With the couples event wrapped up and the marriage system launched, the game immediately followed up with a two-person PvP tournament — a well-timed shot of excitement for the incoming winter break crowd, who could now look forward to keeping themselves occupied over the holidays.
Xia Zichen hadn’t paid the tournament much attention. Last winter break there had been a four-person PvP tournament, which he had entered with An Jing and the others — but their gear hadn’t been strong enough at the time, and they hadn’t been playing for very long, so they hadn’t made it to the finals.
This time, presumably to complement the marriage system, it had been changed to a two-person format — creating better opportunities for couples to spend time together, deepening their understanding of each other through competition and bringing them closer. That said, since it was simply called a two-person PvP tournament with no other specification, same-sex pairs could also register together. The game placed no restrictions on this, which satisfied the playerbase considerably — after all, not everyone had a romantic partner, and for many people, friends were what they had most of.
On Thursday, Xia Zichen ran the arena again with Jianlang and the others and capped his weekly Sword Commendation Points. Even though it still felt vaguely uninteresting, he couldn’t very well decline Jianlang’s goodwill — especially since Canmo Wuhen had specifically arranged it.
After morning class, Xia Zichen and An Jing went to the cafeteria for lunch. Tang Hui and Shen Yicheng had no morning classes and generally slept until noon — the plan was to bring food back for them, so they wouldn’t have to drag themselves out of bed.
The two sat across from each other eating, and Xia Zichen gradually noticed something odd. An Jing, who never stopped talking under normal circumstances, was being unusually quiet today.
“What’s going on?” Xia Zichen asked. “Did something happen?”
“No, why?” An Jing looked up at him.
“You’re too quiet. I thought something was bothering you.” Seeing that An Jing didn’t seem to be carrying any particularly negative emotion, Xia Zichen relaxed.
“Well…” An Jing pressed his lips together slightly, with a look of mild hesitation. “Little Zhen-zhen, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Go ahead.” Xia Zichen told him to continue without much concern.
“So — Yicheng and Lian Feier… have taken things to real life.” An Jing wasn’t worried that Xia Zichen would be upset — Xia Zichen had already made it clear he hadn’t planned on developing things with Shen Yicheng — but it was still a somewhat uncomfortable thing to hear, given that in the game, Lian Feier had undeniably inserted herself between the two of them. An Jing had always felt that without Lian Feier, maybe things between Xia Zichen and Shen Yicheng wouldn’t have reached the point they were at now.
“How do you know?” Xia Zichen was genuinely a little surprised, and frowned slightly.
“Last night during the guild dungeon run, someone set up a separate voice chat room. I clicked into the wrong room by accident and ended up in Yicheng and Lian Feier’s private room — turns out they’d left it unlocked. I heard them making plans for a date over the weekend. From what they were saying, they’d clearly already met up several times.” An Jing pursed his lips. “The moment he saw me, Yicheng went quiet. I backed out.”
“They should probably remember to lock their rooms in the future.” Xia Zichen’s tone carried a new layer of contempt. Shen Yicheng had been carrying on his own online relationship all along, while simultaneously lecturing him about not getting into online relationships and saying that people you met online were less reliable than people in real life. Xia Zichen genuinely didn’t know what standing Shen Yicheng thought he had when he said those things. Bluntly, he had no right to say any of it.
“I just thought it was a bit sudden. No wonder he’s been so secretive lately.” Seeing that Xia Zichen wasn’t remotely bothered by the news, An Jing felt completely reassured. “Those two are something else — Lian Feier is always on the voice channel making a show of their relationship with Yicheng, and they don’t lock their private chat room, like they’re afraid no one will walk in and hear.”
Xia Zichen was rarely on the voice chat software. He only kept it running in the evenings after adding Canmo Wuhen as a contact, and even then only to chat with him — he never went into the guild channel. So he had no idea Shen Yicheng and Lian Feier had been putting their relationship on display like that.
