Chapter 4

With Yu Yan’s consent, I posted about sponsoring him.

Evening Fish: Draw over—wish feedback~ [picture]

After his debt, my philanthropy limit refreshed.

So besides him, I bought a new dress for a single mom’s kid (daughter’s wish), paid surgery for an abused stray cat (finder kid’s wish).

No promotion this time, but the tweet blew up overnight.

Wish-granting like custom lotteries—though not always, eye-based—spending hundreds of thousands was real.

Lotteries always draw eyes.

“That’s rich people for you—orz on my knees”

“Met the blogger! Super young and pretty, readings accurate and chill!”

“Blogger need an assistant? Lots of wishes type.”

“Kind-hearted beauty wish-granter (PS: Will this intro make you remember me?)”

“Sky booms, old servant appears. Miss, sandstorm tonight—how’d we separate? [bawling]”

“Only me finding this heartwarming? Late-night tweet makes world feel nice.”

“Yeah!!! Mom in new dress smiles so happy—that pic almost made me cry…”

“Kitty and kid cute too!”

“And the student’s scores are great?”

“Nancheng U freshman. Others vacation—he worked for tuition [sigh]”

“This guy’s good—blogger said he insisted on IOU, posted it.”

“Hope more positive wish blogs. My chance next? QAQ”

“Blogger, timid ask: Still doing readings?”

I replied a few, said I’d continue readings, posted another wish tweet.

More comments this time—I skimmed, first fully settling Yu Yan’s debts.

I’d paid them, but from overheard, to end harassment, I politely contacted creditor Red Sister: No more bothering Yu Yan.

Easily deduced her birth details and recent fortunes, mentioned two recent events casually—her attitude flipped.

Underworld types fear taboos, hate offending mystics like me. She laughed: “Miss Yu, misunderstanding—I see little Yu as a brother.”

What brother? Beddable one?

I grumbled inwardly, no face-tearing: “I know—I see him as a brother too.”

Red Sister paused, maybe misunderstood, insightful tone: “Ah, got it. Little Yu’s stubborn—not easy. But if Miss Yu wants to discipline, I have ways for naughty brothers at home—can teach you.”

Me: “…?”

Weird vibe—felt off.

After stressing Yu Yan’s importance, she promised to keep the area off him.

Relieved, I browsed thousands of comments.

Eyes fixed on a unique one.

“Not my wish, but recent event—saw this tweet, sharing.

In class, asked kids’ dreams. Top student girl said she’s never been to a bookstore, wants to see one.

She loves books—I asked what she’d read there. She asked what it’s like, if it never closes, if she could finish all books before leaving.

Gave her books before—her eyes, I’ll never forget. Purest, brightest I’ve seen, full of longing.

Her words kept me up. Drove to town bookstore today, bought more. Writing in flyleaf, thought: If she could leave here… [picture]”

Picture: Open book, flyleaf with elegant script.

—Poverty strengthens resolve, never lose lofty ambitions.

On that line, faint golden aura.

For the teacher writing, and student receiving.

Clicked teacher’s profile: Sparse posts, but radiating simple beauty.

Like wildflowers from students; choir video; greeting card.

Photos glowed with bright auras—golden circles, shallow but pure, crystal clear, no impurities.

Unlike Yu Yan’s destined brilliance, this was ordinary folks’.

But tangible golden aura proved their pure hearts—only best people birth such.

Rarer than success’s crimson gold— this pale gold.

I pondered.

Then asked Little Charity: “Can you provide extra help?”

[Ah? I can’t cheat, host you…]

“I want to sponsor this village school—build a library.” Pointed to teacher’s location. “Approvals, construction—tricky, want it fast. Little Charity, please.”

Little Charity paused, switched: […You came to the right one! Charity issues? Call Little Charity!]

I gushed: “Little Charity’s the best system ever!”

Little Charity fake-coughed modestly: [No prob—go wild! I’m your solid backup!]

Assured, I descended on this Sichuan-Chongqing mountain school.

Night before principal talks, contacted teacher: “Hi! Wish-blogger Evening Fish. Saw your wish—here to grant it~”

Next day, dazed Teacher Lin Rulan joined principal greeting me.

“Teacher Lin,” elderly principal excited, “Miss Yu wants school renovations, cover fees, donate library—all because you shared kids’ story online, she saw!”

Lin Rulan’s eyes widened, dazed: “Wish-blogger… Evening Fish?”

“Me,” principal so formal, I blushed. “Teacher Lin, saw your student’s wish—here to grant.”

Deep mountains, muddy roads, long bus. Crumbling bricks housed eager kids, dozens under leaky roofs, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

They might never leave, so books bridged to world’s wonders.

Lin Rulan here five years.

Year one: Parents urged, branching just resume boost—year enough, come back.

Year two: Relatives asked, where are you all year? Parents can support—return soon.

Year three: Friends said, you changed, Lanlan—suffering there?

Year four: No more words—they saw no return plans.

Year five: Parents videoed tearfully: Do what you want—you’re our pride.

Combined elementary-junior-high school; Lin Rulan told every student: “Study hard.”

World vast, eyes reach far.

“Class, we may not travel much, maybe ordinary like me—but keep distant horizons in heart.”

—In ditches, we gaze at stars.

“Library’s step one,” I told principal and teachers via plans. “Saw roads bad—weeds, mud, hard for kids commuting or town… Next, pave a road.”

Principal stunned.

Then eyes reddened.

“Miss Yu, I really…” He fumbled. “Thanks from the kids… Truly, thank you…”

Little Charity’s magic: Crew I contacted insanely efficient.

Soon, school renewed; library construction started.

Donated not just library—two buildings: One teaching, other for science lab, or dreamed art/music rooms.

Plus big sum for better meals, dorms.

Struggling families: After checks, school got scholarships for their studies.

Principal planned kids’ thank-you show—I waved off.

But leaving after approvals, Lin Rulan led class singing for me.

Spotted the girl instantly—new junior, short hair, tiny, eyes overly bright.

“I’m Xu Xiao,” her sparkling eyes on me, full of awe. “Teacher Lin said sister saw my wish.”

Lin Rulan said real name Xu Small, family’s youngest.

But after borrowing dictionary, Xu Xiao named herself.

Xiao, meaning dawn.

“Teacher Lin,” tiny girl with dictionary, “I love dawn’s look—want to be one who sees it.”

Lin Rulan: “Xiaoxiao, you will.”

—In obscurity, see dawn alone.

“No need bookstore now—library’s yours,” I patted her head. “Reading’s great—keep going.”