If Xuechun’s first soft “meow” was a gentle, obedient farewell,

her next rapid “meow-meow-meow” left Gu Chuan utterly puzzled.

*Slam.*

The door shut.

No turning back now—to stare blankly at Xuechun, who couldn’t yet speak human words.

He simply glanced up at the house directly across: once abandoned, now rented by Qiu Muzhe.

Curious—was she already at school behind that cold, closed door? Or hadn’t left yet?

Curiosity lingered in Gu Chuan’s heart, faint as dawn’s first sunbeam slipping through the window: a fleeting sting, then forgotten like routine.

Slung over his shoulder, his bag held textbooks and exercise books. Light-footed, he headed toward the elevator around the corner.

His spirit showed zero trace of being a “cultivator” who’d pulled an all-nighter until 2 a.m. and slept only four hours. Instead, he glowed with energy.

One couldn’t help but marvel: youth really does have stamina.

Or perhaps it was the little cat-girl at home—her quiet warmth melting his weariness away like morning mist.

Elevator down. Subway station. Routine.

This time, no Ji Gewei beside him—the goddess-like senior with commanding presence, his so-called “older sister.”

They’d reached an understanding about the cat-girl: Ji Gewei would keep his secret. Unspoken, yet clear to Gu Chuan—he owed her a favor.

Favors were the hardest to repay. Unmeasurable.

Yet Ji Gewei left it hanging, letting him dwell on it. Still the same elusive her.

“Senior~ What a coincidence!”

A familiar voice beside him—like an echo in a silent valley: distant, dreamlike, yet undeniably real.

“..."

He turned. Of course. Qiu Muzhe.

Tactic shift: no longer blocking his door at home, now waiting at the subway entrance. Almost… pleasantly surprising.

She leaned forward slightly, chin tilted up—a pose framing her curves like a blossom awaiting touch.

Today, her loose hair carried a dewy dampness, tender and pitiable.

Her eyes, crystal-clear as ever, held unabashed desire—honest, almost pleading for his praise.

“Let’s go in,” Gu Chuan said flatly. No praise for her initiative.

A soft nudge, one step—and he was already a full stride ahead.

“You really do enjoy being chased by girls, Senior,” Qiu Muzhe murmured, chasing after him—admiration or resignation? Hard to tell.

Youth bloomed in that chase: one walking ahead, one following close.

The flutter of her school skirt. The calm stride of the graceful young man.

Anyone watching would think: *They must have a story.*

Qiu Muzhe had laid out the paper, handed him the pen—wishing he’d write freely across her life, with passionate strokes and vivid scenes…

But Gu Chuan had many stories.

When her turn came—how many brushstrokes would he spare?

Inside the subway, Qiu Muzhe sat deliberately close.

Compared to Ji Gewei yesterday—was she more humble? More approachable?

Or simply… more *girlfriend-like*?

Others wondered too.

*If this girl is his girlfriend… who was yesterday’s?*

*Whoa. Two-timing.*

An office worker across adjusted his glasses, stealing glances.

He envied Gu Chuan’s double-flower luck, then recalled “Brother Cheng.”

Would Gu Chuan follow his path?

Probably not. He’d never seen a guy ignore a girl actively chatting—

only to pull out headphones and dive into a phone video.

*League of Legends*, from the worker’s angle.

*Damn. Truly living the creed: “Games > women.”*

Yet Qiu Muzhe didn’t falter. She leaned in, feigning interest.

“Who’s this? So skilled.”

As a junior who’d “chased” Gu Chuan for years—of course she knew he played *LoL*.

“Assa. A female pro who chases max damage. Shone brightest in the assassin meta.”

“A female pro?” Even casual-player Qiu Muzhe was stunned.

*Wait… esports has female pros?*

No bias from her—but it *was* rare.

She’d heard hype like “China’s First All-Girl Team,”

but empty headlines only deepened the myth: *girls can’t compete*.

Yet Assa stepped onto the stage anyway. How much scorn she endured? Unknown.

But the moment her stubborn, unyielding face flashed on screen—true grit, no surrender—

Gu Chuan felt his heart struck. Captivated instantly.

He became her loyal fan.

Irony? Assa rose as a mid-lane assassin. Gu Chuan? A devoted top-laner.

“She turned pro three years ago. Just seventeen.”

“For the dream, she crossed oceans. Joined a ragtag cafe-tournament squad when no big team would have her. Lost the finals to a NA veteran’s academy team…”

“But her skill caught eyes. An offer came—*play support*.”

“She refused. *Mid lane. Assassin only.*”

“The recruiter warned: ‘Don’t regret this.’ He was the one who regretted.”

“That year, she clawed her way into MAG—a NA team ranked dead last. By season’s end? NA #1.”

“That year, she borrowed three seconds from the heavens… ended a dynasty… slayed a god.”

Passion flickered in Gu Chuan’s eyes—bright, magnetic.

Qiu Muzhe watched, silent. No interruptions. No fake nods.

Even if his words meant little to her—

*that light* was exactly what her heart sought.