“Never mind it — that’s between the two of them. Don’t get involved.” Thinking back to Shen Yicheng’s attitude that day, Xia Zichen felt like spending any more time thinking about Shen Yicheng was just a waste. He genuinely didn’t know what was going on in Shen Yicheng’s head — being able to carry on an online relationship himself while shamelessly lecturing him about keeping his distance was, when you thought about it, actually kind of funny.
“I can’t be bothered with it either. I just think Yicheng’s being underhanded about it. He’s a friend, at the very least — was it necessary to hide it like this?” An Jing picked up his chopsticks and went back to eating.
Xia Zichen said nothing. Shen Yicheng had his reasons for keeping it hidden, whatever they were — and Xia Zichen had no interest in knowing what they were. As far as he was concerned, it had nothing to do with him, so why bother.
Thinking about what Shen Yicheng had said the other day, Xia Zichen felt too annoyed to go back to the dorm. He told An Jing he was heading to the library to study. An Jing nodded and headed back to the dorm on his own with both servings of food.
During finals season, both the study rooms and the library were packed to capacity, and finding a seat wasn’t easy. He went from the first floor all the way up to the fourth before finally spotting an empty seat in a corner at a two-person desk.
The adjacent seat was already taken. Xia Zichen wasn’t sure if the empty spot had been held for someone, so he walked over and asked quietly, “Is this seat taken?”
The person turned slightly toward him. Xia Zichen paused in mild surprise — it was Gu Xu.
Gu Xu had his gray coat draped over the back of his chair, and was wearing only a high-necked khaki sweater — an easy, unhurried look. Up close, he was even more striking than from a distance, though the weight of his presence was correspondingly stronger.
Seeing Xia Zichen, Gu Xu paused for just a moment before recovering. A quiet warmth showed in his eyes, and without a word he pulled out the chair beside him, indicating it was free.
Xia Zichen gave a small nod, sat down, and took out his books. The library was very quiet — only the faint hum of the air conditioning could be heard. Everyone was bent over their own work. In an atmosphere like this, keeping silent was the natural thing to do; speaking felt like it would disturb everyone around you.
After working through several discussion-style questions from his major, then completing a full Band Six English practice paper, Xia Zichen leaned back in his chair for a rest. He had always been a diligent student, and reviewing for finals didn’t come with the frantic anxiety of cramming at the last minute. He had done these types of questions before, so going through them again didn’t feel difficult.
He let the pen turn slowly between his fingers and shifted his gaze to the window. The trees along the walkway had shed all their leaves and had nothing scenic to offer — the only thing worth looking at was the reflection of Gu Xu’s profile in the glass. Their spot was quite out of the way, and the partition on the desk created what felt like a small, self-contained space — something close to the feeling of being alone together.
Even with Gu Xu’s strong presence beside him, Xia Zichen found it grounding rather than unsettling — a quiet, inexplicable sense of calm. His mind eased into the stillness of their shared silence, and it felt like nothing was particularly worth overthinking. His focus was sharper than usual, and he found himself genuinely enjoying the study environment. There was none of the oppressive effort of forcing himself to concentrate the way he sometimes had to when memorizing material. It just came naturally, as if studying itself had become interesting. And somewhere quietly inside him, he found himself hoping this moment would last a little longer…
Slightly embarrassed by his own inexplicable thoughts, Xia Zichen pulled his gaze back and glanced casually at Gu Xu’s desk. On it was a stack of English-language books in the original. Gu Xu was slowly turning through one, jotting brief notes on a sheet of plain paper to the side — notes he apparently needed. Judging by the pace at which he turned the pages, reading in the original language seemed to present him with no difficulty at all, which Xia Zichen found genuinely impressive.
Among those books, Xia Zichen spotted two titles he had been wanting to read for a while. He had a small obsession when it came to books — after reading, they had to look exactly as new as when he bought them. No creases, no annotations. When borrowing someone else’s book, the condition mattered just as much — a well-worn copy or one filled with someone else’s notes killed any desire he had to keep reading. So he generally bought his own books and didn’t borrow from the library.
Sensing his gaze, Gu Xu turned his head and asked quietly, “Want to borrow them?”
