“Qianqian, if this one falls through again, I really won’t have the face to show anyone anymore!”
Ms. Ji issued her final ultimatum. “With your looks, finding a boyfriend should take minutes! Don’t give me excuses! This time you must bring back a photo! A real-life photo together! Got it?”
“If it only takes minutes, why are you in such a rush? What kind of mother pushes her kid to go on blind dates before she’s even graduated from college?”
“And whose fault is that? A Taekwondo black belt, the city’s women’s Sanda champion—if you’re not gaming all day, you’re fighting! Who would want to marry someone who looks this hard to deal with?”
“I think I’m great! If someone’s too scared to marry me, that just means they’re planning to torment or abuse me—otherwise why would they hesitate? See? My physique is perfect for this!”
“I don’t care. Your cousin is a year younger than you and already has a child…”
“She dated early in high school, got married in her freshman year, and had a kid in her sophomore year. Are you sure you want me to be like that? Having a kid before even graduating college?”
“Dating early in high school isn’t right. But what’s wrong with having a child in college?” Ms. Ji muttered, “The job market is so tough nowadays!
If you have time in college to have a child first, you’ll have an advantage over other girls. Already married and with a kid—bosses won’t worry… and neither will the boss’s wife!”
“I won’t starve even if I don’t work. I can compete in tournaments.” Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t know how much savings her family had—they were at least comfortably well-off.
“…Then at least find me a boyfriend. The New Year is coming soon, and if people ask me about it, I won’t even have the face to answer.”
Su Qianqian didn’t even look up, her eyes glued to her phone screen as a team fight raged. “Ult’s up, ult’s up! Initiate! Initiate!”
“Su Qianqian!” Ms. Ji glared at her daughter, who was completely immersed in her game. “Did you hear me?!”
“I heard you! I heard you! I already have a boyfriend—he’s playing games with me right now!”
Damn it, losing that team fight was definitely not because she wasted her ultimate—it had to be her mom’s voice interfering!
If something could be blamed on others, then never blame yourself. Internal conflict? Didn’t exist.
“Really?!” Ms. Ji leaned in. “Then hurry and bring him back for me to see!”
“……”
Two days later.
Su Qianqian’s fingertips were cold as she swiped across her phone screen for the third time.
The front camera faithfully reflected her face: okay, no problem—eyes, nose, everything in place.
She took a deep breath. The artificially scented air of the café sank heavily into her lungs, bringing no calm at all—instead, it made her stomach twist tighter.
This was Su Qianqian’s first time traveling far from home.
This was the hometown of her in-game CP: Jiang City.
Game ID “Long Night,” a top jungler in King’s Canyon—perfect coordination, a pleasant voice, and top-tier awareness.
In real life… who knew what he would be like.
She only hoped he wouldn’t be too outrageous—just cooperative enough to take a “boyfriend verification photo” that could fool her mom’s sharp eyes and temporarily shut down her matchmaking nagging. That would be more than enough.
The café doorbell chimed crisply, like a stone dropped into still water.
Su Qianqian suddenly looked up, her heart clenching tightly before abruptly loosening.
Backlit by the somewhat glaring afternoon sunlight outside, a tall figure walked in.
The light outlined his silhouette clearly from behind, his shoulders straight and clean-cut.
His gaze swept over the slightly sparse seating area, barely pausing before heading straight toward her corner.
Was it him?
Handsome!
So handsome!
Being a straightforward person with little vocabulary for compliments, Su Qianqian instinctively straightened her back, her fingers unconsciously clutching the soft fringe of the tablecloth.
Footsteps stopped beside the table. A shadow fell over her, carrying a hint of warmth from the sunlight outside and a faint, clean scent of soap—completely different from the sweat or cologne she had imagined.
Lin Chen was also sizing up his support: hair like ink, skin like snow, a face like peach blossoms in March, a beauty like the morning glow stretching across the sky—like all the elegance of heaven and earth had gathered in one person.
Excellent.
“Su Qianqian?”
