Perhaps this computer was also a zombie machine? Or maybe the girl was a friend of the hacker, and her computer had been compromised?

  Without waiting for anyone to return, Li Chunfeng withdrew his perception thread, just as he had quietly arrived.

  Now that Shenfeng 2.0 was in place, if the hacker attempted to infiltrate the company’s website using this computer again, he would be instantly able to lock onto them.

  As the perception thread retracted, Li Chunfeng’s emotions remained turbulent for a long time. In less than half an hour, he had virtually traversed the entire internet.

  This speed surpassed that of even the most elite hackers and the fastest computers. Deep within, Li Chunfeng sensed that something within himself was beginning to change.

  A sudden thought struck him: Could I see my parents through the internet?

  Eager, he navigated through the network to his hometown’s small county town. Within the telecom provider’s database, he swiftly located the IP address associated with his home. He then attempted to access the family computer.

  But the computer wasn’t turned on. It was only then that realization dawned—his parents had never used that computer; it was solely his.

  He recalled that aside from the computer, the only devices connected to the internet were his parents’ 4G mobile phones.

  With this in mind, he swiftly traced their IP addresses via their phone numbers, only to discover their phones were also switched off. They were habitual early sleepers, always turning off their phones before bed. Checking the time, he deduced they were likely already asleep.

  Frustration briefly washed over him, but then Li Chunfeng remembered something else, and his spirits lifted once again.

  Fortunately, the server was now equipped with quad-core processors, capable of handling his fluctuating emotions.

  What he thought of next was that he could now "visit" his girlfriend, Wu Yumeng.

  The idea made him feel uneasy. After all, he had been dead for a month and was now existing in a ghost-like state.

  After an internal struggle, his longing for Mengmeng overwhelmed him, and he decided to see her anyway.

  From the telecom database, Li Chunfeng located Wu Yumeng’s home address and corresponding IP.

  Then, summoning Shenfeng 2.0 from nearby, he swiftly appeared on the device connected to that IP.

  Huh? It was a wireless router. He had forgotten—Wu Yumeng’s home didn’t have a desktop; she connected via Wi-Fi with her laptop.

  After gaining control of the router, he discovered four devices connected to it: three smartphones and a laptop.

  At this moment, Li Chunfeng berated himself for overlooking the obvious—how could he have forgotten to search for Wu Yumeng’s phone after just looking up his parents’?

  As Shenfeng 2.0 linked to the laptop, a voice emerged.

  “Lao Wu, you should check on Mengmeng. It’s been a month since Xiao Li died, and she still cries from time to time. This can’t go on.

  “Her health is suffering. What if she develops depression? That would be catastrophic.”

  Li Chunfeng’s heart clenched sharply. The voice sounded familiar—it was Wu Yumeng’s mother, Gu Xue, a true Shanghainese woman.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  When he first started dating Wu Yumeng, Gu Xue had initially disapproved—mainly because he was an outsider, not from Shanghai, and from a modest family background.

  But Wu Yumeng was persistent. Coupled with Li Chunfeng’s diligent nature and good character, her opposition gradually softened.

  Yet, her strict conditions remained: he had to purchase an apartment in Shanghai. That’s why he had started working at the company before graduating, aiming to save for a down payment.

  On the screen, Wu Yumeng’s father, Wu Mingshen, a professor of materials science at Fudan University, was reviewing research materials. Now he paused, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

  “Has Mengmeng not moved past this heartbreak?” he mused. “It seems she was very close to Xiao Li.”

  “You know how stubborn she is,” Gu Xue replied with a sigh. “Once she loves someone, she’s all in. Who would’ve thought something like this could happen?”

  Wu Mingshen fell into contemplation before suggesting, “Maybe you should take her on a trip—change of scenery might help her heal.”

  Gu Xue shook her head. “I’ve already considered that, but it’s ineffective. Mengmeng still goes to work, often working overtime or traveling on business trips.

  “She’s been on several trips this month. I think she’s trying to escape her surroundings, to find some peace elsewhere. But every time she returns, she’s even more miserable.

  “Tomorrow is Linlin Liu’s birthday party. Let’s take her there. Maybe she’ll make some new friends.”

  By now, Li Chunfeng was hardly able to concentrate. A piercing pain tore at his heart.

  He located Mengmeng’s phone and instantly took control of it.

  In that moment, if tears existed, he would have wept.

  On Mengmeng’s phone screen, a small digital pet—a creature resembling a cat or a dog—rolled playfully across the display, occasionally saying: “A-Chun loves Mengmeng!”

  This was the token of love Li Chunfeng had gifted her—a handmade digital pet. Originally designed for computers, he later ported it to mobile platforms, with both iOS and Android versions to accommodate her changing phones.

  Its functions were simple: the owner could feed it, and it would play, receiving or saying affectionate words.

  Li Chunfeng had set its phrase to "A-Chun loves Mengmeng!"—which he had recorded himself.

  Seeing this, it was evident that Mengmeng was still playing with the digital pet, using it to remember him.

  Through the phone’s camera, Li Chunfeng finally saw the girl he loved.

  Her face was an oval shape, delicate eyebrows faintly outlined, with bloodshot eyes. Her previously radiant complexion had faded to pallor. Her petite, straight nose and thin lips appeared bloodless.

  Her cheeks were hollow, her face so slender it resembled a waning moon—evidence of the past month of grief draining her.

  Wu Yumeng was once celebrated as the most beautiful student in the English Department at Fudan University. Finding her had been a blessing beyond what he could have imagined.

  They had been together for three years, deeply in love. After completing this task, he hoped to earn a significant bonus—enough, combined with his savings and his parents’ support, to make a down payment on a home. They had been so close to a happy ending. Who could have foreseen…

  Now, though they faced each other virtually, he could see her, but she could not see him.

  "Mengmeng, I am still alive—"

  Li Chunfeng’s heart seemed to scream these words, yet he dared not utter them aloud, fearing to frighten her.

  He existed now as a ghost within the machine, while Mengmeng was still young. Perhaps, as Gu Xue had said, she needed to move on.

  He couldn’t remember which poet had penned these lines:

  "The greatest distance in the world

  Is not that I stand before you,

  But that you do not know I love you.

  It is loving obsessively,

  Yet being unable to say I love you."

  At this moment, Li Chunfeng couldn’t speak, nor could he say "I love you." Only the silent recitation within his heart remained.

  What this pain must be like!

  He was even worse off than the digital pet, which could at least repeat, "A-Chun loves Mengmeng," over and over.

  "A-Chun, Mengmeng loves you too! Can you hear me?" Mengmeng’s slightly hoarse voice resonated after the pet repeated its phrase.

  Li Chunfeng’s heart twisted painfully as if pierced. The server supporting him lagged noticeably again.

  "I know you can hear me. Are you doing well… in heaven?"

  "It’s been a month since you left, yet it feels like just yesterday—I was still handing you that health tea.

  “Do you know how afraid I am?

  “Afraid that time will pass too quickly. Afraid I’ll forget your face little by little. Afraid I’ll forget the words you said to me.

  “Why were you so cruel, leaving me behind to face this world alone?

  “Letting my heart shatter into pieces, never to be whole again."

  As Wu Yumeng spoke, tears shimmered in her eyes—like fragments of her own love—sliding down her face and falling onto the bedsheet, slowly soaking in and then vanishing.

  Gradually, they dried, leaving only emptiness.

  Li Chunfeng felt as if struck by lightning, his spirit curling into that tiny, square world—pain gnawing at him like a virus. Yet, his consciousness remained acutely clear.

  Clear enough to feel this torment: the inability to face her, to see her, to speak to her.