Chapter 29: The Twenty-Ninth Day After Transmigrating – Mingli Charity Night

Today is Saturday. After finishing her livestream in the morning, she began to reflect on whether there had been any mistakes in her tone or attitude while speaking.

First of all, the unintentional mention of He Yan—her so-called lover whom she often referred to—saying he didn’t like cilantro was perfectly timed. Who would’ve thought the barrage of comments at that moment was embroiled in a “cilantro war”?

Besides, she had only briefly mentioned it before moving on to other topics. It wouldn’t come across as deliberate, just as if she were casually sharing her thoughts.

After these past few days of subtly hinting, her fans had gradually become more accepting of this so-called “other half.”

Didn’t Su Muqing say he listened to all her livestreams?

Along with the information he had in hand, he should now have a deep understanding of how important He Yan was to her… right?

What she feared was that he either couldn’t understand human speech or was simply pretending not to.

Su Muqing wasn’t too bad, at least. Although he didn’t take her words to heart, he would at least listen a little.

Ever since she clearly expressed that she didn’t want to see him again, he had consciously reduced the number of times he came looking for her.

But as for Yu Cheng—she truly had no way of dealing with him.

Ever since that day he brought her roses, it was as if he had flipped some bizarre switch.

In the past few days: flowers, necklaces, shoes, handbags…

She had rejected so many deliveries that she was numb to it by now.

What made it even more frustrating was that she didn’t have his contact information. She had no way to tell him to stop sending things here.

Besides, even if she could say it, she felt it would make no difference. He’d probably just go even further.

The familiar knocking sounded again. Yun Shuning opened the door with a cold expression.
“I’m Yun Shuning. I don’t accept any gifts here. Please return what you’re holding, as is. Thank you.”

Seeing the delivery man’s confused expression, she softened her tone to sound less frosty:
“Thank you for your trouble.”

“N-Not at all.” The courier was stunned by her voice. After a while, he hesitantly asked, “Are you… Shushu?”

Yun Shuning’s eyelashes trembled slightly, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes. She nodded, her voice softening slightly:
“I am.”

“I’m a fan of yours.” The courier’s face turned red, and he spoke awkwardly, “I really like your livestreams. I tune in every night… they’re just so nice to listen to…”

He wasn’t very articulate, and all he could do was keep repeating “so nice to listen to.”

“Thank you for liking them.” Faced with such sincere and fervent admiration, her initial coldness faded.
“Please help me return the package you’re holding.”

Before closing the door, she looked at him and earnestly said,
“I hope you have a relaxed and happy day today.”

Hearing her words, tears welled up in the courier’s eyes. He sniffled, a little embarrassed.
“Being your fan is my good fortune.”

After closing the door, Yun Shuning’s bad mood—caused by the gifts—was also soothed by the courier’s words.

In this world, there were madmen like Yu Cheng and Su Muqing, but most people, like her fans, were ordinary yet lovely, and worthy of respect.

She took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen to drink the cup of lukewarm herbal medicine. Even with a frown, she swallowed it all.

While rinsing her mouth, her phone suddenly rang.

Since arriving in this world, very few people had called her, so she was a little surprised.

Yun Shuning walked into the living room and picked up the phone. An unfamiliar number was displayed on the screen.

The moment she answered, a cold female voice came through the phone:

“Is this Shuyan?”

“This is she. May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Mingli Charity Night. I’m one of the organizers.” Hearing her voice, Xu Li couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow—no wonder she was a famous voice streamer. Her voice really was beautiful.

However, when it came to influencers like her, Xu Li always carried a subtle sense of superiority.
So what if her voice was good? She was still just a low-grade internet celebrity.

“You should be aware that every year at the end of the year, Mingli organizes a charity gala,” she said in a lofty tone. “Due to your outstanding performance this year, Mingli would like to invite you to attend this year’s charity night.”

“The invitation will be mailed by tonight. Please provide your address.”

She didn’t think for a second that Shuyan would refuse. Mingli’s charity night only invited top celebrities, and it was rare for them to invite internet personalities. This time, Shuyan had gotten lucky—thanks to a change in ownership at Jinli Livestreaming, two invitations were given, and one went to her.

Yun Shuning was highly sensitive to people’s tones. From Xu Li’s first sentence, she had already sensed the veiled condescension.

Events like these—though labeled as charity—she had attended as a minor actress in her previous life. They were more like beauty contests for female celebrities, who made token donations just to avoid the bad press of showing up only for the red carpet.

Unfortunately, in her previous life, she’d donated the least and had been publicly shamed for it—called shameless and accused of leeching off popularity.

So she didn’t have a good impression of these “charity nights.” Of course, she knew some organizations held genuinely meaningful events, but this one clearly wasn’t among them.

“I’m sorry,” Yun Shuning’s tone turned cold. “Thank you for the invitation, but I have other commitments. My apologies.”

