Ever since Shen Yicheng came back from that trip home, he had seemed subtly different from before. Nothing dramatically changed — it was more that there was something slightly mysterious about him. Sometimes when he got a phone call he would step out of the dorm room to take it, as if he didn’t want Xia Zichen and the others to hear. He also went out for dinner more frequently in the evenings, though every time he came back he would still bring Xia Zichen snacks just as he always had. Nobody could quite figure out what he was up to.
Xia Zichen didn’t ask. As long as Shen Yicheng didn’t want to say, it was his own private business, and Xia Zichen had no standing to interfere. Since he had already decided not to pursue anything deeper between them, they could only be friends — and being friends meant giving each other the fullest possible respect and space.
As had happened a few times already, Shen Yicheng got a phone call in the early evening and headed out. The remaining three finished their dailies and teamed up with Canmo Wuhen’s group for 6v6 in the arena.
There hadn’t been any pre-arranged strategy, but the arena wasn’t unfamiliar territory for any of the six. Jianlang and Baicao Zhe understood how Canmo Wuhen played, An Jing and Tang Hui already knew Xia Zichen’s habits in the arena, and Canmo Wuhen and Xia Zichen had long since reached the point where they didn’t need to communicate at all to stay in sync. The six-person collaboration was remarkably smooth — not a single voice chat session needed — and they swept all ten matches in one clean run.
With Xia Zichen healing from the back, Canmo Wuhen providing full three-hundred-sixty-degree seamless protection around Chenxi in the middle, the other four only needed to watch their own positioning, not drift too far from Chenxi, and bring the violence to the other side.
Whether it was past arena sessions or dungeon runs, An Jing — who always had something to say — was never one to keep his mouth quiet. But this time the dorm room was unusually silent. Nobody was in the headspace for talking. Full concentration was locked onto the game, controlling every movement and every attack with maximum precision, pushing to take the opponent down as fast as possible.
Driven along by the tense competitive energy, the quiet space filled with something electric and blood-pumping — a fighting spirit that came from somewhere deep and instinctive in a man’s nature, a stubborn, unshakeable pursuit of victory.
Coming out of the arena, An Jing let out a long breath and flopped back against his chair like all the strength had left his body. “That was an absolutely incredible run — now that’s what the arena should feel like! I’ve never played so intensely in my life.”
Xia Zichen was also rubbing his somewhat aching fingers, slouched in his chair unwinding. The six-person arena was harder than two-person, and his healing frequency had multiplied accordingly — it was genuinely tiring, but also genuinely a lot of fun.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: I have something to take care of. Logging off for tonight. Get some rest.
Seeing the private message from Canmo Wuhen come in, Xia Zichen sat back up and typed a reply.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Okay. Good night.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Good night.
“Next time they do 6v6, I absolutely have to be included.” An Jing looked at Xia Zichen with the air of someone who wanted to make this a permanent arrangement.
Xia Zichen nodded. Opportunities like this one weren’t exactly common. This time it had only happened because Jianlang was busy and had only been able to free up one day for the arena — they definitely wouldn’t be capping the weekly points, but 6v6 with a full ten wins came close enough to the cap that they’d decided it was worth running.
“Those three have really solid mechanics.” Tang Hui said, with genuine admiration. “Sharp positioning, brutal damage output, awareness of the team around them — they don’t just go off and do their own thing. Truly a rare group.”
“Right? Oh, I never told you about the time Canmo Wuhen and Baicao Zhe helped us run that guild dungeon…” An Jing had been so caught up asking Baicao Zhe about gear that he’d never gotten around to telling Tang Hui.
“Hm?” Tang Hui seemed to vaguely recall seeing Canmo Wuhen’s name come up in the guild channel at some point, but hadn’t paid much attention to it. He hadn’t realized there was an entire dungeon run involved. No wonder An Jing had greeted them today like someone who already knew them well — as far as Tang Hui was aware, An Jing hadn’t had any previous contact with Tianfeng Yage’s members.
An Jing then recounted the whole story of that day — Canmo Wuhen and Baicao Zhe running the dungeon with the guild, the synchronized coordination between Canmo Wuhen and Xia Zichen, and the way Canmo Wuhen had protected and looked out for Chenxi throughout.
