The Mondson Group had been searching for the remaining keys, but due to their varied forms, progress was slow.
Chu Qianli suddenly producing two keys took everyone by surprise and caused a stir.
When faced with being taken advantage of, Lin was furious and said, “We’re supposed to be partners. She had the keys all along, and you kept it hidden…”
More than the reward, what Lin was now anxious about was the negotiation. Even without the crystal ball, the Chinese side already held four keys—this shattered their original assumptions!
No one expected Chu Qianli to have hidden them for this long!
Pan Yicheng said, “Aiya, we really did go through hell and high water. We didn’t know at first either!”
Chu Qianli seized the moment to act haughty and complained, “Professor Pan, we respect you because you’re a professor and taught us—that’s the only reason we dared to hand over the keys. Who would’ve thought they weren’t even appreciated…”
Pan Yicheng looked apologetic. “Sigh, then what now? You two really don’t want to go anymore?”
“……”
Lin watched the two of them putting on an act together—of course he understood the hidden implications in their words. No wonder Chu Qianli had been so confident all along. She had already possessed two keys, yet still feigned ignorance to probe for information and ask whether Mondson had found all the keys.
Even if she slipped up midway, she could simply pull out the keys to resolve the issue, knowing they had no leverage over her!
Just moments ago, Lin had been arrogant and certain. Now, after a moment of silence, his voice lowered as he gestured to those around him and asked, “…Still the same account?”
He really couldn’t stand Chu Qianli, but the relic keys were the most important. Now he had to swallow his pride.
“Still the same account,” Chu Qianli said, tilting her head and blinking. “But we’ve been accused of having no credibility—that’s basically slandering our reputation. Seems like what’s missing is an apology.”
Lin’s brow twitched slightly. His gaze turned cold. After a few seconds of silence, he impatiently raised the price: “Twenty.”
That meant he’d rather pay more than apologize.
Chu Qianli smiled and said, “So an apology is worth that much.”
Lin warned coldly, “Don’t push your luck.”
“This isn’t pushing my luck. It’s just that this amount of money is nothing to you. Since we’re supposed to be partners, you should at least show some attitude.”
As Mondson’s public representative, Lin’s net worth had already reached hundreds of billions of dollars—not to mention the portion of the family business hidden from the public eye. To him, money was just a game. What truly mattered was his authority as a leader.
He could never apologize, never admit defeat, never acknowledge fault. He could pay up and claim it was extortion, but if he apologized, it would mean losing face.
People like him never believe they’re wrong—they always see themselves as the rules of the world. Just like how Lin still didn’t think there was anything wrong with breaking into the Ebner apartment to search for the pendulum. Even if they broke some teaware, they could just pay for ten more sets. Why apologize?
Lin had previously made consulates from multiple countries question whether the Chinese side was abusing authority or violating protocol. So now, when Chu Qianli mentioned “slandering our reputation,” the implication was crystal clear—soft words with a sharp edge.
She was demanding a show of attitude, which hurt more than asking for money. It was a true blow to the heart.
The atmosphere instantly became tense.
Pan Yicheng tried to smooth things over: “Since we’ll be working together again in the future, let’s use today as a chance to move past previous misunderstandings. How about we each take a step back?”
Chu Qianli obediently said, “I’m sorry.” (For crazily milking your resources—but I don’t plan to stop.)
Chu Qianli was just a regular individual and didn’t represent any official stance, so it didn’t matter. But Lin was Mondson’s negotiation representative—if he apologized now, it would carry an entirely different weight, especially since he had just involved multiple consulates.
She had set him up on purpose with just one sentence.
Pan Yicheng and the others immediately turned to Lin, their faces practically saying, “Are you really not even as gracious as a kid?”
Lin now felt like he was sitting on pins and needles. Thinking about the two relic keys, countless stories of resilience and swallowing pride flashed through his mind. Finally, he struggled to say, “…Sorry.”
These words foretold an unfavorable negotiation—at the very least, Lin had already lost the upper hand at the start.
Seeing him suffer defeat, Chu Qianli actually had the nerve to add insult to injury: “I apologized in English, can’t you use Chinese?”
A murderous glint flashed in Lin’s eyes.
