Li Jianfang, who had just woken up to fetch a glass of water, frowned when she noticed the faint glow seeping from beneath Li Zian's door. A glance at the clock confirmed it was already well past two in the morning.
She knew both Li Ziqing and Li Zian had been engrossed in something all evening, but she had not expected them to still be awake at this hour. With the jug of water in her hand, she hesitated for a moment before walking toward the door, intending to knock and remind them to rest.
But just as her hand lifted, a ripple of laughter broke through the silence. Their voices—playful, light, and filled with childish banter—floated out to her ears. The corners of her lips softened into a smile. For some reason, she felt it would be better not to disturb them. Quietly, she stepped back, her footsteps slow and measured as she returned to her own room.
Her mood was unexpectedly bright, her heart inexplicably light. For a mother, nothing was more precious than hearing the joy of her children.
In recent days, she had noticed a drastic change in Li Ziqing. The transformation had been difficult for her to accept at first—how swiftly her daughter had taken on responsibilities that were not hers to bear. Yet Li Ziqing not only carried them, she carried them well, far better than anyone could have expected of a fourteen-year-old girl. If not for her persistence, her clarity, and her uncanny maturity, how could they still be living in this house? How could their family now possess a thriving business that earned millions each day?
Everything made sense. Everything pointed back to her daughter's unyielding will.
And yet, a mother's heart was never free of fear. Li Jianfang worried, not for the business, not for the family's security, but for the tender years her daughter was sacrificing. At an age meant for innocence and dreams, Li Ziqing was already carrying the weight of the world. Was she not maturing too quickly, too harshly? When Li Jianping had spoken to her, he had convinced her to let go of her worries, but some fears cannot be reasoned away—they linger, gnawing in the quiet of the night.
But tonight… tonight was different. Hearing her daughter's youthful laughter, the soft cadence of her voice brimming with reverence and affection toward her brother, eased something deep in Li Jianfang's chest. For the first time in many days, she saw not the responsible little adult, but the child hidden beneath—the child she had feared was lost.
Her smile, however, slowly dimmed. A sudden ache gripped her heart, sharp and unforgiving, and before she knew it, her vision blurred with unshed tears. Unbidden, a memory surged forth—a shadow of the past, a wound that had never healed.
The image of a tiny face—faded, blurred, never fully formed—flashed through her mind. The emptiness clawed at her, tearing open wounds she had buried beneath years of silence. Her throat closed, a sob escaping despite her attempts to swallow it back.
Sitting there in the dim lamplight, she wept silently, her shoulders trembling. The laughter from Ziqing and Zian's room echoed faintly down the hall, only intensifying the knife that twisted in her heart. For she knew there should have been… someone else.
Her hand shook as she reached toward the cupboard, as though compelled by instinct. From the very back, she withdrew a small wooden box, its surface worn smooth with time. She did not open it—she never did. Just holding it in her lap was enough to unravel her.
Clutching the box against her chest, she buried her face into it and wept soundlessly, the tears soaking into the old wood. Her mind screamed with words she could never utter, with memories she could never speak aloud.
The world outside her room was quiet and serene. But within, Li Jianfang's heart bled for a loss too deep, too secret, too unbearable to name.
---
The moment Li Ziqing returned to her room, she did not head straight to bed. Instead, she quietly placed her belongings aside, powered on her MacBook, and let the faint hum of its startup fill the silence of the night.
Her fingers moved with practiced precision across the keyboard. Without hesitation, she bypassed routine security checks and slipped into the back-end of the Renren Wuhan City No. 1 Middle School forum. The forum's front page loaded with innocent chatter, but her eyes ignored the trivialities; her attention was solely fixed on tracing the digital footprints of the one who had dared to stir trouble.
Step by step, she navigated hidden directories, exploited overlooked vulnerabilities, and pulled metadata from the anonymous thread. Lines of code flickered across the screen as she triangulated IPs, sifted through masked proxies, and dismantled false trails with clinical efficiency.
Within minutes, the identity of the instigator was laid bare before her. Her gaze sharpened instantly, her dark eyes gleaming with a dangerous light as her lips curled into a smirk.
"The last lesson wasn't enough, was it?" she murmured under her breath, her voice low and laced with quiet menace. "Very well… this time, I'll make sure you understand the true consequences of offending me."
The glow of the monitor painted her face in a cold, pale light, highlighting the steel in her expression. She leaned back slightly, the smirk never leaving her lips, already planning her next move.
But just as Li Ziqing was thinking, she suddenly remembered the system notification she had received earlier. With a quick motion, she opened her personal attributes panel, her eyes scanning down to the newly updated line.
[Technical Expertise: 44 / 100 – Proficiency with modern technology, gadgets, and digital systems.]
Her pupils contracted in surprise. Forty-four? She clearly remembered the number being forty just yesterday. What stunned her, however, was not the increase—it was the meager gain.
After reading through more than forty technical books in a single day, grasping programming fundamentals, algorithms, coding structures, and even hacking concepts, had she only gained four points?
"System… did you make a mistake?" she muttered under her breath, her brows furrowing in disbelief.
