NOVPUB"Thank you." Ye Ping'an said with utmost sincerity to the two of them.
Yan and Jue Jue were both a little confused. Why the sudden thanks? They had only said one sentence. Could it be that Ping'an had been struggling to make a decision and came seeking their support?
"Well... you're welcome?" Yan replied hesitantly.
"Have some tea. I heard online that their pastries are really good." Ye Ping'an, now visibly relieved, took a deep sip of his tea first.
Yan and Jue Jue exchanged glances. Was that it?
Though they didn’t know what exactly had happened to Ping'an, seeing him so relaxed now, it seemed everything was fine.
Wait a minute—
Yan suddenly realized something was off.
The halo above Ping'an’s head was gone.
The [Interstellar Live Stream] had completely vanished from above him, leaving him looking like an ordinary person.
So, just now, Ping'an had come to ask for their opinions, gain a bit of support, and then made up his mind to terminate the live stream.
Ah, now Yan understood.
She had many thoughts swirling in her mind, but those were better shared privately with Jue Jue later.
Zhuo Si was the first "artificial halo" bearer they had encountered.
And Ping'an—he was the first person Yan had ever seen who "voluntarily gave up his halo."
Yan didn’t know what had happened to Ye Ping'an, but since he had made this choice, it was his decision to make.
"Not having to stream anymore is such a relief." Facing the two interstellar visitors, Ye Ping'an didn’t hide his feelings.
"True, streaming can be exhausting, always holding up your phone," Yan remarked casually.
"Less burden means more time for yourself," Zhu Jue added.
Ye Ping'an nodded deeply—it seemed the two had already noticed his situation long ago.
"There are still two or three weeks of vacation left. I plan to wrap up my current tasks, and after that, I’ll have about ten free days. I can go on a trip and really unwind."
Ye Ping'an stretched lazily.
"Most schools start in early September, but ours doesn’t begin until mid-month. It’s the perfect time to travel—fewer crowds and lower prices," Yan agreed enthusiastically.
"This year has gone by so fast," Ye Ping'an mused.
"Yeah, it’s almost unbelievable," Zhu Jue said, recalling the past year’s experiences before finishing his cup of white tea in silence.
Yan nibbled on a piece of salted pastry. She didn’t feel like the year had passed quickly, but their time studying in Bincheng had been far more eventful and turbulent than the uneventful years she and Jue Jue had spent before.
"I’ve never been ambitious. I’ve lived on my own since high school, with no close relatives. Back then, I didn’t even have any real goals."
"But as a student, aside from studying and exams, what else is there?"
"People said computer science had good job prospects, so I chose it."
"Following the crowd won’t make me rich, but at least I won’t starve."
Ye Ping'an narrowed his eyes. "But streaming money? That’s not for me. When things come too easily, it just feels unsettling."
If it had been a regular modern-day live stream, he might have been able to accept it.
But this interstellar live stream—Ye Ping'an couldn’t say he was terrified every second, but in the dead of night, he often had nightmares of interstellar wars, jolting awake in a cold sweat.
He had always seen himself as an unambitious, slightly clever ordinary person—someone who couldn’t shoulder great responsibilities and just wanted a stable, peaceful life. Following the well-trodden path of most people, step by step: school, graduation, work. That was enough.
The intense, dramatic, high-stakes life—dancing on the edge of a blade, always one step away from detonating a bomb—was never what he wanted.
They drank tea together for a while longer before heading back to campus. Freed from his burdens, even in the sweltering summer heat, Ye Ping'an felt completely at ease.
Having nothing weighing on his mind, no constant fear of a ticking time bomb—it was wonderful!
Ye Ping'an returned to his dorm, but Yan and Jue Jue lingered, slipping into the campus café, where the air conditioning was blissfully cold, to whisper in private.
"Jue Jue, Ping'an’s live stream really is gone," Yan said, sipping her watermelon slush while cupping her cheeks in her hands.
"I wonder what exactly happened to him. Maybe he sensed danger and cut his losses in time," Zhu Jue speculated.
"It’s still so surreal—witnessing the first disappearing halo," Yan tilted her head.
"Where there’s emergence, there’s disappearance. The rise and fall of all things. Maybe there are halos vanishing in places we don’t know about."
"But for Ping'an to give it up… that’s not something just anyone could do," Zhu Jue said.
