My neighbor stole the vegetables I grew on my balcony for 93 days straight. She became a top-tier influencer with millions of followers just by stealing my produce. Until she swiped the last bag and ate it live on stream with a smile. Moments later, she started seeing dancing elves, and the clip went viral. She brought the building manager and reporters to my door, tearfully accusing me of poisoning her. I simply handed over three things: my PhD diploma, project documents, and an empty flowerpot with a warning label. "I research hallucinogenic mushrooms for treating depression. She didn't eat poison; she ate my research grant." 1 I opened my phone. Chloe's livestream viewer count was jumping like crazy. 2.98 million, 2.99 million... boom, 3 million. She picked up the "White Feather Matsutake," showing it off to the camera. "Look, besties! These are wild matsutake mushrooms my neighbor grew. You can't find this quality in stores." The chat exploded with comments like "So jealous," "I want some," and "Chloe is so lucky." She stuffed the whole mushroom into her mouth, closing her eyes dramatically. "Oh my god, the flavor is insane. It melts in your mouth, silky like cream." Three million fans were spamming gifts on the other side of the screen. I stared at my phone, silently counting down. Three minutes. Chloe suddenly stopped chewing. Her eyes started to wander. She blinked, seemingly trying to focus on something. Two minutes. She started giggling, a sharp, piercing sound. One minute. "Whoa! Do you see them?" She suddenly stood up, pointing at thin air and shouting. "So many colorful butterflies in little suits! They're dancing the salsa!" The livestream chat went wild. "?????" "Is the streamer high?" "What's happening?" Chloe was fully immersed in her hallucination, waving her arms and chasing the invisible "butterflies." She fell to the floor, still giggling. "Don't run, little butterflies! I want to dance with you!" I turned off the stream and walked to the balcony. The flowerpot labeled "Neuroactive Research Sample - Do Not Touch" was empty. I smiled. Ninety-three days. She finally stole the one thing she shouldn't have. Five minutes later, #InfluencerLivestreamPoisoning hit #1 on Trending. I refreshed Twitter, watching the situation escalate. Chloe's studio reacted fast, issuing a statement immediately: "Chloe was maliciously poisoned by her neighbor. She has been rushed to the ER for a stomach pump and is in critical condition." They attached a photo of her lying in a hospital bed, pale, hooked up to an IV, looking pitiful. I almost laughed out loud. Critical condition? Hallucinogenic mushrooms aren't fatal; at most, she'd see a Technicolor world for a few hours. Then I got doxxed. Name, address, workplace—all posted online by her fans. My phone started vibrating like crazy. "Murderer!" "Psycho who poisoned an influencer!" "Go to hell!" Vicious texts poured in one after another. I looked at the insults calmly. A crowd started gathering downstairs. I peeked through the curtains. At least fifty people were holding banners, shouting "Justice for Chloe" and "Punish the killer." Someone spray-painted a big red "DIE" on my door. The building manager brought security up to knock. "Ms. Su, come out and explain yourself." I didn't open the door. Chloe's studio released a second statement, even more vicious this time. "The neighbor, jealous of Chloe's success, deliberately poisoned the food for revenge. This person is twisted and possibly sociopathic. Please be careful." They included my ID photo, edited to look black and white like a memorial portrait. Netizens went berserk. "Scum like this should be sliced into pieces!" "We have the address, let's get her!" "Straight to the crematorium!" The cursing outside grew louder. Someone started banging on the door. Soon, reporters arrived too. "Ms. Su, do you have any response to the poisoning allegations?" "Do you admit to poisoning Chloe?" "What was your motive?" I looked through the peephole at the crowd outside and thought: It's time to teach you all a lesson. 