After Canmo Wuhen resolved the Xiao Guai Zui Guai situation, Shen Yicheng had Tang Hui pass along his thanks to Canmo Wuhen on his behalf — he didn’t reach out himself. Canmo Wuhen said nothing about it and didn’t even bring it up with Chenxi.
On the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month, Xia Zichen went with Xia Yuze to pick up the last of the New Year supplies they hadn’t yet gotten, and then planned to stay home for the entire holiday without going anywhere — a proper break. Even though there were only two of them celebrating, Xia Yuze did what he always did every year: fried meatballs, braised ribs and pork knuckle, and simmered a pot of chicken soup. Xia Zichen helped out in the kitchen, and the two of them cooked and chatted, busy and full of holiday spirit.
Living in the city for so long, fewer and fewer young people kept up the old traditions when it came to New Year’s cooking — most went for something simple, with a few dishes chosen for their auspicious symbolism, and still managed to make the holiday feel genuine. Xia Yuze himself didn’t know all that much about specific New Year’s customs — he’d look them up online and pick a few he could pull off. Back when the family had been struggling, every New Year would come and go without enough money for a proper holiday feast. All he could manage was making dumplings for Xia Zichen, twice. Even as a small child, Xia Zichen had been remarkably understanding — never asking for more, never even throwing the kind of fits children typically did. Xia Yuze had felt both proud and deeply pained by that. As a parent, you always wanted better for your child, and back then, better had simply been beyond his reach. Things had gradually improved once he passed his bar exam. So every New Year since, he had felt a strong need to make up for it — always wanting to set out a full table of food for Xia Zichen, a proper meal. Xia Zichen’s appetite had never been large, though, and a table that size kept the two of them eating until the fourth day of the New Year.
After dinner, Xia Yuze sat at his computer browsing the news, and Xia Zichen logged into the game. The two of them had actually been eating in the kitchen as they cooked, so by dinnertime they weren’t really hungry — they made noodles for a simple meal, planning to have another small bite late that night. After picking up the daily quests, Xia Zichen was just about to head to the quest area when a PM arrived from Xiao Guai Zui Guai.
This was genuinely unusual. Even though they had been in the same guild for all this time, he and Xiao Guai Zui Guai had never exchanged a single word. Combined with the fact that he personally didn’t care for overly coquettish girls, Xiao Guai Zui Guai was someone he had mostly tuned out. It wasn’t the most gentlemanly approach for a guy to take, but some people simply didn’t inspire any warmth, and Xia Zichen couldn’t be bothered to put on a performance about it. There was no need.
[PM] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: Got a minute? Let’s chat.
Xia Zichen genuinely couldn’t think of anything they had to talk about and didn’t want to waste time, so he replied directly.
[PM] [Chenxi]: What is it?
[PM] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: I know you’re close with Canmo.
Xia Zichen’s brow furrowed. The way she said it made him uncomfortable. Very few people referred to Canmo Wuhen as just “Canmo” — most added “top player” in front of it. Given her current standing and level of actual familiarity with him, the casualness felt presumptuous in a way that rubbed him the wrong way. He sometimes genuinely couldn’t understand how a girl like her could go by a name this misleading — not ironic so much as faintly absurd.
[PM] [Chenxi]: We’re acquainted.
[PM] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: Give me his voice chat or QQ.
Xia Zichen’s frown deepened further. He did have those contact details for Canmo Wuhen, but there was no reason to hand them to someone else — especially not without the person’s consent. He checked QQ — Canmo Wuhen wasn’t online yet.
[PM] [Chenxi]: I don’t have them.
[PM] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: How is that possible?!
[PM] [Chenxi]: Believe it or don’t.
[PM] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: Hmph. You’re just scared of me getting close to Canmo, aren’t you? What’s not yours will never be yours.
Xia Zichen genuinely could not understand how Xiao Guai Zui Guai arrived at this level of self-regard. You didn’t need a girl to be reserved and demure, but at minimum she should have some self-awareness.
[PM] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: If you don’t have his contact info, that just proves Canmo doesn’t think much of you at all. That actually makes me feel better. Canmo helped me and I’m genuinely touched. If you have any sense you won’t get in the way of me expressing my gratitude to him.
