By Zephyria 
Side Couple Extra
■ Shock (Xie Sui) × Mole (Cen Xian)
The height of summer arrived in Lincheng.
Outside the classroom, the leaves of the plane trees rustled. The air was scorching, and only the back door was open, allowing a faint, cool breeze from the hallway to seep through the walls.
“Second year is almost over, so I won’t say much.” The homeroom teacher held a piece of chalk, his bald head gleaming in the morning light. “The college entrance exams are in a few days. The countdown is hanging right up front, so you all know where you stand.”
“We’re doing a major seat change this time, and it’ll stay this way for the rest of the semester.” The middle-aged man tugged at his belt, chalk dust smudging his black pants. His tone was pointed. “Certain people had better not be the rotten apples in this class. Even if you don’t want to study, others do.”
“Old Baldy’s taking jabs at us again. So annoying.”
Song Jing flipped over his blank test paper, his voice a little fawning as he turned his head to his new deskmate. “Brother Sui, don’t you think so…?”
Song Jing still found it hard to believe.
This major seat change had actually put him at the same desk as the Xie Sui.
The infamous transfer student. At a high school on the fringes of Lincheng, ranked at the very bottom, with rock-bottom grades and chaotic discipline, fights were a common sight. But Xie Sui had only been here for two months and had already become a well-known figure at No. 6 High. He was handsome and integrated quickly, rapidly establishing his status… No one dared to mess with him.
Just a week after transferring into this class, even Old Baldy, who was famous for his foul temper, had a subtle, wary look on his face whenever he mentioned Xie Sui’s name.
Song Jing felt apprehensive, but at the same time, incredibly proud.
He and his friends usually followed Xie Sui around like lackeys, but being Brother Sui’s deskmate felt like he had been promoted from an insignificant follower to someone who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
Xie Sui’s gaze didn’t move as he gave a lazy “mm.”
Song Jing followed Xie Sui’s line of sight and realized that Brother Sui seemed to be looking at the person in the front row.
From his angle, Xie Sui could probably see the tips of the person’s hair and the nape of his neck, which looked strikingly pale even under the uniform blue and white school uniform.
From his own slightly different angle, Song Jing could see the person holding a pen, his knuckles relaxed, and as he looked up, the small beauty mark under the corner of his eye.
Song Jing was a little baffled and scratched his head.
They had just changed seats today.
…He’s been staring for three periods already. Doesn’t he get tired of it?
The third period ended.
The person in the front row stood up and left.
The intense gaze followed him, then stopped.
“That’s our class’s former president, Cen Xian,” Song Jing said, seizing the opportunity to talk to Xie Sui. He recalled, “He told Old Baldy he didn’t want to do it anymore. I think something came up with his family, and he didn’t want to juggle both.”
“Cen Xian?” Xie Sui spoke.
“Yeah, his grades are really good.” Song Jing’s voice grew quieter, tinged with envy. “I heard his family is super rich. They live in Zhenjin Residential Complex, which is known as the rich neighborhood around here. No idea why he came to this high school.”
Xie Sui retracted his gaze and said nothing.
On the desk Cen Xian had left, the surface was very clean, holding only a single pen and a math test paper covered in writing.
The desk cubby below was empty, with just a small, neat stack of books, a pack of tissues, a fountain pen, and an unopened bottle of water.
“Brother Sui, is having him in front of you an eyesore?” Song Jing asked. “Want me and the guys to teach him a lesson, make him go to Old Baldy and ask to switch seats himself?”
For some reason, that question hit a nerve. Xie Sui’s fingertips were still resting lazily on the edge of the desk, but his voice was laced with impatience. “Shut your mouth.”
Song Jing fell silent, dejected.
During the last period before the lunch break, the physics teacher entered the classroom and had the class representative hand out test papers. The papers were passed back from the first person in each row. Since Xie Sui was in the last row, the paper in Cen Xian’s hand was meant only for himself.
Cen Xian raised his hand to pass it to his deskmate behind him without turning around, his knuckles long and fair.
Xie Sui didn’t take it.
He suddenly spoke. “Hey, classmate. Let me borrow a pen.”
Seeming to realize the words were directed at him, the figure in front paused, then turned his head to look behind him.
This was the first time Xie Sui had seen his face clearly.
It was also the first time their eyes met.
Cen Xian’s lips parted, his voice flat. “I don’t have one.”
Xie Sui tilted his head. “Isn’t there another one in your desk cubby?”
