Chapter 8

Ying Nian was the type of person who, once she had an idea, would act on it immediately, without hesitation or delay. When it came to the people and things she cared about, she was 100% committed, refusing to give up until she had thoroughly mastered whatever she was focusing on.

After developing a crush on Yu Linran, she stepped into the world of esports with one foot, and without a second thought, decisively planted the other foot firmly into this new path.

After returning from watching the match in Shanghai, Ying Nian immediately dove into studying the game.

Jiang Jiashu called her after his evening study session. The moment she got home, she sat down in front of her computer to work, answering the phone so quickly that it made Jiang Jiashu curious. “Why are you still up so late?”

“If you know it’s late, why are you calling to bother me?” Ying Nian snapped, annoyed by his interruption. “Jiang Jiashu, don’t push your luck. Ever since we went to Shanghai, you’ve been clingy and weird all day. What’s wrong with you?”

Lately, he’d started reaching out to her even when there was no particular reason, something that would have been unthinkable before.

Jiang Jiashu denied it, “What do you mean, clingy? Stop making things up.”

Ying Nian scoffed, “Not clingy? Who was it that greeted me at school this afternoon?”

“…You’re the one who’s got issues. How is saying hello being clingy?”

“Get lost! No one else greets me like you do, grinning like some crumpled-up carnivorous plant!”

“Can you stop being so mean?!”

Ying Nian wasn’t interested in arguing further. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Why are you calling me so late?”

“Nothing much,” Jiang Jiashu coughed, “It’s just that my friend was bragging in the group chat about picking up his sister from evening study. So, I thought… well, I’d give you a call.”

“…” Ying Nian was silent for two seconds, not even looking at her computer screen anymore. “You know, I just got goosebumps all over my arm. Spare me, please!”

Jiang Jiashu: “…”

Ying Nian rubbed her arm as she spoke, “Alright, do you have anything else? If not, I’m hanging up!”

“Hey, hey—” Jiang Jiashu wanted to keep talking, “Then how about you help me with my homework?”

“I don’t have time for that!”

“What are you doing?”

“Studying the game!”

When Jiang Jiashu heard this, he scoffed, “Is that really necessary? It’s just a guy, and you’re going all out like this for him!”

“I warn you, don’t use ‘just a guy’ to describe him!” Ying Nian snapped back.

Jiang Jiashu wasn’t backing down, “And I warn you! Getting obsessed with a game isn’t right. Do your parents know about this?”

Ying Nian scoffed, “Who’s obsessed with a game? Even if you were obsessed with poop, I wouldn’t be obsessed with games. Do you think my brain capacity is as small as yours? I’ve already finished all my assignments for every subject during the day, and I’ve even pre-studied two chapters ahead in each subject! Even if I play games at night, it won’t interfere with my studies during the day. If you think I can’t handle both, you’re seriously underestimating my intelligence!”

Jiang Jiashu grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re smart. Can you ever talk without insulting me? Who’s got a small brain?”

Ying Nian replied, “Whoever has a small brain knows it!”

“You’re so full of yourself!” Jiang Jiashu huffed, then grudgingly offered, “Fine, if you’re so capable, how about I take you to play the game?”

“No need, I can do it myself!” Ying Nian refused without hesitation. “That’s it.” Before hanging up, she added, “Oh, and don’t greet me at school tomorrow!”

“But what about the day af—”

Before Jiang Jiashu could finish, Ying Nian had already hung up.

Finally, that annoying voice was gone. Ying Nian focused intently on studying the game. With her intelligence, there was no rule she couldn’t understand. Fully prepared and brimming with confidence, she dove into a match.

The result…

She lost miserably.

“This can’t be right!” Ying Nian furiously scratched her head. “This just doesn’t make sense!”

How could she be playing so poorly? In a bot match—where players face off against computer-controlled opponents—her team of five players lost to the five computer bots. Not only did they lose, but she also ended up contributing the most deaths to the team.

What went wrong??

Ying Nian felt utterly humiliated, as if she had not only lost face but had also embarrassed Yu Linran. After all, her username was “Yu Linran Marry Me.”

There was someone on the team who probably wasn’t a new player, just practicing on a new account. Frustrated by Ying Nian’s performance dragging the whole team down, this player couldn’t hold back during the match and started flaming her, specifically targeting her because her in-game name matched her Weibo ID:

[What’s that ‘Yu Linran something something’ playing like trash?]

[Are you even a fan of SF? SF made it to the Spring Finals, and you play worse than a noob!]

[With your skills, if Yu Linran saw this, he’d be more likely to kill you than marry you!]

……

For the first time, Ying Nian found herself utterly powerless in the face of someone else’s insults and provocations.

What was going on?!

It was truly embarrassing—this game was a disaster. That teammate was right: if Yu Linran ever saw her play like this, it would be awful. She was afraid even his eyes would hurt from watching!

She dejectedly typed a single reply: [Sorry.]

As soon as the game ended, Ying Nian quickly exited, not daring to return to the game room.