2 Hours later, the building manager, Mark, blocked my door with a group of reporters and fans. He even called a locksmith. "Ms. Su! Come out!" Mark's voice came through the door. "Give Ms. Chloe an explanation!" I pressed my ear to the door, listening to the noise outside. Through the peephole, I saw Chloe hiding at the back of the crowd, her face still pale and sickly. I walked to the intercom and pressed the talk button. "Chloe." The hallway went silent instantly. "Stealing research samples—do you know the consequences?" Mark reacted first, his voice pitching up an octave. "Stop slandering her! Open the door!" Then came Chloe's crying, rain on a pear blossom. "I just saw her veggies growing so well... I thought it was a waste, I just wanted to borrow a little to taste... Who knew she would poison them..." Borrow? I almost laughed. Ninety-three days, every morning at 6:10 AM sharp—that's borrowing? "Borrowing requires the owner's permission. And besides, those weren't vegetables." The crowd outside erupted in murmurs. "What does that mean?" "If not vegetables, then what?" "Is she trying to make excuses?" Chloe cried louder. "They were clearly mushrooms growing in pots! They looked like matsutake. I thought she couldn't finish them alone..." "Matsutake?" I finally couldn't hold back a laugh. "Are you sure those were matsutake?" The reporters caught the key point. Someone shouted, "Then what were they?" Silence fell outside. Everyone was waiting for my answer. I went back to my room and took three things from my drawer. My PhD diploma, the project documents, and that empty flowerpot with the warning label. I returned to the door and opened it. A dozen microphones were shoved in my face. Chloe stood at the back of the crowd. I held up my diploma. "MIT, PhD in Biological Engineering." Then the project file. "National Science Foundation grant, research on hallucinogenic mushrooms for depression treatment." Finally, the empty pot. The label was clearly visible: "Neuroactive Research Sample - Do Not Touch." "What? Hallucinogenic mushrooms?" "This is a research project?" "So Chloe ate a lab sample?" I looked at Chloe, hiding behind the crowd. "She didn't eat poison. She ate my research funding." The scene exploded. Reporters swarmed Chloe, mics and cameras pointing at her. "Ms. Chloe, did you know these were research samples?" "Why did you steal someone else's experimental materials?" "How much did you steal over these ninety-three days?" Chloe's face went from green to white, her lips trembling, unable to speak. Mark was dumbfounded too. The onlookers looked at each other. The fans who were just defending their idol didn't know what to say. "No... it's not like that..." Chloe finally spoke. "I didn't know they were lab samples. I thought... I thought they were just normal mushrooms..." "Normal mushrooms?" I sneered. "Normal mushrooms with warning labels?" She opened her mouth but nothing came out. "Ms. Chloe, how do you explain this?" "Do you know the legal consequences of stealing research samples?" "Your studio just issued a statement demanding accountability for poisoning. How do you respond now?" Chloe panicked completely, tears streaming down her face. "I... I really didn't know... I just thought they looked edible..." Her die-hard fans still bought her story. "Who grows poisonous mushrooms at home? Don't let this woman fool you!" Mark jumped in to help. "Exactly! You are endangering community safety!" I was speechless at these fans. I slammed the door shut. 3 That night, the property management cut my water and power. Mark announced in the HOA group chat that "temporary measures" were taken against my unit to "ensure the safety of other residents." I looked at my phone screen in the dark. The group chat was full of agreement. "Well done!" "Good job cutting it!" "Get that scum out of our complex!" Chloe's team moved fast. A second wave of PR hit. They edited a blurry video of my balcony, implying I was "long-term cultivating unidentified toxic plants." The caption was even better: "For Chloe's safety, we must let everyone know the truth." Public opinion exploded again. The whole internet was condemning me. My name and "Poisoning Doctor" were trending. The comments were terrifyingly vicious. "This trash deserves to be tortured!" "So what if she's a PhD? Educated criminals are scarier!" "Suggest immediate execution!" They even found my affiliated institutions and called to report me one by one. "How can MIT have such a professor?" "Fire her! Give society an explanation!" Mark sent a voice message in the group: "Don't worry, everyone. Management will not tolerate such dangerous individuals." Neighbors replied: "Manager Mark did the right thing!" "People like this shouldn't live here!" "My daughter walks past her door every day. Thinking about it scares me!" My finger hovered over my phone screen. Before the battery died, I made one call. "Professor Chen, Sample Group B-7 stolen. Experimental data may be compromised." "What did you say?" "I'll contact the relevant departments immediately." Thirty minutes