Cen Xian’s voice was cool and detached. “It’s not for you.”
“Damn it, this kid…!” Song Jing felt Cen Xian must have eaten a leopard’s gall to dare speak to Brother Sui like that. He quickly offered his own pen. “Brother Sui, use mine. I’m not writing anyway… What a thankless punk.”
He mumbled the last part under his breath.
Having just been told off, he didn’t dare badmouth Cen Xian too openly now.
“What are you doing?”
The teacher rolled up a book and smacked Song Jing on the head with it. “If you don’t finish this by the end of class, you can forget about going to the cafeteria.”
Song Jing fumed but didn’t dare talk back, his face flushing as he clutched his head.
The conversation was interrupted. Xie Sui took the test paper, his gaze falling on the back of the person in front of him. His own test paper had a faint crease on the corner, pressed there by the fingertips of the hand that had just passed it to him.
The No. 6 High cafeteria had been renovated this semester, expanding from one floor to two. Many new vendors had moved into the second floor, and for a time, the cafeteria was packed.
“No. 6 High is so chaotic,” Fang Ping’an said, finding a corner and setting down his tray. He pushed up his glasses and lowered his head to eat. “If it weren’t for the low tuition, I definitely wouldn’t have come to a place like this. Fights all day long, a bunch of delinquents smoking in the bathroom, and the teachers don’t even care.”
Fang Ping’an was the class president of Class Three who had taken over the role. He wore round-framed glasses and had never ranked outside the top three. He said, “These people think they’re so great now, but they’ll just become the dregs of society later.”
Cen Xian looked nonchalant. “Indeed.”
“That new transfer student in our class, Xie Sui, is one of them. You can tell he’s not a good student just by looking at him. We’ll see when the tests come out,” Fang Ping’an commented mercilessly. “A handsome degenerate.”
“He’s sitting behind you now, right?” Fang Ping’an asked, as if just remembering. “He hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?”
Cen Xian lowered his eyes and finished the last of his canned coffee. “No.”
If they weren’t sitting in front of and behind each other, Cen Xian thought faintly, they probably wouldn’t have exchanged a single word.
It was the height of summer, yet the morning exercises were never skipped.
The moment the broadcast for the exercises began, groans of complaint echoed throughout the entire grade.
“Fang Ping’an, help me do a headcount,” Old Baldy shouted from the front. “I made a special point of reminding everyone yesterday to bring their autumn uniforms and wear them for the run. This is a school-wide requirement. Write down a list of those who didn’t bring them. For those who brought them but aren’t wearing them, tell them to go back to the classroom and change. The school leadership will be taking pictures later.”
“Report! The class president went to take a dump.”
“Haha…” Laughter rippled through the class lines.
“What’s so funny?” Old Baldy wiped his sweat and turned his head. “Where’s Cen Xian?”
“Over here!”
A minute later, Cen Xian started checking the lines from the front.
There were fifty-six people in the class. Excluding one girl on sick leave and Fang Ping’an in the bathroom, there should be fifty-four people, arranged by height.
However, when Cen Xian counted to the last row, the number in his head stopped.
Fifty-five.
He remembered there was also the transfer student who had been here for a week.
He was also the only one at the end of the line not wearing the autumn uniform.
The broadcast from the loudspeakers in front of the field was coarse and deafening, instructing the classes to run in neat formations, keep the gaps small, follow the person in front, and chant “one, two, one” in unison. Cen Xian’s expression didn’t change as he walked straight up to the person and asked, “Where’s your uniform?”
Xie Sui met his gaze and said, “Haven’t picked it up yet.”
Xie Sui was wearing a short-sleeved summer uniform. Logically, after being a transfer student for two months, the autumn uniform should have been issued by now. It was less that he hadn’t picked it up and more that he didn’t care, and no one bothered him about it.
“They’re taking pictures later.” With several of them standing still near the rostrum, they would easily attract attention. Cen Xian turned and started walking with the formation. “Figure it out yourself.”
Xie Sui followed him unhurriedly. “Did you write my name down?”
“I did.”
“You know my name?”
Cen Xian didn’t turn his head. “Xie Sui, isn’t it?”
“Didn’t you say they’re taking pictures?” Xie Sui stopped completely. His expression was lazy, but his pupils burned like torches in the light. “Just have the person without a uniform hold the camera. Wouldn’t that solve it?”
Cen Xian also stopped.
“They have their own photographer.”
