Neither Ying Kaixi nor his mother expected Xie Ran to actually leave without a moment’s hesitation. They were both stunned for a while before they snapped out of it.

Ying’s mother was absolutely furious—not just because Xie Ran didn’t bow and scrape as she had imagined, but more so because he had openly criticized the quality of her gemstone, saying only nouveau riche would wear something like that!

And the worst part was—Xie Ran had been right!

The Ying family had only made their fortune in the past decade or so. While they were wealthy, they were far from the uppermost tier. They lacked the pedigree and old money background. Ying’s mother had been trying everything to climb into the true elite circle of society ladies, but those families who had been wealthy for generations all looked down on her.

She could afford top-tier jewelry, yes, but the real elite circles didn’t think highly of her. The best pieces were always reserved for long-standing, knowledgeable clients. By the time it got to her, it was always second-tier leftovers.

Ying’s mother was obsessed with appearances, and this had always been a sore spot for her. Fortunately, the truly elite ladies never embarrassed her directly, and most regular people didn’t know enough to notice. Around her friends from more modest backgrounds, she could still show off.

Today, she had originally planned to boost her own image and put Xie Ran in his place. She never imagined Xie Ran wouldn’t give her any face at all—and actually knew that much about gemstones!

Ying’s mother had mingled in high society long enough to know—even in households with vast jewelry collections, not everyone could identify gemstone quality at a glance, let alone state parameters with such precision.

She had no room to argue back.

“H-He—” Ying’s mother pointed toward the direction Xie Ran had left, her lips trembling with rage, and snapped at Ying Kaixi: “This is the partner you chose?!”

“This has to be a misunderstanding. Xiao Ran isn’t usually like this!” Ying Kaixi quickly stood up: “Mom, wait here. I’ll go get him back and make him apologize to you.”

But Ying’s mother wouldn’t hear it. She roared: “You are not allowed to go! If you keep seeing him, don’t bother coming back!”

Ying Kaixi had no choice but to pretend he didn’t hear her and rushed outside. He was fuming too. He’d clearly warned Xie Ran before they came, told him to be patient no matter what his mom said. Xie Ran had agreed—yet in the end, he still embarrassed his mother!

The Ying family lived in a villa in a high-end neighborhood with a garage. Xie Ran had driven himself over in a small car.

Ying Kaixi chased him to the garage and saw Xie Ran just opening the car door to get in. He dashed over, slammed the door shut, and stared at Xie Ran: “Xiao Ran, what are you doing? How could you speak to my mom like that?”

“Why couldn’t I?” Xie Ran looked indifferent and asked, a bit puzzled: “Was there a contract forbidding it?”

Ying Kaixi choked on his words, growing even more furious.

Was that a human response?

Did he seriously need a signed contract to know what he could and couldn’t say?

“I’m doing all this for our future!” Ying Kaixi snapped: “Xiao Ran, my mom finally agreed to our relationship—what’s so hard about humoring her a little?”

Xie Ran replied: “It is hard.”

“…” Ying Kaixi hadn’t expected him to answer so directly and nearly choked with frustration. Desperate, he played his trump card, widening his eyes: “Xiao Ran, are you saying you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

He knew Xie Ran was emotionally driven and hated the thought of breaking up or making things difficult between them.

So he made himself look conflicted, like he was genuinely considering a breakup. He didn’t believe for a second that Xie Ran would actually go through with it.

But Xie Ran still answered calmly and without hesitation: “Yes. Let’s break up.”

If you listened closely, there was even a trace of eagerness in his tone.

A question mark slowly formed on Ying Kaixi’s forehead. In disbelief, he asked: “You want to break up with me?”

“Yes,” Xie Ran said, then pushed Ying Kaixi aside, got into the driver’s seat, and tried to shut the door—but Ying Kaixi held it firmly.

Ying Kaixi couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He shouted: “Xie Ran, do you even know what you’re saying? Think it over! Don’t think you can just do whatever you want because I like you! I’m telling you—if you leave like this today, we’re really done! I mean it—”

But Xie Ran didn’t give him a chance to finish. He slammed on the gas, and the car lurched forward. Ying Kaixi, still holding the door handle, was caught off guard and got yanked to the ground.

Then Xie Ran yanked the door shut, restarted the car, and drove away without a second glance.

“Xie Ran! You’ll regret this!” Ying Kaixi screamed from the ground, pounding the pavement in fury.

