Chapter Six: Annoying Little Sisters, Don’t Get in the Way of Your Brother Earning Money!

For many boys, memories of youth, if not accompanied by the camaraderie of girls, probably belong solely to the arcades and internet cafes. Huo Qitai was no exception. Ever since elementary school, when he and Xue Xiaoshan secretly sneaked into a black-market internet cafe to play games like “Beachhead Landing” and “Bubble Hall,” a whole new world had opened up to him.

In middle school, under the strict supervision of his mother who accompanied him for study, Huo Qitai rarely had the chance to visit internet cafes.

It was only during the first two years of high school, while staying at his aunt’s house, that he truly let himself go—immersed in internet cafes, lost in games and all sorts of online novels.

Returning to the familiar yet strange “Public Internet Cafe,” Huo Qitai inhaled the cool air from the air conditioner. Among the scents was a faint odor of foot sweat, the unmistakable smell of secondhand smoke, and the aroma of instant noodles that always seemed to spark hunger.

“Ah! This is the scent,” he murmured. After so many years, he found himself strangely nostalgic for this very smell.

For many, the greatest childhood dream was to own a personal computer—to play all day long without anyone telling them what to do.

Fortune had been kind; that dream had largely been fulfilled. Yet now, staring at a computer all day at work, Huo Qitai sometimes felt like vomiting. At home, he would flop onto the sofa, too lazy even to open his gaming laptop.

“Playing games is only fun in an internet cafe!” he thought.

Before him were rows of computers, ashtrays full of cigarette butts atop them. He spotted some playing CrossFire, Dungeon & Fighter, and others grouped to play Dota. A few stylish, alternative-looking young girls danced nimbly with their fingers on QQ Dance.

Games like “MapleStory,” “Fantasy Westward Journey,” and “World of Warcraft” were also popular there. At this time, “Jianwang 3” and “Dragon Nest” were about to enter public beta.

In short, the internet cafe was the dominant entertainment hub for teenagers then.

Even if you didn’t play games, just sitting before a computer, listening to the theme songs of “Chinese Paladin 3” or “Star of the Sheep,” was a treasured moment for adolescent girls.

“Admin, start a machine. Let’s keep it running all night…”

Tapping his membership card, which still had over a hundred yuan left, Huo Qitai didn’t add more money.

Public Internet Cafe was one of the more affordable ones nearby: two yuan an hour for members, with discounts on overnight sessions—just six yuan to stay from 10 p.m. until 6 a.m.

To save money, back in his first and second years of high school, he often sneaked out late at night to grab overnight slots.

Passing the bar counter, he walked straight in and found a relatively clean private booth.

He booted up the machine, facing the familiar “Wanxiang Net Admin” system interface. After entering his membership number and password, he logged into the desktop.

Glancing at the nostalgic games on the desktop, Huo Qitai ignored them, directly opening the browser to search for high school study materials.

One window held the browser for reference, another opened a Word document where he copied and edited questions he found.

He worked steadily from noon until evening. This task was, after all, his old trade.

When he first started his entrepreneurial journey, he ran tutoring classes focused on the college entrance exam sprint.

He was intimately familiar with past exam papers from all provinces and subjects, able to answer any doubts from parents or students off the cuff.

More than that, he had summarized key review points and methods for each high school subject.

Students who enrolled in his hundred-day sprint class typically improved their total scores by over 50 points.

After all, the study methods he taught were distilled from a wealth of online materials, including shared experiences from top students at Tsinghua and Peking University.

Work… was always tedious and monotonous.

But when immersed, time passed more quickly.

“Phew… it’s been years since I did this; I feel a bit rusty,” Huo Qitai sighed.

His stomach rumbled. Glancing at the clock, it was already 8 p.m.

Too lazy to go out for food, he ordered a bowl of braised beef instant noodles through the system.

Instant noodles, besides being fragrant, had the advantage of speed.

Minutes later, the panda-eyed admin brought the noodles to his table.

Taking the chance to rest, Huo Qitai ate while opening QQ, which he hadn’t logged into for a long time.