Cen Xian turned to face him. Backlit by the sun, the beauty mark by the corner of his eye was even more striking. “Why would they use a transfer student who doesn’t even wear his uniform?”
Damn.
The tension was thick.
A nearby student swallowed softly. The run had already started, but they felt rooted to the spot. A once-in-a-lifetime conflict like this, between two people who couldn’t be more different, was too good to miss.
“What are you two doing?!” Old Baldy trotted over, hiking up his belt and hissing in a low, urgent voice, “The dean of students can see you!”
“Xie Sui, what’s with you? Where’s your autumn uniform?”
Xie Sui’s long lashes cast shadows on his eyelids. His voice was grim. “The school didn’t issue it.”
“Hurry back to the classroom. You just transferred. In the future, if you don’t have a uniform, tell me in advance, and I’ll borrow one from another class.” The homeroom teacher waved his hand. “You go back first. You’re too conspicuous here.”
“Sir, I didn’t wear my uniform. It’s not fair to the other students if I slack off.” Xie Sui acted as if he hadn’t heard, his voice faint. “I’d like to make up for it.”
Old Baldy was stunned. “What?”
“The former class president is so responsible. He should be rewarded with a break back in the classroom.”
Ignoring the crowd that was beginning to move behind him, Xie Sui’s lips curved into a slight smile. He lifted his chin and said lazily, “Let me borrow Cen Xian’s uniform for a bit. I’ll run for him.”
“You?” Old Baldy was baffled. He glanced toward the rostrum and sighed. “Fine, fine…! Do whatever you want. Just be quick about it.”
He said, “Cen Xian, lend him your uniform for a while.”
Five minutes later.
Cen Xian walked up three flights of stairs and returned to the classroom.
Although it was the height of summer, the hallway was chilly. The cool air brushed against the bare skin below his short sleeves, an invisible touch.
Cen Xian pulled out his chair. The broadcast music was piped into the classroom, deafeningly loud. His gaze fell on the bustling sea of dark blue uniforms running on the field outside the window. It was quite a sight. He couldn’t tell which class was which. He wordlessly retracted his gaze.
Damn it.
That little punk.
Song Jing ran while backing up, quickly moving to the last row where Xie Sui was following the formation, running with his eyes fixed forward.
He struck up a conversation. “Brother Sui, why didn’t you tell me you didn’t have a uniform? I would’ve lent you mine.”
Xie Sui didn’t look over, his lips parting. “I already borrowed one.”
A few girls in the front row couldn’t help but turn back frequently. Not only was Xie Sui the tallest among the new students, but he was also the tallest in the class. He cut a straight, tall figure as he ran, his hair flying wantonly, handsome enough to make hearts pound.
“Do you smell something?”
Song Jing paused. It was rare for Xie Sui to initiate a conversation with him. He quickly sniffed the air. “No, Brother Sui. What smell?”
“…” Xie Sui didn’t answer.
It was an extremely faint scent, like soap, light and clean.
He couldn’t describe it even if he tried. It was barely there, yet it was somehow unsettling.
The music for the exercises finally stopped.
The students, panting and cursing, gathered at the front of the field, waiting for the school leaders to speak and take pictures before being dismissed.
Xie Sui tugged at the collar of his uniform. The fabric tightened against his long knuckles, the wrinkles clenched in his fist, the edge obediently pressing close. His brow twitched.
Just as he thought.
The scent was coming from the uniform he was wearing.
There was a ten-minute break after the exercises. Students started trickling back into the classroom. In those twenty minutes, Cen Xian had finished four major problems. He put down his pen, glanced at the clock, then stood up and headed for the restroom at the end of the hall.
The number of people in the hallway dwindled. Just as Cen Xian turned the corner into the restroom, he nearly collided with a figure.
Cen Xian stopped, looked up, and met Xie Sui’s cool, languid eyes.
The other person seemed to startle for a moment as well.
He asked, “Here for your uniform?”
Cen Xian told the truth. “No.”
“Sorry, I got it all sweaty from running.”
Xie Sui lowered his gaze. Right in front of him, he unabashedly used the uniform’s sleeve to wipe a bead of sweat from his chin, but his eyes never moved away. “Do you need it urgently? I’ll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow.”
They spoke like ordinary acquaintances. Cen Xian walked around Xie Sui, their shoulders brushing as he passed. His lips parted. “…Whatever.”
It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d said, “You can have it.”
Cen Xian had ordered three sets for convenience, and this was the one he wore most often. He had others to wear even if he threw it out. But saying something like that would only lead to complications and misunderstandings.