Chu Qianli knew when to stop; she immediately took Tan Muxing and exited, reminding him, “Alright, alright, let’s leave it at that. Apology accepted, but don’t forget to settle the payment.”
“……”
Although Chu Qianli and the others couldn’t interfere in the official negotiations, her disruptive antics beforehand inexplicably put Lin at a disadvantage. The final outcome was bound to be poor.
When the negotiations concluded, the Chinese side had the upper hand.
After the meeting, Lin flung the agreement documents aside, fury blazing in his chest. His face darkened as he spoke each word with emphasis: “She won’t leave H Country alive.”
When the birds are gone, the bow is put away; when the rabbits are dead, the hounds are cooked. Once the relic was deciphered, she would lose all value. Even if China wanted to protect her, it would depend on whether they had the ability to.
Before the team headed to H Country, preparations had to be made.
Since Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing were about to start school, Pan Yicheng stepped in to handle their formalities, postponing their enrollment to the next academic year.
Given the gravity of the matter, the authorities naturally contacted the families. Although the existence of the Infant Stone wasn’t mentioned due to confidentiality, they did explain the importance of the project.
Inside the Tan family courtyard, after listening to Tan Muxing’s thoughts, everyone wore heavy expressions, each with different looks on their faces.
The journey to H Country was remote, and with Chinese troops unable to enter, the trip was clearly full of dangers.
Tan Muxing had always been a timid child, but in recent years, he had matured rapidly. He had inexplicably slimmed down and gradually started forming his own opinions—so many, in fact, that the family was starting to worry.
Yin Yin said, “Xingxing, but you don’t even understand that stuff. What’s the point of going there? I know you’re worried about your friend, but you won’t be of any use over there!”
The last time Yin Yin allowed Tan Muxing to go to the Gobi, he came back injured with broken bones. Now he was planning to go to H Country—anyone could sense that danger loomed ahead.
Tan Muxing’s lashes trembled slightly. Facing the concerned elders, he spoke calmly: “Grandma, I’ve always known that I’m not much help. Ever since I was little, I’ve never been as decisive as my older siblings—whether in studies or life, I never excelled. It’s just that the family put a halo on me…”
Yin Yin’s face turned troubled. “…That’s not what I meant.”
“But even someone like me has things I must do.” Tan Muxing said softly. “I once thought, maybe this is enough. Everything’s fine now, I should feel content. But then I realized—if you choose not to fight at all, you won’t even be able to keep what you already have.”
“I really don’t understand those things yet, but I’ve picked up a few insights from being around them.”
He said earnestly, “Now I’m certain—there are some things in this world that only I can do. I wasn’t born just to muddle through. There must be something that needs me to accomplish it, even if I don’t know what it is yet.”
He used to resist his own power, drifting through life, always thinking he was just an ordinary person, just another grain of sand in the sea of people.
But meeting her was the beginning of change.
He had no interest in divining the future—but he liked watching her guide others toward a better one.
He still couldn’t use magic—but he could be moved by stories of magic.
Yin Yin was stunned by his words. Looking at the composed Tan Muxing, she felt a strange mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity. His speech was calm and gentle, entirely unaggressive—but something had changed. In the chaos, he had revealed his true self.
Tan Qiyu fell silent for a moment, then reminded him, “Xingxing, have you considered that even if you come back safely, many things might still happen afterward?”
“You all might change one day. What you think now may be different from what you think later, just like how you’ve changed from before.”
Tan Muxing had previously learned about Chu Qianli’s fate from Master Xu Qian. He understood Muxing’s mindset but worried he hadn’t thought things through. Things might be one way now, but after ten, twenty, thirty years—would Xingxing still feel the same?
Tan Qiyu feared that this deep affection would one day turn to resentment—that Tan Muxing would transform his sacrifices into bitterness.
And once love turns to hate, that’s when a curse begins.
Tan Muxing lowered his eyes. “…I understand.”
“I’m not making this choice to earn her promise or force her to make any guarantees. I just want to do this—right now, at this very moment…” Tan Muxing smiled. “I just want what’s best for her, so I’m doing this.”
He expected nothing in return—he only wished for her well-being.