Xia Zichen pressed his lips together in mild embarrassment, not having expected Gu Xu to notice him looking at the books. He shook his head.
“Once your exams are done, I’ll lend them to you.” Before Gu Xu had even finished speaking, the phone resting on the desk lit up. He picked it up — already on silent — and said, “I have to take this.” Then he stood up and walked out.
Because of the surroundings, Gu Xu’s voice had been kept very low, making it difficult to fully gauge the original quality of it — but what came through was still pleasant to listen to. Xia Zichen rested his chin on one hand. Even though they hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of sentences, the other person always gave him an odd sense of familiarity. The way Gu Xu spoke to him never had the awkwardness of a first conversation — it felt natural, the way you’d talk to someone you’d known for a long time.
Still turning it over in his mind, Gu Xu walked back in from his call, began quietly gathering the books and papers on his desk, and said softly, “Something came up — I need to head out. Study well, and don’t stay too late.”
“Sure. Take care.” Xia Zichen said the farewell on instinct.
Gu Xu smiled slightly, put on his coat, slipped the books into his bag, and walked out of the library.
Watching his figure disappear through the exit, Xia Zichen only then realized — he still hadn’t thanked Gu Xu for the cake that time. He supposed it would have to wait until they crossed paths again, though he had no idea when that would be…
It was nearly eight by the time he got back to the dorm. Shen Yicheng still wasn’t there. Xia Zichen didn’t think much of it.
“If you’d been any later I was about to call you. Did you eat?” An Jing asked.
“I did.” Xia Zichen set down his bag. “The library actually had open seats today.”
The study rooms didn’t allow book-holding — after each session you had to take everything with you when you left, otherwise the cleaning staff the next morning would treat your books as trash, and you’d have no one to complain to. But the library allowed seat-holding, so many students would carry their review materials over and claim a spot. When class was on, they’d go; when class was free, they’d go back to the library and not have to find a new seat every time.
That said, most people still preferred the study rooms over the library. In the study room you could quietly ask someone a question without much trouble, as long as you didn’t disturb anyone. In the library, talking too much drew strange looks, which made the whole thing feel somewhat restrictive.
He logged into the game. Nothing in particular needed doing — he figured he’d go mine some ore to sell. With Canmo Wuhen gone this week and himself logging on less, his stamina and energy had both sat untouched and were now at full capacity.
He had barely loaded into the game when a message popped up in the private chat channel.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: You’re on?
Xia Zichen looked at the name carefully, then pulled up his friends list to double-check — Canmo Wuhen was back.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Weren’t you supposed to be back Saturday?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Nothing serious came of it. Came back a day early.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Oh.
The response was understated, but Xia Zichen was genuinely pleased.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Want to do dailies?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Already done. How’s the studying going?
[PM] [Chenxi]: Not bad.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Good. Did you see the two-person PvP tournament on the official site?
[PM] [Chenxi]: I haven’t been paying much attention to it.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Want to enter with me?
Xia Zichen hadn’t thought about entering with Canmo Wuhen, but now that it came up, it sounded like a good idea.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: The actual tournament starts during winter break — registration is open now. Think it over.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Sure. Let’s do it.
Nothing to hesitate about. He didn’t have much going on over winter break anyway. And it wouldn’t take up that much time.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Should we go register now?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Don’t you want to check the official site for the rules first?
[PM] [Chenxi]: You already looked at them, didn’t you?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Yes.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Then we’re fine. I’m following your lead — I won’t get lost.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Ha. Alright. Let’s go register.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Sure.
Without another word, the two of them formed up, mounted their horses, and rode off to find the tournament registration NPC.
Getting to compete alongside Canmo Wuhen sent a quiet flutter of excitement through Xia Zichen — a kind of eagerness he couldn’t quite suppress. Compared to the regular semester, winter break would offer a lot more freedom, and they’d have considerably more time to play together.
He had been a little worried that Canmo Wuhen might have other plans for the break, and that mismatched schedules might lead to a kind of gradual drifting apart. Looking at it now, that concern seemed to have been unnecessary. The winter break ahead was probably not going to be boring at all…