[Ding… No mistakes have been made. As the system previously explained, attribute calculations are derived through the most advanced and precise mechanisms. What the Host absorbed today, though vast, was merely the surface of technology. The deeper the mastery, the greater the increase. Host still has much to learn. Keep learning, and your growth will multiply.]
Li Ziqing sighed softly, a trace of helplessness flashing across her delicate features. "I see… so that's how it works. Well, four points are better than nothing."
It had already been three days since her last attribute increase. Although the progress seemed slow, she now understood the mechanism and pattern clearly. Growth wasn't just about reading—it was about learning, applying, and expanding into deeper layers of knowledge. That was the true path to strengthening her attributes.
Her eyes shifted downward, catching a glimmer in another section. IQ: +1. A realization dawned on her. Every three points in expanded attributes translated into one point for the core attributes like IQ and EQ. And each increase in the core attributes, in turn, triggered a system reward.
With anticipation stirring in her chest, she spoke decisively, "System, grant me my reward."
[Congratulations, Host! You have obtained the FutureTech Blueprint: Seven Epochs of Smartphones. The system grants you seven successive smartphone designs, each representing the evolution of human technology across the next two decades. You will receive the complete mechanical blueprints, software systems, and one working prototype for each generation.]
As the voice faded, the room shimmered with light. A large pile of bound documents materialized on her desk, accompanied by seven sleek black boxes and a sealed scroll.
Li Ziqing's gaze immediately fell on the seven boxes. They were matte black, devoid of brand names or logos, each with an air of mysterious elegance. Judging by their weight, she knew they contained not only the devices but also their corresponding accessories.
Her heartbeat quickened. With trembling hands, she reached for the box at the very top and carefully lifted the lid.
The sight inside stole her breath.
"Wow… this… this is a real smartphone?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe.
Nestled within the cushioned lining was a device unlike anything she had ever seen. It was far sleeker than her current fruit-branded phone—its body a flawless slab of obsidian glass and metal, impossibly thin yet sturdy in her hands. The screen stretched edge-to-edge, a seamless, borderless display that shimmered faintly under the dim light.
There were no physical buttons marring its design, only a single, almost invisible touch-sensitive strip along the side for essential functions. At the back, a wide, precision-engineered camera lens occupied nearly a third of the panel, its crystalline finish reflecting rainbow hues under the light. It wasn't the tiny, pinhole-sized camera she was accustomed to, but a bold, dominating feature that radiated futuristic design philosophy.
Even the weight distribution felt perfect—as though the device wasn't just built for human use, but sculpted to fit the natural rhythm of the hand.
Her fingertips brushed across the glass-like surface, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in her wide, astonished eyes. A thrill of excitement rippled through her as she whispered to herself, almost in disbelief,
"This… this is decades beyond anything I ever saw back in 2015 in my past life. Truly… FutureTech."
For a moment, she lingered there, holding the device as though it were a relic from another world. But her gaze soon shifted to the sealed scroll resting silently beside the black boxes.
Li Ziqing hesitated only briefly before reaching out. With deliberate care, she picked up the scroll and, just as she had done twice before, slowly pressed it against her forehead.
The instant it touched her skin, the scroll came alive.
A surge of warmth rushed through her veins, followed by a blinding brilliance that seemed to pierce directly into the depths of her consciousness. Her body stiffened. Her lips parted in a silent cry as a torrent of information cascaded into her mind like an unstoppable flood. Schematics, codes, algorithms, blueprints of machines that had yet to exist—all of it carved themselves into her memory with merciless precision.
The pain was excruciating, "A-ah…!" Li Ziqing gasped, clutching her head as her knees buckled.
Her vision blurred. The glowing scroll dissolved into threads of golden light, which seeped into her skin until nothing remained. Her mind, however, felt as though it were being shattered and reforged in the same moment.
Unable to endure the searing agony, Li Ziqing collapsed onto her bed. Her MacBook slid to the side, forgotten, as she curled against the pillow. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, her breath ragged, her fists gripping the sheets tightly as wave after wave of pain struck her consciousness.
---
That day, the atmosphere in the final-year Rocket Class was as serious as ever. Although Shen Zeyan had stirred enough waves in the school over the past two days, the students in this class had already adjusted to his presence. No one dared to approach him casually—unless the teacher specifically sent someone to deliver materials, or a few daring girls who quickly lost their courage the moment his cold, razor-sharp gaze swept across them.
Such was Shen Zeyan's aura: distant, untouchable, and utterly unapproachable.
As always, he sat alone at the very last desk, seemingly oblivious to the lecture. His head was bent slightly, his hand moving steadily across the page. Fearless even under the teacher's direct gaze, he radiated an effortless defiance.
But over time, even the teachers had stopped reprimanding him. They had discovered an unsettling fact—no matter how distracted he appeared, Shen Zeyan could answer every question flawlessly when called upon. His brilliance was undeniable. He was, simply, a born genius.
Today was no different. He ignored the class and busied himself with something else. If one looked closely, they would see that he wasn't doodling but sketching strange, intricate diagrams and performing calculations that looked far too complex for a middle school student.
