Chapter 12: The Twelfth Day of Transmigration – Seeing Yu Cheng Again

Original poster: A few days ago, yet another streamer entered the wrong area, did you guys hear about it?

1st Floor: Not only did I hear about it, I even fell into the fandom. Now I’m humbly waiting for the streamer’s return.

2nd Floor: Wasn’t it just a streamer who wandered into the wrong section? Why is it getting so much attention recently?

3rd Floor: Maybe it’s because what you can’t have always stirs the heart. If that streamer went live every day, I probably wouldn’t care this much.

4th Floor: Building on the above—she only appeared once and vanished. I can’t even find her again, so now I’m obsessively thinking about her.

5th Floor: So what’s so great about this streamer? Why is the hype so high all of a sudden?

6th Floor: The voice. Her voice is absolutely beautiful—like “hearing celestial music that clears the ears.”

7th Floor: Not even exaggerating—I could listen to that voice all day long, morning to night.

8th Floor: It’s not just the voice. Those hands! Absolute dream for anyone with a hand fetish!!!

…

1325th Floor: It’s already been ten days. The streamer still hasn’t returned. Will I be able to see her again in this lifetime?

1326th Floor: I have a recording. Anyone want it?

1326th Floor: YES!!!

1327th Floor: YES!!!

…

One day later:

Original poster: About that calligraphy streamer thread I posted earlier—someone sent me a recorded clip. After listening to her voice, my kid, who’s had severe insomnia, actually fell asleep. Now the kid just wants to know: Will the streamer come back? (Humbly begging)

1st Floor: I thought it was just me. Didn’t know others felt the same! I came across a voice compilation of her on Bilibili late one night, and by the time I snapped out of it, it was 10 a.m. Even though my insomnia isn’t that bad, I usually take at least an hour to fall asleep. Not that night.

2nd Floor: I listen when I’m in a bad mood. It always calms me down.

3rd Floor: So… when is the streamer coming back? I’ve memorized all her lines from that clip already.

4th Floor: Are you guys for real? It’s just a streamer. Why are you acting like she has healing powers?

5th Floor: Not exaggerating. I swear on my honor as a Huaguo citizen. Go watch the clip or listen to the edits. If it’s not amazing, you can call me “dad.”

…

33rd Floor: Just listened—now I’m hooked. So… when is the streamer coming back?

34th Floor: I think she probably felt too embarrassed. Maybe she doesn’t even know about the forum.

35th Floor: Bimo is back! Go check it out!!!

…

96th Floor: I just came back. Turns out it was an impersonator again.

97th Floor: That streamer’s voice is nice too, but still nowhere near Bimo’s level!!!

98th Floor: That emotional rollercoaster from hope to disappointment is too much to take.

99th Floor: Why are there so many threads about Bimo lately? And they’re all gaining huge traction.

100th Floor: Yeah… is this a marketing stunt? That streamer must’ve spent big.

101st Floor: Definitely not. I swear on my character. Go watch the clip!!!

102nd Floor: Who even has the time to boost her traffic like that? I’m out.

---

Yun Shuning casually scrolled through the online discussions about her, whether praise or criticism.

She knew her voice was pleasant, but she hadn’t expected such an intense reaction.

That day’s livestream had gone far better than she expected. In just over half an hour, she earned over two thousand yuan in revenue.

Originally, she thought she could resume streaming after about a week. But now, it seemed she needed to lie low a little longer.

She wanted to wait—wait until everyone believed Bimo would never return, until even the people criticizing her realized they had been wrong, until the anticipation peaked. Then she would return to streaming.

Under a completely new identity.

Right now, she had enough money to support herself for about three months. It had only been half a month since the stream. She could afford to wait.

During that half month, she wasn’t idle. Every day she practiced calligraphy for about an hour. Finally, she had improved her strokes enough to write some basic Chinese characters.

While practicing, she didn’t feel bored—on the contrary, she enjoyed it.

Watching the blank paper gradually fill with ink strokes gave her a strange sense of satisfaction.

Every Saturday, she also made a trip to He Yan’s villa—tidying up his room and chatting with Aunt Li.

Thanks to Aunt Li’s gentle persuasion, she was slowly climbing out of the grief of her lost lover. Now, she had a reason to eat on time and stop punishing herself.

Putting down her phone, Yun Shuning checked the time and started preparing to go out for a meal.

---

Meanwhile—

“President Yu, here’s the information you asked for on the missing He Corporation CEO He Yan and Miss Yun.”

That day, Secretary Ming had overheard a conversation between He Chen and Yu Cheng in the hospital. After learning the truth, he found it hard to believe.

He Yan and Yun Shuning—two people with seemingly no connection—how did they suddenly become a couple?

But when he investigated with this suspicion in mind, he discovered that some of their timelines oddly aligned.

A year before He Yan went missing, his routine had shifted. He spent noticeably less time in the office and more in private.

