Running into Shen Yicheng and Lian Fei’er here made Xia Zhanchen feel that the world was simply too small—how could they still bump into each other like this? But thinking about it, it also wasn’t all that surprising. Judging from the quality of this restaurant, it was exactly the kind of place someone like Shen Yicheng would choose: quiet, uncrowded, expensive—and whether it tasted good or not was another matter.
Xia Zhanchen didn’t go over. He merely nodded slightly in greeting. If it had just been him and Gu Xu, he would have gone to say hello out of politeness. But with Gu Yan present, it wasn’t convenient. Besides, he would still see Shen Yicheng when they returned to school.
He didn’t make any further gesture and turned back to his tea. Before he turned around completely, however, he noticed Shen Yicheng and Lian Fei’er’s gaze drift across him—and land on Gu Yan.
Gu Yan, for his part, wasn’t looking at them. Instead, he looked at Xia Zhanchen with a questioning expression.
“They’re my roommate and his girlfriend. Didn’t expect to run into them here,” Xia Zhanchen said with a slight lift of his lips.
Gu Yan nodded and didn’t ask further.
The dishes were soon served. The three of them ate while talking—or rather, Xia Zhanchen ate while Gu Xu and Gu Yan talked. They discussed company matters that went over Xia Zhanchen’s head; the topics were broad and complex. He couldn’t really follow, and Gu Xu had never explained these things to him before.
“Earlier you mentioned interest in entering the online game sector. Have you made a plan yet?” Gu Yan asked after setting down his chopsticks.
“Yes. I’ve spent nearly a year researching it. It’s worth investing in,” Gu Xu said seriously. “The investment in ‘Sword Soul’ has already been fully recovered and is now profitable. The domestic market still lacks online games with distinct style and identity. And games like this aren’t limited by age—if they’re fun, people will play. There’s still a lot of room for growth.”
Gu Yan thought for a moment. “You’re not planning to continue investing in ‘Sword Soul’?”
At this point, Xia Zhanchen more or less understood. He was slightly surprised—he hadn’t expected Gu Xu to have invested in Sword Soul. But thinking about it carefully, it made sense. Jian Lang had once said someone sent money to Mo Wuhen every month, which explained why Mo Wuhen’s inventory was always nearly full of currency. At the time, Xia Zhanchen hadn’t connected the dots.
“Not necessary anymore. I’ll gradually withdraw funds in the second half of the year,” Gu Xu said, leaning back slightly. “‘Sword Soul’ has a large player base, but it’s already reaching saturation. Developing new gameplay takes time, and what they’re releasing now is just rehashed content. By the time they come up with something new, the new games I’m working on will already be on the market.”
“When will you start development?” Gu Yan asked in a businesslike tone.
“After graduation. I’ll be freer after July. I’ll spend this period recruiting talent—after all, I’m not a programmer, so I’ll need professionals for development. I also won’t place this company under the Gu Group. The gaming industry doesn’t match the group’s image.”
“Suit yourself,” Gu Yan said. “Just tell Dad about it later.”
“I will.” Gu Xu smiled, and the two continued discussing funding.
To Xia Zhanchen, it felt like they were from two entirely different worlds. Even though some courses touched on business management, those were purely theoretical. In real operations, things were far more complicated.
He didn’t say much during the meal, just listened as they talked. Even when they touched on family matters, Gu Yan didn’t avoid him. Gu Xu, meanwhile, kept serving him food while continuing his conversation with his brother. By the end of the meal, Xia Zhanchen felt unexpectedly comfortable—far more than he had anticipated.
After finishing dessert, he went to wash his hands.
While drying them with paper towels, he saw Gu Yan enter. Through the mirror, their eyes met briefly.
“Xiao Xu said you two met through a game?” Gu Yan asked as he turned on the tap.
Hearing that nickname—“Xiao Xu”—made Xia Zhanchen almost want to smile. It made sense, though. Gu Xu was the youngest in the family.
