He gave a brief rundown of how he had gotten to know Canmo Wuhen. When he thought about it, there wasn’t really anything that special about it — the two of them had just happened to cross paths at the right moment, their teamwork had clicked naturally, and they’d made a decent impression on each other, so they’d slowly become friends. To say there was any particularly deep bond between them would be an overstatement.
“No wonder you capped your arena points so fast this week.” An Jing said, suddenly understanding.
“Is Canmo Wuhen famous on this server?” It seemed like everyone recognized his name, and Xia Zichen couldn’t help asking.
“Little Zhen-zhen, can you develop even a little bit of curiosity about the world around you?” An Jing looked at him helplessly. “Go open the server rankings — anywhere there’s a leaderboard, Canmo Wuhen’s name is on it, and he’s always in the top three.”
Xia Zichen’s eyes widened slightly. He was genuinely a little surprised. In the game, Xia Zichen had always focused his attention on things that involved the four of them — everything else he basically tuned out.
“Didn’t notice before, but now I feel like Chenxi and Canmo Wuhen look really good standing together.” An Jing glanced at Xia Zichen’s computer screen. At the moment the two characters were standing side by side — Xia Zichen was in the middle of talking with the others, so Chenxi hadn’t moved, and Canmo Wuhen hadn’t moved either, both just standing there quietly in place.
Xia Zichen noticed it too. He turned and typed a message over.
“Something came up on my end. Go ahead and do your thing.”
“No worries, you go handle it. Come find me when you’re back.” Canmo Wuhen replied.
Xia Zichen didn’t say anything more, minimized the game, and didn’t bother looking at whatever argument was still going on in the guild channel. As far as he was concerned, a guild’s unity was something extremely important — many guilds had fallen apart in the end precisely because they lost that sense of unity. So when someone’s arrival shattered that peace, as the one being targeted, as a guy, and as someone who didn’t actually have any formal relationship with Shen Yicheng, Xia Zichen’s naturally detached personality would lead him to choose silence more often than not.
That silence had nothing to do with tolerance or giving in — it was just that within the limits of what he could accept, he didn’t want to upset the balance. After all, many of the people in the guild had been playing with them since the guild was first founded. Even though none of them knew each other in real life, the bond was still deep. Of course, if someone ultimately crossed his actual line, he absolutely would not back down either — and by then it wouldn’t be something that could be settled with a few words.
“Ah Hui, tell the girls in the guild to stop bickering — this is Little Zhen-zhen’s business, and that’s all there is to it.” An Jing turned to Tang Hui and said.
Shen Yicheng was the guild master, but with the way things were now — him and Lian Feier so close — his word naturally wasn’t in a great position to carry weight here. He only cared about Xia Zichen’s situation and didn’t have time to go and mediate, so all he could do was send Tang Hui the deputy master in to handle it. Tang Hui might not say much on a regular basis, but when he did say something, it absolutely worked.
Tang Hui gave a low acknowledgment and turned to type.
“Even though the factions are on opposite sides, it would actually be pretty great if we could form an alliance with Tianfeng Yage. On this server, if you’re talking about pure strength, Tianfeng Yage is definitely number one.” An Jing grabbed a bottle of cola from Tang Hui’s cabinet and cracked it open for a sip.
In the game, each guild could form alliances with up to two other guilds — opposing faction guilds included, since not every guild member had to have joined a faction, and neutral players were still in the majority. So even an alliance between opposing factions wouldn’t create any conflict. As long as the guild members agreed, the two guild masters could go to the alliance NPC and officially form an allied guild.
Once an alliance was established, members of both guilds could communicate through the alliance channel, and if one guild was involved in a guild war, the allied guild could come and help. Frequently running activities together would accumulate Benevolence Points, which could be used for guild development — all in all, the benefits were plentiful.
Forming an alliance with Tianfeng Yage would be nothing but upside for Zhanming Hall. It genuinely was a solid option.
“On Little Zhen-zhen’s account, Tianfeng Yage probably wouldn’t say no. Yicheng, what do you think?” An Jing asked for Shen Yicheng’s opinion.
“Let’s forget about it.” Shen Yicheng quietly shot down An Jing’s suggestion. “Our current allied guild and Tianfeng Yage are sworn enemies. If we allied with Tianfeng Yage, we’d end up in a bad spot no matter which way we turned.”
Zhanming Hall already had one same-faction allied guild, so Shen Yicheng’s concern was a fair point.
An Jing glanced over at Xia Zichen, who remained as indifferent as ever without much of a reaction.
“Fair enough, forget it.” An Jing sighed with mild disappointment. “As long as Little Zhen-zhen can keep teaming up with Canmo Wuhen regularly, there’ll be plenty of chances to connect down the line.”
Without saying anything further, and without checking the guild channel again, Xia Zichen teamed back up with Canmo Wuhen and dueled with others for another hour before finally logging off to sleep.
Weekends were absolutely made for sleeping in — especially when there was nobody around to tell you otherwise. By noon on Saturday, all four people in the dorm were still burrowed in their beds refusing to get up.
