As the words fell, Mu Ning noticed Jing Xuan’s gaze lower, drifting like wisps of smoke across her eyes and the bridge of her nose, then skimming lightly over her lips before quickly darting away to look ahead.
He picked up the black ceramic cup and took a sip of water, saying, “You can ask me to reimburse the medical expenses.”
Mu Ning glanced at the cup, and her face suddenly flushed bright red. She didn’t dare make a sound.
Jing Xuan’s movements suddenly froze—clearly he had also immediately realized that he was drinking from her cup.
Neither of them spoke.
Mu Ning was certain that Jing Xuan’s inner thoughts at this moment were exactly the same as hers: whoever you are, can you please come save us.
The awkwardness froze the atmosphere solid as ice.
Mu Ning couldn’t think of any way to salvage the situation. Based on her creative experience, if she were to have her character Valerius handle this, it would probably go something like this:
“Oh? I mistakenly took the Countess’s wine glass? No wonder this glass of red wine is sweeter than all the blood I’ve ever tasted.”
She just wanted to shut down her wildly wandering brain with one press of a button.
After a moment, Jing Xuan seemed to finally reboot from his frozen state. He moved the cup slightly toward himself, then waved toward someone in the distance. “Hello.”
A server quickly walked over. “How can I help you?”
“Could you bring another teacup, please?”
“Certainly.”
Once the cup arrived, Jing Xuan poured a glass of water and placed it in front of Mu Ning, saying calmly, “Sorry, I grabbed the wrong one. You drink from this new one.”
“…Okay.”
The atmosphere remained strange, but fortunately the server soon returned with the other two dishes.
With the food mostly on the table, they took the opportunity to pick up their chopsticks and let the little incident pass.
“What kind of cat do you have at home?” Mu Ning asked.
“You mean my parents’?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve already seen it.”
“Huh?” Mu Ning turned her head and caught a slightly mischievous smile on his face—hard to describe.
“I posted it on my Moments.”
“…”
“You haven’t looked at my Moments yet?” Jing Xuan asked deliberately.
…Can we just eat our meal in peace first?
“What about the dog?” Mu Ning asked again.
“That’s theirs too. They have a lot of free time at work now, and I don’t go home often.”
“So you’ve replaced your position in the family hierarchy with cats and dogs.”
Jing Xuan laughed and hummed in agreement.
“Do your parents pressure you to get married?”
“They do. Sometimes I use AI-generated photos and tell them this is someone I’m currently getting to know. Then three months later, I report back and say it didn’t work out.”
“Three months, then another three months, then another three months.”
Jing Xuan let out a laugh.
“Why AI-generated ones?”
“Using a real girl’s photo would be disrespectful, wouldn’t it?”
“Can’t they tell they’re AI-generated?”
“Depends on the software and the specific prompt. So far my mom hasn’t caught on.”
Perhaps because of the heat, Jing Xuan set down his chopsticks and took off his jacket. The plain white T-shirt underneath gave him a fresh, youthful look.
Mu Ning glanced over, caught sight of the printed design on his T-shirt’s chest, and immediately looked away.
The design was a little lemon character drinking an iced beverage through a straw.
“Can I take a look?” Mu Ning took a sip from her cup, then asked again.
“Hm?”
“The photos you generated.”
“Sure…” Jing Xuan picked up his phone, but then hesitated for a moment and put it down. “Next time?”
Mu Ning nodded nonchalantly.
“What about you?” Jing Xuan asked.
“…Huh?”
“Pressure to get married.”
“Yeah. A few of my high school classmates went back to our hometown to develop their careers. Most of them are already married or planning to get married. They also want me to go back, take the civil service exam, and ideally get married at 28, have a kid before 30, and a second kid before 35.”
Jing Xuan chuckled. “Such a precise life clock?”
“They’re teachers, so they might not like the feeling of things being out of control.”
“So you working in the gaming industry must seem pretty rebellious to them.”
“Exactly. They’re always hoping the government will crack down on the gaming industry entirely.”
“Then we’d both be unemployed.”
Mu Ning laughed and added, “And go back home to mooch off our parents.”
Perhaps, setting aside the romantic factor, Jing Xuan was also someone very suitable to be friends with—gentle, egalitarian, tolerant, and fun.
To put it a bit narcissistically: just like her.
Mu Ning lowered her eyes and saw Jing Xuan carefully picking the cilantro out of the stone pot, then using the tip of his chopsticks to pick out some meat from the fish belly.
“You don’t like cilantro?” Mu Ning asked.
“No.”
“What else don’t you eat?”
“Fish mint.”
“…Then coming to a Yunnan-Guizhou-Sichuan restaurant—are you just here to pick a fight?”
