After The Web Novel Great God Transmigrated As A Scummy Online Dating Top - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

WeChat continued to “ding” incessantly, a relentless digital chorus.

After hanging up yet another call, Lin Muxue stared at the balance in her mobile wallet, her brow furrowed in a knot that refused to loosen.

She had run out of money to refund the victims.

Although “Lin Muxue No. 2” had scammed a significant amount, she spent it even faster. Her life had fluctuated wildly between sudden wealth and desperate penury, never knowing the meaning of a steady balance.

But when people called to demand their money back—and given they were strangers—asking for a “promissory note” was out of the question. Lin Muxue had no choice but to take out several small loans from a few reliable online platforms to cover the immediate debts.

When the tide of debt collection calls finally ebbed, Lin Muxue sighed. She rubbed her dry, aching eyes and moved to sit on the bed, only to land on a pile of clutter. Looking back, she saw the mattress buried under a mountain of glittery dresses, accessories, and handbags. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

She leaned against the computer desk to steady herself, realizing with a start that she was lightheaded from hunger.

Surveying the chaotic little room and her negative net worth, Lin Muxue weighed the options between ordering takeout or cooking instant noodles. She chose the latter.

…

A “Sober” Realization

She muted her phone, washed up in the tiny bathroom, and used her newfound memories to dig a box of instant noodles out from under the bed. She selected a non-spicy seafood flavor and emptied the packet into a bowl.

Sitting on a small stool in front of a “dining table” made of cardboard boxes and stacks of books, she turned on the electric kettle. While waiting for the water to boil, she contemplated her situation.

As it turned out, “Lin Muxue No. 2” had accidentally stumbled upon Zhizhi Mumu, a famous niche social networking site for women. After lurking for a while, fueled by a deep-seated resentment toward the mother who abandoned her, she began to flirt with girls on the site.

Initially, her goal was simple: lure them in, play with their feelings, and then dump them cruelly. It was a distorted way of getting revenge across time and space against Ms. Zhong Cuishan.

Lin Muxue found this logic difficult to grasp. It was clear that from the moment their paths diverged at sixteen, she and “Lin Muxue No. 2” had grown into two entirely different entities.

While some people used online dating for a bit of comfort, many on Zhizhi Mumu were genuinely looking for partners. The site was reputable, held regular events, and had a preliminary screening process for its registered users.

Lin Muxue No. 2 didn’t even know how her haphazardly filled-out registration form passed the audit, but once inside, she had a field day creating various personas. Within six months, she had successfully “dated” 99 girlfriends.

Her goal was to reach 108—the number of the legendary outlaws of the Marsh.

From the memories, Lin Muxue knew that even without the sudden exposure on the forum, Lin Muxue No. 2 had planned to “self-expose” and vanish once she hit the 108th mark. To her, the forum post wasn’t a cause for fear, but rather anger that her “grand finale” had been spoiled.

If the original Lin Muxue hadn’t arrived, No. 2 would have likely posted a shameless boast on the forum before disappearing into the digital void. But Lin Muxue was different. Her character dictated her actions; she refused to be a person without a sense of responsibility, just like her biological parents.

…

The Wardrobe of Horrors

After eating her noodles, she began cleaning the room as a post-meal activity. Her own style had always been simple and comfortable—mostly black, white, and gray. This was the first time she had ever been surrounded by such a chaotic mess of belongings.

• Rainbow-colored tube-top jumpsuits: Every color was highly saturated and covered in glitter. Would this actually blind pedestrians?

• Deep purple backless bodycon mini-dresses: What kind of shoes or bags could possibly match this?

• Oxblood red, high-slit maxi dresses: The slit was so high it would reveal safety shorts. And the red was… a very “subtle” shade.

Lin Muxue felt her head spin. Her brain, usually sharp enough to construct complex literary worlds, felt insufficient to process this wardrobe.

Finally, she gave up on trying to find anything “wearable.” She divided the clothes into two piles: one a vibrant explosion of color, and the other, simple “daily” wear.

The daily pile was pathetically small: two black knee-length dresses with the tags still on, and a white-and-black tennis outfit.

She shoved the rest—along with the bizarre necklaces, bracelets, and rings—into a box, taped it shut, and labeled it.

…

Facing the Music

This was a cheap rental in an old residential building near the school. Because of the pandemic, diplomas were being mailed or picked up in shifts; she had received hers a few days ago. Lin Muxue No. 2 had been so obsessed with her online scams that she hadn’t left the room in days.

It was time to move out.

Unlike her counterpart, Lin Muxue loved the old courtyard at the end of Pagoda Tree Road in the old city district. She enjoyed growing vegetables, raising flowers, and writing in seclusion.

While waiting for the landlord to arrive, she continued dealing with the “girlfriend” crisis on her phone.

Most of the 99 had been manipulated into lending or giving money. The forum post had gone viral, and while some victims hadn’t seen it yet, Lin Muxue was proactive. She faced the text and voice messages—no matter how abusive—with quiet shame. She apologized sincerely to everyone and returned what she could.

Some couldn’t accept the apology and continued to curse her. Others took the money and agreed to delete the contact. Some, like Xiao Yue, asked if she was just a “cleaner” hired to fix the scammer’s mess.

Lin Muxue typed back:

Chao Chao Mu Mu: No, I am the one who did those things. I am deeply sorry for the harm I caused you.

She thought to herself, if her original uncle knew she had gone from zero dating experience to 99 “girlfriends” overnight, he’d probably jump three feet in the air and yell, “Holy crap!”