“Meng Meng: So why didn’t you just ask for his WeChat?”
“morning: Wouldn’t that be too obvious about my intentions?”
“morning: I was planning to ask when he returned my charger”
“morning: Who would’ve thought”
“morning: Half an hour! Just half an hour! And he was gone!”
“morning: It was the original one! So expensive!”
“Meng Meng: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
“Meng Meng: Aren’t you two in the same campus? Why not post a missing person notice around the campus and see?”
“morning: Wouldn’t that embarrass him to death?”
“morning: Forget it, I’ll wait for the next chance encounter”
“Meng Meng: Good luck”
“morning: /wailing crying”
Meng Meng was Meng Jiayin, Mu Ning’s graduate school classmate. After graduation, both of them came to Bincheng for work. Mu Ning joined a game studio as a narrative designer, while Meng Jiayin went to a mobile phone company as a PR.
The two initially shared an apartment, but later when the phone company relocated entirely to a standalone office building, Meng Meng’s commute became longer, making the shared living arrangement no longer convenient. They each found their own places, fighting for an extra half hour of sleep within their 996 grind.
A laptop is indispensable in a working person’s life, because you never know when your boss will post some absurd request in the Feishu group chat demanding it be handled within half an hour.
996 isn’t the boundary of capitalist exploitation—it’s merely the measure of how long your physical body lingers in the office.
Mu Ning’s iPad and laptop shared the same charger. Her current phone charger could technically charge it, but it was just too slow.
Three days later, she gritted her teeth and ordered a new charger online. Not the original brand—she’d already had her eye on another brand that had a retractable cable, which was far more convenient than the original.
If she never ran into X again, she’d generously let him keep that charger.
A month passed.
Mu Ning got used to the new charger and only occasionally, in rare moments, remembered that the old one was still with X.
She revised her resume again and again but still hadn’t decided to submit it—Valerius’s birthday was coming up, and at the very least she needed to finish the birthday version first. And after that, if she stayed another two months, it would be the end of the year. Considering the year-end bonus, she could endure a little longer.
After the morning meeting, Mu Ning spent the afternoon putting together the requirements document for Valerius’s birthday card.
A requirements document meant translating the visual concept for Valerius’s birthday card—including clothing, pose, expression, scene, atmosphere, and so on—into concrete written specifications that the art team could directly execute.
The document was sent to the new narrative team lead, “Sister Gua,” for review. It wasn’t until 8:30 PM that Sister Gua finally sent back feedback—a voice message over fifty seconds long.
Mu Ning took a deep breath and selected voice-to-text.
“Sister Gua: I’ve looked at the reference images. I think the concept of a ‘midnight gown’ is a bit too ordinary. Didn’t the operations team say in this afternoon’s meeting that they’re under a lot of revenue pressure lately? Valerius’s birthday solo banner event is extremely important. Think it over—make the outfit more extravagant…”
Mu Ning suppressed the urge to curse and replied: “Sister Gua, here’s the thing—the birthday event cards for each male lead actually form a complete set together. If we elevate the extravagance of Valerius’s birthday card alone, the solo stans of the other four male leads will definitely complain about unfair treatment.”
“Sister Gua: Just make a version according to my requirements for now. Keep both versions. I’ll decide which one to use after I sync with operations tomorrow.”
“Mu Ning: Okay.”
Cursing under her breath, Mu Ning viciously typed in her desired salary on her resume, took a gulp of coffee, copied the requirements document to a new sheet, and began the day’s overtime work.
She worked until ten, sent the document to Sister Gua, who replied that she’d give feedback later.
Mu Ning couldn’t be bothered to wait around any longer. She packed up and left.
Crossing the now-quiet campus courtyard, she let out a long yawn.
She ducked into the convenience store, thinking about buying something to reward herself, but found she had no appetite and walked out empty-handed.
Meng Meng messaged her on WeChat about getting a meal together. Mu Ning slowly descended the steps at the campus entrance, head down, typing replies.
Back and forth, they settled on a time.
The moment she turned off her phone screen, she heard footsteps behind her.
The next second, a voice as crisp as ice-cold, sugar-free lemonade rang out: “Hello.”
Mu Ning stopped in her tracks and turned around in surprise.
Under the dim streetlight, a man in a black T-shirt entered her field of vision in the slow-motion cadence of an art-house film.