He just hoped to have no contact with this person whatsoever.
The sun set.
Students swarmed out of the school.
Since they hadn’t yet entered their third year, school still ended at five o’clock. He’d heard that in the third year, evening self-study sessions would be added, extending the day to eight-thirty, on a voluntary basis.
At a school like this, those who voluntarily stayed were probably in the minority.
Cen Xian slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking home. The walk from the school to Zhenjin Residential Complex was about fifteen minutes. In between was a demolition zone—a desolate and rather remote area, but cutting through it saved five minutes.
Most importantly, at the far corner of the demolition zone was an internet cafe.
It was especially crowded with students right after school, but after nine o’clock, aside from a few regulars who stayed overnight, there were almost no students in school uniforms.
Cen Xian went home first. The security at Zhenjin wasn’t strict back then; you could get in without scanning a card. The building itself required a key, but the main door was usually wide open. Cen Xian lowered his eyes, turned the lock on his door, and got in the elevator.
There were two apartments per floor in the building. He pressed the button for the sixth floor.
When Cen Xian opened his apartment door, the place was empty, clean, and tidy. It seemed the part-time cleaner had already been there.
Cen Xian went to the fridge, took out a carton of milk, heated up the meal the nanny had prepared in advance, and ate in silence.
For the next four hours, Cen Xian didn’t leave his chair. He completed three full English practice exams, including reviewing the answer explanations for his mistakes.
Cen Xian stretched, glanced at the clock—nine-thirty.
He changed his clothes, grabbed his phone and keys, and went downstairs.
The temperature difference at night in Lincheng wasn’t significant. By this time, there was almost no one walking outside. Cen Xian put on a jacket and headed straight for the demolition zone.
The internet cafe at the end of the alley was now lit up. Its sign was a bit shabby, and the walls were peeling, but the facilities inside were decent. The floors and walls gleamed, set against a black background with sharp, glowing neon lights.
Cen Xian passed the front desk, expertly placed a card on the counter, and said, “Log me in.”
The young girl at the counter looked up, her eyes brightening. “Brother Cen Xian, you’re here?”
“Yeah.”
Cen Xian asked, “Your dad’s not here today?”
The girl’s name was Song Zhi. She hummed in agreement. Her face, framed by straight bangs, was delicate and small, and she always had a smile on her face. “He had something to do, so he asked me to watch the store for a bit.”
“You’re here alone?” Brother Cen Xian was very handsome, but his cool expression made him seem unapproachable. The girl wasn’t afraid of him, though.
She heard him say, “This place is so chaotic. Your dad’s got a lot of nerve.”
“Don’t worry.” The girl scratched her head, her face a little red as she smiled. “Don’t you come every night, Brother Cen Xian? I’m not scared.”
She swiped the card and asked, “How long today?”
Cen Xian asked, “What time is your dad coming back?”
Song Zhi said, “Probably around midnight.”
“Then until midnight,” Cen Xian said as he walked into the internet cafe. He navigated to his usual station with practiced ease and sat down, finding the computer already turned on.
The Glory login screen was in the center of the monitor, its brown special effects particularly striking.
Cen Xian entered his account and password and clicked to enter.
The graphics card and processor in this internet cafe weren’t the best, but they weren’t laggy. The screen was curved, making for a relatively smooth experience.
After a short wait, a notification from the Glory forums popped up in a small window in the corner.
Cen Xian was about to close it out of habit, but the moment he saw the title, his mouse suddenly froze.
[Today’s Hot Post: A reminder from commentator Old Cucumber, this month’s PK Ranking has been powerfully updated! This issue will absolutely blow your mind (contains spoilers, enter with caution)]
No player of Glory would ignore the PK Ranking.
It was updated once a month and only displayed the top twenty names. It was calculated based on a comprehensive score of points, experience, and tournament results. It was a leaderboard you couldn’t pay your way up, nor could you reach it just by grinding. It symbolized the true, absolute skill of the players.
As soon as he clicked on it, Old Cucumber’s commentary video started playing automatically.
The opening was a half-minute-long gimmick. Just as Cen Xian was getting impatient, Old Cucumber very timely revealed the top five of this issue’s PK Ranking.
The only difference from last month… was a change in fifth place.
Old Cucumber’s voice rose excitedly. Even though his was an officially recognized account, he couldn’t hide his excitement and admiration for certain god-tier players.
“As expected of Ash!!”