After trying several passwords, he finally logged in.

“Beep beep beep…”

“Cough cough cough…”

These two QQ notification sounds were indelible memories for every youth.

His QQ name was “Huo Not Alone,” with his own photo as the avatar—styled in a somewhat alternative way.

His face was sharp and handsome, with long bangs covering one eye and half of his face, his skin pale almost sickly, exuding a roguish charm.

One had to admit, girls online really fell for this type of look.

So…

When bored, Huo Qitai randomly added girls online via QQ, almost always getting accepted.

In his “girlfriends” group alone, there were over a hundred young girls from all corners of the country.

Though the internet was chaotic, among the disorder there remained much innocence and beauty.

Scams like “tea-selling girls” hadn’t even taken root yet.

Young people used QQ for friendship, seeking sincerity, boredom relief, or just to video chat with attractive boys and girls.

Scamming money? No way—at most, someone might try to trick you into buying Q-coins.

Most people didn’t even have online banking; they simply bought Q-coins from the bar counter via the admin.

At that time, meeting online friends in real life was an impulsive act.

Huo Qitai knew of three older dropout workers in his village who had found wives through QQ.

Since middle school, when he first got QQ, he had been deeply immersed in this world.

Online, sometimes he was a mature man in his forties, comforting lost young girls’ broken hearts.

Other times, he was a ten-year-old boy seeking caring older sisters for emotional healing.

At his peak, Huo Qitai could manage over ten chat windows simultaneously, his keyboard nearly smoking from his typing speed.

Later, his ability to write novels at over ten thousand words per hour owed much to this experience.

Beep… beep…

While slurping his noodles, he opened chat windows, reading message after message from the girls.

╱/.Zang Ai.oо: “Uncle, you’re finally online! Let’s play QQ Dance together!”

ゞ灬Xiao Zhu Zhu╰→: “Little brat, are you on summer vacation? So late—do your parents still let you play on the computer?”

ヅAngel Pei Xiang Yao: “So bored! Your avatar is really handsome! It’s my type. Let’s start a video…”

〆﹏Qian Se: “Little perv here sent you a giant stinky fart after you logged in! Haha… fun, right?”

┌_Ku Gui Gui: “Why aren’t you replying? Did I do something wrong? Tell me, which city are you in? I want to find you; I don’t want to stay home…”

┌_Yong Yuan's Treasure: “Brother! Brother! How’s that literary love chat I mentioned? I really want to try it with you…”

…

Holy crap!

Reading these QQ messages, Huo Qitai’s long-dormant memories surged back.

“Was I really this uninhibited chatting with girls in high school?

No, maybe girls back then just chatted like this?”

He sipped the red broth of his noodles and tried to get into the mood, chatting with these girls about “youthful topics.”

Wow!

Once he started, he couldn’t stop; his keyboard soon smoked again.

Especially with some internet slang from ten years later, he teased the pretty girls so much they blossomed like flowers.

Before he knew it, it was nearly 10 p.m.

Snapping back to reality, he quickly closed each chat window.

“You pesky girls, don’t distract me from making money!”

He still had piles of research to do, documents to edit and format.

Whether he could earn this big sum—and an even bigger one—depended on every second now.

However, as he was about to close QQ entirely, he noticed a friend group labeled “Only One.”

There was only one grayscale avatar there: “Liu Rumeng.”

Her nickname was “Dreamlike Visit,” and her avatar was a default QQ image of a blue-haired girl wearing a yellow hairpin.

“Rumeng’s QQ hasn’t been online since the day we broke up.

All my messages feel like they’ve sunk into the sea…”

Just as Huo Qitai was feeling emotional, a sudden “cough cough” notification indicated the friend had come online. Liu Rumeng’s avatar shifted from grayscale to color.

Then, the blue-haired girl’s avatar began to bounce back and forth.

Beep beep…

Liu Rumeng had sent a message!

History was about to take another turn, and Huo Qitai was even more curious—who was really behind that message?

The real Liu Rumeng?

Or her sister, Liu Ruyu?