Before college, Xia Zichen had never slept this late. Even on weekends he had always made sure to be up by seven in the morning, eat breakfast, and get to studying. After starting college, with the coursework lightening up considerably, Xia Zichen had finally gotten to enjoy the pleasure of sleeping in — even after waking up, he’d stay curled in bed not wanting to move.
In the quiet, stuffy midday, Xia Zichen was dragged awake by the ringtone of his own phone, which woke the other three as well. He fumbled for his phone on the pillow beside him and answered in a half-dazed state.
A senior from the same department wanted to ask him for a favor and asked him to come by that afternoon. He thought it over — he didn’t have anything going on today — and agreed. Immediately after, the person on the other end seemed to pick up that he hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. His voice, soft and carrying a slight morning raspiness, gave her an opening to tease him shamelessly. Xia Zichen hung up directly.
After eating what could only be called a breakfast-lunch, Xia Zichen checked the time, got up, and headed toward the student clubs building.
As one of the top-ranked universities in the country, University A’s distinguishing features extended well beyond its rigorous academics and strong faculty — its wide variety and abundance of student clubs was also a notable characteristic. The school had always placed a great deal of importance on students’ extracurricular activities and actively supported enrolled students in showcasing their individual talents and pursuing what they were passionate about. As a result, University A had an exceptionally large number of clubs, with generous funding to match. No matter what kind of club it was — as long as it wasn’t antisocial — the school would give it its support. A newly formed club only needed ten members to apply to begin official activities.
In this kind of open and encouraging environment, ninety percent of students at the school participated in at least one club. Whenever the school held celebration events — like the anniversary gala or the New Year’s Eve show — the various clubs would become especially active. The student council didn’t need to worry about not having enough performances to fill the program; the only thing they had to stress about was how to actually schedule and organize all of the acts and activities coming their way.
Walking into the student clubs building, Xia Zichen climbed the stairs at a leisurely pace. The building had originally been a multimedia teaching block — one of the relatively older ones among University A’s academic buildings. Two years ago the school built a new multimedia teaching building with upgraded equipment, which had left this one empty. Given that the school already had more clubs than it knew what to do with, leaving this building vacant seemed wasteful, and tearing it down seemed like a shame, so it was repurposed as the clubs building. The student council also moved in, claiming the top two floors. With that, every club had a home here, and when it got lively, it got noisy enough to bring the roof down.
He knocked on the door of the Music Club. Inside, along with the senior who had called him, were several other girls from the same club. Xia Zichen was never much of a talker, so he gave the others a brief nod of greeting and then said hello to his senior.
“Come on in, Zichen.” His senior smiled and waved him over, then turned to the others. “This is my department’s little brother — everyone needs to look after him from here on out.”
Several girls responded with a noisy flurry of cheerful agreement, which ended up making Xia Zichen feel a little awkward.
“Zichen, take a look at this.” His senior handed him two sheets of handwritten sheet music.
Xia Zichen took the music and looked at her with a mildly puzzled expression. Earlier on the phone she had only said she needed a favor — she hadn’t specified what.
“Nobody in the club can play the guzheng, and you know how little I know,” his senior explained. “I need to record a piece — it’s urgent for tomorrow. You absolutely have to come through for me. I already promised the club president I’d get it done.”
Xia Zichen paused slightly, not having expected that this was what she needed from him.
Xia Zichen had been studying the guzheng for over ten years, but almost nobody knew he could play — including the three roommates he had never mentioned it to.
The truth was he had taken up the guzheng entirely by chance, and back then it had only been to pass the time. When Xia Zichen was young, his family hadn’t been well off — it was just him and his father, and his father’s work was unstable, earning just enough to get by. So Xia Zichen had never gone to kindergarten or preschool. Before starting elementary school, he spent his days alone at home while his father worked, sitting by the window watching the sky out of boredom, or flipping through children’s books his father had saved up to buy for him, reading them over and over. The Xia Zichen of those days didn’t understand much about the world. He only knew that his father worked very hard, and he couldn’t add to his burden.
One time Xia Zichen went downstairs to buy his father some salt and ran into a recently retired guzheng teacher who lived in the building across from theirs. The moment the woman laid eyes on Xia Zichen, she asked if he had any interest in learning the guzheng. At the time, Xia Zichen didn’t even know what a guzheng was.
The guzheng teacher followed Xia Zichen back to his home and told his father that she wanted to teach Xia Zichen for free. She was retired and didn’t have much to do — just a few students who came to her home each week to learn. Her own children weren’t nearby, and she had been feeling lonely. Having Zichen around would be good company, and his father could feel more at ease too. Better than leaving a child home alone.
Xia Zichen’s father thought it over at length and then asked Xia Zichen what he thought. At the time, Xia Zichen only felt that this arrangement would ease his father’s burden and spare him from worrying about him being alone at home, so he agreed.