“This month’s Glory PK Ranking data has been officially updated! Ash has gone from the edge at 18th place last time to officially entering the national server’s top five!”
“This astonishing win rate has also broken records on several maps. It’s a pity Ash has never streamed once. The few classic battles currently going viral on the Glory forums are all screen recordings from the opponents’ perspectives.”
“To be honest, now that Ash is on the PK Ranking, he could totally issue a PK challenge to the god-tier players in the top three.”
“Let’s look forward to this player’s spectacular performance in the future!”
Cen Xian listened with a deadpan expression, then scrolled down. The comment section was buzzing. The post had already been pushed to the “hot” section. Wherever the ID “Ash” appeared, it was always as crowded as a train station during the Spring Festival travel rush.
【WTF…. That’s way too fast】
【My jaw just dropped】
【In the two years since Glory was released, there’s never been anyone like this】
【I thought Old Cucumber was just clickbaiting, my bad】
【This is terrifying. In a few more months, he’ll probably be the number one player on the whole server, right?】
【I’m seriously dying from how cool Ash is. What kind of man is he in real life, ahhh】
【Number one player on the server? Impossible. Don’t forget who’s in first place. That’s Greek.】
This comment brought up Greek, so the players instantly perked up, and the number of replies skyrocketed:
【I want to see Ash challenge Greek, ahhh】
【Forget it, won’t happen in our lifetime】
【With Ash’s terrifying growth rate, he’s probably being scouted like crazy. Has he considered joining a Team?】
【If he wanted to climb the PK Ranking, Ash would have issued a challenge as soon as he got on the list.】
【Ash’s personality is too cold, and he plays very casually. He’s the type that even the gods on the PK Ranking don’t dare to provoke, so I feel like he won’t go around provoking others.】
【He probably just doesn’t have a motive. With Ash’s personality, unless someone crosses his bottom line, he won’t easily challenge a stranger.】
【Help, what even is Ash’s bottom line?】
The light from the screen illuminated the contours of his face. Cen Xian narrowed his eyes and faintly murmured, “…Ash.”
He’d actually made him drop a rank on the PK list.
Only those on the list had any concept of how hard it was to climb the PK Ranking. Cen Xian wasn’t a professional player or a streamer, and there was no profit involved, yet he couldn’t help but refresh his ranking every month.
He was inexplicably annoyed.
But what annoyed him even more was yet to come.
Cen Xian pressed the arrow key to return to the top of the original post. After finishing his commentary on the top five, Old Cucumber quickly posted the rest of the top twenty rankings.
“Compared to last time, Mole has moved up one spot and is now 12th on the PK Ranking.”
“He’s overtaken Shock once again!”
Old Cucumber analyzed enthusiastically, “Will Shock issue another PK challenge to Mole this time?”
“These two players are both very strong, and their relationship is very interesting. Their rankings are always adjacent. Every time Mole gets ahead of Shock, Shock will send Mole a PK invitation. I still remember how everyone was shocked the first time the Glory system sent out the notification, ha…”
“But Mole has never once accepted the challenge.”
“According to the current PK challenge rules, once a challenge is issued and accepted by the other party, if the challenger succeeds, they will take the place of the challenged player’s rank.”
Old cucumber seemed somewhat puzzled, his tone light and teasing as he laughed, “But their rankings are only one spot apart. Shock’s actions don’t seem to make much sense, yet he’s persistently fixated, like a sworn rival.”
“I wonder if Shock and Mole know each other in real life…”
The moment this was mentioned, the comment section exploded instantly, as if a fuse had been lit.
[I think so too!!]
[Exactly, ever since Mole appeared on the PK leaderboard, Shock has been tirelessly sending challenges.]
[The key point is, their rankings are only one spot apart. I don’t get what Shock is after.]
[Probably just to annoy Little Teardrop Mole.]
[Hahahahaha]
[And whenever Little Teardrop Mole refuses a challenge, Shock starts grinding ranks like crazy to earn points and overtake Mole the next month.]
[That’s so toxic, always chasing after Mole like that.]
[Heh heh, kinda ship it though.]
[They’re clearly archrivals, and they probably know each other in real life. Shipping everything will only lead you astray.]
Cen Xian looked utterly bewildered.
He closed the forum, the page transitioning quickly into the game interface, and muttered under his breath, “Who would know a lunatic like that………………”
Cen Xian was actually curious about what kind of person Shock was in real life—a gaming nerd, an elementary school kid, or a middle-aged uncle? He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the other might look like.