“What did you say?” Xu Li thought she’d misheard. Other internet celebrities would’ve been overjoyed and started asking about event details. And Shuyan was refusing?

“Thank you for your invitation,” Yun Shuning calmly repeated. “But due to personal reasons, I won’t be able to attend. I apologize.”

“As long as you don’t regret it later.” Xu Li’s face darkened. Not only was she not flattered, she even got rejected. This influencer really didn’t know her place.

Hearing the click of the call ending, Yun Shuning calmly set her phone down.

There were all kinds of odd people in this world, and plenty who looked down on others. She wasn’t going to get angry over something like this.

---

On the other side, Su Muqing had already learned that Yu Cheng had been continuously sending Yun Shuning gifts these past few days. From the beginning, he knew Yu Cheng would never succeed.

Just as expected, every gift sent had been returned untouched.

Su Muqing thought he understood Yun Shuning fairly well by now. Yu Cheng’s methods would only make her feel irritated.

But even so, despite his understanding, there was nothing he could do.

He and Yu Cheng were really just two sides of the same coin. He couldn’t even guess which one of them she disliked more.

Faced with someone so unmoved and indifferent, he was feeling helpless—but still unwilling to give up.

Yu Cheng didn’t think Su Muqing was right. He looked at the returned gifts with disdain, thinking perhaps they just hadn’t hit the mark.

He knew Lin Wan’s advice wasn’t entirely trustworthy, but to be sure, he had looked up online what women liked.

The gifts he sent Yun Shuning were completely different from what he used to give Lin Wan. Back then, Secretary Ming picked the presents; all he did was pay.

But the gifts for Yun Shuning—he picked every single one himself.

It was only during the selection process that he realized how troublesome women could be. A single handbag came in dozens of styles. Not to mention perfume—he had sampled so many that he almost lost his sense of smell.

But the internet said that a gift needed to be sincere, not perfunctory. So he endured the headache, tried one fragrance after another, and finally chose one he thought smelled nice.

Not far away, a pink Hermès bag studded with sequins and a few diamonds stood in the light, sparkling so brightly it hurt the eyes.

With its flamboyant, sugary-sweet color and outdated design, it was clearly the kind of bag that would sit unsold for decades—until now. It had finally found its destined owner.

“Not accepting gifts is one thing, but why won’t she even open them?” Yu Cheng glanced at the boxes in the living room, his voice tinged with a hint of aggrieved frustration.

Secretary Ming had once asked why he didn’t deliver the gifts himself. It would look more sincere.

At first, he’d just used flowers to test the waters. But as more and more gifts were returned, he suddenly lost the courage to hand-deliver them.

It was one thing for a courier to get rejected—but if he were rejected face to face, it would be too humiliating.

These past few days, preoccupied with Yun Shuning, he hadn’t thought about his dark and painful childhood memories at all, nor had he used those memories to hurt himself.

Right now, his entire brain was filled with one question: what on earth does Yun Shuning like?

Thinking of the advice Secretary Ming gave him yesterday, he picked up his phone, went to a forum, and typed in the name “Shuyan.”

Judging by his serious movements, you’d think he was dealing with an international crisis. Gone was his usual indifference—he now looked focused and determined.

Yu Cheng browsed through the search results one by one.

“Digging into Shuyan and her lover’s stunningly beautiful love story.”

“How can someone as wonderful as Shuyan exist in this world? It’s such a shame she already has a boyfriend.”

“Shuyan’s boyfriend, I know you’re reading this. Listen up—I declare war on you!”

…

Here is the full corrected English translation, with no extra commentary:

---

Seven out of ten posts were about He Yan.

Yu Cheng looked at the posts, grinding his teeth fiercely. “It’s fine, I have no reason to be angry over a dead man.”

After scrolling through these completely meaningless posts, Yu Cheng put down his phone, growing more and more frustrated.

Or perhaps, he simply couldn’t distinguish between sadness and anger—he just felt unbearably stifled inside.

Recalling Secretary Ming’s suggestion from earlier, he picked up his phone with a blank expression and sent a text:
“Your bonus for this month is gone.”

Secretary Ming: “???” (screams internally)

…

The next day, just like before, Yun Shuning arrived early at He Yan’s villa.

Only this time, she didn’t go to He Yan’s bedroom first, but to the study.

On the desk, a stack of documents was neatly laid out.

Yun Shuning walked up and picked up a folder to read carefully.

Over the past four years, He Chen had never given up on searching for He Yan, spending tens of millions each year on the effort.

Each document recorded interviews with people surrounding He Yan at the time of his incident. As time went on, the search scope continued to expand.

From the analysis in these documents, there really was a chance He Yan was still alive—but it was very slim.

Regardless, He Chen’s persistence had exceeded her expectations.

