“Okay!”
Shi Lei nodded, thinking that a free dinner was too good to pass up.
He diligently attended class until the dismissal bell finally rang.
Huang Xiu, as if a spring had been coiled beneath him, shot up and rushed out of the classroom.
He narrowly avoided being cornered by curious classmates at his desk.
Wiping a bead of non-existent sweat from his brow, Huang Xiu turned and headed towards Bald Liu’s office.
He genuinely feared his classmates’ endless questions.
While his inability to answer their inquiries was a minor concern, easily brushed aside with some vague excuses, the real danger lay in them noticing the changes to his appearance and body.
As the saying went, ‘Though my bones may be crushed to powder, I shall remain unstained in the world.’
He certainly didn’t want to tarnish two years of his reputation on his very last day before leaving First High.
As the homeroom teacher of Class 2, Grade 11, Bald Liu’s office was merely a wall away from their classroom.
He knocked on the door and entered.
The flush of red had yet to recede from Bald Liu’s face, and Huang Xiu had never witnessed such an amiable side to him.
He was urged to sit down quickly, offered water, and even his request for leave for that evening and the following day was instantly approved.
‘Talk about tailoring the dish to the diner!’ Huang Xiu grumbled inwardly.
Though he had never been reprimanded during his previous visits to the office, he had certainly never received such preferential treatment; complimentary tea was definitely out of the question.
Having collected the re-examination certificate and leave slip from Bald Liu, Huang Xiu turned and exited the office.
He listened attentively during class, then promptly slipped out of the classroom the moment it ended; this pattern continued until school was dismissed.
After watching the day students stream out of the classroom in a flurry, Huang Xiu nudged Shi Lei, who was diligently copying notes beside him.
“Come on, let’s go eat! What are you standing around for?”
This fellow often zoned out during class, neglecting to listen, and would always seek out others to copy notes after each lesson.
Despite being called lazy, relying entirely on copying homework, and ignoring lectures, he always diligently memorized texts and reviewed promptly before exams, consistently achieving decent scores.
“Oh, right!” Shi Lei rubbed his head. “I thought you were just joking earlier.”
“Joking? I even got your leave slip ready!”
Huang Xiu couldn’t believe that his rare offer to treat someone was being mistaken for a joke.
What a ridiculous notion!
While he seldom treated others, it wasn’t as if he’d never done it before!
“Holy crap, how did you get a leave slip?” Shi Lei exclaimed, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the rectangular slip of paper in Huang Xiu’s hand.
With this in hand, they could openly walk out of school.
This was, after all, every boarding student’s fervent dream.
“Who am I?” Huang Xiu boasted, crossing his arms. “With just one sentence, I had Bald Liu willingly issue two leave slips for me.”
“You’re truly incredible!” Shi Lei gave a thumbs-up.
“Come on, I’m taking you to the Xiao Tian Family Banquet Hall for a feast.” Huang Xiu pulled a few red bills from a hidden pocket in his backpack, then turned to leave.
“Xiao Tian Family Banquet Hall? Wait, eating this well?” Shi Lei’s face suddenly clouded with apprehension. “This isn’t… a last meal, is it?”
‘Unusual generosity always hides ulterior motives,’ he reasoned, ‘especially from a stingy miser like Brother Xiu, who rarely spends a dime.’
“A last meal for your big head, you mean!”
Huang Xiu grabbed Shi Lei by the collar and pulled him out, the immense force causing Shi Lei to stumble repeatedly.
“Brother Xiu, stop pulling! I can walk by myself!”
****
By six-thirty, they had eaten their fill, their stomachs pleasantly distended.
Huang Xiu and Shi Lei patted their bulging bellies, burping incessantly.
Make no mistake, it was merely an excess of cola; they had each consumed a full liter from the two-liter bottle.
Afterwards, the incessant burping was enough to make them feel utterly miserable.
Huang Xiu picked at his teeth. “Come on, it’s still early, we can hit the internet cafe for a bit.”
“???” Shi Lei suddenly looked uneasy, instinctively shielding his backside.
“Brother Xiu, you’re being so nice to me today, I’m really not used to it; it just doesn’t feel like you.”
“If you have something to say, just spit it out. Your buddy here can handle anything.”
“Don’t overthink it, I’m just asking if you want to go or not?”
Huang Xiu waved his hand, offering no direct verbal reply, yet his heart had already provided the answer.
‘This is the last time you and I will ever see each other in this lifetime,’ he thought. ‘If I don’t treat you well now, I won’t get another chance.’
Tomorrow, he would return home to confront his parents, and he would never step foot in this school again.
He would never again actively seek out his old acquaintances.
If possible, he even wished to move his parents out of Ying City and sever all ties with their former relatives.
Huang Xiu had originally intended to bid farewell to the rest of his classmates, but the gossip and idle chatter from today had left him somewhat disheartened.