Xie Ran drove back to the original host’s small apartment. The host had started working as an online celebrity during school and earned a decent income. After graduation, he saved up enough for a mortgage on a small place.

On the road, Xie Ran pondered what the original host’s lingering obsession might have been.

Compared to the previous worlds, this one was harder for him to understand.

The original host was a carefree person. His plan had been to find a normal job and live an ordinary life after graduation. Then a viral photo got him online fame, and he rolled with it. He made decent money but never aggressively pursued the influencer life.

Later, Ying Kaixi said his mom didn’t like the host showing his face online—it embarrassed the family—so Xie Ran just gave it up without much resistance and found a regular 9-to-5 job.

It didn’t really seem like he was obsessed with Ying Kaixi either. Xie Ran couldn’t fully understand the host’s feelings, but from what he gathered, the later years of the host’s life were just a constant entanglement with Ying Kaixi. Part of it was being manipulated by his suicide threats, but it also felt like the host… just got used to it and didn’t care anymore.

In other aspects—money, family, friends—nothing seemed especially important to him. There wasn’t any obvious regret.

It was baffling.

Xie Ran couldn’t figure it out for now, so he gave up thinking about it. But when the car’s GPS voice rang out, he was momentarily dazed. He glanced at the navigation screen, suddenly thinking of the AI who always helped him find his way in every world.

Meng Feixuan—had he followed him here? Where was he now?

Realizing he might be missing Meng Feixuan, Xie Ran felt a little lost. He had always been used to living, studying, and working alone. In his life: “missing someone” had never been a real emotion.

But now, he sort of understood—it was the habit of being with someone, and a longing for the unknown.

Before Meng Feixuan even existed, when Xie Ran only had data for company, he had once wondered what form his AI would eventually take, and when it would appear.

Now, there were even more shared memories between him and Meng Feixuan—memories stored in meticulous detail in the AI’s servers.

And those memories came flooding back now that they were separated.

“So this is what it feels like,” Xie Ran murmured with a soft laugh.

Not long after he got back to the apartment, he received a call from staff at “Big Face Cat Live,” the streaming platform the original host was signed to. They reminded him to pay attention to his broadcast hours this month.

Streaming had been one of the host’s jobs. He had a contract with the platform requiring him to meet a set number of hours every month. The host had always treated it like a regular job, doing just enough to fulfill the quota—no more, no less. Fans called him a “corporate drone” type of streamer.

This month, because of all the Ying family drama, the host had taken two days off. He was short on time, and the staff knew his personality well, so they called to remind him.

“Got it,” Xie Ran replied. He had a strong sense of responsibility—since the contract required it, he’d get it done.

Since he had nothing else to do, he hung up and casually started a livestream.

The original host had a decent face-based following, but wasn’t particularly active, so his popularity was middling. His fans weren’t massive in number, and not everyone tuned in daily.

This wasn’t the host’s usual streaming time, so the viewer count was low at first. A few loyal fans noticed and immediately posted on his homepage, slowly increasing traffic.

[Wow, Xiao Ran is streaming at this hour?! Is this overtime? It has to be overtime, right?]

[Overtime my butt. Obviously he’s making up for hours… It’s just rescheduled work! 😆]

[Hehe, I was smart enough to check in, knowing our office-drone Xiao Ran had taken two days off. Capitalists always make you pay it back. I caught him! 🥳]

[What’s Xiao Ran streaming today? Singing? Guitar? Gaming?]

Xie Ran had plenty of on-camera experience from his original world and had even worked in entertainment in his first transmigration. So livestreaming didn’t faze him at all.

He didn’t care how many people were watching—he just needed to fulfill the required hours.

So once the camera turned on, Xie Ran simply booted up his computer and began working. First, he checked the tech development level in this world.

Since the host’s computer was linked to the stream, the audience could see everything on his screen.

The host had built his career on looks and didn’t have any particular talent. His streams were casual—sometimes singing and playing guitar, sometimes gaming, sometimes just chatting.

So when Xie Ran started up his computer, everyone thought he was launching a game. But then he began working—and the comment section exploded:

[???????]

[What’s Xiao Ran doing??]

[Wow, his typing is so fast today!!!]

[Wait, is he reading SCI papers?!]

[Did I just see him annotate one…?]

[He’s browsing official websites of major tech companies?!]

[Did he just find a bug on a homepage?!]

[Bro, wake up. Even if you’re trying to hit your streaming quota, this isn’t how you do it… 😳]