That idiot who was always opposing him—Cen Xian genuinely wanted to meet him.
Cen Xian deftly entered the ranked match interface. There were many practice modes, but ranked matches carried the highest risk while also offering the fastest way to gain points.
But before Cen Xian could click the matchmaking button, a notification window suddenly popped up in the world channel.
The world channel was the main game zone visible to the entire Glory server.
In other words, every Glory player could see this system message at that very moment—
[System Notification:]
[System Notification:]
[Player “Shock” has issued a PK challenge to “Mole”!]
Cen Xian’s pupils froze for a moment before he furrowed his brows.
Again.
Just like two months ago.
Who would risk losing a whole year’s worth of experience just to practice with you?
Beneath the world channel, the chat area erupted with excitement:
[OMG, I’ve been registered in Glory for two months, and this is the first time I’ve seen a live PK challenge!]
[Hahahaha, as expected!!]
[Protect Mole at all costs!]
[Just curious, is this a love-hate relationship?]
[My heart’s racing—will Mole accept this time?]
Soon, the challenge received a response from the other party.
[Player “Mole” has declined.]
[Reason for decline: Fuck off.]
In the early hours of the morning, the internet cafe owner returned to the counter, reeking of alcohol, his face flushed and swollen.
The girl dozing off at the table immediately stood up at the sound, displeased. “Dad! You’ve been drinking again.”
“Oh no, no, it wasn’t drinking—just a dinner with friends… Your dad had to go.” The man pulled a few pieces of candy from his pocket and placed them on the counter. “Don’t be mad, I brought you some candy.”
Cen Xian walked past behind the owner. Hearing footsteps, the man turned around. “Xiao Xian, you’re here today too?”
Cen Xian glanced sideways, expressionless, and grunted in acknowledgment. “The card?”
The owner bent down, casually picked up the black card from the counter, and handed it to Cen Xian.
However, just as Cen Xian left the internet cafe and hadn’t gone far, he suddenly heard shouts from behind.
Song Zhizhui rushed out of the internet cafe, holding another black membership card in his hand, and quickly said, “Brother Cen Xian, my dad gave you the wrong one. This is yours.”
Cen Xian was slightly taken aback.
He asked, “Did someone else purchase an annual membership at the internet cafe?”
Song Zhi nodded: “Yes, just tonight. Judging by the uniform, it seems they’re also a student from No. 6 High School.”
No. 6 High School?
Someone else was spending so lavishly.
Cen Xian wasn’t particularly interested. He took the card and handed her the mistaken one.
The next evening.
Cen Xian returned home as usual. He had just taken a few bites of dinner when his phone suddenly rang.
Glancing at it, he saw it was Chen Li.
He answered: “Mom.”
The woman’s voice came through the receiver, gentle as she asked, “Xiao Xian, have you eaten yet?”
Cen Xian, holding a spoon and sitting on a high stool by the kitchen island to avoid the hassle of setting the table, replied, “I’m eating now.”
“Mom has a book signing in Lin City tomorrow. Do you want to come? We can find a restaurant for dinner in the evening. School… do you have classes on the weekend?”
Cen Xian stared at the empty living room and said, “I need to study over the weekend.”
“Besides,” Cen Xian lowered his gaze, “Dad said he’s coming over.”
The call fell into silence for a moment.
After a few seconds, Chen Li spoke again: “It seems his art exhibition ended successfully.”
“If you feel like going out for a meal tomorrow, just call me anytime.”
Cen Xian: “Got it.”
Chen Li and Cen Fuyan had been divorced for four years.
Before his high school entrance exams, his parents had pretended they weren’t divorced yet, to avoid affecting his performance. It wasn’t until Cen Xian finished his last exam and walked out of the test center that they erupted into the most intense argument he had ever witnessed since growing up.
After that, separation, division of assets, discussions about custody, and each diving into their work—all of it took only half a month.
When it came to custody, to be fair, they sought the opinion of their son, who was still on summer break.
“Xiao Xian, tell us the truth.”
“If Dad and Mom get divorced, who would you prefer to live with?”
For children of divorced families, this is the most classic divorce question.
And it seems there has never been a standard correct answer.
Cen Xian was eating breakfast at the time, holding a slightly stale piece of bread. He looked up, calmly meeting their eyes, and parted his lips: “I hope…”
“…you both stay as far away from me as possible.”
After that, Cen Xian spent two years of high school alone in this house.
