He removed the finger picks from his hands with his headphones still on. The channel remained completely silent. Then, the mic indicator light for Canmo Wuhen — listed just below his slot — lit up.
“Thank you.” A voice, slightly low in pitch, carrying a warm, magnetic quality, yet with an unmistakable cool pride woven through the timbre. It gave the impression that this person’s voice was naturally cold and faintly arrogant, only softened — made as gentle as possible — when speaking to Chenxi. The voice suited Canmo Wuhen perfectly, and it stirred something in Xia Zichen that he couldn’t quite put into words. Just those two simple words were more than enough for him.
Drifting into thought, he realized that if Canmo Wuhen were to voice chat with him, he would probably be willing. He liked Canmo Wuhen’s voice — and there was no gap between the voice and the person behind the game character, no disappointment whatsoever.
The moment Canmo Wuhen finished speaking, the channel erupted back to life as if waking from a trance.
“Oh wow, Chenxi is amazing — what a talent!”
“Not only incredible in-game, but the guzheng playing is top tier too!”
“I love it so much — Chenxi, play another one!”
“Throwing flowers, throwing flowers!”
…
Everyone chimed in one after another with messages and virtual flowers. The channel scrolled too fast for Xia Zichen to read it all.
“Chenxi, inviting you was absolutely the best decision I’ve made all year. That was extraordinary.” Baicao Zhe came on the mic, laughing. “Canmo has never opened his mic in all the time he’s played this game. You’re the first person who’s ever made him do it.”
Xia Zichen was mildly surprised. He really hadn’t expected that Canmo Wuhen, just like him, had never once used the voice feature.
“Oh my gosh, hearing the top player’s voice — I can die happy now!”
“The top player’s voice is so good — I don’t even know how to type anymore!”
“Only Chenxi could ever get the top player to open his mic.”
…
“I can’t talk on mic right now — it would disturb the people around me. Happy birthday.” Xia Zichen typed the line into the channel.
“Got it. Thank you.” Canmo Wuhen responded in the channel shortly after.
The enthusiastic replies below multiplied even further. Xia Zichen’s mouth curved up slightly, and he said nothing more. In the middle of a flurry of chat demanding the two of them become a romantic pair, the birthday celebration continued — though every person who came on the mic opened with some variation of Chenxi and Canmo Wuhen’s names, and various forms of confession…
After wrapping things up with the voice channel, Xia Zichen got up to put the guzheng away.
An Jing, the first to come back to himself, pointed at Xia Zichen with wide eyes. “You — you can actually play like that?! I don’t know anything about classical music, but that was genuinely beautiful. Little Zhen-zhen, why didn’t you play for me sooner?!”
“Zichen, how many years did you actually study?” Tang Hui’s question was more straightforward.
“Over ten years.” Xia Zichen opened the case and placed the guzheng back inside.
Shen Yicheng’s brow furrowed slightly. He walked over to help Xia Zichen pack up the stand and said quietly, “It was beautiful.”
Xia Zichen gave a soft laugh and said nothing.
“What is going on today? Who did you open your mic and play for? Come clean!” An Jing grabbed Xia Zichen’s arm, in full we’re-not-putting-down-this-guzheng-until-you-explain mode. Which made sense — they’d lived together for over a year, and Xia Zichen had never once brought this up. Suddenly playing a piece for whoever was on the other side of the computer was something that warranted a proper explanation.
“Tianfeng Yage was hosting a birthday celebration for Canmo Wuhen. They invited me. I didn’t want to show up with nothing prepared, and this was the only thing I had to offer.” Xia Zichen didn’t hide it, giving a simple explanation.
“This isn’t just something to offer — this is something that blows people away!” An Jing clapped him on the shoulder. “Give me the channel number — I need to go watch.”
“Find it yourself.” Xia Zichen jerked his chin toward his own computer, closed up the guzheng case, and set it aside to return the next day.
