But these days, when guys talk about teaming up for a game, it’s almost always League of Legends. From across the room, Mo could already spot the League interface glowing on Tang Zhe’s screen.
Too bad Mo didn’t play it.
Partly because she wasn’t great at it—not really cut out for competitive games—and partly because she just couldn’t get into that style. Too intense, she’d get stomped easily, and she wasn’t a fan of the Western art style either. Being pretty visual herself, if a game’s look didn’t click from the start, her interest vanished.
Tang Zhe, though, loved it. She’d seen him playing countless times.
“Stop dragging me in! How am I supposed to play? My jungle’s getting invaded nonstop, okay?!”
Ugh. Bad at the game but obsessed with it—one second laughing his head off, the next complaining nonstop. Mo didn’t get it. An uncle beside Tang Zhe was deep in World of Warcraft, so she couldn’t sit next to him. She swiveled a chair from the other side of the booth, settling diagonally behind Tang Zhe to watch while waiting.
He still hadn’t noticed her.
The match had barely hit ten minutes. Mo watched silently as his score shifted from 0-0 to 2-3, then plummeted to 3-9.
Not really his fault—his teammates were all throwing. It was just a casual queue; fun mattered more than wins. Sure, Tang Zhe cursed nonstop, but he laughed heartily even after losing.
“Queue again! Let’s see who throws hardest tonight!”
Hmm…
Another round?
Mo frowned slightly, checking the time. Almost midnight—New Year’s Eve.
Was he really ringing in the new year at the internet café?
She’d been so focused watching him that she forgot her headphones. Missed messages from her godmother, mom, dad… even their calls.
But the match had started. Quitting mid-game felt rude.
And why hadn’t his friends just called *him*?
“Whoa—I gotta hit the bathroom! Lock whatever’s available!”
Just then, Tang Zhe’s brow furrowed. Bladder urgency hit the second the match ended. Too impatient to pick a champ, he tossed his headset and stood up.
Turning around, he froze.
Mo sat behind him, phone in hand, looking troubled.
“Mo? When did you get here?”
“…About a match ago.”
She smiled. “Still playing? They’re urging us home, but if you want to continue, I’ll tell them we’ll be late.”
“…Wait, restroom first.”
“Mm.”
She nodded obediently, then playfully locked a champ for him—after all, he’d bragged about his lightning-fast reflexes before.
Teammates chattered loudly in his earpiece, but Mo didn’t interfere. She sat back quietly, waiting.
“Let’s go. It’s almost midnight—I didn’t realize the time.”
To her surprise, he grabbed his coat the moment he returned.
Before Mo could speak, he said into the mic: “Someone’s here to pick me up. Heading home for New Year’s. You guys carry on three more minutes. Next time for sure.”
“Dude, it’s *this* late?!”
“Wait—you were talking to a girl?! Bro, real talk: you seeing someone?”
“That voice was so sweet! My girlfriend would’ve kicked my ass if I ignored her mid-game.”
“You guys don’t know… Could be that childhood friend Tang Zhe mentioned…”
“Shut it! Zhao Chen, say one more word and I’ll end you. I’m out. Catch you later.”
Tang Zhe’s face went pale. He slammed the game shut, logged off. “Let’s go… Ugh, I’m definitely getting scolded.”
“It’s fine. I already told them we’d be late.”
Mo rose and followed him like a quiet shadow. Silent when he was silent, perfectly obedient—so unlike her usual self it made Tang Zhe uneasy.
This wasn’t the Mo he knew.
The willful, spoiled Mo was a handful, but she carried a trace of the old her. This version felt like a textbook “gentle childhood friend” archetype—no tantrums, always accommodating. To him, she felt like a stranger.
“…Do you still feel mad at me?”
No cab in sight. They walked in silence down the empty street until Tang Zhe finally spoke. “At first I thought you were avoiding me. Now… it’s like you’ve become someone else.”
“Huh? Someone else? I’m right here.”
Mo tilted her head. “Is something off about me?”
“Everything. You’ve got zero energy lately.”
“So yelling and hitting you = ‘energetic’? That’s weird.”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
Mo gently pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s okay, Zhe. I know what you’re trying to say.”
She smiled softly. “I realized I was selfish before—yelling, hitting, throwing tantrums. I caused you trouble. So I’m changing. Understand?”
“It wasn’t that serious. We’re bros, no need to—”
“You *know* we can’t stay ‘just bros’ forever! You know it better than anyone…”
“But—”
Her tone softened. “I’m still the Mo who’ll goof around and game with you. Just… our roles shifted. From childhood friends to ordinary ones. Don’t overthink it. We’re seniors. Less than half a year left. Happiness matters most. Otherwise… it’s exhausting. For you. For me… too.”
“…”
“Enough talk. It’s New Year’s Eve. Midnight’s near. Smile. Start the year right.”
*Whoosh—Boom—*
A firework shot skyward, bursting into color.
More followed, painting the night. In an era of firework bans, witnessing this felt like luck.
“No ban this year. Nice,” Mo murmured, gazing up. Tang Zhe saw the kaleidoscope of light dancing in her clear eyes.
*Thump…*
The nearest blast vibrated through his chest.
“So… uh…” Tang Zhe scratched his head, voice uncharacteristically shy. “Wanna go set off some fireworks?”
“Nope. Don’t like the smell. And we’ll get scolded if we’re late.”
“…Fine then.”
*Damn this brat… I rarely take the initiative like this. Next year? Might not even get the chance.*
