Investigating household registration is nowhere near as simple as checking a penguin account’s real name; there’s so much more involved, and you can’t get results in just a short time.
Chen Xiaoyan, still asleep under her covers, had no idea that Mu Qingxue had almost dug up all her ancestors for eighteen generations.
Because of this sleep, she felt particularly refreshed.
On the morning of the fourth, after breakfast, Chen Xiaoyan tossed the women’s clothes from yesterday into the washing machine.
She had thought about those outfits all night and decided not to throw them away.
Why?
Had she become addicted to cross-dressing?
No!
Because yesterday’s success in women’s clothing gave Chen Xiaoyan a bold new idea.
She’d use those clothes again in the future—no point wasting time buying new ones later.
Now is the age of information networks.
For a lady like Mu Qingxue, getting someone’s personal information just takes a bit of money—or perhaps, with the Mu family’s influence in Zhongzhou, she could manage it herself.
Chen Xiaoyan wasn’t a gambler.
The whole “life and death are destined, wealth comes from Heaven” idea didn’t work for her.
Leaving her fate to some vague, illusory luck and doing nothing at all—that was just plain stupid.
She also wouldn’t bet on whether Mu Qingxue would get bored enough to investigate her.
That was before—when there was no other way.
Now that she had a solution, even if it wasn’t perfect, Chen Xiaoyan was determined to give it a try.
Chen Xiaoyan, Chen Xiaoyan.
She was deeply regretful—why on earth had she blurted out her real name?
Now it was nearly impossible to patch things up.
All she could do was use the brother-sister story line.
And the siblings had to have a tragic backstory, and couldn’t even be biological siblings.
After all, there was no “Chen Xiaoyan” listed in the Chen family’s household register. If she was going to fake it, she couldn’t leave the slightest flaw.
As for the tragic backstory, she’d have to cook something up.
Tianxin Mountain, halfway up the slope, in a small courtyard.
Chen Xiaoyan stretched lazily, breathing in the fresh air from the game.
Not seeing each other for a day felt like three long autumns.
She immediately sent private messages to Mu Qingxue, Chongchong, and the others.
[Dao is Emptiness: What happened yesterday? You didn’t log in.]
[Chongchong: Sister Xiaoyan, welcome back! I was so bored without you yesterday.]
[Chongchong: Today you have to make it up to me!]
Seeing Liu Yue’s reply, Chen Xiaoyan realized she didn’t seem to have added her in real life (ps: author didn’t forget, right?).
[Chen Xiaoyan: Xiaoyue, something came up yesterday, so I couldn’t log in. By the way, send me your penguin account, I’ll add you after I go offline.]
[Dao is Emptiness: Sure, penguin number is…]
[Dao is Emptiness: Was it something important? This is the first time you didn’t log in. You kind of scared me yesterday.]
[Chen Xiaoyan: Just a minor thing, it was all a false alarm. How’s the recruitment for Sword Pavilion going?]
Seeing Chen Xiaoyan change the topic, Liu Yue didn’t press further.
[Dao is Emptiness: Everything’s going smoothly.]
After chatting with Liu Yue for a while, Chen Xiaoyan closed the private message window.
Hmm, am I forgetting something?
Forget it, must not be important.
Chen Xiaoyan opened the friends’ channel and saw that Mu Qingxue was online.
She was a bit puzzled.
She was clearly online—why no reply?
Maybe she was busy?
She teleported to the top of Tianxin Mountain, and as soon as she stepped out of the teleportation array, she saw Chongchong in front, cheeks puffed up like a little hamster.
“You’ve been waiting for me here?” Chen Xiaoyan smiled and walked over.
“I’m not as cold as some people—after waiting so long, I don’t even get a reply.”
“Ah? Hahaha,” Chen Xiaoyan gave an awkward laugh.
Then she slapped her forehead as if having a sudden revelation and said, “No wonder I’ve been feeling unsettled. Turns out I forgot to reply to our adorable Chongchong. Sigh, I really am hopeless.”
“I don’t buy it,” Chongchong rolled her eyes and hugged Chen Xiaoyan’s left arm, pouting. “I don’t care about anything else—today, we have to go to the back mountain together!”
“Uh…” Chen Xiaoyan hesitated.
“Chongchong, but what about Sword Pavilion…? Shouldn’t we go there?”
“We’ll go tomorrow.”
“There’ll be other things to do tomorrow.”
“Sister Xiaoyan, do you know how I spent yesterday? Lying on the floor in the little courtyard, staring at the sky, spacing out the whole day.”
“As compensation, we must go to the back mountain today—even Aunt Flo won’t get in the way!”
This time, Chongchong was unusually assertive.
Chen Xiaoyan was left dumbfounded.
She didn’t realize that, once you get used to someone’s company, if they suddenly disappear one day, you find that nothing interests you—your heart just feels empty.
Chongchong was in that kind of state.
“You silly girl, even if I’m not around, you should enjoy the game. Are you playing just because of me?”
When Chen Xiaoyan heard that Chongchong spent all day zoning out yesterday, she playfully flicked her forehead.
Then, she headed for the back mountain.
“Come on, let’s slack off for today, but you’re not allowed to do this again.”
“Mm,” Chongchong covered her forehead, voice as tiny as a mosquito.
Watching Chen Xiaoyan’s back, a strange light flashed in her eyes.
She had started playing Immortal Realm purely out of curiosity, to see what the world’s first full-dive VRMMO was like.
But now, it was different.
Now, the best part of every day was logging in to see her, to hold her hand, and roam the ends of the earth together.
She wondered what kind of person she was in real life.
Lost in these thoughts, Chongchong quickly fell far behind.
By the time she snapped out of it, Chen Xiaoyan was nowhere to be seen.
“Honestly, Sister Xiaoyan doesn’t even wait for me,” Chongchong complained, stomping her foot before using Gale Steps to dash quickly toward the back mountain.
Back Mountain Peach Blossom Grove.
Chen Xiaoyan inhaled the sweet fragrance of peach blossoms, the scent reminding her of the first time she’d come here.
She grinned.
Then she lifted her leg and kicked the peach tree.
“Stupid rabbit, your daddy’s here again!!!”
Chen Xiaoyan didn’t hold back—Transcendence-level strength was not something mortals could match, and she almost broke the peach tree’s trunk with that kick.
The tree shook violently, scattering peach blossoms everywhere.
“Squeak squeak?”
A group of pink-furred rabbits poked out their confused little heads.
“Sister Xiaoyan, why did you run so fast?” Chongchong had caught up, swift as the wind.
“Chongchong, do you know about these pink-furred rabbits on the back mountain?”
“I know, the sect has daily quests to clear out the wild beasts here—I’ve come to kill them once.”
“Oh? How did you do it the first time?” Chen Xiaoyan was very curious.
“I caught one, pinned it to the ground, and punched it to death,” Chongchong replied, swinging her fist the size of a sandbag in the air—a little demon queen full of violence.
“Impressive,” Chen Xiaoyan gave a thumbs up, genuinely impressed.
People’s constitutions really can’t be judged by the same standard.
She remembered the first time—she’d only used the tip of her Spring Breeze Umbrella to poke one to death, and then got chased by those rabbits all over the mountain.
“Hehe, what about you, Sister Xiaoyan? How did you do the quest the first time?”
“Ahem,” Chen Xiaoyan pretended to cough and then recounted the whole story of her first attempt at the quest.
Of course, the embarrassing bit about being chased across the mountain by rabbits was left out.
She changed it to “there were too many enemies, so I had to make a tactical retreat.”
Black history is best left buried in the dust of time.