Mu Ning silently gripped the strap of her canvas bag, her breathing lengthening and slowing. “…Hello.”
“Do you remember me?” X said as he descended two steps, stopping at the same level as her. “Your charger…”
“Of course, of course I remember.”
“I’m sorry, something came up that day and I had to go back to the office. I couldn’t find you in the shop, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it with the staff to pass along, so I had no choice but to take it with me,” X explained. “After I finished up, I went back again, but I still didn’t run into you.”
“Ah… sorry, sorry. I had something to take care of and went back to my apartment. I thought you wouldn’t leave so soon… When I came back, it must have been right around when you went back to the office.”
“Bad timing.”
“Yeah… a little.” Mu Ning couldn’t manage a natural smile, and her breathing seemed to have gone wrong somewhere too, growing uneven and shallow.
X was much taller than her, so he had to tilt his head down to speak. At this close a distance, the impact of that beautiful face was no small thing.
“The charger…” Mu Ning spoke up.
“It’s in the office. If it’s convenient, wait a moment and I’ll go up and get it for you…”
After all, her daily job was racking her brains to craft heart-fluttering scenarios for girls. Though her practical experience was zero, that didn’t stop her from quickly finding the optimal solution for this situation from her vast theoretical knowledge:
Of course she couldn’t agree to that—otherwise, today’s interaction would most likely be their last.
“Sorry, I saw on the monitor that the kitten knocked over its water bowl this morning, and it hasn’t had water all day. I need to rush back and give it water…” Her heart was beating so fast—she just hoped he couldn’t hear it. “Which building do you work in?”
“Building F.”
“I’m in Building C. Not too far. Would it be convenient to find some time tomorrow for you to return it to me?”
“That works.”
“So…” Her voice seemed to get stuck in her throat, blocked by her heartbeat.
Mu Ning paused, cleared her throat, and was about to speak again.
X said, “Let’s add each other on WeChat.”
Both phone screens lit up, casting a faint white glow, like two small portals leading to each other’s universes.
Mu Ning scanned the QR code on X’s phone, and a friend request screen popped up.
His WeChat name was “JX,” and his profile picture was a watercolor painting—some kind of creature combining a large dog with an eagle or vulture.
What a coincidence, what a coincidence—she knew whose profile picture that was.
Even more coincidentally, if she guessed right, JX was the initials of his name. His name really was X.
Mu Ning sent the friend request and said at the same time, “…I really like it too.”
“Hm?” X tilted his head down a little more.
“The Last Guardian.”
His profile picture was a character from that game—Trico, the great beast with a dog’s body and face, and an eagle’s wings and talons.
X nodded and said, “Yeah. It’s a good game.”
Mu Ning had already noticed that although he was polite, his overall tone leaned more toward distant and reserved.
Just sharing a liking for the same game probably wasn’t enough to be the key to getting close to him.
But it was enough.
The current results were enough to keep her excited and sleepless until three in the morning tonight.
“Well then, I won’t keep you,” Mu Ning said with a smile, pointing toward the direction of her apartment. “I need to get going.”
X nodded.
The two stopped talking, walked down the last step of the stairs—Mu Ning heading east, while X went west down the road.
When she reached the next streetlight, Mu Ning turned back in a sort of dizziness to take a look.
The man carrying a black backpack over one shoulder had already walked far away, a black silhouette against the warm yellow light, like a single frame pulled out of a dream.
Back home, she washed up.
Mu Ning lay down on the bed and, with a nervous flutter, tapped on X’s profile picture and entered his Moments.
His cover photo was the default, and he hadn’t set a personal signature, but thankfully the content wasn’t completely empty.
He hadn’t restricted the time range, but he posted very infrequently—about once every half year or year—totaling fewer than ten posts, easy to scroll through in one go.
The posts were a mix of everything: screenshots of clearing some game, snowy mountains and skies from a trip, collections of cats and dogs…
It was as if he only remembered Moments existed and posted on a whim.
And when she scrolled to the very bottom, his first post was from six years ago.
It seemed to be a team-building event—about a dozen people standing on the grass for a group photo. He stood third from the middle counting left, still in his unchanging black T-shirt, taller than everyone else, lean, with a hint of detached ease.
Mu Ning saved the photo and forwarded it to Meng Meng.
“Meng Meng: Which celebrity I don’t know is taking a photo with a regular classmate?”
