Chapter Fifty-Six: Allergic to Games?

Unreliable Guy joined in the commotion, chastising Qi Leyi: “See? Evil deeds are punished. How could you report her? That’s just too much!”

Qi Leyi protested, “You don’t play fair.”

Unreliable Guy grew a little anxious, raising his voice: “Back then, who was it that insisted we keep a clear line between the virtual and the real? Now you’re digging into her real-life situation, even resorting to underhanded means. So who’s not playing fair? No, who’s shameless?”

Qi Leyi sighed, trying to soften his tone as he explained, “Unreliable, I didn’t make myself clear. Mainly, I heard Qianjin mention some things about her job—she even has to take out the trash and cook for clients and all that. I really don’t understand what kind of work she does, and I’m a bit worried.”

Of course, this softened tone, to Unreliable Guy, sounded no different than before—just slower.

Unreliable Guy snorted, “What are you so worried about? Mind your own business! Maybe she’s just in housekeeping or cleaning. So what? You look down on that?”

“It’s not about looking down on anything—no job is beneath anyone. But that’s not it,” Qi Leyi replied.

“Taking out the trash and cooking—how is it not?” Unreliable Guy pressed deliberately.

“Her educational background and her personality say otherwise—especially her personality. She’s not cut out for serving others,” Qi Leyi insisted.

“That’s not necessarily true. These days, every job is about serving someone, just different kinds of people,” Unreliable Guy countered.

In truth, he knew very well that the real Yuan Zhong was quite different from the online persona Qianjin Zhong.

Qi Leyi resisted the urge to curse. After a long moment, he said, “Your literary sensibilities have improved lately, and your philosophical thinking too.”

“Of course. I’ve always had a decent memory,” Unreliable Guy accepted graciously.

As for Yuan Zhong, she had previously told him she didn’t want Qi Leyi to know, and though Unreliable Guy could be a chatterbox, he kept his word.

Seeing Qi Leyi fall silent, and realizing he meant no harm, Unreliable Guy thought for a bit, then said, “Qianjin shares your view—she doesn’t want to bring her virtual friends into real life.”

“You’ve met her?” Qi Leyi confirmed.

“Yes, under special circumstances. She was helping someone else, I suppose,” Unreliable Guy replied.

“Cong Wenbin?”

“Uh, something like that. Anyway, don’t ask any more. If you really like her, figure out a way to get her to tell you herself,” Unreliable Guy said.

Hearing this, Qi Leyi felt reassured—this guy still had his back—but couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

Unreliable Guy gave him some final advice: “Between you and Qianjin, you’ll have to walk your own path.”

It was a quote from one of Qi Leyi’s own works.

Afterward, Qi Leyi reflected that he had indeed overstepped, but worry mixed with curiosity left him restless.

He couldn’t help but ask himself: What do I really want?

Admiration, affection—he couldn’t deny that. Then what? Meet up, develop things further? But Unreliable Guy was right—this was something he and Qianjin would have to work out on their own.

As agreed, Yuan Zhong cooked dinner for Qi Leyi one more time, then refused all his subsequent excuses.

No amount of coaxing worked, and Qi Leyi began to see this gentle girl in a new light—sometimes that saying really is true: everyone has a temper.

Over the next week, every day around two, Qi Leyi would call Yuan Zhong to ask where ingredients were in the fridge, and about cooking methods.

Though the questions were simple and repetitive, Yuan Zhong remained patient; she never made a fuss over such minor things.

But there was one thing: Qi Leyi’s writing pace had slowed, and that made Yuan Zhong worried.

She kept a close eye on the situation. For the first two days, she didn’t think much of it—people aren’t machines, and a slower pace now and then is normal. But she soon noticed something wasn’t right with Qi Leyi; there was a tension in him.

He always ate lunch very late, sometimes not until one or two. Yuan Zhong asked if he was staying up too late, but he claimed he’d been going to bed regularly at eleven-thirty.

She double-checked his wake-up time: eight in the morning.

By that calculation, given his usual speed, his writing output didn’t add up.

Carefully, Yuan Zhong inquired if he was experiencing writer’s block. Qi Leyi assured her his thoughts were clear.

Which left Yuan Zhong dying to just ask: Then why are you writing so little?

But she didn’t dare.

So she observed for another week, unable to sit still, and decided to get to the bottom of it.

She arrived at Qi Leyi’s apartment at ten thirty in the morning. Ringing the doorbell was just a formality; after three rings, she let herself in with the code.

No one was in the living room. Qi Leyi was in the study—not at his desk, but lounged in a beanbag by the window, in a posture that was all too familiar…

“Hello?” Yuan Zhong called.

Qi Leyi grunted, not looking up.

Yuan Zhong walked over and peered at him. As she suspected! That posture with the phone—she knew it too well.

So you’re not writing—you’re gaming!

Qi Leyi was in a heated team battle. As a fragile character, he’d rushed right into the enemy’s face, and the result was, naturally, death.

Yuan Zhong wanted to remind him to move better, but seeing his furrowed brow, she kept quiet.

Qi Leyi glanced up at Yuan Zhong. “What is it?”

“I bought some fruit for you. Remember to eat it later,” Yuan Zhong said.

Qi Leyi glanced down. “Make me some orange juice.”

