The game had already started. A plane hovered center-screen, gliding slowly forward. I hit M to pull up the map. “Where to?”

“Anywhere,” Lao Shen said, indifferent. Still, she opened the map, dropped a marker. “P City.”

I said nothing and marked P City too—

Tough spot. Dead center of the map. Break out from here, and rotating toward the blue zone was easy no matter where it shrank. Naturally, hordes of players swarmed in to loot. Clashes were inevitable… Every time I dropped here, gunfire popped like Chinese New Year firecrackers.

But I wasn’t worried. Lao Shen played this game like it was second nature. Rumor said she’d once considered going pro—quit for lack of time. Now she streamed occasionally. Her viewers? Mostly here to watch the “little loli” act cute.

Lao Shen looked like a loli, but hated acting cute. Lazy too—streamed every two or three days on whim. Barely spoke while gaming. A streamer’s nightmare. Yet nearly ten thousand tuned in each time. Decent popularity. Nothing flashy.

The plane neared P City. We parachuted together. Graphics were crisp—cafe GPU maxed out. Wind whooshed past my ears; P City emerged below, hazy then clear.

Mid-descent, I deliberately scanned around. Yep—plenty of players nearby.

This match, P City sat right under the flight path. Another bloodbath incoming.

Lao Shen’s voice crackled through the mic: “Blue, stick with me. Push inward from outside the main road.”

I glanced up. Sky thick with parachutes. Even this quiet roadside spot had two squads landing. The second we touched down, I dashed my character into a house. Lao Shen vanished into another.

As I slipped inside, I caught a glimpse—someone tailing Lao Shen right into her building.

No time to react. Too many players. I scrambled to loot my own room. Bad luck. Only a beat-up pistol.

I eased out, checked the coast was clear, and bolted to the next house. Gunfire already crackled everywhere—rat-a-tat-tat, like firecrackers on New Year’s. This room? No gun. Just bandages and attachments. Remembering the guy who followed Lao Shen, I rushed to back her up.

Bottom-left of my screen: Lao Shen’s health bar plummeted—then froze at a sliver.

She sighed. “Come here. Got bandages?”

Bandages healed ten HP. Common loot. I’d just grabbed five. I stepped inside. Only a wooden crate on the floor—the fallen player’s loot. I dumped all bandages for her. She must’ve brawled barehanded.

Face-to-face brawls? No gun skill. Just who jumps first and lands the head hit. Lao Shen won.

After she healed, I cracked the door—

A figure emerged across the street, rifle raised. I slammed it shut. “You got a gun? We’re surrounded. Holy crap, it’s swarming!”

Lao Shen sighed. “Nope. You?”

“Pistol.”

“Toss it. Get ready. Follow me.”

I threw her my P90 and fifteen 9mm rounds. She slapped in the mag. We burst out, sprinting toward the next building.

*Crack!* Gunfire erupted ~300 meters behind. My health bar flickered down—SMG guy spotted us, tapping my back.

Four, five shots. Blood splattered. Lucky—9mm damage was low, some missed. I dove back inside, heart pounding.

Lao Shen: “Crowbar’s here.”

I nearly cried. “What’s a crowbar do?! He’s charging! Any gun?”

She nodded. “M16… Chill. I see him. Crouched behind the downstairs wall.”

She peered from the window. I glanced at her screen—the guy shuffled furtively along the wall base, muzzle twitching. He popped up, sprayed the window. Bullets chipped the frame. His aim? Trash.

Weaponless, I froze.

“Come here. Take the pistol.”

I crouched, shuffled over. *Click-click.* Fifteen bullets and a pathetic little pistol appeared.

I gripped it, despairing. Tried to stand—*rat-a-tat!* Bullets slammed the wall beside me. I ducked. “No way… Is this guy a god?”

Lao Shen sighed. “Probably. Wallhack only—no recoil hack. Move. Let me through.”

I shuffled aside. She stepped to the door but didn’t expose herself. I peeked out. The figure shifted walls, aiming squarely at the second-floor door.

Silence from Lao Shen’s room. I checked her screen—third-person view caught the muzzle peeking over the wall.

P City’s gunfire never ceased.

Ten seconds passed.

Lao Shen peeked.

The guy lunged up, spraying wildly.

She fired a crisp three-round burst. His health gushed red. She ducked instantly. His spray missed. Neck shot. Maybe head. He scrambled back, fumbling a first aid kit.

I stood useless with my tiny pistol.

He hid behind the far wall—only gun tip visible. I stayed low. Sighed. Watched her screen.

After healing, Lao Shen fired bursts at the wall’s side. The cheater flinched, scrambled left—then froze. Hack confirmed: no one there.

Frustrated, he paused… then popped up, spraying *my* wall. I jerked back, prone by the window.

Lao Shen peeked again—but his muzzle swiveled unnaturally. Bullets clustered one spot. She ducked just in time. One round grazed her head. No helmet. Health halved.

She chuckled dryly. “Damn… Aimbot.”

I stayed prone, peeking at her screen.

The figure strode out from cover. SMG locked on her window.

Lao Shen peeked—didn’t fire—ducked. Bullets shredded the wall behind her. In the lull, she peeked again. Three precise shots. His health vanished.

Terrified, he leaped mid-air, spraying wildly. Bullets stayed unnaturally straight. Blood splattered Lao Shen’s screen. Her health plummeted. She fired one last three-round burst. He froze mid-kneel, collapsed.

In squad mode, downed players kneel, crawl slowly—awaiting revival.

“Finish him!” I urged.

He crawled desperately toward cover. Lao Shen hesitated… then fired. “Sigh… Wanted to leave him down. But if his teammate’s hacking too… too risky.”

Mid-sentence—

*Spurt!* Lao Shen’s head gushed blood. She collapsed. Another burst finished her.

I froze. Before I moved—*rat-a-tat!* My screen faded gray.

Stunned, I turned to Lao Shen.

“Damn,” she said, leaning back with a wry smile, sipping coffee. “No avoiding it. Shots from 300 meters out. Must’ve used ‘magic bullets’…”

Speechless, I tried replay—locked. Just stared.

Monochrome screen: the downstairs door swung open. An afro’d Black woman charged up, AK-47 blazing, unloading into Lao Shen’s corpse.

Over open mic, she screamed: “F*** you! Blind piece of crap! How dare trash like you kill my bro? Idiot! I’ll blow your head off!”

Lao Shen sipped coffee calmly. I opened my mouth—ready to unleash my Chinese eloquence in insults—but she’d already exited the game. After a beat, I followed.

Back in the lobby. Our avatars swayed side by side.

Lao Shen took a sip. “Ready?”

“Yeah!” I nodded.