Just then, the classroom door burst open with a loud bang.
Three uniformed police officers strode in, their sudden entrance cutting the room's quiet tension like a blade.
A ripple of commotion swept through the students. Heads turned, whispers broke out, and uneasy glances darted around the room.
"Police? In our school?"
"What's happening?"
"Did they come to the wrong class?"
"No way… something big's about to go down."
Even the teacher on the podium stiffened. He quickly stepped forward, forcing a polite smile despite his unease.
"Officers, may I help you?"
The woman in front, clearly the leader, gave a curt nod. Her tone was calm, but her words carried weight.
"Indeed. We've received a formal complaint and supporting evidence that a student in this class has engaged in defamation, cyberbullying, and character assassination. We ask for your cooperation."
Her announcement was like a spark in dry grass. The classroom erupted into chaos.
"What? A student from our class?"
"That can't be right! Who'd even have the time?"
"Yeah, who's dumb enough to risk that?"
"Wait… could it be connected to that incident online? The one about the school belle, Li Ziqing?"
"Now that you mention it… it fits."
At the mention of Li Ziqing's name, a boy sitting midway through the class stiffened. His hand trembled slightly as he gripped his pen, his knuckles turning white. Panic flashed across his face.
His deskmate frowned, leaning closer. "Ma Hua… what's wrong? You've gone pale."
Startled, Ma Hua snapped out of his daze. He shook his head hastily, forcing out a strained laugh.
"N-nothing. I'm fine."
He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
Impossible, he told himself. There's no way that bitch could have traced it back to me. Everything I did was anonymous. Completely untraceable.
Even as he tried to steady himself, the unease in Ma Hua's chest refused to fade.
On the podium, the teacher's nervousness was visible, but he dared not interfere. He stepped aside respectfully, allowing the police officers to proceed.
"The complainant is also present," the female officer announced firmly, "accompanied by her legal representative."
The students all turned toward the door in unison.
And there she was—Li Ziqing.
She stepped into the classroom like a queen making her entrance, her posture straight, her chin lifted, every movement confident and precise. Today, she was dressed head-to-toe in understated luxury: a cream-colored Chanel cardigan paired with a pleated Dior skirt, simple yet elegant. On her feet were sleek white Gucci sneakers, youthful but unmistakably high-end. A delicate Hermès silk scarf was tied loosely around her neck, adding a soft touch of color, while her school bag—Hermes Kelly, though effortlessly slung over one shoulder—completed the ensemble.
There were no flashy accessories, only a slender Cartier bracelet gleaming faintly under the classroom lights. Simple. Youthful. Yet so perfectly polished that no one could mistake her for an ordinary high school student.
Gasps and hushed whispers broke out among the students.
"Wow… is that really all branded?"
"She looks like she walked straight out of a magazine shoot."
"Didn't they call her a kept woman online just a few days ago? Is this all about that?"
"She doesn't even look nervous. Look at her—like she owns the place."
"Didn't you hear what police officer said? Someone slendered her and that means everything online was fake."
"Do you mean she is actually rich? But didn't they say she is from Nothern district?"
"Who knows? May be she really hit rich"
But Li Ziqing ignored the whispers entirely. Today she has deliberately wore this outfit which was in a set rewarded to her by system after completing first main Mission. And she was really impressed.
Her gaze swept across the room once, calm yet razor-sharp, before lingering ever so briefly on Ma Hua. He stiffened under that fleeting glance, though she did not name him. Instead, she lifted her chin with effortless poise, her lips curving into a cold, mocking smile.
"I must say," Li Ziqing began lightly, her tone carrying a biting undercurrent, "the creativity of certain students is truly… impressive. To take a handbag and spin it into some sordid story about an old man? If this were literature class, I would award full marks for imagination."
A few nervous laughs broke out, quickly silenced by her icy gaze. Ma Hua, however, felt his palms grow clammy. His throat turned dry as he darted a glance at Li Ziqing and the officers standing near the door. The moment she entered the classroom, he knew—deep down—that his anonymity had been stripped away. A sliver of hope had remained, but her next words extinguished it completely.
"But unfortunately," she continued, her voice sharpening with steel, "this isn't literature. This is reality. And in reality, when someone cannot bear the consequences of their actions… they should never have acted in the first place."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the classroom. Students exchanged uneasy glances. Ma Hua's face burned red, yet he kept his head bowed, praying to remain invisible.
Li Ziqing's smile deepened, but her eyes grew frost-cold. "It seems," she said slowly, deliberately, "the lesson last time was still not enough. Some people believe that hiding behind anonymous usernames and spinning dirty rumors makes them untouchable. But unfortunately for them…" Her words trailed into silence, the pause heavy, suffocating the classroom. Then, softly, lethally: "…I am not someone who forgives easily."
The atmosphere grew taut as a wire. Even those who had whispered against her online now shrank under her gaze, their guilt gnawing at them. She than subtaly motioned the female officer to act, that's when a rushed footsteps were heard and a loud and booming voice of Lu Mairong rang across the corridor, "Li Ziqing, what the hell do you think you are doing?"
___
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