“Yes. We met in ‘Sword Soul’ and played together after that. Later we found out we were actually from the same university,” he replied. “He found out before I did.”
Gu Yan nodded. “That’s fate. I hope you both cherish it.”
Seeing no objection in his tone, Xia Zhanchen felt a bit more at ease and nodded.
“When he was a child, Xiao Xu was very cute. He’s grown up a bit cold now,” Gu Yan said, turning off the tap. “He’s the youngest in the family, so we didn’t restrain him much. Once you join our family, he might finally get to act like an older brother for once.”
Xia Zhanchen’s eyes widened slightly, unsure how to interpret that.
People like Gu Yan—businessmen—were skilled at words. How much of it was sincere was hard to judge. Approval from a family like this wasn’t something easily given.
“If he ever gives you anything, just accept it,” Gu Yan continued. “He likes to give gifts. If he wants to treat someone well, that’s usually how he does it. As long as you smile and accept it, he’ll take it as you accepting his feelings. Don’t feel pressured—he only goes to this trouble for people he truly cares about.”
“I understand,” Xia Zhanchen said.
It was true—Gu Xu often gave him things and took care of him in subtle ways. It seemed this really was part of his way of expressing care.
“Let’s go. If we stay any longer, he’ll think I bullied you,” Gu Yan said with a faint smile, stepping out first.
Xia Zhanchen followed him back.
After they left, the door to the adjacent women’s restroom opened. Lian Fei’er walked out, glanced at the empty shared sink, and after a brief pause, a faint smile appeared on her lips.
Although Xia Zhanchen didn’t fully understand Gu Yan’s identity, anyone moving in business circles would recognize him—and so would the social circles that orbit them. Seeing Gu Yan and Gu Xu together, Shen Yicheng naturally connected the dots, though he didn’t show it. He only gave Xia Zhanchen a long look when they returned.
After meeting Gu Yan, Xia Zhanchen felt his relationship with Gu Xu had become more solid. His earlier worries faded somewhat.
Shen Yicheng never mentioned Gu Yan afterward, and Xia Zhanchen didn’t dwell on it either. Only his contact with Gu Xu became more frequent—so frequent that even An Jing and the others noticed.
That night, while hanging in-game and reading a book, a private message popped up.
[Private Message] Mo Wuhen: Got time?
[Private Message] Shenxi: Yeah, what’s up?
[Private Message] Mo Wuhen: Help the Sunflower group clear a boss.
[Private Message] Shenxi: Didn’t they already form a raid group today?
He explained what a paid raid group was—loot auctioned, distribution based on contribution, underperformers penalized, etc.
[Private Message] Mo Wuhen: Yeah. They can’t clear the last boss. Asked me for help.
It was usually Jian Lang and Bai Caozhe handling these kinds of requests. Today it somehow landed on Mo Wuhen instead, which felt a bit odd, but Shenxi didn’t ask further.
After joining the team, he noticed seven “gold buyers” already present. Among them was Lian Fei’er.
Her presence wasn’t inherently suspicious, but she usually ran dungeons with Shen Yicheng. Seeing her alone here was unusual.
He didn’t ask, just continued.
They began the raid. Shenxi focused on healing. Mo Wuhen handled aggro and positioning, constantly pulling threat and protecting him. At key moments, Mo Wuhen would type a “1” in private chat to signal incoming mechanics so Shenxi could react without needing voice chat.
A few minutes later, the boss fell.
When Shenxi glanced at the raid list, Lian Fei’er was already dead, as were all the buyers. Only a few remained.
Then Mo Wuhen suddenly typed in raid chat:
“I don’t know Lian Fei’er. Don’t DM me pretending otherwise.”
Shenxi silently imagined four words behind that name: trouble magnet.
Lian Fei’er immediately responded, asking why loot was still given to her.
Sunflower clarified it was distributed to everyone regardless of performance, not specifically her.
Then Mo Wuhen left the group.
The chaos continued, but Shenxi had already quietly exited as well.
He didn’t think much of it—just wondered what Shen Yicheng would think when he heard about this…