His voice sounded, calmer than the one transmitted through in-game voice chat—like a stream flowing over smooth stones. It lacked the artificial polish of the virtual world but was unexpectedly reassuring.
He extended his hand—well-defined knuckles, long fingers, nails trimmed short and clean.
“Ah… yes, Lin Chen?” Su Qianqian hurriedly stood up, nearly knocking over the glass of lemonade in front of her.
She fumbled to steady it, her fingertips inevitably brushing against his slightly cool fingers before she recoiled as if shocked, her cheeks instantly flushing hot.
“S-sit… sit!” Calm down, Su Qianqian, calm down!
Lin Chen seemed to curl his lips ever so slightly before sitting down across from her, his movements natural and smooth.
He wore a simple dark gray hoodie and black cargo pants—so clean he didn’t look like someone who had just fought intensely in King’s Canyon, but more like a student who had just walked out of a library.
Only his eyes, when they calmly swept over the menu, carried a sharpness she was extremely familiar with in-game—like assessing the situation of a battlefield.
The ordering process was so simple it was almost silent.
Su Qianqian was so nervous that the words on the menu blurred together. She randomly pointed at a signature combo.
Lin Chen ordered an Americano. Then, his gaze flicked over her menu before he added:
“For her combo, change the salad dressing to vinaigrette, right? I remember you said you don’t like overly sweet things.”
His tone was as calm as if he were stating the respawn time of a jungle creep.
Su Qianqian froze. A warm current suddenly washed away her tension.
He remembered something she had casually mentioned while chatting in-game?
She opened her mouth, but only managed a vague sound, so she could only nod vigorously, feeling her cheeks grow even hotter.
The food was served quickly.
Su Qianqian absentmindedly poked at the chicken steak on her plate, her mind racing about how to bring up that “photo” request.
She secretly glanced up. Lin Chen was cutting his steak unhurriedly, his movements refined, his focus as if he were performing a precise operation.
“Um,” Su Qianqian cleared her dry throat, gathering all the courage she had in her life, “Lin Chen, could we… take a photo together?”
She quickly pulled out her phone from her small bag, almost dropping it while unlocking the screen.
Stay calm, Su Qianqian! He’s just a bit handsome—you’re not bad either! You’re worthy!
“Just one! For my mom… just to get through this…” The more she spoke, the more guilty she sounded, her voice nearly inaudible.
Lin Chen put down his knife and fork and looked at her.
A trace of understanding seemed to flash through his calm eyes before returning to stillness.
He didn’t speak. He simply leaned slightly toward her, silently indicating his agreement.
Success!
Su Qianqian felt a wave of relief.
She quickly unlocked her phone, opened the front camera, and clumsily adjusted the angle, trying to fit both of them and the decent-looking food on the table into the frame.
On the screen, she forced out a “happy” smile, while Lin Chen cooperatively looked at the camera, his expression as calm as ever, but at least not impatient.
“Okay… just like that! Look at the camera… three, two—”
Before she could say “one”—
“BOOM—CRASH!!!”
A deafening explosion struck her tightly wound nerves like a hammer.
The café’s entire floor-to-ceiling glass window shattered violently right before her eyes.
Countless sharp glass shards, carried by a violent gust and piercing screeches, burst inward like a hailstorm.
Time seemed to slow.
She saw a palm-sized shard spinning through the air, gleaming with deadly cold light, grazing past the edge of her raised phone before embedding itself deeply into the soft backrest behind her with a dull thud.
Then, something twisted, broken, and reeking of blood and rot crashed heavily onto the floor beside their table along with the flying glass fragments.
And in the photo she had just taken, besides the two of them, there was also…
That thing—or rather, that “person”—had half its face torn away, exposing a pale cheekbone and gums clinging with dark red flesh.
Its murky yellow eyeballs spun wildly, its throat producing beast-like guttural growls.
One of its arms was bent backward at an impossible angle, white bone piercing through the skin.
Its other intact hand clawed frantically at the ground, lunging toward the nearest living being—Su Qianqian’s ankle.
“Ah—!!!”