And from the recollections of Yun Shuning’s classmates, she too had often been away during that same period.

If he hadn’t known of their connection beforehand, he would’ve chalked it up to mere coincidence. But now? He was almost certain: Yun Shuning and He Yan had indeed been together.

Given He Chen’s understanding of his brother, He Yan wasn’t someone who could be easily deceived.

So if Ming could figure it out, naturally Yu Cheng could too. “No photos of them together?”

“None,” Secretary Ming answered honestly, shaking his head. “You know Mr. He hated cameras. There’s never been any photo of him online.”

“This kind of love, huh.” Yu Cheng tossed the documents aside, smiling with sarcasm.

“What has Yun Shuning been up to these days?” For some reason, after finding out she didn’t like He Chen, he suddenly became interested in her.

Perhaps he wanted to know how long she would stay heartbroken over He Yan.

Time is the most terrifying thing in this world. No matter what it is, it cannot withstand its passing—let alone such vague, elusive emotions.

“Miss Yun has had a very regular routine these past two weeks. She eats three meals a day, not missing even once.”

A stark contrast to the person who wouldn’t even come downstairs to eat half a month ago.

“Heh.” Yu Cheng closed his eyes, hiding the emotion in them.

He thought she would hold on a bit longer. He had overestimated her.

Still, a strange sense of disappointment surged in his heart. So, those love-to-the-death feelings were all just lies made up in books.

How could such emotions exist in this world?

So beautiful, so enviable.

“But…” Secretary Ming hesitated after seeing his expression, unsure whether to continue.

“But what?” Yu Cheng asked with his eyes still closed, his voice lazy, no longer carrying the same attention as before.

“But Miss Yun’s eating schedule is too regular—so regular that it’s a little abnormal.” Seeing Yu Cheng’s glance, Secretary Ming honestly shared his doubts.

“Miss Yun eats at exactly 7 a.m., 12 noon, and 6 p.m. every day. The timing never varies by more than three minutes.” He stood straight, his voice tinged with faint suspicion. “And I checked the restaurants she’s been going to. The reviews from other customers aren’t great.”

“To Miss Yun, eating seems like completing a task mechanically every day.” He carefully chose his words to express his thoughts.

Yu Cheng moved his leg off the desk. The playful, carefree expression on his face had completely vanished at some point.

He glanced at the time on his phone. “I’m heading out. Handle company matters on your own.”

“Again…” Secretary Ming was about to complain but was silenced by a single glance from Yu Cheng. “Alright, President Yu. Safe travels.”

“Coat.” This time, he reacted quickly and handed over the hanging coat.

Yu Cheng wore a black sweater, and his outer coat was a deep red blazer. The two colors matched perfectly on him, making him look both alluring and mysterious.

Except…

“President Yu, that blazer is too thin. Why don’t you wear an overcoat too?” Secretary Ming nagged like a worried old lady, afraid Yu Cheng’s stomach problems might flare up again.

“So annoying.” Yu Cheng stepped into the elevator, closed the doors expressionlessly, and left the nagging behind.

On the other side, Yun Shuning had no idea he was coming toward her.

She always liked things to be seamless, so regardless of whether others were watching, she maintained a sorrowful, melancholic appearance in public.

She had thought long and hard—would the Yun Shuning she was portraying really be persuaded by a few words from Aunt Li to let go of everything and embrace life?

No, she wouldn’t.

But she couldn’t continue like before either—eating only one meal a day. Her already injured stomach couldn’t take such abuse.

So what should she do?

After some internal struggle, she chose to change tactics. Eat on time, rest on time, stick to a strict routine—one that looked robotic to outsiders.

But eating on schedule at home wouldn’t be seen by anyone, so she chose to eat out every day.

Luckily, there were plenty of restaurants near the entrance to her apartment complex.

Since she ate at such fixed times, the good restaurants were usually packed, so she had to settle for places with mediocre reviews.

Today was no exception.

She ordered her food with practiced ease and sat in a corner seat, zoning out.

Yu Cheng easily found the place where she usually ate—according to the information, she came here for lunch almost every day.

He stood under a willow tree not far from the restaurant entrance. In the depths of winter, only withered branches remained on the tree—just like his mood.

He watched Yun Shuning sitting there, motionless, seemingly isolated from the world, sad and fragile.

He saw her food being served quickly and watched her eat mechanically, bite by bite, clearly without tasting a thing.

“So stupid.” He sneered coldly, then walked into the restaurant with a blank expression and sat down across from her.

Yun Shuning had been forcing down the awful food when she caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of her eye, followed by the screech of a chair being pulled out.

She already knew who it was, but her face didn’t change. She didn’t even lift her head and continued picking at her rice.

“I remember once reminding Miss Yun what the proper way to greet someone is,” Yu Cheng said lightly, watching her act as though she couldn’t care less about the world.

Only this time, compared to before, his tone carried a barely detectable hint of frustration and anticipation.