“Sure.” Since she was already here, Yuan Zhong agreed.

She put the fruit away in the kitchen and started making juice—two glasses, one for Qi Leyi, one for herself.

The battle was at its peak; Qi Leyi’s team was defending their base while he played as the mage Wang Zhaojun.

This hero was good for base defense, and there was still hope if they could wipe out the other team or at least take down three of them, Yuan Zhong mused.

But things got messy. Wang Zhaojun’s ultimate wasn’t used to clear the minions but instead injured the enemy’s fighter. Their own marksman was killed instantly by the opposing Sun Wukong. Meanwhile, the minion wave crashed into their tower, started attacking, and in the end, the core was destroyed.

“Damn it!” Qi Leyi grumbled, turning to see Yuan Zhong watching with her head tilted. “Do you even get this? Do you play games?” His tone was harsh.

Yuan Zhong hurriedly drew back. “The orange juice is ready.”

Qi Leyi picked up a glass.

Yuan Zhong took the other, grabbed a cushion, and sat on the floor, sipping juice and gazing out the window.

“What’s wrong? In a bad mood? Did Wang Shanshan bully you?” Qi Leyi asked.

“No, she hasn’t really talked to me lately. Can’t say she’s bullying me,” Yuan Zhong replied.

Qi Leyi scoffed.

Yuan Zhong thought, What’s that supposed to mean?

Qi Leyi muttered, “Coward.”

Yuan Zhong couldn’t take it anymore. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m talking about you. Even if you were bullied, you wouldn’t admit it,” Qi Leyi said.

“But I really haven’t been bullied by her,” Yuan Zhong insisted.

“Then why are you here?” Qi Leyi shot back.

Of course, I came to hurry you on your writing, Yuan Zhong thought, but she said, “I just came to check on you.”

“You called me so many times last week and never came over. Why the sudden change now?” Qi Leyi clearly didn’t believe her.

Yuan Zhong was at a loss for words.

Qi Leyi frowned. “No reason? Then you can go.”

She had no choice. “I messaged you earlier, wanted to ask how your writing was going… Sent you several messages, but you never replied.”

“However much I write, you can see for yourself. What do I need to reply for?” Qi Leyi kept his head down, looking at his phone.

“It’s not enough. It says so in the contract,” Yuan Zhong reminded him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Qi Leyi cut her off.

Yuan Zhong had nothing more to say, so she lowered her head and sipped her juice.

Qi Leyi finished his drink, glanced at the game screen, then said to Yuan Zhong, “Before you go, help make lunch. Keep it simple.”

Yuan Zhong checked the time, obediently got up, and went to the kitchen.

Qi Leyi clicked around the game interface, itching to play another round but hesitated—partly for fear of losing, partly because he worried about Yuan Zhong, this sullen gourd. Did she really have something on her mind?

He peeked into the kitchen. Yuan Zhong was making curried beef with potatoes, and the aroma was already wafting out.

Seeing him, Yuan Zhong said, “It’ll be ready soon.”

“Just make it simple…” he mumbled, but his stomach grumbled, and he rubbed it sheepishly.

After about ten minutes, the curry was done, paired with white rice. Qi Leyi ate with great satisfaction.

Yuan Zhong didn’t rush off. She made herself a fruit salad with yogurt.

Qi Leyi wiped his mouth and said, “About the contract—Miao Shu already talked to me. No rush.”

“Oh, I see.” Yuan Zhong nodded. At least the meal hadn’t been in vain.

“Be honest—has Wang Shanshan been giving you a hard time?” Qi Leyi asked.

“Really, no. She barely talks to me lately, and the work schedule is actually better now,” Yuan Zhong replied.

Qi Leyi nodded. “Good.”

After lunch, Yuan Zhong put the dishes in the dishwasher and got ready to leave. Seeing that Qi Leyi was about to start gaming again, she thought, If he’s not rushing the writing, he can’t just play games all day either, can he?

Qi Leyi glanced up and saw Yuan Zhong watching him, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I just thought, sitting around after lunch isn’t healthy. You should move around a bit,” Yuan Zhong said.

Qi Leyi ignored her.

Yuan Zhong hesitated, then walked over to watch him play, meaning to offer some advice.

Qi Leyi thought she was interested and asked, “Want to learn? It’s fun.”

“Uh…” Yuan Zhong didn’t know how to answer. She thought, My rank is definitely higher than yours. With your skills, even my apprentice, ‘Not a Stingy Ghost,’ could beat you.

Unaware of her thoughts, Qi Leyi began introducing the game, pulled up his profile, and showed it off with a hint of pride.

And Yuan Zhong saw his gaming name. It couldn’t be!

She rubbed her eyes. She had to be seeing things.

She looked again, carefully—‘Not a Stingy Ghost.’ Was it really him?

Yuan Zhong was so startled she hiccupped, glanced at Qi Leyi.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like the game?” Qi Leyi asked.

Yuan Zhong covered her mouth, shook her head, bolted upright, and hurried off in panic.

Qi Leyi was baffled. “What’s with her? Amnesia?”

“I, um, I just remembered something urgent,” Yuan Zhong called as she dashed to the door, fumbled with her shoes, and fled as if running for her life.

Qi Leyi looked at his game screen. Was this some kind of joke? Allergic to games?