Is Self-Redemption Really That Hard? [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 8.1

“I-Love-Cats” was utterly shocked. It took her over a full minute to recover from the daze and start typing again. After getting Lu Wuqi’s permission, she even connected to voice chat with her.

The moment she heard the unmistakably youthful voice on the other end, “I-Love-Cats” finally accepted the devastating truth—Lu Wuqi really was just a freshly graduated high-schooler about to start university.

“Ahem, let me introduce myself. I’m Miao Miao—you can just call me Maomao,” she said.

Realizing she had just argued with someone more than ten years younger than her for over an hour straight, Miao Miao wanted nothing more than to curl up and disappear into the floor.

God, she was already thirty-one or thirty-two years old—how could she have gone and picked a fight with a kid?

“Senior Miao Miao,” said Lu Wuqi, lounging back casually in her chair, “even though I can’t be your employee, we can collaborate.”

“My skills, you’ve already seen for yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have offered me fifty thousand a month to join your company,” Lu Wuqi said evenly, as if she was the older and more composed one.

“That’s true,” Miao Miao admitted after exhaling a long breath, “but since you’re still a student, your main focus should be your studies. I can sign an early agreement with you—when you reach senior year and start your internship, you can come straight to us. I’ll even double your salary.”

At just eighteen, to possess such talent and composure—the phrase ‘a bright future ahead’ couldn’t have been more fitting for Lu Wuqi.

“Senior Miao Miao,” Lu Wuqi said mildly, “it seems you didn’t quite understand me. What I want is collaboration, not employment.” She paused briefly. “You should know better than anyone that in this industry, talent matters more than age, right?”

Lu Wuqi never turned down a commission—whether high-end or low-paying. Partly because she needed the money fast, and partly because she had a goal: to catch the eye of someone with real vision and courage.

Although her encounter with Miao Miao hadn’t gone as she originally planned, it was undeniable that she had achieved her aim. Miao Miao was exactly the kind of person with both insight and boldness.

“You want to collaborate with me? Do you even know what my company does?” Miao Miao asked. “If we work together, what value can you bring me?”

“Senior Miao Miao,” said Lu Wuqi, “you mentioned before that you’re the Vice President and a partner at Yingwei Technologies. If I’m not mistaken, your team’s currently focusing on autonomous driving, right?”

As she spoke through her headset, Lu Wuqi simultaneously browsed the company’s official website she’d just pulled up.

“That’s right,” Miao Miao replied. “But that’s only one of our R&D directions. We’re also working on drones and other smart devices. Why—don’t tell me your skills are already at the level where you can solve our technical bottlenecks?”

“I know a little, but not much,” Lu Wuqi admitted. Of course, she couldn’t really—she hadn’t been a tech developer in her previous world. She just knew enough to not be fooled by jargon and to hold her own in discussions.

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?” Miao Miao’s curiosity was piqued.

If Lu Wuqi had started bragging outright, she would’ve dismissed her as arrogant. But she hadn’t. She knew exactly where her strengths lay and what she could actually do—making her words sound far more credible.

“My technical skills might not surpass yours,” Lu Wuqi said, “but I have a lot of actionable ideas—ones that could help your R&D timeline shrink significantly.”

To build a company that could reach world top one status, its business scope had to be massive. Technology was only one piece of the puzzle.

Lu Wuqi couldn’t possibly do everything hands-on, but she had studied major project directions and proposals carefully.

She’d never been directly involved in product development, but she had been invited to observe the results afterward—complete with technical directors walking her through the process.

Miao Miao grew even more intrigued. A girl who hadn’t even started university, short on cash, and yet she spoke with this level of insight—what did she have in that head of hers?

Their call didn’t last long—about fifteen minutes in total.

Understandable, really. Miao Miao was the vice president and shareholder of a major company. As online friends, she could afford to argue emotionally with Lu Wuqi.

But once she shifted into her executive mindset, she had to weigh every factor carefully.

After all, there was a world of difference between an employee and a business partner. The former could be replaced at will; the latter could become a shared destiny.

When the WeChat call ended, Lu Wuqi glanced at the time. Seeing it was already dinner hour, she neatly wiped her tracks and powered down her computer.

The evening sun wasn’t too harsh, but by the time Lu Wuqi cycled home, her back was slick with sweat.

Her long argument and later chat with Miao Miao had eaten up most of her afternoon, leaving her with only a little over a hundred yuan in earnings for the day.

“Mom, I’m home!” she called as she unlocked the door. A wave of cool air greeted her as soon as she stepped inside.

Air conditioning? At this hour? Did they have guests?

She shut the door and stepped past the small entryway. Sure enough, there was a slightly unfamiliar woman sitting on the living room sofa, with her mother beside her—smiling ingratiatingly.

“Xiao Lu, you’re back,” her mother said brightly. “This is my boss—you should call her Auntie.”

“Hello, Auntie,” Lu Wuqi greeted politely, walking forward without missing a beat.

“Hello, hello, come sit here—there’s fruit.” The unfamiliar aunt greeted her with a smile, her eyes carrying a hint of admiration as she looked at Lu Wuqi.

So, this was what people meant when they said poor children matured early? Fresh out of high school and already working a part-time job—and not just any student, but one with grades good enough to get into Capital University.

No wonder her mother refused to give up on her. If her own child was that capable, she’d sell everything she owned to support her education too.

“Thank you, Auntie.” Lu Wuqi sat down naturally, unbothered by the woman’s slightly overbearing hospitality, and picked up a grape to eat.

After a short chat, she learned that this woman was her mother’s employer—the same “kind boss” who, according to her mother, had offered to transfer her to warehouse duty instead of firing her, and even lent her money.

