Chapter 2 Reuniting with the Scumbag and the Backstabber
890 Words
Liu Shiqi forced a strained smile. “Qingtian, you’re overthinking. We really just came to see you. You’ve ordered way too much food—why not share it with us?” She reached for a skewer.
Luo Qingtian’s fingers snapped around Liu Shiqi’s wrist. Her voice was icy. “If you want to eat, go order your own. Always mooching off others—did it become a habit? You really want to be a beggar? Get lost, and stop polluting my view.”
Her words rang out loud enough that nearby diners turned to stare, eyes flashing with contempt.
Liu Shiqi’s face flushed crimson. She hadn’t expected Luo Qingtian to publicly humiliate her. “How dare you, Qingtian? If Han Shuo hadn’t asked me to check on you, do you think I’d be here?”
“Check on me?” Qingtian laughed coldly. “Dressed up like you two, you look like you’re on a date. You two make such a lovely ‘best friend and boyfriend’ pair—get your sick display away from me!”
A tremor ran through Luo Qingtian’s body. She clenched her fists, fighting to contain the murderous rage welling up inside. She wouldn’t kill them here—there was still rule of law in this world. She had to hold back.
Liu Shiqi’s chest heaved. She jabbed a finger at Luo Qingtian, then spun to Han Shuo. “It’s all your fault! You two are fighting, and somehow I get punished?”
She shot Han Shuo a pleading look. He took a hesitant step forward. “Qingtian, that’s not what happened. I was worried when you bolted from class—so I asked Shiqi to help me find you. I—”
But Luo Qingtian cut him off like a whip. “You were worried? And you didn’t even call me once, you went straight to my ‘best friend’? Was your brain on vacation? Han Shuo, you disgust me. Don’t you dare bother me again—or I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”
Her gaze blazed with such venom that Han Shuo shuddered, his words lost in his throat.
Luo Qingtian rose to her feet. “Enough of this sick show! Boss, wrap it up!”
The cook at the stall darted forward, wiping his hands on his apron. “Hey, you barely touched your food!”
She pointed at the skewers. “Pack it all up—and throw in fifty extra meat sticks.”
The stall owner’s eyes lit up. He hustled to box everything, and Luo Qingtian paid before turning on her heel—never glancing back. She refused any further connection with these two.
She recalled how, at the very start of the apocalypse, neither she nor Han Shuo had awakened powers. Even though he took her jade talisman, he never got the system. Later someone approached her and offered to trigger her powers—she’d foolishly told Han Shuo about it. He’d insisted he should protect her and form a team, while she “relaxed at home.” Naïvely, she had ceded the chance to him.
But that team never cared for her. They sneered and looked down on her. Desperate to match Han Shuo’s bravado, she begged the trader once more—only to be told the activation could only happen once. He offered to train her physically instead. For days she drilled weapon handling and martial techniques until she’d gained enough skill to tag along on missions with Han Shuo.
She wondered now: without her talisman and without her powers this time, would Han Shuo still strut around as he did? And what about Liu Shiqi, who’d awakened healing powers—would she cling to that useless coward forever?
With her food safely tucked away in the jade talisman’s hidden vault, Qingtian headed home for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow she had the deed transfer—and she needed rest.
For the first time in years, she slept soundly. If not for the early start, she might’ve slept all morning.
At dawn she stowed the last mattress in her talisman space and hailed a cab to the registry office. The sale went off without a hitch—the buyer’s lawyer handled the paperwork.
Next, she and Manager Zhang drove out to West District’s suburbs. The first villa they saw was well-furnished and move-in ready, but Qingtian shook her head. Seasonal acid rains would flood low ground—she refused to risk it.
She gazed at the high-rise behind the villa. “What about that building?”
Zhang cleared his throat. “That’s Huaan Complex—units aren’t for rent, only sale. But there’s a top-floor penthouse open—three hundred square meters, with three hundred more of rooftop terrace. Around thirty million.”
She pointed without hesitation. “I’ll take it.”
Zhang’s jaw dropped. “Really?”
“Yes. Let’s go see it. I don’t have much time.”
His excitement was palpable—selling a high-end penthouse would top his annual figures. He rushed to fetch the keys and led her up.
The duplex on the thirty-third floor boasted five bedrooms and three living rooms. The kitchen was cavernous—enough to fit three double-door fridges. In every corner, Qingtian felt the promise of safety she’d fought so hard to secure.
- Writer