Yan grinned at him. "Jue Jue, you sounded so philosophical just now."
"Come to think of it, none of the halo bearers we’ve met have been truly ordinary."
There was a startling truth: if they looked back carefully, they’d realize that whether in Room 414 (the boys’ dorm) or Room 320 (the girls’ dorm), almost all of Yan and Zhu Jue’s roommates were orphans who had lost their families—yet possessed striking looks and remarkable talents.
Of course, Gu Jiasui’s situation was a bit special—her family wasn’t gone, but it might as well have been.
"Still, I’m curious."
"Once a halo disappears from a bearer, will there still be unexpected events in their life?" Yan rested her chin on her hand.
When it came to encountering halo bearers and handling anomalies, she and Jue Jue had plenty of experience. But someone like Ping'an, transitioning from "halo bearer" to "halo-less," was entirely uncharted territory.
"But nothing unusual ever really happened around Ping'an," Zhu Jue thought for a moment.
"Maybe he encountered things during his streams that we don’t know about."
The two pondered for a while before realizing, to their astonishment, that over the past year, Ye Ping'an’s [Interstellar Live Stream] halo had been the most stable and peaceful of all!
After discussing Ping'an’s changes for a bit, they barely touched their watermelon slush before calling Uncle Xiao in Ningcheng to ask for videos of Pengpeng.
In mid-August, Bincheng’s heat was unbearable, so they waited until nightfall before finally heading back to the dorm.
Ningcheng was dry heat; Bincheng was humid heat. Yan hadn’t yet considered whether now was the time to flee to the southwest and take refuge in the Miao villages.
Before they could settle on new travel plans, the next morning, Yan and Zhu Jue hurriedly regrouped—because as soon as Yan woke up, she saw several messages.
From the Dimensional Convenience Store: Lu Chen.
After the misunderstanding with Boss Lu in June, Yan and Jue Jue fled in a panic, leaving behind a USB drive, and hadn't visited the store for two months.
First, Yan wanted to give Lu Chen time to cool off. Second, Lu Chen had mentioned his vacation was ending and he’d be returning to work. Since his job involved traveling between dimensions, there was no telling when he’d be back—so they didn’t want to disturb him.
But unexpectedly, instead of the wooden door of the Dimensional Convenience Store appearing, Lu Chen’s WeChat message arrived first.
[Boss Lu]: Emergency! Are you there, experts?!
【Lu Chen】: I just got back yesterday and opened the shop temporarily today, but I noticed something off about one of the customers. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
【Lu Chen】: Are you guys still in this world? [eagerly waiting.jpg]
Yan hadn’t replied to Lu Chen’s message yet—she was busy discussing it with Jue Jue.
The two of them ignored Lu Chen’s choice of address and focused solely on the content of his message.
“What’s he run into this time?” Yan mused, stroking her chin.
Ever since they opened this interdimensional convenience store last year, neither she nor Jue Jue had encountered any other customers.
According to Lu Chen, this was to protect each client’s privacy. Yan wasn’t particularly curious—after all, who goes shopping expecting to meet other customers?
Most patrons of the store probably wanted to keep their visits under wraps, afraid of being discovered.
Going to the store might not help, but ignoring Lu Chen’s message didn’t sit right either.
“Let’s go take a look. Lu Chen helped us out big time with Jiaojiao’s situation. Even if we can’t do much, an extra pair of eyes might help,” Yan said.
“Yeah, and if it’s too much, we can always call for backup,” Zhu Jue added.
After making their decision, they headed to a secluded path on campus. Yan then sent Lu Chen a single-word message: “Open.”
A wooden door materialized instantly, and Yan and Zhu Jue stepped into the interdimensional store.
The moment they entered, they nearly collided with Lu Chen, who had been standing right by the entrance. He dodged with surprising agility, leaving Yan blinking in surprise.
“Two months apart, and you’ve gotten this nimble?” Jue Jue remarked.
Yan studied Lu Chen closely. It wasn’t just his reflexes—his entire demeanor had shifted.
Though he still dressed in his usual “mystic expert” style, there was now an undeniable air of mystique about him.
“All thanks to your teachings,” Lu Chen replied.
The cultivation USB drive the couple had given him, combined with the spiritual ores he’d stockpiled in his personal space, had accelerated his progress exponentially. He felt himself improving daily, growing more confident by the minute.
Yan promptly changed the subject.
