Chapter 96

Chapter 96: Internet Addiction

“Sorrow is but a stepping stone for progress. One must look forward, not dwell in the past. Lift your spirits.” The Crimson Walker said solemnly.  

“Nah, bro, I’m not sad. Just… traumatized.” Jim replied.  

Crimson Walker: “…”  

Fair enough. A group hangout suddenly ending with only three survivors? Anyone would be shaken.  

“Hey, got a light?” The Crimson Walker in the next stall tapped Jim’s foot.  

“Hold on.” Jim pulled out a lighter and flicked it twice. Not a single spark.  

For a smoker, this was pure agony. But Jim had always been resourceful. Time for a life hack.  

Though no flame appeared, the lighter still released butane. All he needed was to light a match nearby, and—voilà—the lighter would ignite.  

Jim had matches, but no striker. No problem. With a quick burst of his fire-breathing ability, he lit the match, then the lighter.  

“Here.” Jim passed the flame through the stall gap.  

Then he tore off some toilet paper.  

This bathroom was a scam—ten bucks just to take a dump? That was his entire savings.  

Noticing his gloom, the Crimson Walker patted his shoulder. “Next time, I’ll treat you to a shit.”  

“…”  

Jim pulled out his phone and messaged his despondent deskmate, whom he’d tricked earlier:  

“Gotta tell you something.”  

“About the toilet to the right of school.”  

“Stay the hell away.”  

“Disgusting as hell.”  

“Like, unbelievably gross.”  

Three seconds passed. No reply. Normally, Old Liu would at least send a “….” by now. Was he still mad? Would they never speak again?  

Imagine ex-friends forced to share a desk, ignoring each other daily. The awkwardness would be unbearable.  

Hesitating, Jim typed bluntly:  

“Are we still.”  

“I mean, going forward.”  

“Friends, right?”  

Then he noticed his signal was dead. The earlier messages were stuck loading. The last one? A red “!”

—————

On the other end, Toby—borrowing Mi Xiaoliu’s phone while waiting for his game to download—was bombarded with texts. Teen curiosity won. He opened them.  

“Are we still.”  

“Disgusting as hell.”  

“Like, unbelievably gross.”  

“About the toilet to the right of school.” 

“Gotta tell you something.”  

“I mean, going forward.”  

“Stay the hell away.”  

“…”  

Holy shit, that’s brutal.  

Toby recoiled. These venomous words were from someone labeled “Stepmom”? Even if the kid wasn’t hers biologically, how could she say such things about her husband’s son?  

Indignation swelled.  

So that quiet guy has a home life this toxic? Maybe I should cut him some slack.  

A sudden slap to his head interrupted his thoughts. “Why do you have Xiaoliu’s phone?”  

Yiwen. Back early—unofficial psychic officers got downtime between missions.  

(She’d probably gotten lost and wandered home.)  

“Just borrowing it. He wasn’t using it,” Toby grumbled, rubbing his head. With Raven gone, he had no backup. “He’s asleep on Mom’s bed. At this point, I wonder if we were switched at birth.”  

“Don’t you have your own phone?” Another smack.  

“Mine can’t run games—”  

“Homework done? Go finish it. Stop gaming all day.” Yiwen shooed him off and claimed the couch.  

Toby seethed silently. Years of conditioning meant he’d never dare raise his voice at her. Thanks to Yiwen, he’d skipped rebellion entirely.  

Psychics don’t even need good grades… Lucky bastards.  

Yiwen picked up the phone—not to snoop, but out of gaming curiosity. In an era of predatory mobile games, she wondered what had hooked her brother.  

Perfect timing, the download finished.  

The game looked mediocre—a standard RPG with one gimmick, a shared world for all players, and permadeath.  

Bland gameplay, forgettable story, yet weirdly addictive.  

Checking the title, Yiwen downloaded it too, planning to play with Mi Xiaoliu.  

Following Toby’s earlier tip, she headed to Raven’s room—a place she hadn’t entered since joining the psychic police.  

Mi Xiaoliu lay peacefully on her side, the blanket slipped to her armpits. Her Pikachu-patterned tank top revealed clean, hairless underarms.  

On a boy, the look was decidedly un-sexy.  

Were it not for her trust in Raven, Yiwen might’ve suspected foul play.  

Mi Xiaoliu’s profile was… oddly adorable in a genderless way, yet dissonant. The haircut clashed with the face—like a loli with a buzzcut forced into a frilly dress.  

(Not that Mi Xiaoliu’s hair was that short, but the style defied description.)  

Just the face alone carried a faint, boyish allure—the kind that made you want to hug him.  

Why does someone like this fade into the background normally?  

And that nagging familiarity… No childhood friends came to mind.  

Unable to see properly from this angle (the bed was against the wall), Yiwen nudged her for a full view.  

Mi Xiaoliu woke.  

Rubbing her eyes, she adjusted her slipping shoulder strap—miraculously keeping everything PG—then fixed her uncomfortable contacts before putting her glasses on.  

“Did I wake you? Sorry.” Yiwen handed back the phone awkwardly. “My brother took it to download a game. Looked fun—wanna play together?”  

“Mmm.”  

The same flat response. No irritation at the theft. At least act surprised! This passivity practically invited bullying.  

They spent hours glued to their screens.  

When dispatch called with a mission, Yiwen declined rudely and kept gaming.  

The RPG was mundane yet hypnotic.  

At dinner, Raven frowned at the duo, and Toby’s envious glances. Usually, he was the one glued to his phone. Now the tables had turned.  

Better than her running off to fight crime, but corrupting a client’s kid? They’d been at it for hours. Where’s the anti-addiction system?  

She confiscated their phones and ordered them to eat.  

They complied—no full-blown addiction yet—but their minds remained trapped in the game.  

—  

That night, post-shower, Mi Xiaoliu stared at her phone, itching to play.  

Even Circle (Quanquan)’s pleas for pets went ignored.  

“Master, bedtime. If you become a gaming addict, the school nurse will be furious. She might stop cooking for you,” Sasha warned.  

The threat worked. Mi Xiaoliu removed her glasses and contacts obediently.  

The moment she removed her colored contacts—  

The urge to play the game suddenly faded.