Pausing for a moment, Li Caifeng didn’t forget why she had come upstairs to see her daughter in the first place. She shook the folder in her hand and spoke to Hu Yao’er, the avatar controlled by Yan Qi.
“Enough about that, Xiao Qi. Stop hiding under the covers. The novel contract you mailed out the other day has been returned. Hurry up and check if there are any issues.”
“The novel contract’s already back? When did the editors start processing signings this fast?”
Yan Qi, who had expected it to take a few more days before receiving the contract, couldn’t help but grumble inwardly.
“Xiao Qi, why aren’t you moving?”
Seeing that Yan Qi was still lying in bed without any intention of getting up after hearing her words, Li Caifeng looked at her sternly.
Realizing that staying still would only make her mother angry, Yan Qi immediately controlled her avatar, Hu Yao’er, to respond.
“Mm, I’ll get up right away.”
After speaking, Yan Qi quickly made her avatar move, pretending to throw off the covers and stand up.
Watching Hu Yao’er’s actions, Li Caifeng stood quietly to the side, holding the contract and waiting.
But just then, the doorbell downstairs suddenly rang.
Distracted, Li Caifeng had to shift her attention and called downstairs,
“Coming, coming! Just a moment!”
After shouting, she quickly turned back to Yan Qi’s avatar, Hu Yao’er, and said,
“We have a guest. I’ll leave your contract on the desk for now. Make sure to look it over later.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Once she got Hu Yao’er’s reply, Li Caifeng quickly placed the contract on the desk and hurried downstairs to the front door.
Hearing her mother’s footsteps fade away, Yan Qi let out a sigh of relief.
But she knew her time was precious, so she swiftly made her avatar get out of bed and close the bedroom door as fast as possible.
The moment the door shut, Yan Qi—now transformed into a virtual diva—seized the chance to emerge from the computer, shifting from a digital form back into a physical one.
In the next second, she canceled her transformation and avatar, reverting to her original form: a petite white-haired, red-eyed little girl, standing only 1.4 meters tall.
“Phew… Good thing being a virtual diva lets me control any internet-connected device. Otherwise, Mom would’ve realized the person lying in bed wasn’t me but my avatar, Hu Yao’er. Explaining that would’ve been a mess.”
Sitting on her bed and patting her flat chest, Yan Qi muttered to herself.
Then, pushing aside the close call, she picked up the contract folder her mother had left on the desk and began carefully reviewing it.
Just as Yan Qi was scrutinizing the returned contract for any issues, Li Caifeng returned upstairs, looking puzzled.
“That’s weird. I definitely heard the doorbell, but when I opened the door, no one was there…”
Thinking this, she re-entered Yan Qi’s room.
Seeing that Yan Qi had already gotten out of bed and was flipping through the contract, Li Caifeng dismissed the doorbell incident as a prank and walked over with a concerned tone.
“So, Xiao Qi, is there anything wrong with the contract?”
Yan Qi closed the folder, now signed, and replied,
“No issues, Mom.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. The platform I signed with is well-known in the industry. They wouldn’t pull any tricks in the contract.”
“If there’s no problem, then that’s good. Congratulations, Xiao Qi—from today on, you can support yourself!”
Relieved by her daughter’s answer, Li Caifeng broke into a smile, reaching out to pat Yan Qi’s head with a proud tone.
Not minding the affectionate gesture, Yan Qi blushed slightly, her face glowing with happiness.
“Thanks, Mom.”
……
While Yan Qi and Li Caifeng were sharing this heartwarming mother-daughter moment, Guo Liangming—who lived in the same city—was in a terrible mood.
The reason for his foul temper? His phone had just received an anonymous email from an unknown sender.
At first glance, the email’s subject line contained a note saying, “You’ve spent your whole life raising someone else’s son.” Feeling insulted, Guo Liangming’s face darkened instantly.
Without hesitation, he opened the menu and tapped Delete, trying to rid his phone of the offending message.
But for some reason, no matter how many times he tried, the email refused to disappear.
Realizing his phone had likely been hacked, Guo Liangming gave up on deleting it and cursed inwardly:
“With skills like these, why hack my phone instead of the Pentagon? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
After silently venting, he calmed down and ignored the stubborn email, shutting off his phone and tossing it into a drawer.
Then, he pulled out a backup phone, intending to use it instead.
But the moment his backup phone powered on—before he could even feel relieved—a notification popped up:
“You have a new email in your inbox.”
A bad feeling crept over him.
Swallowing his unease, he opened the mailbox on his backup phone.
And there it was—the same anonymous email, waiting for him.