Along the way, **Ethan Cole** pedaled so hard the bike chain felt like it might snap, his hands numb from the bumpy roads of River City, but he barely noticed—he just kept pushing furiously.
He wasn't only worried someone else might grab the doll first; he was desperate to confirm whether the system's information was actually real!
If it was accurate, and he could get similar high-value intel every Saturday, he'd be pulling in twenty to thirty thousand dollars a month!
And if he got another free upgrade opportunity next month, that income could double again!
Wouldn't that let him quickly help his family knock out a big chunk of their debt—so his dad wouldn't have to keep grinding away driving rideshare day and night?
Of course, he'd also have to come up with a believable story for his family about where all the sudden money was coming from.
Thanks to the shared bike, Ethan covered the 4.7 kilometers to the street beside Saint Claire Apartments in under twenty minutes. He found a dark corner without cameras, parked the bike, and locked it.
This was his first time doing anything remotely like this—he had zero experience.
What if the top donor later told the streamer about the watch and she called the police to check surveillance?
Better safe than sorry.
Ethan ducked into a 24-hour convenience store.
"Boss, can I get your largest plastic bag?"
"Huh?"
The clerk, who'd been scrolling short videos, thought he had a real customer—then heard it was just a bag request and immediately lost interest.
Without looking up, he tore off a big black trash bag and slapped it on the counter. "One dollar."
"Huh?"
One dollar for a plastic bag?
Ethan felt a flash of irritation.
But the store was a business—they weren't required to hand out free bags.
The clerk finally glanced up. "You want it or not?"
"I do."
Deciding the bag would do the job, Ethan didn't argue. He paid the dollar and left.
Back in the shadows, he flipped his jacket inside out, pulled on the mask, turned the plastic bag inside out to hide the store logo, then jogged toward the green belt in front of Saint Claire Apartments following the navigation.
"Hmm!"
From a distance he'd noticed a faint glow coming from one section of the landscaping and had grumbled to himself about why only that patch had mood lighting.
Now, standing right in front of it, Ethan realized there were no lights installed at all.
That glow… was the system highlighting the spot?
Everything it said was real!
After the frantic ride, nerves and excitement had left his throat bone-dry.
Victory so close, he could only swallow hard. "Should've grabbed a bottle of water earlier!"
He scanned the street—only a few scattered late-night pedestrians—but he no longer cared who might see. He started digging through the glowing patch of greenery.
It had to be said: after midnight, a masked young guy rummaging through roadside bushes looked pretty sketchy.
A couple of passersby did double-takes.
"There really is a doll!"
Luckily it was big enough to spot easily.
Ethan pushed aside some branches and there it was—a brand-new Doraemon plush, maybe thirty to forty centimeters tall, lying quietly in the dirt!
He didn't dare linger. He snatched it up and jogged away immediately.
"Oh, so he was just looking for a doll."
The few people who'd paused now understood and hurried on their way.
"There's definitely something hard inside."
Once he'd slipped around another corner, Ethan squeezed the plush firmly and felt a solid object.
"That top donor probably only pulled the doll out of his car to hand over when he was leaving."
As a guy himself, Ethan got why the donor played it that way.
He was probably worried that if he gave the gift too early and didn't get more "intimate time," he'd be out the watch—so he hid it inside.
The streamer must have accepted the doll, waited for the donor to drive off, then casually chucked it without ever checking inside.
Ethan mentally scoffed at both of them—one inflating value, the other playing hard to get—and felt zero guilt about taking the prize.
"Even if she calls the cops, they're not gonna launch a full investigation over a lost doll, right?"
Still, he didn't let himself get cocky. What if she posted about it online, the story went viral, and things spiraled?
He flipped his jacket right-side out again, ditched the mask, pulled up his hood, stuffed the doll into the plastic bag so nothing showed, then wandered into the nearby urban village until he found a public restroom.
"I worked way too hard for this—don't screw me over now!"
Heart pounding with excitement, Ethan unzipped the plush and started pulling out the stuffing into the bag. Sure enough, a small box tumbled out.
He tore it open eagerly.
Inside lay a ladies' Longines watch with a leather strap.
Staring at it, Ethan's hands began to shake.
"The system is real… I'm about to get rich!"
Thankfully the public restroom was clean and well-maintained; otherwise, in his current state of hyperventilation, he might've passed out on the spot.
Realizing he couldn't stay there forever, Ethan snapped the box shut, slipped it into his pocket, dumped the rest of the stuffing into the bag, and left.
On his way to find another shared bike, he disposed of the stuffing, the plastic bag, and the empty doll skin in three separate trash cans along different streets.
Better safe than sorry.
Doing everything he could to cover his tracks, Ethan scanned a new bike and rode slowly back to campus.
By the time he slipped back into the dorm, it was past one in the morning. His three roommates were dead asleep.
Ethan quickly wiped himself down with a towel, then tiptoed into bed.
After an hour of high-stress rushing, exhaustion hit hard the moment he lay down.
But every time he reached over and felt the watch box in his pocket, sleep refused to come.
Anyone whose life had just flipped upside down in the span of a single hour would probably struggle to close their eyes too.
…
Meanwhile, downstairs at Saint Claire Apartments, a woman with permed hair hurried to the green belt. Her long coat flapped open, revealing torn stockings underneath.
"Weird… I clearly remember tossing it right here. Where the hell is it?!"
No doubt—this was the female streamer the system had mentioned.
After seeing off her top donor, she'd gone straight into a late-night livestream. It wasn't until after a big PK battle—when she finally checked her other phone—that she saw the private WeChat message from the donor:
"There's a Longines watch inside the doll. It's a gift for you."
The second she read it, she froze.
She quickly said goodnight to her viewers, ended the stream, threw a coat over her streaming outfit, and bolted downstairs.
But even after tearing through the bushes until her stockings ripped, the doll was gone.
"Damn it—did someone already pick it up?!"
She immediately thought about calling the police and asking them to pull surveillance.
Then she hesitated.
If the cops asked how she got the watch, what was she supposed to say?
That it was a "gift" from her top donor?
What if they contacted him to confirm—and he found out she'd casually thrown the doll away?
She only had 300,000 followers, and a good chunk were bots or freeloaders who never spent. Real gift-senders were rare.
Landing a proper whale patron wasn't easy—she couldn't risk upsetting him and driving him to some other streamer.
In the end, the woman gritted her teeth, accepted the loss as bad luck, and started scheming how to squeeze more out of him during their next "private fan meet."