The future might bring countless changes, but for now, his heart was clear. He only wanted to hold on to the present moment.
On the other side, Yu Xin and He Zhenghe also learned the news, but all they knew was that it concerned a special talent project. They didn’t yet know it involved Chu Qianli’s fate.
Chu Qianli had asked Professor Pan specifically—she didn’t want the house filled with gloom before her departure, dragging everyone down.
Pan Yicheng looked surprised. “But you’ll have to tell them sooner or later, right?”
“Does it even matter…” Chu Qianli mumbled. “If nothing happens, then nothing happens. If something does, you can’t avoid it. Worst case, just let me die for the country.”
Her time was running out. If things were resolved in H Country, everything would be fine. But if she returned without a solution, she wouldn’t have more than a year or two left—assuming she even made it back.
Pan Yicheng immediately protested, “Pfft, pfft, pfft! Don’t even think about scamming the state out of condolence money. You’ll definitely come back safe and sound!”
In the villa, Aunt Li had spent the whole day cooking in the kitchen. The whole family was gathered for a celebratory dinner—celebrating He Shichen’s upcoming admission to a prestigious university and also honoring Chu Qianli’s involvement in a major project at such a young age.
He Zhenghe raised his glass with joy. “Your mom and I are about ready to enjoy our golden years. In another couple of years, we’ll be relying on the two of you!”
Yu Xin laughed, “They still have four years of college to go.”
A pang struck Chu Qianli’s heart. She quickly asked, “Has Brother already started his internship?”
Chu Qianli had been busy in G City during the summer; He Shichen had also been busy with work, already showing signs of becoming a future business tycoon.
He said coolly, “Yeah, when you were out running wild and forgot where home was.”
Chu Qianli cheered him on: “That’s great—new semester, new energy! Don’t stop at 996, go straight for 007!”
“…”
The reunion dinner was relaxed and cheerful.
After dinner, Chu Qianli mischievously ate two ice creams in a row, prompting He Shichen to roar in frustration about her eating nothing but snacks. Only then did she scurry off to her room with her ice cream in hand, shutting the roaring beast firmly outside her door.
The bedroom was just as it had always been, only waiting for her to pack.
Chu Qianli opened her wardrobe and stared at the dress Tan Muxing had made for a long time before finally taking it out.
Logically speaking, she’d have no occasion to wear it during the trip to Country H, but she figured keeping it with her a little longer couldn’t hurt. She went ahead and packed the original pair of gloves, her birthday gold jewelry, and the knotted string she made in the Shaman Village—she didn’t leave anything behind.
After packing her luggage, Chu Qianli also sorted through her social media accounts and unexpectedly found a new message.
It was on the “Magical Card Girls” account, which had mostly been managed by Qiu Qingkong in the past. They used to receive feedback from followers regularly, but ever since Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing got busy with their engineering project, the trio’s little venture had been put on hold. Qiu Qingkong was busy preparing to study abroad, and the account had gone quiet.
It had been a long time since Chu Qianli did any online fortune-telling, so the new message caught her off guard. Even more surprising, she remembered the sender.
The girl’s name was Zhou Qiang, and she had once asked about her career. She had sent her student ID to prove she was an adult.
[Hey brat, I just got a promotion recently! You told me it’d take three years to surpass the salary I was earning at another company, but it didn’t take that long at all. I’ve already caught up, so I had to write back with an update on your reading!]
[I noticed your account hasn’t been updated in ages, so I figured you must be studying hard for your college entrance exams. That’s great! Good kids should focus on their studies—every good result is from your hard work in the beginning. I’m looking forward to seeing you post videos again in college. I’m off to a celebratory dinner now! Best of luck with senior year!]
Zhou Qiang’s message overflowed with happiness and joy.
It was a message from before the college entrance exams—somehow only now discovered.
“Every good result is from your hard work in the beginning.” It was what Chu Qianli had told her back then, and now Zhou Qiang had quoted it back, showing just how deeply it had stuck with her.
“Hmph, using my own words to encourage me… how insincere.” Chu Qianli muttered softly after reading the message, but she couldn’t stop the smile spreading on her lips.