“What’s this thing you mentioned in your message? It was pretty vague.”
As they walked further inside, Lu Chen’s expression turned serious.
“I ran into some trouble during my last trip to the interstellar realm. I won’t be going back for a while, but that’s not the issue.”
“I messaged you because one of our regular customers seems… off.”
“I can’t explain it, but she feels unbalanced somehow. More importantly, the store’s security system flagged her for the first time—something it’s never done to a regular before,” Lu Chen explained in detail.
“When she came in this morning, I noticed something was wrong and had her wait in the VIP room before contacting you.”
“You two have seen way more than I have. You’ll know what to do.”
With a snap of his fingers, Lu Chen projected the VIP room’s live feed in front of them. At the same time, he tapped the left lens of his chain-linked glasses, pulling up the customer’s scanned data for the two to review.
【Customer Name: Lou Yun】 n𝚘𝚟𝚙u𝚋.co𝚖
【Occupation: Fashion Designer】
【Note: This customer has a keen interest in all things beautiful.】
“This is the original scan from last year, after I got the Client Potential Scanner from a mission.”
“Now, look at the current reading.” Lu Chen held nothing back, laying out every detail for the two experts.
【Customer Name: Lou Yun】
【Note: Current customer exhibits +++ uncontrollable factors】
On the screen, Yan and Jue Jue saw a breathtakingly beautiful woman.
Lou Yun sat gracefully on the sofa, her every movement the very embodiment of beauty.
At first glance, she seemed like the living definition of the word “beautiful”—her features so flawless they defied description.
But after that initial reaction, Yan felt something… odd.
She’d met plenty of stunning women—elegant, cool, cute, classically beautiful—but their beauty felt real.
This woman on the screen, however, carried an uncanny artificiality.
“There is something strange about her,” Yan murmured.
“Right?!” Lu Chen perked up at her words.
“She wasn’t like this before! After I closed shop for a while due to that incident, she came back completely different!”
“And in all my trips to other dimensions, I’ve never had a customer flagged with such high uncontrollable factors!”
“She was always attractive, but not like this—it’s like someone cranked her beauty filter up to max,” Lu Chen rambled.
“Before, she mostly bought antiques I brought back from ancient times—porcelain, trinkets, hanfu, embroidered shoes, floral patterns.” He shared everything he could remember.
Yan tapped her fingers lightly, turning to Jue Jue.
“What do you think?”
Zhu Jue’s frown deepened. “Her face shows no signs of cosmetic alteration.”
“But the artificial vibe is definitely there,” Yan agreed.
Lu Chen had stumbled onto something serious this time.
After a moment’s thought, Yan asked, “Can we enter the VIP room now?”
She suspected Lou Yun might have developed a “halo”—something she’d need to confirm visually.
“For privacy, I can provide masks and veils. Would that work?” Lu Chen asked cautiously, unsure what methods the experts might use.
“That’s fine,” Yan said. She only needed to see if a halo was present—even fully covered, she could still observe it.
“Wait.” Jue Jue suddenly stopped Lu Chen.
“Show me the original scan again.”
Puzzled, Lu Chen pulled up the Client Potential Scan once more.
Yan met Jue Jue’s gaze. “Lou Yun. Designer,” he said.
“We’ve seen her in the Sheng family gossip.”
Yan’s eyes sharpened—she remembered now.
“The runaway groom’s ‘white moonlight’? The internationally renowned designer Lou Yun.”
Back then, out of curiosity, she and Jue Jue had even looked up Lou Yun’s profile. The photos showed a pretty woman, but nothing like the surreal beauty before them now!
“What runaway groom? What ‘white moonlight’?” Lu Chen looked utterly lost.
“That’s not important right now. Let me see her first,” Yan said.
Lu Chen prepared full-head veiled hats for the two and sent another to Lou Yun in the VIP room.
Guided by Lu Chen, Yan and Jue Jue stepped into the familiar VIP chamber. Even through the veil, Yan’s eyes briefly met Lou Yun’s.
Though she couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly, that single glance, that shared space, reinforced the unsettling sense of artificiality surrounding her.
It was hard to describe—as if her entire being was wrapped in a layer of falseness.
Yan squeezed Jue Jue’s hand. Above Lou Yun’s head, she saw a halo.
However, the color of this halo was not golden.
It was a deep, blood-red hue tinged with black, as if stained with fresh blood.