Upon reflection, he decided that since he was leaving, it was better to simply make a clean break.
After all, time would heal everything.
“Go? Of course I’ll go!” Shi Lei stood up, beaming, his drowsiness vanishing at the mention of gaming.
Arriving at their usual internet cafe, they logged into their familiar game, and Huang Xiu and Shi Lei, as always, went on a rampage in the Summoner’s Rift.
Naturally, their division of labor was clear: Shi Lei was solely responsible for the “gaga” (TL Note: A sound effect often used to describe clumsy or ineffective actions in gaming), while Huang Xiu handled the “rampage.”
Due to his high win rate, Huang Xiu’s account had a very high hidden MMR, granting him significant point gains, and he effortlessly carried Shi Lei up several minor divisions.
Huang Xiu checked Shi Lei’s score. “Just one more game, and you’ll be Diamond II.”
As for himself, he was already Diamond I.
“Just one last push,” Shi Lei said, rubbing his hands together with a face full of anticipation.
“After this game, let’s head back to school.”
He glanced at the time; it was only just nine o’clock, so they could still make it back before the dorms locked.
“Alright!” Shi Lei, entirely focused, was shopping in the in-game store. “After this last game, we’ll head back.”
This time, the matchmaking took longer than usual; they finally found a match, only for it to be dodged repeatedly.
Just as Huang Xiu began to think they wouldn’t find a match, the words “Match Found” appeared on the screen.
As always, he left bans empty, then picked Yasuo, even keeping the same runes from the previous game without changing them.
Their opponent, on the other hand, confidently locked in Zed.
Yasuo and Zed were a classic mid-lane matchup, though Yasuo actually possessed superior laning strength compared to Zed.
Whether in the early or late game, as long as there were minions, Yasuo always held the advantage.
Casually buying a Doran’s Blade and heading out, he waited for the minions to clash. He then maneuvered Yasuo to the enemy minion wave, preparing to auto-attack them to spread them out and establish a slow-push for his team.
However, the opposing Zed was clearly an expert as well, the crimson assassin striding directly forward.
‘Did he take E, planning to engage and proc Thunderlord’s Decree?’ Huang Xiu hesitated for a moment, then retreated.
While Yasuo was strong in level one skirmishes, his burst damage couldn’t compare to a Zed who had taken E and Thunderlord’s.
As he continued to lane and push, Huang Xiu became increasingly focused. He could distinctly sense that, whether it was in last-hitting, or roaming, the opposing mid-laner’s skill level far surpassed that of Diamond or Master tier.
They were, at the very least, Grandmaster or Challenger tier.
A rare surge of excitement coursed through him, and he grew serious, opening his settings to adjust his mouse sensitivity to its most comfortable value, straightening his posture in his chair.
Though Shi Lei might have been a bit dense, a little foolish, and somewhat slow-witted, there was one thing he had undeniably gotten right.
That was Huang Xiu’s exceptionally high gaming talent, which was certainly professional-player caliber.
He possessed naturally acute dynamic vision and formidable mouse control, further enhanced by his innate ability to approach games strategically.
Even a Challenger player would find it difficult to contend with him when he became serious.
And so, the opposing Zed lost. Though formidable, he couldn’t overcome the disadvantage of having subpar teammates matched by the system.
He was utterly dominated by Huang Xiu, who carved through his team, one kill at a time, turning them into mere fodder.
As the enemy nexus exploded and the dust settled, the opposing Zed suddenly, in a fit of rage, typed a message into the public chat.
[I Have A Bear (Zed): If my teammates weren’t so bad, there’s no way I would’ve lost this game.]
[I Have A Bear (Zed): One more game! Solo!]
Huang Xiu had never cared for the wails of a defeated opponent.
In esports, being unskilled was the cardinal sin.
Furthermore, he particularly loathed players who blamed and pressured their teammates.
[Xiuxiu (Yasuo): Trash. If you’re bad, practice more. If you can’t handle losing, don’t play.]
The simplest insult, the purest satisfaction.
Huang Xiu, a seasoned veteran of the Summoner’s Rift, had managed to keep both his parents alive and his household registration intact (TL Note: A humorous exaggeration implying his verbal abuse in game often provoked threats of violence from opponents, which he skillfully avoided.) throughout his years of gaming.
His secret? A potent combination of trash talk and lightning-fast reflexes.
Having sent that message at lightning speed, he immediately exited the room, leaving no room for his opponent to retort.
“Satisfying,” Huang Xiu murmured, stretching his limbs.
What he didn’t know, however, was that his single message had instantly sent someone into a furious rage.
“Damn you, S-rank, you just wait!”
Before a thirty-two-inch monitor, a girl clad in panda pajamas was fuming, her face flushed crimson.
Her mouse creaked audibly in her grip, on the verge of breaking.
After sending multiple friend requests, all of which went unanswered, the mouse finally gave a sharp *crack* and shattered into pieces in her hand.