Ling Xi truly believed that money was a good thing.

When she was first abandoned in Country M, all she had in her pocket was a sum of "buyout money" from her family. It was this money that let her buy her first villa, buy her first burger that could fill her stomach, so she didn't have to wander the streets like a homeless person, begging while watching others' faces.

Later, when she was in school and people mocked her as "a child nobody wanted," pointed at the birthmark on her leg and called it ugly, pointed at her nose and told her to get out of Country M.

It was money that let her attend the best private schools, staying away from the terrible people in public schools. It was money that let her hire the best tutors, buy the best materials, enjoy the best educational resources, using her grades to shut the mouths of those mockers, so she wouldn't be further looked down upon for being "poor."

Living alone in Country M for over ten years, it was money that let her pay utilities, property fees, medical bills. Even when she had a fever of 39 degrees Celsius, one phone call could get a nurse to come provide care.

When she wanted someone to accompany her to the hospital for checkups, money let her hire professional caregivers for the entire process, without having to please or beg anyone.

Even when she had to undergo surgery alone, as long as she paid, she could stay in a VIP room and enjoy meticulous care.

Once she paid, they had to be responsible for her. They wouldn't just leave like family members would.

Without money, she probably would have died in some corner where nobody knew.

If she encountered store clerks who deliberately gave her trouble because she was Asian, money let her file complaints until they lost their jobs, making them shut up, so she didn't have to swallow her anger and watch others' faces, or worry about being bullied to the point of desperation.

When she was isolated at school, money let her buy the most expensive clothes, limited edition bags, designer brands, making those who once excluded or even detested her actively come over to talk.

When people on the street mocked her "yellow skin" and called her an "outsider," money let her drive a luxury car past them.

They didn't dare provoke rich people. Money made that malice automatically disappear.

The way they looked at her changed, not because she as a person had changed, but because she had money.

When gaming, money let her buy the best equipment, the strongest gear, so she was valued in the virtual world too, receiving envy and respect.

After being thrown to America by a family that had been deeply rooted in the entertainment industry for generations because of the tattoo on her body, she fought her way through the American entertainment industry alone, experiencing countless betrayals, lies, hypocrisy, and scheming over more than ten years.

In this lonely world.

Money was the only thing that wouldn't betray her.

Money truly was a good thing.

Ling Xi once thought money was omnipotent.

So when she saw that Xie Ci's account with millions of fans livestreamed almost daily but never enabled gifts, didn't open donations for videos, and didn't take advertisements, she scoffed.

Was this person stupid?

He used a laptop that could barely run at 144 frames only when set to medium-low graphics quality, making compromises between frame rate and visual quality in every video.

He shared photos of his part-time jobs on his personal page. Handing out flyers on hot summer streets, selling breakfast at stalls in cold winter mornings, and even during spring and autumn, when he wasn't in school, he'd work odd jobs at nearby small restaurants to earn living expenses.

What his videos never lacked were poverty and hardship. He updated videos basically late at night, and at the end of each video, he'd apologize to his fans that the games couldn't run at higher graphics settings, that the videos couldn't be clearer or smoother.

Though his comment section had support and encouragement, it was never lacking in mockery and subtle showing off. That's what happens when someone exposes too much of themselves online.

He should have been dejected, disheveled, complaining about life's unfairness, about why some people were born into wealth while others could only crawl through mud from birth.

But he didn't.

Why? Ling Xi never understood.

Ling Xi suddenly felt somewhat angry.

So that day, she discovered an error in his latest strategy video. It was a harmless mistake, but she pointed it out in an extremely unfriendly way in the comments.

Attack me, hate me, insult me. Better yet, block me.

That way I won't have to watch your videos anymore.

That way I won't have to look at your page anymore.

Sure enough, his fans came to attack her.

He deleted the comment.

He followed her.

Was he going to scold me first and then block me?

But why did he apologize to me?

But why did he make a video specifically addressing that error?

But why did he ask everyone not to fight in the comments because it would make him sad?

She wanted to send him some gifts, get a fan badge and then talk to him, but after searching for a long time, she couldn't find a single place to pay.

Ling Xi suddenly felt completely defeated. The world she had built up over the years completely collapsed around her.

I'm just a passerby you can see anywhere. You don't owe me anything, so why treat me so well?

But he simply said, "Because what you said was right.

"I should actually thank you for pointing out that error.

"But maybe the way you pointed it out was a little wrong, so my fans attacked you.

"That's why I made a video to address this."

Ling Xi stared quietly at these few sentences for a very long time, and a strange feeling quietly sprouted in her heart.

This feeling she had never experienced before.

As if possessed by a ghost, she followed him back.

She said, "Clearly I spoke harshly first. We're not related, we have no connection at all. Why treat me this way? Is it worth it?"

He said, "What's this about worth or not worth? This platform is a place for mutual expression and communication. As long as there's no profanity, even if meaningful words are said in a harsh tone, I'll accept and respect them.

"For emotions, respond to them. For problems, solve them. That's all."

...

5 AM in Los Santos, the sky still somewhat dark. The mansion worth tens of millions was quiet like an uninhabited island, with only the girl's room still showing a faint light.

She curled up on the spacious bed, her fingers sliding across the screen extremely slowly. A pair of beautiful blue eyes stared intently at row after row of chat records until her eyes began to ache, then she rubbed her dark circles and continued reading word by word.

She hadn't slept all night.

The chat records were long and short, but he had responded to every single thing she said. The conversation topics were all kinds of strange things, but he had seriously answered every question she asked.

She scrolled for a long time before reaching the top. In this crude private messaging function, they had chatted for a very long time.

She didn't know when, but amidst the pure text chat records, a photo suddenly appeared.

It was a leg photo. Slender, well-proportioned white legs without a trace of excess flesh. The two thighs were crossed, displaying curves like a Greek sculpture.

Those were legs that could make both men and women envious, legs that every woman dreamed of having.

But on the inner side of the thigh, there was a black birthmark, so conspicuous and hideous that it ruined this pair of legs.

She hated this birthmark, hated these legs. If not for this birthmark, these legs, how could she have been abandoned by her family to America?

Even on the hottest days, she wouldn't wear shorts. She had never shown these to her "friends" in Country M.

But now she had trembled as she took this photo and sent it to a "stranger" across the ocean.

She still remembered her feelings when she first sent that leg photo.

Anxious, uneasy, expectant, but more than anything, it was a kind of torment.

What happened after that?

She drew up her knees and buried her face in her arms. The phone screen flickered outside her arms like a swaying lonely lamp.

She didn't know how much time passed before she raised her head, tears filling the corners of her eyes, but with a smile at the corners of her mouth.

So I've been selfishly taking without knowing any better all along.

She wiped away her tears and reopened her phone.

The delete friend button's icon gleamed coldly on the screen.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.