A sardonic smile crossed Xia Zichen’s face. Two words came to mind: brain-dead. Though on reflection, bluntly brain-dead was still better than scheming behind the scenes.
He didn’t dwell on the episode. Once Canmo Wuhen came online, the two of them ran through the daily dungeon together. With nothing else to do afterward, they sat on the bridge by the main city gate and chatted.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Got all your New Year supplies sorted?
[PM] [Chenxi]: Yeah. You?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: More or less. Eating at home for New Year’s Eve?
[PM] [Chenxi]: Yeah. Dad’s cooking. Are you going out to eat?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: The Chinese restaurants here aren’t all that authentic, so we’re having someone come to the house to cook. My mom isn’t great in the kitchen. I honestly miss coming home to a warm meal made by family.
[PM] [Chenxi]: Me too. I love that feeling.
Thinking about how Xia Yuze always had a pot of soup ready and waiting whenever he came home — that genuinely was something warm and precious.
While the two of them were chatting, a brown horse galloped straight toward them, and the girl riding it dismounted right in front of them. Xia Zichen looked — it was Xiao Guai Zui Guai.
The bridge wasn’t empty, but people had given this particular spot a wide berth, leaving a kind of unspoken private space around the two of them. The sudden intrusion from Xiao Guai Zui Guai was conspicuous and unwelcome.
[Nearby] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: Canmo, thank you for helping me.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Who is this?
[PM] [Chenxi]: …
Xia Zichen was genuinely at a loss for words. Canmo Wuhen was asking who Xiao Guai Zui Guai was? What exactly had been going through his head when he went and handled the whole situation?
[PM] [Chenxi]: This is the person Shanya Yiyu was camping. You didn’t know?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: I heard the details from Baicao Zhe. I genuinely didn’t keep track of who exactly Shanya was camping.
[PM] [Chenxi]: I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. What exactly did you say to Shanya Yiyu?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: My starting point was you. I only told him that the person being camped was in my wife’s guild and that I was worried it would put you in a difficult position. He started asking about you after that, and the person being camped basically stopped being part of the conversation.
Xia Zichen suddenly had a new appreciation for just how deep the gossip culture ran in this game — or perhaps Canmo Wuhen and Shanya Yiyu had simply failed to identify what was actually relevant.
[Nearby] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: I never expected you’d help me. I’ve always been paying attention to you. I have a lot of friends in the game, but I don’t have a romantic partner…
[PM] [Chenxi]: Can you please stop using those two words?
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Which ones?
[PM] [Chenxi]: …Wife. He was a guy — even a gay one — and he had zero affection for that word being applied to him.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Why?
[PM] [Chenxi]: I don’t like that kind of empty title. How many people in this game are actually a real couple? Some exist, but they’re rare. Most people using “husband” and “wife” aren’t genuinely that — so the title is meaningless.
[PM] [Canmo Wuhen]: Alright.
[Nearby] [Xiao Guai Zui Guai]: Actually I’ve always liked you a lot. I didn’t think you’d noticed me too… otherwise you wouldn’t have helped me. Hehe, I’m so happy.
Xiao Guai Zui Guai was still broadcasting to herself in the nearby channel, apparently either unaware that everyone near the city gate could see it, or doing it entirely on purpose.
The more he read of it, the more speechless Xia Zichen became. Calling it an expression of gratitude would be generous — calling it a declaration of affection would be more accurate. In this situation, there wasn’t much Xia Zichen could say. Xiao Guai Zui Guai’s target was Canmo Wuhen — he was purely a spectator.
Canmo Wuhen stood beside Chenxi for a moment in silence, then typed four characters.
[Nearby] [Canmo Wuhen]: Flattering yourself.
He said nothing more and simply led Chenxi away, leaving Xiao Guai Zui Guai standing alone in stunned bewilderment, and a crowd of onlookers thoroughly entertained…
On New Year’s Eve, Xia Zichen slept in — partly because he had stayed up late the night before, and partly because they were staying up to see in the New Year, so conserving energy made sense. After the flurry of preparing a full table of holiday food, father and son turned on the TV and ate while watching. Xia Yuze opened a bottle of red wine. Xia Zichen didn’t normally drink, but on New Year’s a token sip was fine.