Dreamlike Visit: “Huo Qitai, can you change your college choice? Even though we broke up, I still hope you take responsibility for your life.”

As expected…

Huo Qitai had guessed the conversation would revolve around this topic.

Whether on the other end was the sister or the younger sister, he didn’t want to argue further.

So he simply replied, “See you at Peking University!”

Then, he right-clicked “Dreamlike Visit’s” avatar and set it to “Invisible to her while online.”

Once the message was sent, at the mountain villa, the two sisters crowded around the computer saw that “Huo Not Alone’s” avatar turned gray.

Liu Ruyu placed her hands on her hips and snorted:

“Rumeng.

Look at this!

See for yourself!

I wasn’t wrong!

This bastard is so arrogant—‘See you at Peking University,’ as if he’s definitely going to retake the exam and get in.

He didn’t say that just because I provoked him; your classmates can all testify.

The moment I mentioned breaking up, he agreed, quick and clean.

Oh ho! And he deliberately went offline…”

Liu Ruyu, who had been holding it in all day, vented bitterly to her sister.

But nearby, Liu Rumeng furrowed her brows slightly, her expression faintly doubtful.

“Qitai never says things he can’t do.

Sis, apart from what you and I talked about, did anything else really happen between you and Huo Qitai today?”

Hearing this, Liu Ruyu quickly interrupted:

“No… you and Mom grilled me all afternoon.

I swear everything I said is true.

Your morning heart attack had nothing to do with me.

I was wondering myself! How could I suddenly have such a fast heartbeat and struggle to breathe!”

As she spoke, Liu Ruyu’s gaze drifted, a faint blush tinged her rosy ears, warming them slightly.

“When the attack happened this morning, it felt strange.

It was different from any previous time—I can’t describe the feeling…”

Graceful Liu Rumeng pondered, pursing her lips.

Then, with a hint of sadness she said, “Sis, if… I mean if, the surgery fails, could you please live on as me while you’re still here in China?”

“Bah! Bah! Don’t say such foolish things!

Rumeng! Medical technology abroad is much more advanced.

Mom and Uncle found you the top heart specialist from Harvard Medical School—it will be fine, it will definitely be fine…”

Liu Ruyu hugged her younger sister tightly, blaming herself:

“It’s all my fault! When we were in Mom’s womb, I kept stealing your nutrients, causing your heart’s congenital malformation…”

…

Meanwhile, back in the internet cafe, after setting “Invisible to her” on QQ, Huo Qitai planned to log off and focus on his research.

But just then, a girl named “ゞYour Stinky Treasure_” from the girlfriends group sent a string of messages.

ゞYour Stinky Treasure_:

“Huo Gege, are you there?”

“I’m so upset! I want to chat with you!”

“Have your college entrance exam results come out? Are you really going to a university in the capital like you said?”

“Why not come to Jinling? There are many good universities here.”

“Would you consider Jinling’s universities? That way, when school starts in September, we could meet.”

…

Since she mentioned many real details, Huo Qitai paused to review the chat history.

But after flipping through several pages of meaningless flirtation, and seeing her mainstream nickname “ゞYour Stinky Treasure_,” he simply could not recall who she was.

“She’s probably someone I randomly added during online chats in Jinling.

Later, after being heartbroken by Liu Ruyu, I deleted all my female QQ friends.”

Confirming she wasn’t one of his classmates, he chose to ignore her.

Yet “ゞYour Stinky Treasure_” sent another long message, including a photo of herself.

“Huo Gege, why aren’t you replying?

I’m really frustrated lately—a classmate posted a photo of me drinking milk tea last year online, and now a bunch of people are adding me on QQ.

The people online are so annoying; because of that photo, they nicknamed me ‘Milk Fragrance Little Sister.’

It’s really ugly!

Milk tea is such a cheap drink—I rarely drink it; I usually drink Starbucks coffee.

That day, a classmate treated me, and I couldn’t refuse, so I reluctantly took a few sips.

Who knew someone took a photo and posted it online, and it spread everywhere…”

…