At moments like this, she thought maybe being the world’s best wasn’t so bad.
She might end up dying because of her gift, but her passion for astrology had never changed.
The day to leave home finally arrived.
At the villa entrance, Chu Qianli hugged her parents goodbye—even hugged Auntie Li—while He Shichen stood awkwardly off to the side, radiating a cold “don’t come near me” aura.
Pan Yicheng and the others chatted with Yu Xin and He Zhenghe.
Out in the courtyard, Chu Qianli and He Shichen stood together, bored, waiting for the car to arrive.
She lazily glanced around and suddenly spotted the golden armillary sphere in the yard. Offhandedly, she said, “Gege, in a couple of years, if gold prices are good, sell the armillary sphere in the yard.”
She had originally intended it as a burial item, but now, she wasn’t even sure where she’d be buried.
He Shichen froze slightly, looking at her in surprise. “Why? You were crying and shouting to buy it back then.”
He hadn’t dared touch the golden sphere himself, afraid selling it would provoke a tantrum or tears from her.
Chu Qianli hesitated briefly, then shrugged casually: “I’m bored of it. Thinking of buying something else. Just send me the money after you sell it.”
“…Weren’t you the one who went on and on about how gold is the remnants of stars?”
She waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m saving up for a spaceport.”
“???”
He Shichen frowned deeply at her flippant attitude, getting a strange feeling. “Where exactly are you going?”
Because of confidentiality agreements tied to the major project, the family didn’t know many details.
Chu Qianli teased: “Hehe, somewhere you’ll never reach in your whole life. And the people there? Super rich. They could fund an entire fleet of planes for you.”
He Shichen ignored her joking tone, his eyes dark as he asked seriously, “You will come back, right?”
He had long noticed something was off with her, and this talk about selling the sphere pushed his suspicions to the limit.
Chu Qianli paused, rubbed her nose, and dodged the question: “Are you seriously trying to get all sentimental now, after refusing to give me a hug? What kind of question is that…”
Seeing her avoid answering, He Shichen said solemnly, “I’m not selling the armillary sphere. I suggest you come back on time—otherwise, face the consequences.”
“What consequences?”
“We have a contract, remember? You promised me a cut of your future income.” He Shichen’s tone was calm. “It’s only been a couple of years. I’ve never seen someone treat contracts so lightly. Should at least stick with it a bit longer.”
Chu Qianli froze, not expecting him to bring that up. She quickly pointed out, “…But we didn’t include any breach clause, did we?”
“I’ll work on adding one. You’ll see it when you get back.” He Shichen sneered. “Didn’t you say you like an easy life? You’ll only get to enjoy that if you come back—otherwise, it’s a waste.”
“I’m obviously going to live a long life. How many years you can earn money off me will depend on your abilities.”
He sensed something—but chose not to expose it.
Chu Qianli was quietly stirred. After a long pause, she muttered softly, “Gege, even your farewells are so twisted.”
“But I gotta say,” she added, “you might live long, but you’ll probably go bald fast.”
“…Gold prices are looking pretty good lately.”
Moments later, Chu Qianli finally got into the car. She leaned out the window and shouted loudly:
“Don’t sell it! I still want it!”
Seeing her leaning out the car window, He Shichen couldn’t tolerate the risky move and exploded in anger: “Sit back down—now!”
He Zhenghe waved goodbye with a smile.
Yu Xin, seeing her son’s contorted expression, gently reminded, “Shichen, yelling that loudly might disturb the neighbors…”
The car drove out of the villa community. The familiar buildings grew more and more distant, until even the family standing at the door vanished from view.
Chu Qianli wasn’t leaning out to watch anymore—she sat properly in her seat. Then, all of a sudden, she tilted her head back and sighed, “Thank goodness.”
Pan Yicheng, sitting beside her in the back, noticed her odd posture and asked curiously, “Thank goodness for what?”
Chu Qianli kept her head tilted back, just so the warmth in her eyes wouldn’t fall.
“Thank goodness I didn’t come home earlier,” she said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”
I am just a novice translator and Chinese is not my native language. I try my best to translate the chapters as accurate as possible.
If there are any mistakes then kindly comment and remind me. Your support means a lot.