She remembered that in the original novel, by this time, He Chen had already given up the search and would soon take over the He Corporation.

Was this the butterfly effect?

Yun Shuning put down the folder in her hands and picked up another one.

When she saw the writing on the front, her eyebrows rose in surprise.

It contained records of He Yan’s experiences growing up.

Even as a child, he was practically a decathlete—there didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t master.

By middle school, he was already learning about the He Corporation’s operations. He skipped grades in elementary and middle school and completed two degrees in three years at university.

He was a true academic genius.

What surprised her even more was that the file included some photos of him. Though there were only a few, they were a pleasant surprise.

While the original host’s memory included a vague impression of meeting him, the encounter had been too far away and too long ago to leave a clear image.

She even suspected that if He Yan appeared in front of her one day, she might not recognize him.

The person in the first photo looked about four or five years old. His soft hair hung down, and his face showed no expression, but Yun Shuning could still see reluctance in his features.

It seemed like this photo had been taken for fun by someone else, taking advantage of how little say he had as a child.

Although he disliked being photographed, no matter how powerful he became, there were still situations he had to face.

There was a photo of him with a national leader—a person she recognized, someone always followed closely by soldiers.

In the picture, even facing such a figure, He Yan’s presence wasn’t diminished in the slightest. The two looked evenly matched.

He Yan’s features were refined and sharp, but the most striking—or rather, intimidating—thing about him was his eyes. Even through a photo, you could sense the piercing sharpness, as if he could see through everything.

If he were truly still alive, her lie might be exposed with just a single glance before it even began.

The final photo was taken a year before his disappearance. At that time, he was attending an economic summit in the U.S. He was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, which shielded the sharpness in his eyes and made him appear more like an elegant nobleman.

Originally, these photos should have made her think of He Yan as overbearing and hard to approach. But then she remembered the Brief History of Time on his bedside table—only a few pages flipped—and her gaze softened involuntarily.

So even someone as formidable as him could suffer from insomnia.

At that thought, she couldn’t help being a little self-indulgent:
If he were still alive, maybe he wouldn’t need to read such obscure books anymore. Maybe just listening to her would help him sleep.

She looked at the photos and blinked. Since He Chen had left them here like this, he must have tacitly approved of her taking them, right?

Yun Shuning couldn’t help flipping back to the first page. Little He Yan was just too cute.

Suddenly, a thought came to her:
If only she could draw his appearance.

Who hadn’t dreamed of becoming a painter as a child?

But most dreams stayed dreams. Some people gave up because they lacked perseverance, others because they found new dreams. As for her, it was because of poverty.

But now, she had money.

And with money, wasn’t it fair for her to pursue a childhood dream?

She wasn’t expecting to become an exceptional artist. She just wanted to draw the things she wanted to draw—like now.

Time always flew whenever she was at He Yan’s villa. In the blink of an eye, it was time to head back to her apartment.

Xiao Bai had already grown used to her occasional outings. When she returned, it just lazily flicked its tail to show it knew she was back.

These days, it was constantly starving—where would it find the energy to greet its “heartless” owner?

Seeing how it couldn’t even be bothered to open its eyes, Yun Shuning changed her shoes, then mischievously walked over to the snack cabinet and shook a pack of freeze-dried treats.

Xiao Bai:
Boot-up speed: 0.1 seconds—faster than 99.9% of cats nationwide.

Watching it eagerly rub against her, she gave it two firm strokes. “Xiao Bai, how are you this shameless?”

But teasing aside, she still obediently gave it a few pieces of freeze-dried food.

Xiao Bai had been doing well on its diet lately, so a little indulgence was okay.

After feeding Xiao Bai, she began looking online for art schools or drawing classes.

That dream—once stifled by poverty—at this moment, because of He Yan and because of herself, suddenly sparked the urge to pursue it again.

Lately, her livestreaming had been for money, and practicing calligraphy had been a way to get closer to He Yan’s interests. But drawing—no matter the reason—was something she genuinely wanted to do.

Drawing a cute version of He Yan would probably be a very joyful thing.

If she really learned how to draw, maybe she could even illustrate parts of her past. That would be proof that she had once existed.

—

After getting off work, Xu Li grew more and more irritated as she thought about her earlier encounter with Shu Yan.

Since becoming the head of PR for Mingli, she had rarely faced this kind of humiliation.

Even big-name celebrities greeted her with politeness and respect. Mingli was practically a symbol in the fashion world. So many people were dying to work with her—who would even think of turning her down?

What angered her more was that Shu Yan was just an internet influencer—someone who could never even dream of having ties with Mingli. In other words, completely beneath her.

That should’ve been a comforting thought. But it only reminded her that there was no way to vent her frustration.

At that, she pulled out her phone and sneakily posted a Weibo update:

“Some influencers aren’t even famous yet, and they already think they’re all that. Be careful not to throw out your back with all that ego.”