Xia Zichen was not used to keeping his laptop battery inside the dorm or at home all the time, so the moment he pulled the power plug, the screen went dark instantly. Maybe he could have chosen to exit the game or shut it down properly, but at that moment, he only wanted to escape that state as quickly as possible. Pulling the plug became an instinctive choice.
He did not know what attitude he should take toward the game now, or toward the people in it. These things felt both real and unreal to him—so blurry he could not find a starting point, only confusion.
He had already vaguely sensed Can Mo Wuhen’s intentions during earlier conversations with Bai Caozhe, which was why he tried to distance himself under the excuse of “needing space.” But once those suspicions were broken open by such direct action, the impact was too strong. His earlier attempts at distance had not even served as a buffer; Can Mo Wuhen had simply broken through them, using actions to show a thought, an attitude—or rather, a fact.
When he tried to pull away, Xia Zichen could still pretend ignorance about their feelings. After all, Can Mo Wuhen had never said anything outright. He could treat it as overthinking, even self-indulgence, maybe just a misunderstanding caused by his own caution.
But now, Can Mo Wuhen had made it clear. There was nowhere left to hide. He could only face it. And with that came a kind of invisible pressure, as if the end of this emotional path was already visible in a dim, gray distance.
In the game, Xia Zichen had always concealed his gender. It was his biggest disguise—and also his biggest deception. If Can Mo Wuhen found out he was a man, he probably would not even be able to continue playing. Not getting cursed at would already be lucky.
He had once considered revealing it when Can Mo Wuhen interrupted him, and had even wondered if the other party already suspected it. But judging from today’s events, Can Mo Wuhen clearly did not know he was “a cross-gender character player,” otherwise he would not have made such a high-profile confession.
Same-sex relationships existed in games, but most were kept low-key. Even when people used confession fireworks, they would not choose such a public stage. After all, same-sex love was still a minority and somewhat marginalized.
The system announcement about the confession was naturally seen by An Jing and the others. When they also saw Xia Zichen suddenly pulling the power plug, the excitement from the PvP championship faded completely.
Xia Zichen had always been someone with his own ideas, but that action clearly was not something he normally did. It could only mean he was seriously affected—more precisely, he was affected by Can Mo Wuhen. That made An Jing worry, because even he could not tell whether this was good or bad for him.
Shen Yicheng walked over, took the power cable from Xia Zichen’s hand, and closed the laptop. “Stop thinking. Go rest early.”
Xia Zichen did not respond. He was not sleepy, and it was still early, but his mind felt exhausted.
An Jing opened his mouth, wanting to comfort him, but did not know what to say. He sighed lightly and turned back to his computer, only to see a system message pop up in the lower-right corner of YY. When he opened it, it was a friend request from Can Mo Wuhen.
He had previously added Bai Caozhe, so it was not surprising that Can Mo Wuhen could reach him.
After accepting, Can Mo Wuhen quickly sent a message: “If convenient, please give me Chenxi’s phone number.”
An Jing frowned slightly and did not immediately agree. “I’ll ask first.” After all, it was Xia Zichen’s private information.
“Mm.” Can Mo Wuhen did not insist.
An Jing cleared his throat and said to Xia Zichen, “Xiao Chen, Can Mo Wuhen is asking for your phone number.”
“I won’t give it.” Shen Yicheng interrupted first. “At least he should have spoken to Zichen directly about this. Now that things have turned out like this, how is this supposed to end?”
Tang Hui, who had been silent, suddenly said, “Whether to give it or not should be up to Zichen. Besides, Can Mo Wuhen didn’t know Zichen was a man. We’re also partly responsible. If we hadn’t deliberately kept it from him, people wouldn’t have all assumed Chenxi was female.”
The fact that Chenxi’s gender had been hidden this long was partly because Xia Zichen did not care, and partly because the three of them had deliberately concealed it. On the surface it was to prevent discrimination against cross-gender accounts, but honestly speaking, it was also selfish. They had even once considered using Chenxi as a shield against romantic trouble. That balance had been broken after Lian Fei’er appeared.