But that “kindness” wasn’t without reason. The boss had only agreed to help after seeing with her own eyes the Capital University acceptance letter in Mrs. Lu’s photo album.

After all, in most people’s eyes, anyone admitted to such a prestigious school must have a bright future. Lending a hand now might just mean earning a valuable connection later.

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Lu saw her boss off, and her bank account balance had increased by exactly ten thousand yuan.

“Keep this money. Once you’ve paid your tuition, use whatever’s left for living expenses,” Mrs. Lu said, transferring the full amount to her daughter without hesitation.

“Okay, thank you, Mom.” Lu Wuqi didn’t refuse. It was better for the money to be with her anyway—at least her father wouldn’t gamble it away or waste it elsewhere.

“Mom, you don’t look too well,” Lu Wuqi said softly. “Maybe you should go for a check-up before going back to work?”

“I’m fine,” Mrs. Lu waved it off. “Just didn’t sleep well these past few days. I’ll be fine after a good night’s rest.”

Going to the hospital cost money—and she’d rather spend that money buying her daughter more meat to eat.

“Then at least take a few days off,” Lu Wuqi urged. “I’ve found a part-time job that pays pretty well—about five to six hundred yuan a day.”

She couldn’t help recalling the image of her mother collapsing later on, and her chest tightened.

People always said early detection led to better outcomes. If her mother had gone to the hospital ten days earlier, would things have turned out differently?

“It’s really fine,” Mrs. Lu insisted. “The warehouse isn’t hot; it’s shaded, and all we handle are food goods.” Then, smiling, she asked, “You must be hungry. What do you want for dinner? I’ve already stewed pork ribs with corn.”

Lu Wuqi frowned slightly. She couldn’t wait for her mother to get sick before acting—she’d have to make a small app tomorrow to trick her into going for a check-up.

“Add a plate of stir-fried greens too,” she said. “A balanced meal is better.”

She silently made a note of it in her mind.

When she realized it would just be the two of them for dinner, Lu Wuqi casually asked where her father was.

“Oh, him?” Mrs. Lu said evenly. “He said he went out to demand unpaid wages and compensation. Left this morning. No idea when he’ll be back.”

Out of sight, out of mind. Though he’d barely been home lately, not having to see him at all was even more of a relief.

“How much money did he take with him?” Lu Wuqi asked.

“Five hundred yuan—for the bus fare and meals.” Mrs. Lu paused slightly as she served food. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t have enough left to gamble with now.”

Lu Wuqi hummed in response. Remembering what the redemption system had told her about their eventual fate, she chose to ignore the rest of the thought.

Having no money and not gambling were two very different things.

If no one tempted him, perhaps he would come home just as he’d left. But if someone told him that turning one thousand yuan into a hundred thousand was easy, then who knew what he might do?

The mother and daughter quickly finished dinner. After being chased out of the kitchen, Lu Wuqi went back to her room, determined to write three thousand words of her apology letter before bed.

Dear Xuxu,

Once again, I’ve reflected deeply on my actions, and I can’t help but recall every moment we shared.

It had taken her nearly an hour to write her first thousand words, but tonight she made progress—three thousand words in two and a half hours, and almost no typos.

Still, it wasn’t really an apology letter anymore. It read more like a nostalgic recollection of their time together—from their first meeting at school registration, to getting to know each other during the sports festival, to competing side by side in academic contests.

By the time she was done, she had used up half a bottle of ink.

Blowing gently on the still-wet ink, Lu Wuqi opened her chat with Lan Xu and saw the conversation still frozen at the words “Look up.”

She quietly took a photo.

Lu Wuqi: [Photo]

Lu Wuqi: Xuxu, I wrote three thousand words today—so now it’s four thousand total. At this rate, I can hand it in to you the day after tomorrow.

Lan Xu’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the notification, and her gaze lingered on the words glowing on the lock screen.

Four thousand already? Lu Wuqi was really working hard today.

Remembering her earlier talk with her mother, Lan Xu’s grip on her phone tightened until her knuckles turned pale.

She was an adult now—she should have her own judgment, her own moral compass. How could she blindly follow what so-called “experienced adults” said?

Besides, Lu Wuqi wasn’t like the people her mother described. She wasn’t someone who’d exploit or drag down her friends.

Lu Wuqi already had a plan for her future—she was going to study hard, start her own studio, and earn her own living. She wouldn’t let her father’s mistakes ruin her life!

Lan Xu: I don’t want to see the four thousand-word one. I’ll only read it when it’s ten thousand.

Lu Wuqi: Okay, I’ll let you know once I finish the day after tomorrow.

Lan Xu: Did you work at the internet café all afternoon?

Lu Wuqi: Mm, I didn’t get back until almost six.

Lan Xu: How much did you make today?

Lu Wuqi paused, mentally tallying the numbers before replying.

Lu Wuqi: 168 yuan—that’s just from the afternoon. I earned a bit more in the morning.

More than a hundred in one afternoon? That meant over three hundred a day—so at least six thousand a month! That wasn’t bad at all.

And since it was online part-time work, she could keep doing it even after classes started. With that income, her living expenses and tuition would be covered easily.

Thinking of that, Lan Xu’s mood instantly lifted, and her resolve grew even firmer.

Lan Xu: Alright. Tell me once you’re done—I’ll check it.

Lan Xu: And don’t forget my conditions: no repeats, no copying from the internet, and it has to be sincere!

Lu Wuqi: Got it. I’m taking it seriously.

There was something almost magical about talking with her girlfriend—it made time slip by unnoticed.

By the time they said goodnight, the clock on her phone already read 11:00 p.m.

Normally, she would have finished showering and gone to bed by now. Yet tonight, she hadn’t done a thing except talk.

Love really was strange—and wonderful.