“That really was quite the gift. Though Canmo Wuhen is certainly someone worth giving it to.” Tang Hui smiled, stroked his chin, and went back to his game.
Shen Yicheng helped Xia Zichen tidy up the rest, said nothing more, but the whole air around him felt distinctly unhappy.
After washing his hands and making himself a cup of coffee, Xia Zichen settled back into his seat and noticed a system notification in the corner of his screen from the voice chat software. He clicked it — it was a friend request from Canmo Wuhen. Even though they had been playing together for quite a long time, outside of in-game chat they had no other way to reach each other.
If it hadn’t been for going on voice chat today, they might have stayed just as they were.
He clicked accept. Canmo Wuhen appeared in his friend list, and a message followed almost immediately.
“Today caught me a little off guard — in the best way.” Canmo Wuhen said.
“Baicao Zhe asked me to keep it secret, so I didn’t say anything.” Xia Zichen replied.
“Mm. It was beautiful.”
“Thank you. I thought about it and figured the game’s music was probably what you’d be most familiar with. Anything else might have felt too heavy.”
“It wouldn’t. Anything you play wouldn’t be dull.”
“I just realized today you’re actually quite good with words…” Faced with Canmo Wuhen’s praise, he was actually a little flustered.
“I’m just being honest. And I’m already being restrained about it.”
“Alright, I’ll accept that.” It wasn’t often anyone could get Canmo Wuhen’s approval, which made it worth something. “Starting next week I’ll be online less — finals prep.”
“Mm, academics first.” Canmo Wuhen said. “I’ll be busier too. It’s fine.”
“Sure. We can still fit in the arena.” Running a few arena matches wouldn’t take much time.
“Sounds good.”
The two of them traded messages back and forth without any particular topic, until Xia Zichen logged off to sleep. There was nothing specific they were talking about — it just felt comfortable talking to Canmo Wuhen. No pressure, no reservations. That kind of ease was something rare.
With finals season beginning, everyone got busy. Those who had been cutting class or slacking on coursework now scrambled to catch up before the exams, to avoid failing in a particularly embarrassing fashion.
The game was the game, but Xia Zichen took his academics seriously. Unless he was down with a bad cold, he essentially never skipped class, and in his professors’ eyes he was absolutely a model student. College wasn’t like high school — the relentless grinding toward a good school admission was gone, and compared to that kind of exam-driven studying, university life was considerably easier. Xia Zichen didn’t aim for a full scholarship or anything like that. As long as he didn’t fail any courses and maintained decent grades, that was enough. University A was full of talented people — those with exceptional grades were everywhere — and demanding too much of yourself tended to produce the opposite of the desired effect.
Coming back from the study room, An Jing and Tang Hui were both out. Only Shen Yicheng sat at his desk with a textbook. Seeing Xia Zichen come in, Shen Yicheng smiled. “I bought something for you to eat when I was out. Just a little for now — we’re having dinner with An Jing and the others tonight.”
“Mm.” Xia Zichen nodded. Lately things between him and Shen Yicheng had been a little off — like both of them were consciously working to maintain the appearance of normalcy, doing their best to make the days feel the same as before, while knowing something had already shifted underneath.
College was a small society of its own, with its own complex rules woven into what seemed like simple living. As long as nothing crossed a fundamental line, nobody would actually let things fall apart. Friendships could be deeply real, or purely surface level. As long as everyone could keep up appearances, that was manageable — after all, the future was unknown, and having one more friend was always better than having one more enemy.
He ate the snack and read, waiting for An Jing and the others to finish class. The room was quiet and still, which made it a decent enough place to review.
“Zichen.” Shen Yicheng called out to him, turning his chair toward him.
“Hm?” Xia Zichen looked up.
“Tell me honestly — have you fallen for Canmo Wuhen?” It was something Shen Yicheng had been wanting to ask for a while, but hadn’t found the right moment. Today, with An Jing and Tang Hui both out, he wanted an answer.