There was a housekeeper, the school was nearby, the teenager didn’t need a driver, and the house was cleaned by part-time help. All that was left for Chen Li and Cen Fuyan to do was transfer money regularly.
Both were highly successful in their respective fields, so they were quite generous. Last month’s allowance hadn’t even been spent yet when this month’s was already deposited.
It was said that Cen Fuyan had found someone new in the past two years, so even mentioning his name now filled Chen Li with resentment, and she would fall silent.
If both of them returned to this house at the same time, it would be an event explosive enough to shake the universe.
So they tacitly avoided each other.
Cen Xian put down the phone and, as always, returned to his room. Four unwavering hours later, he glanced at the clock and realized it was already ten o’clock.
He was half an hour later than usual tonight.
The night was chilly. Learning from yesterday’s experience, Cen Xian threw on a jacket. The internet cafe was close—even walking would only take ten minutes.
Tonight, the girl was once again managing the shop alone.
Song Zhi saw him and immediately stood up, calling out, “Brother Cen Xian.”
“Mm.” Cen Xian asked, “Did your dad go drinking again?”
Song Zhi replied listlessly, “Definitely.”
“Staying until midnight again today?” Cen Xian handed her the card: “My usual spot.”
Song Zhi let out an “ah,” as if remembering something, her expression turning somewhat awkward: “Brother Cen Xian, your seat has been taken.”
Cen Xian froze.
Song Zhi scratched her head: “I tried to negotiate with him. He looked quite handsome so I thought he’d be reasonable. I told him a guy who comes regularly always sits here at night, and asked if he could switch. He raised an eyebrow and asked what time you usually come.”
“I said around 9:30.” The girl said indignantly: “Then he said, let this 9:30 brother come talk to me himself.”
Cen Xian chuckled at this: “Seats aren’t reserved anyway, don’t be upset.”
“I’ll switch machines.”
“Mm.” Song Zhi pointed: “Take the one in the corner. I just cleaned it. Someone was smoking on the other side earlier, the smell was too strong.”
Cen Xian: “Okay, thanks.”
Since the PK rankings updated, not only Cen Xian himself, but several other top players on the leaderboard had started pulling all-nighters grinding maps. They were determined to prove themselves, especially those already signed with clubs – PK ranking directly affected a player’s market value. Dropping in rank not only impacted themselves but also their clubs.
Moreover, after the player named “Ash” appeared, players ranked fifth to eighteenth on Glory’s leaderboard had all uniformly… dropped one rank.
It was both brutal and spectacular.
After logging into Glory, forum notifications kept popping up. Rumor had it Glory was launching a new live streaming section – originally there were only technical and tutorial zones, but now they’d added a looks zone. With the economic downturn, streaming was becoming increasingly popular.
Cen Xian didn’t like talking while grinding maps, and he wasn’t short on money anyway, so he had no intention of starting streaming.
The newly released map called “Sleepless City” had become streamers’ favorite to repeatedly grind due to its highly creative and difficult horror gameplay. However, its extreme difficulty meant very few players had ever reached the red door.
The top left corner of the map displayed Sleepless City’s record holder rankings:
① Ash
② Greek
③ Mobo
④ Shock
Cen Xian’s gaze lingered on fourth place.
Soon, Cen Xian entered ranked matches, clicked on Sleepless City, and began training matchmaking.
Tonight’s goal was to knock fourth place down.
He lowered his gaze, pulled the keyboard closer, skipped the shooting round, and went straight into Sleepless City combat. Randomly matched teammates weren’t separated into regular and pro tiers like usual, maintaining relatively equal skill levels. Teammates noticing Cen Xian’s ID still excitedly typed:
[It’s Mole!!]
[Holy shit today’s my lucky day]
[Pro look at me!]
[Pro please add me]
Sleepless City was the only map where weapons were usable and attacking enemies was permitted. To save time, he simultaneously shot enemies one by while pushing deeper into enemy territory, scanning the map for the boss spawn location.
The combat was exhilarating. To break the record, Cen Xian…
Soon, teammates were successively eliminated.
The chat below filled with lamentations:
[Pro you’re not even protecting us]
[Wuwu Glory is supposed to be a team game ah]
[“Nightless City is really tough to beat”]
[No team likes to sign this kind of player – Glory isn’t a one-person game]
Glory truly is a team-based game.
Cen Xian also knew that when it came to national or even global official competitions, it would be hard to reach the end without teammates’ coordination.
So he never had any intention of signing with a team.
He just enjoyed gaming, nothing more than that.
