone believed his lies.

Outside, Li Xiaoran asked: “The police said—is this theft or robbery?”

“Theft.”

“If only they could call it robbery,” Li Xiaoran sighed.

Wu Yuchen understood—she wanted him locked up as long as possible. She never wanted to see him again.

He smiled softly: “Don’t worry—he won’t be out for ten years.”

“What? Really? I heard some thieves get out in six months or a year?” Li Xiaoran asked.

Wu Yuchen said calmly: “The amount’s different. And he ran straight into the crosshairs.”

This year, an event few knew about—and even fewer mentioned—occurred. A high-ranking official, whose name couldn’t be spoken, was stabbed to death during a theft. Absurd. Unreal. But it happened. The incident triggered furious outrage. A seismic shock rocked every hidden corner of the capital, followed by a nationwide second wave of crackdowns.

Now, precisely during this special period, Lu San’s theft was the perfect target—he’d walked straight into the gun barrel. If he doesn’t spend ten years inside sewing machines, he won’t be walking out again.

After hearing Wu Yuchen’s explanation, Li Xiaoran was certain she’d never be bothered again—relief flooded her, as if the dark clouds hanging over her head had finally lifted.

She leapt up, wrapped her arms around Wu Yuchen’s neck, and planted several loud kisses on his face, exclaiming joyfully: “I love you so much!”

On the empty night street, only her cries echoed. Wu Yuchen, swept up in her joy, spun her around in place.

He felt the soft, bouncing weight against his chest—he couldn’t help but marvel: his Sister Ran had an incredible body. He was barely holding on.

That night, back home, Li Xiaoran couldn’t sleep from excitement—she dragged Wu Yuchen into gaming.

Wu Yuchen had no energy to join her—he turned and went straight to his room to sleep. The post-production of “The Two of Us” was nearly done—he planned to oversee it closely.

The next day, Li Xiaoran pushed the fifty thousand yuan away: “Take it away, take it away—I don’t need your money~”

“You won’t even take it when I offer? You’ll never get this chance again,” Wu Yuchen raised an eyebrow.

Li Xiaoran thought of her bank account—now down to just two hundred yuan—but still declared firmly: “I’ll earn money doing ads and photo shoots.”

Wu Yuchen gave her a thumbs-up, then tucked the cash into his bag: “A truly independent new woman—far stronger than the goddesses of twenty years from now. I give you a standing ovation!”

Li Xiaoran didn’t understand what Wu Yuchen was rambling about—in her mind, wasn’t this just normal?

Wu Yuchen considered that Li Xiaoran had quit her dance troupe job—she’d likely pursue acting. He asked: “Sister Ran, seriously—have you ever thought about applying to a film academy?”