Xia Zichen was six years old then, and encountered the guzheng for the first time. Perhaps he simply had a natural gift for it, or perhaps it was a state of mind unlike that of other children his age — whatever the reason, Xia Zichen learned with remarkable speed and an exceptionally strong grasp, and the pieces he played always carried a kind of restrained emotional depth that made people instinctively want to quiet themselves and listen.
And so Xia Zichen’s childhood was almost entirely shaped by the guzheng. The guzheng was his childhood companion. His teacher always regarded him as her star pupil, and in her spare time she would also teach him to read and learn English. This continued until his second year of middle school, when his guzheng teacher’s entire family emigrated. Before she left, she gave Xia Zichen a guzheng as a parting gift, hoping he would continue playing.
When it came time to apply for college, his father had also asked whether he wanted to try applying to a music conservatory. But with his family’s situation in mind, Xia Zichen had declined. For one thing, arts institutions were expensive — and even though their financial situation had improved considerably by then, Xia Zichen still felt that studying something practical and helping to share the household expenses in the future was more sensible.
He would keep the guzheng as a hobby. After all, he could always pick it up whenever he felt like it — just for his own enjoyment.
His senior had found out he could play the guzheng the previous year during the school anniversary celebration. She had been asked to appear in a play put on by the Drama Club, playing a musician — no lines, just sitting to one side and playing a short piece. She had been practicing in the clubs building at the time, and Xia Zichen, passing by on his way to find Shen Yicheng at the student council, had spotted her struggling alone and given her a few pointers.
Xia Zichen had completely forgotten about the whole thing afterward. He hadn’t expected that this senior would still remember…
He looked through the sheet music once and said quietly, “Let me give it a try.” Since she had gone out of her way to ask him, he naturally had to do his best — and it wasn’t anything particularly difficult for him anyway.
“I’m counting on you. I trust you.” His senior gave his shoulder a firm pat.
Xia Zichen sat down at the guzheng, began wrapping the specialized finger picks around his fingers, then played through it twice as a test run. The piece wasn’t long, and the difficulty level wasn’t high — it just needed to be played through three times, with only the transitional bridge sections in the middle varying between each repeat.
Xia Zichen’s playing style had no exaggerated movements. He simply sat there quietly, but the moment his hands lifted there was an indescribable quality to it — like an ink-wash painting, subtly evocative, steeped in an ancient lingering charm. It was as though the entire surrounding atmosphere had slipped free of itself and drifted back into the world the music was describing.
After playing through it twice in a row, Xia Zichen picked up a pen from the side and marked the spots that needed particular attention.
At that moment, his senior, who had only just snapped back from being absorbed in the music, clapped him on the back. “Oh my god! Zichen, come join our Music Club — we need you!”
The girls alongside her nodded enthusiastically.
“Join, join! Our club has been missing exactly this kind of talent.”
“Seriously, you must have been studying the guzheng for years — you play so beautifully.”
“Not having you perform at the school anniversary was an absolute loss.”
…
While this was all going on, the door was pushed open from outside and two girls came bursting in excitedly.
“Who was just playing? That was absolutely unreal — how have I never discovered someone like this at our school?” The one speaking was the current president of the Music Club.
“It couldn’t have been Xiao Xin — she was at it all afternoon yesterday and I practically grew calluses on my ears from listening.” The other girl said.
The senior who had been called Xiao Xin pointed at Xia Zichen with an expression of pure pride. “My junior. Impressive, right?”
The club president looked Xia Zichen over and gave a big thumbs up. “Genuinely unreal — from the looks to the playing.”
“Ha, honestly his most unreal quality is his voice.” His senior, completely unbothered by the cool look Xia Zichen was giving her, went straight for his one soft spot.
“Really? Say something so big sis can hear.” The club president leaned in without any reservations, smiling at Xia Zichen.
Xia Zichen looked helplessly at the girls in front of him and said nothing.
At that moment, a kind-hearted club member came to Xia Zichen’s rescue. “President, you came running in here the second you heard the music?”
“Oh, right.” The president suddenly remembered something and said excitedly, “You guys will never guess who I just saw at the door!”
“Who?” his senior asked.
“Gu Xu!” The president said with a big grin.
The moment the words left her mouth, the noise level in the room shot up several decibels.
“Gu Xu! Where, where?” One girl was already asking and moving toward the door to look.
“Don’t bother, he left when he saw me coming.” The president explained, then turned her gaze toward Xia Zichen. “He was just standing at the window. Looked like he was listening to the music too.”
“Tsk, so our junior’s charm really is something else — since when has Gu Xu ever stopped to pay attention to anyone?” His senior marveled.
“Gu Xu might not be cold exactly, but he’s definitely plenty arrogant.”
“Sure, but he’s got the credentials to back it up.”
“That’s fair…”
…
The girls started chattering about Gu Xu all over again.
Xia Zichen instinctively glanced over at the empty doorway. He didn’t know who Gu Xu was, and he didn’t particularly care whether the person had stopped to listen to him play or not.
But hearing the girls discuss him with such enthusiasm, Xia Zichen did at least register the name — though to him, it was nothing more than a name…