The next day, Feng Yijiu once again slipped into the classroom right on time. Just as she reached for the back door, she remembered—her seat had changed.
She walked to her new spot and glanced around.
Li Hao was already seated, quietly reciting ancient poetry.
Her new deskmate was a soft-looking girl who offered a shy smile as Feng Yijiu approached.
Feng Yijiu set down her bag, sat, and returned the smile. If she recalled correctly, the girl’s name was Ruan Ming.
*Tap.* A capped pen poked her squarely in the back.
“Hiss.” Feng Yijiu didn’t know why, but the pen cap pressing against her spine always felt ticklish—a shiver threatening to ripple through her.
“What is it?” She turned, glaring at the jerk behind her.
“Aren’t you collecting math homework?” Li Hao asked with an innocent grin.
Feng Yijiu took a slow breath. “Teacher said today—no need.”
The moment she turned away, Li Hao’s lips curled into a sly smirk. *Sure enough. He really doesn’t like physical contact.*
Through the thin school uniform, he once again confirmed this “monster’s” gender. Unlike Ruan Ming beside her—whose bra outline was faintly visible—Feng Yijiu’s back was smooth, clean lines tracing her spine.
*Such delicate curves… what a waste.* Li Hao muttered inwardly, a faint, inexplicable anticipation for Feng Yijiu in girl’s clothes flickering in his chest.
*Hmph. Midterms. Just wait for midterms.*
Feng Yijiu, oblivious to his scheming, frowned at her textbook, reluctantly playing the role of the diligent student.
But having *that* jerk right behind her? Pure torture.
After yet another poke to her spine, she spun around, eyes sharp. “Next time you need my attention—just say my name. Or try *not* poking me.”
Li Hao chuckled.
*He’s doing it on purpose.* One look at his face confirmed it. But Feng Yijiu wasn’t one to take it lying down. Her eyes twinkled. “Sigh… reading like that won’t work.”
“How *should* I read?” Li Hao lifted his Chinese textbook, hopeful.
“Listen,” Feng Yijiu beamed. “Mastering Chinese is all about reading and writing. I practice *while* gaming.”
“Think: online, you trash-talk teammates or enemies—no censored words, but sharp enough to make them rage-quit. Fast reflexes, precise wording—it’s a full-scale exam of your language skills!”
She spoke with dead seriousness. Li Hao’s eyes widened. *Had he been shallow all along? Gaming… is actually language training?*
*Gaming? No. Too narrow. This is honing literary foundation.*
As Feng Yijiu turned away—triumphant—she stabbed the milk box straw three times. Missed every time.
…
That evening, skeptical but curious, Li Hao logged into the Valley after ages away.
His mechanics were rusty. But tonight? Public chat was the goal.
Decent guy that he was, he spared his teammates. Target: enemy team. Full mockery mode.
*This was Feng Yijiu’s secret:* True Chinese mastery came from “debating a hundred scholars”!
*No generals left? Then I’ll be Zhuge Liang of the public chat!*
Nakoruru (Li Hao): “Hey, little bros~ Daddy’s here to show you love!”
The Lanling Wang player tilted his head at the bold taunt from early-game-weak Nakoruru. Glanced at the enemy’s trash comp. Typed a single “?” in chat.
Their Sun Bin had meant to guard Li Hao’s jungle—but seeing three enemies storm in, an exclamation mark flashing above his head from Lanling Wang? He clicked “Humanitarian Retreat” and vanished.
First blood lost. Red buff gone. Then Queen Mi strolled out of *his* blue buff zone, stomping the monster. Li Hao’s blood pressure spiked.
He didn’t realize this was only the nightmare’s beginning.
For a farming hero like Nakoruru, a ruined start left him pitiful. Even enemy support Zhang Fei jumped in his face for a slap.
And Lanling Wang? *Especially* attentive.
By 0-3, Li Hao forgot why he’d even logged on.
Lanling Wang: “Nakoruru… how’s it feel?”
Nakoruru (Li Hao): “Come on. Keep going.”
Fed Lanling Wang now *lived* in his jungle. Penniless Nakoruru? A scrawny, trembling chicken.
Without jungle support, the team snowballed. Li Hao—the team’s weak link—became the target of “praise.”
“F*** this!” Li Hao slammed his gray-screened phone down. KDA: 0-8-2. Even Sun Bin had overtaken his gold.
Lanling Wang: “Still there?”
Nakoruru: “Piss off!”
Lanling Wang: “Nakoruru… play games with a smile.”
Li Hao’s breath hitched. *This… this is true rage.* Respawning, he charged—reckless, fearless—straight at Lanling Wang.
Seconds later, he lay peacefully on the Valley floor. Nearby, Lanling Wang twitched mid-recall, dancing like on a grave. Enemy marksman, shielded, pushed high ground. Game over.
Lanling Wang: “Guys, hold push. One more kill—round his deaths to ten.”
Li Hao’s hands shook. Eyes burned red.
Crystal exploded. Final score: 1-10-3.
“Damn it!” He quit without checking results. That phrase echoed: *Play games with a smile.*
After slumping in his chair awhile… he pulled out his phone. Tapped the cursed icon again.
“One more billion rounds! I *will* win!” Li Hao gritted his teeth. *That damn jerk…*
