That line that flashed by like a heartbeat monitor.

And the so-called “Heartbeat Value” now showing on Xuechun’s catgirl status panel.

Were the two connected?

That question left Gu Chuan puzzled.

Still, after calming Xuechun down so she’d stop fidgeting, he kept stroking the bell. That let him continue reading the words on the panel.

When he focused his gaze on a certain part of the virtual page, he could see the detailed descriptions.

For example, “Housekeeping LV5”:

You can proudly declare this is the level of a sweet, virtuous little wife who’s graceful in the living room and capable in the kitchen. She’s mastered simple housework and can prepare a warm breakfast. Upgrade requires 600 Heartbeat Value.

“Mouse-Catching Expert LV2”:

She can easily handle up to two rodents. Any more than that, and it’ll be Xuechun getting scared and diving into her master’s arms instead. Upgrade requires 300 Heartbeat Value.

After reading the detailed descriptions of those two skills, and the Heartbeat Value needed to upgrade them, Gu Chuan quickly made a simple judgment.

He could basically confirm that each level-up required (current level + 1) × 100 Heartbeat Value.

What he still didn’t know was the max level for these skills.

But one thing was obvious. Gu Chuan was far less interested in maxing out those skills than in buying skill books from the “Heartbeat Value Shop.”

Especially the first skill book, “Language Learning.” Just from the name alone, it was obvious.

It could solve Gu Chuan’s biggest problem right now.

That was the communication issue between him and the little catgirl Xuechun.

Sure, the two of them usually got by through half-guessing, half-feeling, plus some mysterious telepathic sense. Most of the time, they could figure out each other’s meaning well enough. Gu Chuan had even been forcibly trained into level-ten cat language.

But that only worked for simple communication.

If the two of them ran into something complicated later, or some real trouble, then not sharing a language could cause huge problems.

So compared to upgrading the three skills Xuechun already had, Gu Chuan would rather spend those Heartbeat points on new skill books and improve her abilities that way.

But that created a problem.

The “Skill Book: Language Learning” cost 200 Heartbeat Value.

And right now, Gu Chuan only had 100.

Worse, he didn’t even know where that Heartbeat Value had come from.

He didn’t know how to get more.

So how was he supposed to scrape together the remaining 100?

And that wasn’t even the biggest issue.

The biggest issue was that the “Heartbeat Value Shop” refreshed.

It clearly said: Refreshes every Monday.

Sure, there was still almost a full week left until next Monday. Six days, to be exact.

But in those six days, Gu Chuan might end up gaining nothing at all.

And if the shop refreshed then, and the crucial “Skill Book: Language Learning” disappeared because of it, he’d be depressed to death.

“So, Xuechun, I need to figure out how to get Heartbeat Value as soon as possible.”

“That way, you’ll be able to talk to me without any barriers.”

“Meow?”

That was way too complicated. No way a little kitty could understand all that.

Still, being petted felt really nice. Xuechun narrowed her eyes into a sweet little slit and enjoyed the headpats from her master, Gu Chuan.

After letting go of the bell, Gu Chuan noticed something lingering in his field of vision.

It was a number.

100.

He blinked, wanting it to disappear, and it vanished.

Then when he wanted it to appear again, that 100 showed up even more clearly above his vision.

He realized what it was.

Heartbeat Value!

With a prompt like that, he could relax a lot more.

Otherwise, he’d have to check Xuechun’s golden bell every single time just to see whether the Heartbeat Value had gone up or down. That would be way too troublesome.

After enjoying one last round of petting Xuechun in her cat form, Gu Chuan figured it was time to make use of this beautiful night and do what a boy his age ought to do.

Homework.

Wen Tinghan had already told him what assignments the teacher had given, along with what he needed to copy and memorize. It was a pain, sure.

But if he didn’t do it, he’d be failing at the basic duty of being a student.

At the same time, Gu Chuan had no desire to deal with the consequences of not doing homework. Besides, his pitiful conduct score couldn’t take any more damage.

He might be a bad student who slept through class all the time, but even cramming the homework at school early in the morning was better than not doing it at all and just throwing the points away.

Still, since he hadn’t actually listened in class, even with the help of the internet, Gu Chuan still wasted a lot of time finishing the math problems.

If he weren’t so broke, he’d absolutely buy memberships for those answer websites.

Then whenever he ran into a problem, he could just search it directly. He might even find the answer key for the entire workbook.

After finishing math, he moved on to Chinese. As for English... there shouldn’t have been any homework today, right?

He confirmed it. There wasn’t.

Because Gu Chuan trusted Wen Tinghan.

While he bent over his desk copying ancient poems and silently memorizing them, Xuechun was curled up comfortably on the bed beside him, nestled into the soft bedding.

It was almost like she’d already claimed the spot in advance, just waiting for Gu Chuan to come sleep.

A tiny kitten probably couldn’t understand why humans insisted on writing furiously under bright lights on a night so perfect for sleep.

Then again, she was a kitten. She didn’t need to work or study.

At 8:30 p.m., Gu Chuan finally put down his pen and lifted his head, rubbing his slightly sore wrist.

He had to do that. Otherwise it would affect his performance later.

In esports, it was rare to find anyone whose wrists, back, waist, and neck were all completely fine.

Of course, strictly speaking, the current Gu Chuan didn’t really count as someone in esports. He wasn’t going to be crowned with glory or admired by the masses.

He was just a high-rank booster. What the hell did he know about esports?

He opened the League of Legends mobile app and logged into the game.

With one hand, Gu Chuan sent HeyZed a message.

Gu Yuanjun: “I’m doing orders tonight. Wanna queue?”

HeyZed: “I’ll stay with you till dawn!”

Gu Yuanjun: “Pfft... stay with me till dawn? Shouldn’t it be evening on your side?”

Gu Yuanjun: “I’d feel kinda bad making you waste your beautiful youthful daytime just to play with me.”

HeyZed: “Esports youth doesn’t count as youth? What’s outside got on Summoner’s Rift?”

HeyZed: “I’ll use a smurf and queue with you. But remember what I said before. Help me climb this weekend.”

HeyZed: “Starting next weekend, I might not have much time for a month or two.”

Gu Yuanjun: “What for?”

HeyZed: “Work.”

Gu Yuanjun: “You graduated?”

Gu Chuan had always thought the other person was an overseas student. But HeyZed knew he was still a student.

His regular schedule gave it away. There was no hiding it.

HeyZed: “...Almost.”

In an apartment high up in a skyscraper somewhere overseas, the girl put on her pink headset, as if that alone could shut out the sadness.

Once this week was over, it would be her final season in the North American league.

In the future...

Would anyone still want her?