Cen Xian had never encountered teammates who truly matched his rhythm. He thought,
No one would be familiar with his playstyle and patterns,
Nor would anyone adapt to him
Feel that synergy
Even if he someday joined a team and became a professional player, he wouldn’t meet that person who matched
his tempo. So perhaps even if he did join a team someday and became
a professional.
Soon, Cen Xian waited for the ultimate Boss to appear.
He glanced at the time in the upper left corner, his eyelashes trembling slightly. The final margin of error might be within seconds, but if this run went smoothly, there was a high chance of breaking the
fourth-place record.
The screen’s faint light flickered in Cen Xian’s eyes
The gate has appeared
, please proceed quickly to
jumping and flashing. Soon, after the Boss’s last bit of health vanished, the system prompted: [Red
the safe location!]
Fifteen seconds left.
The corner of Cen Xian’s mouth twitched slightly. He found the timing perfect—not only would he break the record, but he’d also finish about five seconds early.
“Check out.”
A voice came from the counter not far away.
A young girl’s voice sounded: “Customer, could you change this bill?”
A bald, chubby man said: “What’s wrong with this bill?”
Song Zhi pursed her lips and said: “We can’t accept this one.”
The few men stood gathered around the counter. Another thin man clicked his tongue: “Alright, alright, we’ll change it. We’ll go somewhere else tomorrow
and talk then.”
Cen
Xian’s current spot was near the outer window, so he wasn’t too far from the counter. Even with headphones on, he could faintly hear the voices. With just a
glance up, he could clearly see the scene over there.
The thin man raised his narrow eyes, watching the girl’s pale hand take the bill and place it in the cash register. Her T-shirt hugged her collar, revealing a slender neck.
He asked: “How old are you, little girl?”
Song Zhi’s eyelashes fluttered. She didn’t want to respond, but after hesitating for two seconds, she said: “Sixteen.”
“So young?” The lead chubby man said: “Staying up so late watching the shop at night is bad for your health. Why don’t you take a break?”
Song Zhi didn’t speak this time.
The thin man rested his arm on the counter, showing no intention of leaving after paying: “You look quite tender. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What are you talking about? She’s only sixteen, how could she have a boyfriend?”
“Hey, you don’t get it. Girls mature early these days.” He stared at Song Zhi, not looking away for a second, his voice dropping a few
degrees: “Big brother asks you, tell the truth—have you ever kissed anyone?”
“What’s it to you?”
This response didn’t come from Song Zhi.
But from a young man.
Everyone was stunned. As the words fell, the thin man leaning on the counter got kicked behind the knee with a shoe tip, making him cry out in pain, his hand
forced away from the counter.
As his body started to buckle, the young man had already reached the counter, holding a keyboard in his left hand. Before the thin man could react, the keyboard
swung toward his face, aiming straight for the bridge of his nose.
“Ah—!”
This time, he directly knelt on the spot, howling as he covered his nose. Looking down, he saw blood quickly seeping through his fingers.
The remaining three or four people stared in stunned silence.
Cen Xian stopped before the counter, lowering his gaze. His lashes were slender, with a solitary tear mole suspended beneath the outer corner of his eye.
As if nothing had happened, the youth placed the keyboard on the counter and spoke to Song Zhi: “I’ll buy a coffee.”
Song Zhi swallowed nervously, stammering, “Uh, okay.”
“Damn, where the hell did you come from, you brat?” The fat man gulped, his voice coarse. “Why are you hitting people?! What’s it got to do with you?”
The thin man who had crouched down now sat on the floor, looking utterly disheveled. The bald fat man, seeing the other party completely ignore him, felt rage surge through his chest. He stepped forward: “Hey, you little shit, I’m talking to you!”
The fat man raised his hand, reaching for Cen Xian’s collar.
In that instant, before his thick fingers could touch the youth’s neck, suddenly the fat man’s figure staggered backward as if uncontrollably.
His outstretched fingers were forced away.
The force was so fierce and violent that it nearly made him lose his balance and fall backward.
Astonishment flickered in people’s eyes.
Even Cen Xian glanced sideways toward the fat man.
Then his pupils slightly contracted.
Someone was gripping the back of the fat man’s collar, dragging him backward. The fabric of his clothes crumpled into wrinkles, and the aura emanating from the person was intimidating.
“Class President?”
Xie Sui lowered his gaze, his pupils shimmering brightly in the dim light, his voice deep and languid:
“Didn’t expect to run into you at an internet cafe.”