Xia Zichen finally came back to his senses after hearing about Can Mo Wuhen. He realized that although he had tried to escape, abruptly logging out like that had indeed been disrespectful. Chenxi leaving so suddenly could be interpreted as rejection.
“Is he still online?” he asked.
“He’s gone. He logged off right after you did,” An Jing replied. “If you hadn’t pulled the plug, I would’ve thought you two were privately talking it out.”
Xia Zichen let out a small breath of relief. At least it had not been too humiliating for Can Mo Wuhen.
“So what are you going to do?” An Jing asked after a pause.
Xia Zichen said nothing. He stood up, took a jacket from the wardrobe, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed out.
“Where are you going?” Shen Yicheng grabbed his arm.
“To buy coffee.”
He had never told anyone his habit of drinking hot cocoa, so he always used “coffee” as a cover.
“I’ll get it for you. Stay here.” Shen Yicheng frowned and turned to get his coat.
“No need. I’ll walk around.”
He ignored Shen Yicheng and left.
Outside, the March night air was still cold. Xia Zichen walked toward a café at the corner of the street with his hands in his pockets.
At around nine, the streets were mostly empty. Only a few couples passed by quickly. He looked somewhat out of place.
Inside the café, the warmth drove away the cold. He ordered hot cocoa and sat by the window, staring blankly. The drink arrived quickly in the nearly empty shop.
His fingers touched the warm textured mug. It had been a long time since he last sat here drinking something. The last time seemed to be when Gu Xu swapped hot cocoa with him.
At that moment, he suddenly thought of Gu Xu. Maybe talking to him would make things easier.
But emotional matters required mutual understanding. It was far harder than simply “trying,” as Gu Xu had said. He could not risk stepping forward only to have Can Mo Wuhen withdraw. He did not know how he would face that outcome.
He could not say he felt nothing for Can Mo Wuhen. If he truly felt nothing, he would not be so conflicted. But even if he accepted it, he had no confidence in this relationship. It felt like it would end badly.
His father’s relationship was the best example. No matter how sincere promises were, they could not withstand reality and daily life. Under invisible pressure, someone would eventually leave.
From his earliest memories, he only remembered endless arguments—cold words tearing apart love, splitting lives, erasing what once moved them.
Pain, hurt, silence, despair…
He had once wondered: if the ending was always like this, why love at all?
He had been afraid as a child—afraid his father would also leave him. But in the end, his father stayed and raised him, struggling but never blaming him.
Xia Zichen respected and was grateful to his father. That was why he only wanted a stable, peaceful life.
Love, to him, was something rare and uncertain. He did not think he would be lucky enough to have it. And same-sex love made it even less likely.
All he wanted was stability.
A phone ring pulled him back. It was his father, Xia Yuze.
He answered immediately. “Hello, Dad.”
“What are you doing?” His father’s voice was warm.
“Having something to drink outside.”
“Not in a good mood? You sound low.” As expected, his father noticed.
“It’s nothing serious.”
“Good. You’re grown now, learn to handle things yourself. I can’t give you all the answers.”
“I know.”
“You’re not me, and I’m not you. Don’t retreat before you even experience things.”
“Dad…”
“Whatever it is, it has to be solved eventually. Face it directly—it might be easier.”
“I understand.”
After the call, Xia Zichen felt slightly lighter.
On Monday night, he logged into QQ. As expected, Can Mo Wuhen was online.
“You’re here?”
He hesitated, then sent a voice call.
After a pause, the other side accepted.
Silence filled the line for a few seconds.
Then Xia Zichen finally spoke.
“I’m a man…”
A low chuckle came from the other end.
“I know.”
That simple answer made all the tension in him loosen at once.
Things… were not as bad as he had imagined.