“I think Canmo Wuhen is a pretty solid person.” Tang Hui concluded when An Jing finished. “Haven’t interacted with him much, but his reputation has always been good. After these ten matches today, the impression I got was that even though he’s got a certain arrogance to him, he’s not conceited — strong mechanics, thinks things through comprehensively. And what’s hardest to find is that he genuinely protects Chenxi well.”
“Ah Hui, I have to say, it’s genuinely rare to hear you string together this many sentences.” An Jing said with a grin.
“I’m just telling it like it is.” Tang Hui cracked open another can of cola. “Someone at Canmo Wuhen’s level absolutely has the credentials to be proud. He’s hands down the most team-aware and composed top-tier player I’ve ever seen.”
An Jing stroked his chin with a look of thoughtful significance, then grinned. “Ah Hui, why does your tone somehow give me the feeling of a parent sending a son off to get married?”
Tang Hui looked at him. “You’ve lost your mind.”
An Jing was just about to fire back when the door opened and Shen Yicheng walked in from dinner. An Jing automatically went quiet. The three of them carried on as if nothing had happened, and the arena wasn’t brought up again.
That afternoon, Xia Zichen was sitting in class when his phone buzzed. He slipped it out and saw a text from An Jing asking him to wait at the school gate after class. Not sure what it was about, Xia Zichen texted back “okay” and returned his attention to the lecture.
Two more days and December would be upon them. The weather had turned thoroughly cold, and the days had grown short. By the time Xia Zichen finished class and walked out of the building, the sky was already completely dark. Orange street lamps lit the path, but even the warm color couldn’t do anything about the winter chill.
An Jing was standing at the entrance of the teaching building. The moment Xia Zichen stepped out, he spotted him, and An Jing spotted him too — gave him a wave, then quickly shoved his hand back into his pocket for warmth.
Xia Zichen looked An Jing up and down. He was actually dressed quite sharply today, with a notably formal feel to it. Xia Zichen rarely saw him like this, and it took a beat to adjust. “Where exactly are you going?”
“Come on — bro’s taking you out to dinner.” An Jing was all smiles as he steered Xia Zichen out of the school gate.
“You have to dress like that just to get food?” Even under the trench coat, Xia Zichen could make out the crisp white button-up shirt underneath. Add a blazer and he’d be ready for work in the city center.
“Bro got hold of a VIP card for a Western restaurant. Taking you for a proper meal.” There was a gleam of satisfaction in An Jing’s eyes. For someone like him who lived and breathed food, something good was never to be passed up.
“Which Western restaurant? Where are Hui-ge and the others?” An Jing did have a knack for turning up discount vouchers and VIP cards out of nowhere — nobody quite knew where he found them. Whenever a deal appeared, he’d take Xia Zichen along. What was unusual was that this time Tang Hui hadn’t been included.
“Ah Hui heard ‘Western restaurant’ and immediately lost interest — said too many rules.” An Jing pursed his lips. “And Yicheng’s off who knows where. Never mind them, let’s go.”
Xia Zichen had no objections. “You dressed up this formally just to contrast against me, didn’t you?” Compared to An Jing, Xia Zichen’s outfit was considerably more casual — and An Jing hadn’t said a word about dinner when they’d left.
“You’re still basically a kid — it doesn’t matter for you.” An Jing laughed. “You don’t need clothes to make an impression. With that face and that voice, you’re already covered.”
Xia Zichen couldn’t be bothered to engage with that. He stepped out of the school gate, raised his hand to flag down a cab, and the two headed to the restaurant An Jing had mentioned.
The cab drove for forty minutes before pulling up in front of the Western restaurant in the city center. It was only then that Xia Zichen understood why An Jing had insisted on dressing the way he did. From the interior design to the polished professionalism of the wait staff, everything about this place gave off a kind of quiet pressure — as if an invisible line had been drawn, dividing people into distinct tiers, where only a select few truly belonged here, and most others simply passed by outside.
An Jing’s own expression showed a flicker of surprise, as if even he hadn’t anticipated the restaurant being quite like this. He hesitated for a moment, then squared his shoulders, tilted his chin toward Xia Zichen, and said: “Let’s go.”
Even though they felt slightly out of place, the staff at the entrance welcomed them graciously. After confirming the reservation, the host led the two of them to their table inside.