Xia Zichen frowned slightly and didn’t respond. Truthfully, he hadn’t actually thought about his relationship with Canmo Wuhen in terms of romantic feelings. Even though they had grown close, there was a certain respectful distance between them — nothing overly intimate had ever passed between them. And besides, his character was a girl played by a guy. What was there to speak of in terms of feelings?
Seeing him stay silent, Shen Yicheng said quietly, “Canmo Wuhen may be impressive in the game, but nobody knows what he’s actually like in real life. Don’t let a momentary impression pull you in. Online relationships aren’t realistic, so it’s better to keep your distance.”
The lecturing tone in Shen Yicheng’s voice made Xia Zichen deeply uncomfortable, but he had no desire to argue about it. “I’ve always kept the game and real life clearly separate.”
Even though Canmo Wuhen was only a game friend, if there happened to be an opportunity for the two of them to keep being friends in real life, Xia Zichen wouldn’t be opposed to it. Some people could only be truly understood through actual interaction — the assessment might not always be entirely accurate, but a person’s manner of speaking and general conduct still revealed something of their character and quality.
“Good that you can keep them separate. Strangers still carry a degree of risk. The people around you are more reliable — at least you’ve actually lived alongside them.” Shen Yicheng watched Xia Zichen’s expression carefully.
Xia Zichen said nothing more. For a brief moment, he felt a tired sort of reluctance — he couldn’t be bothered to communicate with Shen Yicheng, and wasn’t sure how he would even go about it…
After a subdued dinner, Xia Zichen logged into the game. He and Canmo Wuhen had arranged to run the arena today.
He logged on — and to his surprise, Canmo Wuhen wasn’t online. It was always Canmo Wuhen waiting for him. He hadn’t expected there to be a day when the roles were reversed.
He was just thinking about whether to head to the arena entrance and wait when Jianlang sent him a private message.
[PM] [Jianlang]: You there?
[PM] [Chenxi]: Yeah.
[PM] [Jianlang]: Canmo had to leave for somewhere out of town this morning on short notice. He’ll be back Saturday. He left in a rush and didn’t have time to reach out to you.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Did something happen?
[PM] [Jianlang]: Nothing serious. Family stuff. Ask him about it when he’s back.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Okay.
Good that it wasn’t anything major. The arena could wait — real-life things came first.
[PM] [Jianlang]: Come on, let’s go run 4v4. Before Canmo left, he specifically called me to make sure your arena points get capped this week.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Missing one week is fine.
He had his own things to deal with, and yet he was still thinking about someone else’s game progress. Xia Zichen found himself quietly noting that Canmo Wuhen kept a lot of things in mind.
[PM] [Jianlang]: Come on — Young Master Canmo gave his instructions, I have to see them through. Baicao and I were going to run anyway.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Alright, sorry for the trouble.
[PM] [Jianlang]: No trouble at all. Running with you is easy. Oh — Canmo also asked me to tell you to study hard, and if you’re tired from all the revision, don’t bother logging on.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Got it.
A small smile curved at the corner of his mouth. Chenxi followed Jianlang and the others to the arena.
Besides the three of them, Jianlang called in one more DPS from the guild to round out the four-person team. All ten matches were won cleanly — Jianlang and Baicao Zhe were both formidable, and Xia Zichen hardly felt any pressure.
Yet for some reason, even with the strong output and no struggle to speak of, Xia Zichen still found himself feeling vaguely hollow. To put it more precisely — a game without Canmo Wuhen in it felt uninteresting.
Before, when he played with Shen Yicheng and the others, if someone didn’t log on one day, Xia Zichen could always enjoy himself just fine on his own. He could practically play it like a single-player game without feeling like anything was missing.
But today was different.
At some point he couldn’t quite identify, a game without Canmo Wuhen had become something flat and uninteresting — so much so that he didn’t even want to be on, and just wanted to wait for that white figure to come back, and then have him appear quietly at his side, the way he always did…
Simple as that, and yet there was a warmth to it — a contentment — that he couldn’t quite put into words.