Chapter 3

Half an hour later, the debt collectors left smiling; my tough guys chatted amicably and departed, leaving me and Yu Yan.

He owed 300,000.

Seeing the dark red-black aura fading from his head, I figured the deal was worth it.

“You eaten?” I said casually. “I’m hungry—join me?”

He snapped out of daze, eyeing me complexly: “…Who are you really?”

“I—told you,” I blinked. “Wish-granting blogger. You won!”

He muttered: “But I didn’t wish.”

Besides, does this happen? Someone swoops in, saves you from hell—such luck hitting him?

I showed my phone: “See? You did wish. I’m legit—trust me!”

Page showed my profile, verification badge prominent.

“Evening Fish…” He murmured my name, lashes drooping thickly.

“Now believe me? I’ll help with college,” I patted his shoulder. “We wish-granters are all about sincerity!”

—And money.

“Don’t worry about debts or tuition—I’ll sponsor legally, including four years. Any issues, contact me.”

Yu Yan didn’t refuse: “I’ll sign an IOU.”

I almost said no—it’s not my money—but thought: “No interest.”

“You…” He hesitated, then resolved. “What do you need from me?”

His dark eyes serious: “Anything—I’ll do it.”

I blinked blankly: “Why anything?”

“…Nothing?” His ears reddened, words hard. “I have nothing else to repay. Money might take forever.”

From the collectors’ words, I got it—brain froze two seconds.

But clarifying: “I’m legit. Wishes need no cost—you won, just accept your luck.”

Though I’d read fortunes, I’m a law-abiding citizen.

“If you want, verify as winner,” I said. “I’ll blur your privacy—no worries!”

I treated Yu Yan to dinner—simple wontons.

Steam rose; amid fog, he ate quietly, tears falling unseen.

Busy street stall; Yu Yan’s golden aura shone brighter, crystalline, outshining everything.

[He’ll be a great person,] Little Charity said, surprised. [Philanthropy value so high! Host, your eye is amazing—your first pick will contribute hugely to society!]

I sighed relief, mentally: “Good.”

Shop buzzed; we stayed silent by tacit agreement.

I bowed head, pretending not to see his tears, playing the naive rich blogger.

—”…Thanks.”

After his last tear hid, I heard Yu Yan.

Soft, but sincere.