Chapter Twenty-Eight: Is He Fierce?

“Chongchong, don’t be like this,” Lin Hui said, taking Yuan Chong’s hand.

Yuan Chong sniffed, holding back her tears. “I’m fine. I’ll be better in a while.” Even as she said this, she wasn’t sure herself—how long was “a while”? What did “better” mean? Would it mean forgetting Zhang Shun?

This kind of devotion was like being a fan of a celebrity: you work hard in silence, but the person you like knows nothing.

But what else could she do? Yuan Chong knew she didn’t have the courage to confess her feelings in real life.

She was so timid—no wonder he didn’t like her. The more she thought about it, the sadder she felt.

In reality, there was someone else also feeling a mix of emotions.

Qi Leyu had originally wanted to find “The Original Miss Yuan” to play games together. Seeing that she was in a team and mid-game, his curiosity got the better of him and he spectated her match.

He’d applied for spectating privileges from his mentor before, and now he had them.

As he watched, he noticed something: this support player was protecting the marksman with meticulous care.

At first, he thought nothing of it, but after playing many times with “The Original Miss Yuan,” he was familiar with her habits. This level of protection was rare, even with his mentor. Most of the time, “The Original Miss Yuan” played as the carry, preferring to secure kills herself, even when she played support.

She’d played support for “Unreliable” before—though it was for practice, her habits showed; she’d sometimes play around, let the marksman die, or steal a kill. But this time… she was as diligent as an old ox.

Qi Leyu suddenly realized—could it be that “The Original Miss Yuan” was practicing support just for this marksman?

He remembered how “Unreliable” had joked that “The Original Miss Yuan” might like someone, and how she’d recently asked with a heavy heart, “What do guys usually like to talk about?” Connecting these dots, and looking at this marksman—Qi Leyu sensed something different.

Hmm, this person’s ID is “Chaplin’s Mouth.” How odd, Qi Leyu thought to himself.

He’d wanted to ask “The Original Miss Yuan” when he got the chance, but it felt awkward. Yet if he didn’t ask, he felt stifled. So, he wasn’t her special someone after all—how foolish to think so. It really did feel bad.

At first, Qi Leyu hesitated. But after waiting several days without seeing her online, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

To pass the time, Qi Leyu played with “Unreliable” and mentioned, “Haven’t seen her in a while. I wonder what’s going on.”

“Unreliable” didn’t think much of it. “Didn’t you say she’s a student? Maybe she’s busy with schoolwork.”

“She’s in college—how busy can she be?” Qi Leyu frowned. “I think something’s up.”

“What?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“How would I know? She’s your mentor, not mine,” “Unreliable” retorted.

Qi Leyu glanced at him, “Is something wrong with your eyes? You see white but not black—you should get that checked at the hospital.”

“You—!” “Unreliable” was annoyed. “You’re the most annoying person to talk to. I can’t be bothered with you.”

Qi Leyu leaned back, settling into the bean bag, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Unreliable” grabbed a bottle of soda, took a calming sip, and asked, “Stuck with writer’s block again?”

Qi Leyu said nothing.

“If you’re stuck, get out and walk around for inspiration. What’s the point of hiding out at my place?”

Still no reply from Qi Leyu.

After a moment, “Unreliable” said, “How about I risk my life and play a few games with you? I’ll do my best to carry you.”

Qi Leyu sat up. “Maybe I should just send her a message on WeChat and see if I can reach her.”

“What? You haven’t tried?” “Unreliable” was surprised. “You two are so close, adding each other on WeChat wouldn’t be weird at all.”

“Sigh. There needs to be some boundary between online and real life,” Qi Leyu replied.

“Then why are you so anxious? Do you like her?” “Unreliable”’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Hmph, when did you become so clever!” This time it was Qi Leyu’s turn to roll his eyes.

“If not, then it’s no big deal if you can’t reach her,” “Unreliable” said.

“Alright, let’s play a few rounds.” Qi Leyu took out his phone.

They played three games. “Unreliable” nearly jumped up. “You’re feeding on purpose!”

Qi Leyu looked serious. “I’m not! Statistically, I did better than when I queue solo.”

Thus, “Unreliable” was once again reminded of how important “The Original Miss Yuan” was. “You’d better try messaging her on WeChat—or better yet, let me do it.”

Qi Leyu’s eyes lit up. “Finally, something useful out of your mouth.”

“Unreliable” looked up at the ceiling and shook his head.

Qi Leyu looked at him inquisitively.

“I really don’t get it sometimes. How does someone as infuriating as you write such lively stories?”

“And what about you?” Qi Leyu asked.

“Me? Of course I’m easy-going, kind, funny, and—”

“Enough! Let me remind you, birds of a feather flock together.” Qi Leyu killed the conversation.

Recently, Yuan Chong hadn’t wanted to log into the game at all. She’d had hopes, made efforts, and when nothing came of it, the disappointment was hard to bear.

With little coursework, she spent her days holed up in the library, finding a quiet corner with a random book and sitting there for hours.

She forced herself to read, regardless of whether the material was dull, even memorizing passages as if preparing for an exam—anything to keep her focus on the page.

With her mind so occupied, she found it easier to sleep at night. Early mornings, the steady routine between library, cafeteria, and dormitory left her physically tired, so she’d fall asleep as soon as she lay down.

