156: Chapter 156 Webzen's Laxity

Her parents sat opposite her, chattering away about the man's credentials—he had a house and a car in the county seat, no loans, and an annual income of several hundred thousand. Although he was a bit older, he wasn't bad-looking; they had seen his photos, and he looked quite spirited with thick eyebrows and big eyes, clearly a decent man at first glance.

Qiao Linlin kept her head down, picking at her rice, responding with one "mm" after another. Her chopsticks moved mechanically to her mouth, the food tasteless.

She didn't know what she was eating or how much; she was simply repeating the cycle of "picking up food, putting it in her mouth, chewing, and swallowing" like a wound-up puppet.

That night, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.

The bed was still the same bed, the room the same room, and the curtains were still the same floral fabric from her high school days. The posters she had put up back then were still on the wall, their corners peeling. Everything was so familiar, yet so strange.

There was a thin crack on the ceiling, stretching from the lamp base all the way to the corner.

When she was a child, she often stared at that crack, thinking it looked like a river, a snake, or a winding road.

Now she stared at it, her mind blank, devoid of everything.

Five in the morning, the sky was not yet light.

She got up quietly, without turning on the lights, using the dim light from the window to fold her clothes and stuff them into her bag.

Her movements were very light, so light that even the floorboards didn't make a sound. When she washed up, she turned the faucet to its lowest setting, afraid the sound of water would wake her parents next door.

After packing her luggage, she held her bag and stood at the bedroom door for a few seconds.

Then she gently pushed the door open, walked down the hallway, and heard her father's slight snoring as she passed her parents' bedroom door.

She didn't look back as she softly closed the front door.

By the time she reached the town bus station, the sky was just beginning to brighten.

The station was very dilapidated; the tin roof of the waiting shelter was covered in rust, and several concrete pillars were painted with faded white paint, plastered with colorful advertisements.

Cigarette butts and melon seed shells were strewn on the ground, and there was a faint smell of urine in the air.

There was no air conditioning. A pane of glass in the window was broken and patched with cardboard, which flapped noisily in the wind.

Qiao Linlin wore only a thin coat.

On a November morning, the wind was harsh and cold, pouring in through the gaps in the window and cutting across her face like a knife.

She tucked her neck in, pulled the zipper of her coat to the very top, and gripped the collar tight to keep the wind from getting in.

But the wind still seeped in through the cuffs, the hem, and every gap; the chill was like countless fine needles pricking her skin.

A gust of wind blew past, and she shivered, involuntarily wrapping her clothes tighter and huddling into a ball.

In that instant, she felt like crying.

But she forced herself not to. Biting her lip, she looked up at the grey sky and forced her tears back.

She waited for over two hours.

Sitting on the bench in the waiting shelter, she watched the sky brighten bit by bit.

Finally, the bus to Chang'an arrived.

Qiao Linlin picked up her bag and boarded the bus.

The bus started up.

She leaned against the window, watching the scenery outside—the streets, buildings, fields, and hills she had looked at for over twenty years receded bit by bit, getting further and smaller, until they finally disappeared around a bend in the road.

Tears finally fell.

She didn't make a sound; the tears just flowed down quietly.

She wiped her tears and put her headphones in.

...

Noon.

After finishing two morning classes, Chen Fan had a quick meal at the school cafeteria and drove to the company.

He parked his car, walked through the company entrance, and habitually glanced toward the administrative area—

Then he froze.

Qiao Linlin was sitting at her workstation, busy at the computer.

Today she wore a dark grey knit cardigan over a white base layer; her hair was down, obscuring half her face.

She was looking through something with her head down, tapping on the keyboard a few times, then picking up a pen to write and draw on paper.

Chen Fan blinked, doubting his own eyes.

Hadn't Qiao Linlin taken leave to go back to her hometown? She only left yesterday afternoon, yet she appeared at the company by noon today?

"Boss."

Qiao Linlin looked up, saw Chen Fan standing at the door, and greeted him proactively, her lips curving into a smile.

It wasn't until she spoke that Chen Fan confirmed he hadn't seen wrong.

"Didn't you take leave to go back home?" Chen Fan walked over and stood by her workstation.

Hearing Chen Fan's words, Qiao Linlin's movements paused for a moment. That pause was very brief, so brief that it wouldn't be noticed without careful observation.

Then she looked up and forced a smile, a standard eight-tooth grin.

"The family matters were settled, so I came back early."

Chen Fan looked at her, feeling that something wasn't quite right.

What could be settled in such a short time?

And her state was off as well.

Although she was smiling, the smile seemed painted on.

Her eyes were slightly red, with a few bloodshot streaks in the whites, as if she hadn't slept well, or as if she had been crying. Her

voice was also a bit softer than usual, lacking some of that carefree brightness.

However, since she wasn't willing to talk, Chen Fan wouldn't press her.

"Alright, then get back to work." Chen Fan nodded and turned toward his office.

In the blink of an eye, another three days passed.

The company wasn't busy these days, so Chen Fan didn't skip any classes.

He stayed at school dutifully, attending classes on time every day, pretending to be a good student.

Right now, he was in an Advanced Mathematics class, pen in hand and notebook spread out before him. He appeared to be listening intently, but in reality, his mind was on the project framework for archangels sword.

Just then, his phone vibrated.

He checked his phone and saw it was a call from Wang Jing.

Company employees generally didn't call Chen Fan proactively unless it was something important.

He quickly slipped out the back door. The hallway was empty, with only the distant sound of an English listening test coming from a classroom. He went to the stairwell and answered the phone.

"Hello, what's up?"

"President Chen, good news. Webzen has lowered the licensing fee."

"What? Lowered? Did you contact them?" Chen Fan couldn't help but straighten up.

"No. Last time you told me not to contact them again, so I haven't. But just now, their person in charge had someone contact me, saying they could license it for ten million plus a ten percent revenue share."

Hearing Wang Jing's words, Chen Fan's eyes widened.

He had already given up, but Webzen actually reached out proactively. When you ignore them, they come looking for you. Is this what they call being a glutton for punishment?

Although the fee was reduced by two million, Chen Fan still couldn't agree to these conditions.

He couldn't give a cut of the money to Webzen every month; that wasn't a small amount.

However, since they had relented, Chen Fan felt there was room for negotiation.

To be honest, it wasn't that the game couldn't be made without Webzen's license.

But with Webzen's license, he could use the name of mu online to attract those veteran players.

And most of these veteran players were around thirty years old, exactly when they had money.

In his previous life, archangels sword had a monthly turnover of over a hundred million, which showed the strength of these veteran players.

So as long as Webzen gave up the revenue share, Chen Fan still wanted to get the license.