He poured for his father first, then raised his glass toward Xia Yuze. “Dad, for the new year — wishing you good health, smooth sailing in everything, and a flourishing career.”
Xia Yuze clinked glasses with a smile. “And Dad wishes you health and safety, success in your studies, and nothing but happiness.”
After a sip of wine, Xia Yuze pulled a red envelope from his pocket and held it out.
“Thank you, Dad.” Xia Zichen accepted it with a smile and reached over to hug Xia Yuze. “You’ve worked so hard.”
Xia Yuze patted his son’s back. “Good boy.”
After dinner, father and son each sat at their own computers, chatting with friends and colleagues while commenting on the Spring Festival Gala program on TV. Xia Zichen never thought the Gala had much originality from one year to the next, but it seemed to be a fixture of New Year’s Eve, as natural a part of the night as the holiday dinner and dumpling-making. And watching it with his father made it entirely fine even when the program itself wasn’t interesting.
The TV was playing music when a notification appeared on his QQ — An Jing had sent a message.
“You there?”
“Here. Happy New Year.” Xia Zichen kept QQ running but was the perpetually-invisible type, so anyone trying to reach him had to ask first.
“Hehe, Happy New Year.” An Jing sent a big grinning emoji. “Just confirmed with Ah Hui — Yicheng’s going traveling tomorrow, back on the seventh. We set the eighth to meet up. You free?”
They had decided last year that from then on, every New Year’s they’d get together — even after graduation, the tradition would continue.
“Sure. I don’t have anything going on. Anytime works.”
“Perfect. We’ll nail down the specifics on the evening of the seventh.” An Jing said.
“Got it.”
“Alright, I need to go grab snacks. Way too many relatives here today, and the kids are fighting over snacks like it’s a battle — if I don’t move now there won’t be anything left.” Unlike Xia Zichen, An Jing loved a crowd and loved hanging around with kids. “Give my New Year’s greetings to your dad.”
“Will do. Same to yours.”
Compared to someone else’s household with a dozen relatives gathered together, Xia Zichen’s home of two was admittedly on the quiet side. Even though he was used to it, there was still a small, faint thread of loneliness — a feeling he couldn’t quite trace back to when it had first appeared. It wasn’t painful, and being with his father genuinely made him happy, but somehow, inexplicably, he still wished there were more people at home. Even just one more…
As midnight drew closer, the sound of firecrackers outside grew louder and louder. Xia Zichen and his father put on their coats, posted the New Year’s character and couplets on the door, then went downstairs and set off a string of firecrackers — a wish for a bright and prosperous year ahead.
Back inside, Xia Yuze started boiling the dumplings. Xia Zichen turned up the TV volume a little and waited for the countdown.
The firecrackers outside were nearly drowning out the television. On screen, the host stood before the audience and began counting down with everyone watching.
When the number reached zero, Canmo Wuhen’s avatar on QQ popped up.
“Happy New Year.” He had sent a cheerful lucky money emoji alongside it.
“Happy New Year.” Xia Zichen replied with a smile. He hadn’t even noticed when Canmo Wuhen had come online. “Didn’t expect you to be on at this hour.”
“I have relatives back home to send New Year’s greetings to. The family arranged to go by China time. But over here, you’re the only person I needed to wish.”
Canmo Wuhen saying it was only him made Xia Zichen pause for a moment. “What about Jianlang and Baicao Zhe? No New Year’s greetings for them?”
“They went abroad for a trip. Their schedules are all over the place — I’ll wait for them to reach out to me.” Canmo Wuhen said.
“I see.”
In Xia Zichen’s impression, people who went traveling right in the middle of the New Year holiday were generally people with money to spare.
“Have you had your dumplings yet?” Canmo Wuhen asked.
“Still cooking.”
“Mm. If you’re not tired after, I’ll keep you company in the game.”
“Sure.”
The faint thread of loneliness that had been in him somewhere quietly dissolved over the course of chatting with Canmo Wuhen — so gradually that Xia Zichen himself didn’t even notice. Natural, without a trace of effort. Perhaps that was its own kind of remarkable coincidence, existing only for that one particular person…