later, sirens approached. Not one car, but a whole convoy. It wasn't local patrol; it was the major crimes unit. The leader looked stern. They dispersed the reporters and fans lingering near my home and went straight for Mark. Mark tried to complain, pointing at my unit. "Officers, you're just in time! That poisoner lives there!" "Who authorized you to cut power to a military-cooperation project zone?" Mark's knees buckled, his voice cracking. "What military project?" "A joint research base between MIT and the National Defense University. You dare cut the power?" Mark's face went instantly white. Chloe, hiding at the back, looked even worse than Mark. The police knocked on my door, polite. "Dr. Su, we're here to understand the situation and restore security systems." I opened the door and handed them a photocopy with a red stamp. The title was bold: Confidentiality Agreement for "Neural Regeneration Inducer" Special Research. Chloe saw the title and looked distraught. Mark collapsed on the ground. "Military project?" A reporter whispered. "Neural regeneration? What level of research is this?" "National Defense University... this is military?" Chloe tried to back away but was blocked by police. "Ms. Chloe, please cooperate with the investigation." "I... I don't know anything..." Her voice shook violently. "Ninety-three days of stealing military project samples, and you say you don't know?" 4 My living room became a temporary interrogation room. I handed over all the evidence I had prepared for three months—93 days of surveillance footage. Close-ups of every flowerpot on the balcony. Not a single one missing. Each pot had bilingual warning labels: "TOXIC," "NEUROACTIVE SUBSTANCE," "EXPERIMENTAL SAMPLE." When Chloe was summoned, she was still playing the victim, tears on her face. "Officer, I'm innocent. I didn't know anything." She pointed at me. "She framed me!" The police expressionlessly turned on the projector. In the video, Chloe, wearing a mask and hat, tip-toed to my balcony. She looked around, made sure no one was there, then carefully peeled off the warning label on the pot. After peeling it, she put the pot in her bag. The whole process took thirteen minutes. Chloe's crying stopped abruptly. Her lips trembled, unable to speak. "Ms. Chloe, you call this a mistake?" the officer asked sternly. She slumped in the chair, unable to pretend anymore. Mark was questioned separately. Before he could complain, the officer cut him off. "For sabotaging security facilities of a critical research site, come with us." Mark went limp. "No... I didn't know it was a military project!" "Didn't know?" The officer sneered. "Then why did you dare to cut the power randomly?" Mark was taken away. I looked at Chloe's pale face, feeling nothing. At noon, the National Academy of Sciences official account released a statement. The title was a slap in the face: Solemn Statement Regarding the Theft of "Neural Regeneration Inducer" Project Samples. It stated clearly that Dr. Su is a core member responsible for cultivating and extracting neuroactive substances. The project involves national secrets; any theft or misuse will face legal consequences. Professor Chen accepted an interview with CCTV, tone heavy. "What was stolen weren't mushrooms, but the hope of countless depression patients. These samples are worth tens of millions and represent a major breakthrough in our country's neurology field." The trending topics exploded: #InfluencerStealsStateSecrets hit #1. The netizens who cursed me went crazy, frantically deleting comments. "OMG, I cursed out a national scientist?" "Crap, I said she should die. Will the FBI knock on my door?" "Chloe is done for, right? Stealing state secrets!" Chloe's millions of followers dropped to less than a million overnight. Her studio issued a statement trying to distance themselves, but netizens weren't buying it. "Scared now? Where were you before?" "Stealing state secrets is justified now?" "Go to jail!" My phone blew up again. This time, not insults, but interview requests. "Dr. Su, please accept our exclusive interview!" "This is the Daily News, we want details." "CCTV wants to clear your name!" I muted my phone and sat on the balcony looking down. Chloe's team was running around like headless chickens downstairs. Her agent cried to the cameras: "Chloe really didn't know it was a state secret! She's just a normal girl!" Netizens commented ruthlessly: "Normal girl stealing state secrets?" "Ignorance is not a defense!" "Go to jail already!"
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