Once seated, Xia Zichen and An Jing worked their way through an all-English menu with French annotations, making their selections slowly. Fortunately, every dish had a photograph beside it, so even when the text made no sense, they at least had some idea of what they were looking at. If it weren’t for the waiting staff’s very distinctly Chinese faces, Xia Zichen might have started wondering whether only English was acceptable here.
Once their orders were confirmed and the server excused herself, An Jing finally exhaled. “I heard this place was excellent, so I wanted to try it — didn’t expect the pressure to be quite this intense.”
Xia Zichen laughed despite himself. “We’re already in. And it’s not that busy. It’s fine.”
“Yeah.” An Jing looked around. The restaurant wasn’t crowded, and the tables were spaced well apart, with everyone speaking quietly enough not to disturb anyone else.
Before long, the appetizers and main courses arrived in succession. With food in front of him, An Jing fully relaxed. “Oh, have you checked the official site? Next month they’re launching a marriage system.”
“Really…” Xia Zichen wasn’t particularly invested. Sword Soul had never had a marriage system, so most couple relationships were just mutually acknowledged arrangements. The launch of a marriage system would inevitably be met with enthusiasm from the player base. Though none of that had anything to do with Xia Zichen — even if Chenxi was a girl, she was still a character played by a guy, and marriage was out of the question. Who would want to marry someone like that?
“It’s going to be such a big event.” An Jing said, cutting his steak. “Once bro finds a girl, I’ll go join in the fun too.”
“Find her first, then talk.” For all his casual attitude, An Jing had genuinely high standards when it came to the opposite sex — sometimes so picky it made you want to shake him.
“Come to think of it,” An Jing said, watching Xia Zichen’s expression as he spoke, “if Lian Feier weren’t in the picture, you and Yicheng could have gotten married in the game.”
Xia Zichen’s mouth curved up slightly. He said nothing.
“Little Zhen-zhen, I’ll ask you this once — are you really not going to say anything to Yicheng directly?” It was a question he’d been wanting to ask for a long time, but had never dared. Watching Shen Yicheng and Lian Feier growing closer by the day, he couldn’t help but ask what Xia Zichen’s plan was. He’d always looked out for Xia Zichen like a little brother — he naturally wasn’t going to let anyone treat him badly.
“There’s nothing to say. It’s been this long — I know better than anyone whether it’s right or not. Once you see feelings for what they are, they fade on their own.” It was the first time he had ever spoken openly about his own feelings in front of someone else — and it was happening at the point when he had already decided to let go.
In the process of choosing to let go, he hadn’t felt anything particularly painful. It was as if everything had simply arrived at this point on its own. Thinking about it, a white figure flashed through Xia Zichen’s mind. He had to admit — being able to let go this calmly was something Canmo Wuhen had played a significant part in. It was Canmo Wuhen’s arrival that had gradually shifted his attention away from Shen Yicheng and brought a different kind of enjoyment to his time in the game.
An Jing was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Honestly, I never thought Yicheng was right for you anyway.”
Xia Zichen smiled. “Alright, let’s not bring this up again.”
“Understood.” An Jing seemed to set down a weight he’d been carrying and turned his full attention back to eating.
“Right this way, sir.” The restaurant manager’s polished, attentive voice drew both Xia Zichen’s and An Jing’s attention.
They both looked up. The manager was escorting a man in a white suit toward a table deeper inside. The man looked only a few years older than them. His eyes tilted slightly upward at the corners with a look of sharp, quiet intelligence. High nose bridge, lips pressed into a mild, neutral line. The pride that emanated from somewhere deep inside him gave off an air that was difficult to approach — yet his overall bearing also carried a refined, cultured elegance that blended with the arrogance in just the right proportion, creating an otherworldly kind of presence that was hard not to notice.
As if sensing Xia Zichen’s gaze, the man turned his head slightly. When his eyes met Xia Zichen’s, he paused for half a second — then gave a slight nod, with a barely perceptible smile at the corner of his mouth. Then he turned and continued walking after the manager.
Xia Zichen watched his retreating figure until he disappeared deeper into the restaurant. There was something inexplicably familiar about it — and yet, at the same time, something entirely, completely unfamiliar…