Jing Xuan laughed at her words.
“Teacher Jing, it seems like we can’t eat together.”
“You don’t like chicken soup rice?”
“It’s too bland. I only have it occasionally.”
“…”
Jing Xuan quietly ate his fish and didn’t speak for a while.
Mu Ning glanced at him. “Are you upset?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never had to cheer up a real-life guy before—no experience. Can you tell me how to make it up to you?”
She saw the corners of Jing Xuan’s mouth curl up.
After the meal, Mu Ning paid the bill. This was another thing she appreciated about Jing Xuan—when something was agreed upon in advance, he wouldn’t suddenly change his mind to show off or make a point.
Leaving the restaurant, Mu Ning went to the restroom and touched up her lipstick.
When she came out, Jing Xuan handed her his phone: “Take a look—what do you want to see?”
There weren’t many movies currently in theaters, and in this god-awful film market, barely two decent films came out a year that were worth spending forty yuan and two hours on.
Perhaps Jing Xuan could tell she was a bit torn, so he said, “We could do something else instead. What time is Xiao Wa’s follow-up appointment?”
“Ah… the vet said that if the diarrhea didn’t improve, we should go for a follow-up… but this morning, his stool was already solid.” Mu Ning said quietly.
Jing Xuan raised an eyebrow slightly. “Teacher Mu really knows how to toy with people.”
“Well, I have to thank Teacher Jing for administering the medicine so promptly—otherwise, we might really have needed that follow-up.”
Jing Xuan turned his face away, lightly touching the tip of his nose, then said, “If you don’t want to watch a movie, how about arcade games?”
“Do you want to play?”
Jing Xuan looked at her and smiled. “The fact that you’re asking means you don’t really want to. Let’s think of something else. Shopping? Do you need to buy clothes?”
“…With you?”
“Is that not allowed?”
Mu Ning didn’t know how to put it… Wasn’t this really just exercising boyfriend privileges ahead of time?
“Just kidding.” Jing Xuan said.
Jing Xuan’s suggestions had been shot down one after another by her, and Mu Ning felt a bit embarrassed, so she said, “How about gaming?”
“Internet café, playing together?”
Mu Ning laughed. “I’m not very good at MOBA games.”
“Is there anything you want to play?”
Mu Ning thought seriously for a moment, then said, “Shadow of the Colossus. I’ve only watched a bit of a gameplay video from a streamer before.”
Shadow of the Colossus and The Last Guardian—the source of Jing Xuan’s profile picture—were both developed by the same creator.
Jing Xuan glanced down at her, his gaze carrying a meaning she couldn’t quite decipher.
Then he said, “That would require a PS to play.”
“I remember it was released quite early. I wonder if the PS5 is backward compatible.”
“It is.” After a pause, Jing Xuan said calmly, “I have the disc.”
When Mu Ning had brought up Shadow of the Colossus, she had no ulterior motive whatsoever.
But somehow, a few sentences had pushed the situation forward to the point of going to Jing Xuan’s place.
She realized that compared to this option, watching a movie, playing arcade games, shopping for clothes… all of it suddenly lost any appeal.
“…Would I be disturbing you?”
“No.” Jing Xuan smiled. “There’s no one else there.”
He seemed to immediately realize how that sounded, and his expression stiffened slightly. He lowered his head to unlock his phone. “…Then I’ll call a car?”
“Okay.”
The two took the escalator down, walked to the entrance of the mall, and waited two minutes before the car arrived.
It was a private car service again.
It wasn’t their first time riding together, but she was far more nervous than last time. Maybe she’d eaten too much—she even felt a little dizzy and nauseous.
The distance was short; it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Before her nervousness could ease, she was plunged into even greater tension.
The car stopped at the entrance of the residential complex. Jing Xuan got out first and held the door for her.
Mu Ning knew this complex—it was new, with excellent surroundings, property management, and security, and the rent was correspondingly steep.
Normally, she would have teased him a little: So this is how the soon-to-be-financially-free producer big shot lives.
But right now, she could barely get a word out.
Jing Xuan, on the other hand, kept talking the whole way, introducing things along the route like he was a real estate agent showing her an apartment.
When they reached his building and stepped into the elevator, Jing Xuan had nothing left to introduce.
Awkwardness was the norm at this stage, Mu Ning thought. Don’t fight it—get used to it sooner, or find a way to move to the next stage sooner.
She was already certain that if she confessed proactively, there was absolutely no chance of failure.
But confessing wasn’t like submitting a request to the art department—even that required a bit of finesse, let alone this.
There still needed to be a little push from timing and circumstance.
Once the birthday version went live, Christmas would be right around the corner. She wondered if giving Teacher Jing a little shock of a confession in artificial snow would leave him with a memory he’d never forget.