“morning: It’s a photo of X”
“Meng Meng: …The hottest one?”
“morning: Yep”
“Meng Meng: !!”
“Meng Meng: That makes sense.”
“morning: Hahahahaha”
“Meng Meng: How did you get the photo”
“morning: I added him on WeChat /grinning”
“Meng Meng: !!”
Not satisfied with just texting about the gossip, Meng Meng called her directly over voice call to demand the full story.
After about ten minutes, the two finished chatting, and Mu Ning was left in a state of excitement like she’d had too much caffeine.
Unable to sleep, she scrolled through X’s Moments from top to bottom again.
Whether he had a strong sense of privacy or simply didn’t like sharing, his posts revealed nothing about his personal information—age, alma mater, employer… all unknown.
The good news was that there was no sign of a girlfriend either.
Of course, she couldn’t rule it out entirely, because some people just didn’t like showing off their relationships.
He was truly an unknown.
A complex equation begging for a final answer.
The next day at work, Sister Gua relayed the client’s feedback—a pile of nitpicky revisions that had to be done regardless.
Mu Ning worked on them with growing irritation, stealing glances at WeChat every now and then.
The conversation had stopped at ten in the morning.
“morning: Would noon at 12 be convenient to meet at the entrance of Building F?”
“X: Convenient.”
Mu Ning hadn’t fallen asleep until 2 a.m., trying to crack what JX could stand for.
Jiang, Ji, Jiang, Jiang, Jin, Jing, Jing, Ju, Jian, Jiao…
Those were the common surnames starting with J.
As for X… there were too many possibilities. She couldn’t even narrow down the range.
She finally made it to 11:40. Mu Ning went to the restroom to freshen up, grabbed her work badge, and headed downstairs.
It was lunch break, peak elevator hours. Mu Ning waited through two rounds before finally getting down.
Before she even reached Building F, she could already see the figure standing at the entrance from a distance.
He wore a black T-shirt that seemed to have become his signature—under the sunlight, his skin was so pale it almost looked overexposed.
He was looking down, holding his phone in his right hand, slowly scrolling through the screen. From the speed, he wasn’t browsing social media but reading a long article.
In his other hand, he held a black paper bag, presumably containing her long-lost charger.
Mu Ning took a quiet breath and walked the last few steps at an unhurried pace.
“Hello.”
X looked up at the sound of her voice.
Once Mu Ning stopped in front of him, he handed over the bag and said, “Your charger. Thank you.”
Mu Ning took it and glanced inside. Besides the charger, there was also a triangular slice of cake.
“This is…”
“A thank-you.” X paused, then added, “And an apology, I suppose.”
Mu Ning smiled. “It’s fine. No need to be so polite.”
Her fingers tightened around the paper bag’s handle.
The awkwardness unique to strangers plunged them into a brief silence.
The normal thing to do was exchange pleasantries, say goodbye, and later unilaterally delete each other when cleaning up their WeChat contacts.
Mu Ning quietly exhaled again. She knew this well, yet she couldn’t bring herself to go through the motions of a polite farewell.
The awkwardness, stretched by the prolonged silence, became impossible to ignore.
She saw X open his mouth, looking a bit uncomfortable, about to say something.
Mu Ning spoke first, cutting him off: “Echoes of the Ruins is a game developed by your company, right?”
X looked down, following her gaze.
Her eyes were fixed on his work badge, which had flipped to the back. The dark blue lanyard bore the Spirit Whale Interactive Entertainment logo.
“Yeah. It was made by Spirit Whale’s Echo Studio.”
“I really like the ending of Echoes of the Ruins.”
“Which ending do you like?”
“The hidden ending.”
X paused, then looked up at her. “Did you follow a guide to get it?”
“No. I pre-registered before the open beta, bought it the moment it launched, and pulled two all-nighters over the weekend to finish it. There were no guides online at that time.”
“How did you unlock the hidden ending?”
“I really liked the character Nova, so I talked to him the most. I didn’t expect it to trigger the clue for the secret room. So when Nova hid in the secret room and survived in the hidden ending, I was especially happy.”
X’s gaze lingered on her face for a long time, but he said nothing.
So long that she felt her limbs go stiff and her expression freeze.
X spoke again: “Have you had lunch yet?”
“Not yet… I was just about to go.”
“If you don’t mind, shall we go together?”