That night, she tried playing three games in total. In the next two games, she was assigned to the support role, which, ironically, was the same position as the player she admired. But Ying Nian’s performance as a support was nothing short of tragic—

The opposing team’s bots won so decisively that they might as well have broken into song, while Ying Nian’s teammates were left with nothing but tears of frustration, completely helpless in the face of such defeat.

As the games went on, one of her teammates even started to beg, [Hey, ‘Yu Linran Marry Me,’ sis! Big sis! I’m begging you, please stop feeding! This is just a bot match, but you’re making it impossible for us to even beat the bots! Are you playing with your eyes closed?!]

Ying Nian’s face burned with embarrassment. If it weren’t for the screen separating them, she wouldn’t have the courage to face anyone.

In these few games, she barely did anything else—if she wasn’t dead, she was on her way to dying. She got so tired of saying “sorry” that it lost all meaning.

For some reason, the hero she was controlling seemed to have turned into a reckless brute. All she did was charge in with a wild “roar,” only to be swiftly struck down by the enemy bots with a few heavy blows.

Then she’d charge in again with another “roar,” only to be killed again in the same way.

And so the cycle repeated, over and over.

Ying Nian truly felt like she had given it her all. She even flung her mouse in frustration, chanting under her breath, “Move! Dodge! Dodge!”

But the hero on the computer screen refused to follow her commands.

She felt utterly drained.

After three games, Ying Nian was thoroughly disheartened. She took a screenshot of the game results, sent it from her computer to her phone, and opened Weibo to post an update.

In the middle of the night, the account with the ID “Yu Linran Marry Me” shared her frustration:

【Games are so hard to play QAQ. Why is even a bot match so difficult? Will I ever be able to get out of bot mode…】

The post was accompanied by a screenshot of her dismal game results.

Xiaoxiao saw her post and immediately commented with three exclamation marks:

[!!!]

She followed it up with another comment:

[Oh my gosh! That bad?]

Ying Nian replied with a crying emoji.

…

Although there was only one comment under the newly posted Weibo from “Yu Linran Marry Me,” she wasn’t the only one who saw it.

At the SF team base, Yi Shen had just finished his evening training and was getting ready for bed after washing up. Before sleeping, he habitually scrolled through his phone and logged into his secondary account. As he refreshed his feed, he happened to see the post from “Yu Linran Marry Me” that had just been posted.

Yi Shen’s secondary account looked like an ordinary, inactive account. As long as he didn’t reveal himself, no one would know who he was. After the official SF Weibo had reposted that girl’s post last time, he had secretly followed her account with his secondary account.

He casually opened the post and, after a couple of seconds, burst into laughter. However, his amusement quickly turned to misfortune as he rolled off his bed mid-laugh with a loud “thud.”

Lin Shan pushed open the door, “What are you doing? It’s late, and… what the—why are you on the floor?”

Yi Shen hurriedly got up, just as Cheng Run walked in. Yi Shen’s phone had landed near Cheng Run’s feet, and Cheng Run bent down to pick it up. Yi Shen, in a panic, blurted out, “Give it back…!”

Excited, Cheng Run suddenly dodged away, teasingly, “Hey—”

“Don’t take my phone, Run bro!” Yi Shen lunged to grab it, but Cheng Run, just to mess with him, hid behind Lin Shan.

The two continued their playful chase around the room while Lin Shan sighed, “Alright, stop messing around, or else…”

“What are you doing?”

Yu Linran appeared at the doorway, and the room instantly fell silent.

Lin Shan interrupted and gave the two a glare, “Go on, keep it up!”

Cheng Run was the first to react. He jumped to Yu Linran’s side and said, “Yi Shen just fell off the bed! He…” As he spoke, he glanced at the phone still in his hand, which hadn’t gone to sleep mode yet. Seeing the game screenshot, he paused, “Hmm?”

“What kind of… score is this?” Cheng Run zoomed in and out on the picture, double-checking, “This is terrible!”

With a tap, he exited the image viewer and noticed the Weibo ID of the person who posted it—

“Yu Linran Marry Me”… That looks familiar?

Cheng Run suddenly remembered, “Oh, I got it!” He pointed a finger playfully at Yi Shen. “Staying up late again, looking at pretty female fans!”

Stumbling upon that Weibo post had been accidental, but Yi Shen couldn’t be bothered to explain. He lifted his chin defiantly, “Why shouldn’t I look?”

“And what good does it do you? Looking won’t make her your fan—she’s Yu’s fan!” Cheng Run retorted, using his habit of referring to Yu Linran by his last name.

As he spoke, Cheng Run turned to Yu Linran, and showed him the phone. “But Yu, this fan of yours is really bad at the game. I mean, she’s terrible! If this is how she plays against bots, she’s not a gamer; she’s practically a game killer!”

Yu Linran, who had only come to see why his teammates weren’t asleep yet, found himself unexpectedly roped into the conversation. He glanced at the all-too-familiar Weibo name and then at the small, barely visible screenshot of the disastrous game results:

“…”