While Mu Ning was lost in her thoughts, the elevator came to a stop.
“We’re here.” Jing Xuan said.
“…Mm.”
Stepping out, she saw a layout of three units per floor, with Jing Xuan living in the leftmost one.
It also had a keypad lock. He lit up the panel and entered the code. With a “beep,” he pushed the door open and said, “I’ve been working overtime nonstop and haven’t had time to tidy up. It’s a bit messy inside.”
“…No, no, it’s fine.”
She stepped into the entryway and immediately saw a minimalist showroom.
…Where was the mess? Was it even a tenth as messy as her room?
Jing Xuan opened the shoe cabinet, rummaged around, and pulled out a pair of disposable linen slippers meant for business trips. “They might be a bit big. Try them on—if they’re hard to walk in, you don’t have to switch.”
Mu Ning took off her shoes and slipped into the slippers. They were a bit big, but wearable—just not the kind you’d rely on for brisk, effortless strides.
Walking inside, Jing Xuan gestured to the black leather sofa in the center of the living room. “Something to drink?”
“Cola? I’m guessing you’ve got some.”
Jing Xuan smiled.
Mu Ning sat down on the sofa, setting her small bag aside. She smoothed her skirt self-consciously, feeling a little foolish. Then her eyes caught the row of open shelves beneath the TV console, neatly lined with game discs. She couldn’t help but get up and walk over.
Tucking the back hem of her skirt under her knees, she crouched down and pulled out a few discs at random. They were all classic games—ones she’d played before. Even when she had no time to play herself, she’d find Let’s Play videos from streamers to “cloud” through them.
Footsteps approached from behind—Jing Xuan’s.
Mu Ning held up the copy of Metal Gear in her hand. “You even have games this old?”
“Bought them online.”
Jing Xuan walked over, crouched down beside her, and rummaged through the shelves. He pulled out a disc and handed it to her.
The remastered version of Shadow of the Colossus.
“Did you beat it?”
“Mm. Everything here is stuff I’ve cleared and thought was good—games I wanted to replay for multiple playthroughs when I had time. But I’m too busy now. I don’t even have time for new games.”
Mu Ning nodded. “And it feels like you just don’t have the energy to sit for hours playing something that good. The other day I realized I’d actually started getting into those little merge games on WeChat.”
Jing Xuan laughed. “That’s work’s fault, not yours.”
He turned on the TV and the PS5, sliding the disc in.
Mu Ning returned to the sofa and sat down. On the coffee table were two glasses of cola with ice, condensation beading on the sides as carbonation bubbled up.
She picked one up and took a sip.
She was certain—this tasted better than the “dark soda” at the little bar.
Jing Xuan walked over and handed her the controller.
The game read the disc, loaded, and faded into the opening CG cutscene.
Mu Ning rested her chin on her hand, catching a glimpse of Jing Xuan sitting down beside her from the corner of her eye—one seat’s distance away.
He handed her a throw pillow. She took it, said thanks, and held it in her hands.
After the cutscene, it was time to actually control the character. Mu Ning hadn’t used a controller in a while—she’d nearly forgotten the button layout and had to fumble through each one to “rehabilitate” herself.
Jing Xuan watched the character on screen spin around, darting and hopping, and couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
Mu Ning ignored him. Once she remembered the controls, her movements grew smoother.
But soon, she felt the discomfort—she realized sitting upright like this was genuinely uncomfortable.
She hesitated between “putting on a front” and “can’t fake it at all,” then chose the latter. She could pretend for a moment, but could she pretend forever? If Jing Xuan couldn’t accept who she really was, then they probably didn’t have much of a future anyway.
“Um…”
“Yeah?” Jing Xuan looked at her.
“I’m going to change how I’m sitting. Don’t laugh at me.”
“Go ahead.”
Mu Ning slid off the sofa onto the rug, grabbed the leather cushion nearby, and sat down on it. Then she tucked the throw pillow behind her lower back.
Jing Xuan laughed. “Looks like Teacher Mu’s gaming comfort zone is the same as mine.”
With that, he sat down cross-legged on the rug beside her.
Mu Ning raised her glass with a smile. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
They dove back into the game, and soon reached the first boss.
Mu Ning’s rusty skills started to crumble against the boss fight.
She died twice, lost all patience, and glanced over at Jing Xuan, who was resting his chin on his hand, propped against the coffee table, watching.
“Help me out.”
Jing Xuan took the controller, but paused and looked at her.
Mu Ning saw that same slightly mischievous smile on his face from dinner earlier.
He said, “I can help you.”
“What’s the price?”
“Last time you had ‘Cloud’ and ‘Sephiroth’ pass along a message—what did you call me?”