Lin Hui was worried about her and wanted to say something, but didn’t know how.

On Friday morning, Lin Hui got up with Yuan Chong and went to the cafeteria for breakfast.

“Let’s see a movie tonight,” Lin Hui suggested on the way.

Yuan Chong shook her head. “I’m going home this afternoon.”

“Relax a bit. You’ve seemed so busy lately.”

“It’s fine. Zhang Cheng and Feng Duoduo are both at internships, and you’ve started studying too. I thought I should do something meaningful.”

Lin Hui turned to her, “Really?”

Yuan Chong smiled. “Really. Our teacher used to say that the days spent studying at school are the easiest. Work will come soon—I want to cherish this time.”

“Watching a movie occasionally won’t hurt,” Lin Hui said, not exposing the lie.

But Yuan Chong still shook her head. “I have things to do at home.”

Lin Hui persisted, “I’ve already bought the tickets.”

Yuan Chong was surprised—this wasn’t Lin Hui’s style. “Is something up?” she asked.

“Just come. Watching alone is boring.”

Yuan Chong wasn’t good at refusing people, and she always tried to be gentle and accommodating. She believed in helping with small things and respecting others’ opinions on matters of no principle.

She didn’t think she had anything important to do herself, and if she disagreed, she wasn’t good at debating, so she just went along. With her harmless appearance, good temper, and easygoing nature, she was well-liked.

So she obediently went with Lin Hui to the movies. While Lin Hui fetched the tickets, Yuan Chong saw Zhang Shun coming in through the entrance.

Startled, she hurriedly hid behind a pillar, clutching her chest. She really didn’t want to see Zhang Shun—her feelings were complicated and hard to untangle.

Zhang Shun saw Lin Hui and went over to greet her. Lin Hui turned to look for Yuan Chong but saw no sign of her.

Should she come out or not? Yuan Chong wrestled with herself.

A message arrived from Lin Hui: Where are you? I just ran into Zhang Shun. Let’s go together.

At that moment, a WeChat invitation from “Unreliable” arrived, asking her to play a game. Her mind chose for her: gaming sounded better.

She dashed out first and only replied to Lin Hui afterward—a fact she couldn’t change.

Lin Hui had wanted to give Yuan Chong a gentle push, to create another opportunity for her, but… the person herself had dropped the ball.

Yuan Chong rushed home, dashed into the kitchen, and gulped down water. Once she calmed down, she breathed a long sigh of relief.

Looking out at the night, she sighed again, her feelings tangled. She was disappointed in herself, and a bit in Zhang Shun too—but it wasn’t fair to blame him. He had no idea.

If he knew, would anything be different? Yuan Chong shook her head—she’d only be more embarrassed.

Another message from “Unreliable” urged her on, so Yuan Chong logged into the game.

As soon as she entered, she saw many messages from “No Love for the Stingy,” and her heart warmed—at least someone cared.

Yuan Chong accepted the invitation and entered the room.

“Unreliable” greeted her with enthusiasm, “Miss Yuan, I missed you so much!”

“The Original Miss Yuan” laughed, “You’re terrible at acting.”

“Unreliable”: “My heart aches for a second.”

“No Love for the Stingy”: “Don’t mind him. Why haven’t you been online lately?”

“The Original Miss Yuan”: “Had some things going on.”

“No Love for the Stingy”: “What’s up? It’s been a while.”

She didn’t reply.

Sensing the chill, “Unreliable” jumped in, “Hey, Stingy, why are you so nosy? She said she’s busy, so she’s busy.”

“No Love for the Stingy”: “I’m just concerned, that’s all. If it’s inconvenient, that’s fine.”

“The Original Miss Yuan” replied, “Nothing inconvenient. I’m about to start working, so I’ve been reading more, preparing a bit.” Of course, she didn’t say the real reason.

“Unreliable” asked, “Oh, so you’re graduating. What’s the point of reading? Studying interview skills?”

“The Original Miss Yuan”: “No, I already have a job lined up. I just… don’t know what it’ll be like at work, so I’m studying more. But now that you ask, I’m not sure what good it’ll do.”

“No Love for the Stingy”: “He’s just ignorant. Don’t listen to him—reading and learning is always good.”

“Unreliable” protested, “Who are you calling ignorant? Culture is a broad concept—it’s not just about degrees. A degree only proves your academic life; society and the workplace are different. Many things you can’t learn from books.”

That was a reminder—something important lay ahead. “The Original Miss Yuan” said, “Unreliable has a point.”

“See! Stingy, you’re the ignorant one,” “Unreliable” said.

“No Love for the Stingy” retorted, “So what should you learn to adapt to a company? How do you learn, and what do you need?”

“Unreliable” started rambling from every direction, then concluded, “Basically, just handle relationships well, be humble and low-key—but don’t be too timid. If someone bullies you for being new, you should fight back.”

The first part seemed reasonable, but the last… “The Original Miss Yuan” considered, “We’re not kids anymore. Is there really bullying? What do you think, Stingy? You’ve been through it.”

“Unreliable” laughed, “He’s working, but honestly, as long as he doesn’t bully others, no one can bully him.”

“The Original Miss Yuan” asked, “Why? Is he fierce?”