How could there be someone as bored as Chi Yao in this world???
So bored that he deliberately changed his game ID to humiliate her.
The next day at noon, after lunch, Lin Zhexia went to Chi Yao’s house to protest: “Change your game name back, now, immediately, right away.”
Chi Yao was getting water in the kitchen. The young man, holding a glass, said very nonchalantly: “Sure.”
Just as she was wondering why Chi Yao was being so agreeable today, she heard him add the second half:
“A name change card costs five yuan. Pay up and I’ll change it immediately.”
“…”
“Why so quiet?”
“…”
His voice was light as he continued to ask: “WeChat or Alipay?”
“……”
“Cash is fine too,” Chi Yao extended one hand, leaning slightly toward her, and said, “Pay up.”
Lin Zhexia looked at his hand and, after a moment of silence, said: “Actually, I suddenly think Little Pig Splash is a good name. You should keep using it.”
“Pigs are… quite cute.”
Since she wasn’t willing to spend those five yuan, Lin Zhexia quickly changed the subject.
A few minutes later, she curled up on the sofa, covered with her blanket, head down scrolling through her phone, and while scrolling, switched to a different topic: “I bought something and put your address down for delivery. It should arrive in a few days, please help me receive it, and you must keep it a secret. This is a secret between us.”
Chi Yao: “Beg me.”
“Please.”
“‘Please’?”
“No, I mean, please, most handsome boy in the whole world.”
“Isn’t my mom’s birthday coming up soon?” she continued. “It’s a gift I prepared for her. I want to give her a surprise, and if it gets revealed ahead of time, it won’t be a surprise anymore.”
Lin He’s birthday is next week.
Lin Zhexia prepared small gifts for her every year, so Chi Yao didn’t ask any more questions.
Since Lin Zhexia’s fascination with the game hadn’t worn off yet, during the next few days while waiting for the package, the two would occasionally play as a duo.
After several days, Lin Zhexia became more familiar with the game, occasionally even making some good plays, and wasn’t dragging Chi Yao down anymore.
During this time, a female classmate whom Lin Zhexia wasn’t very familiar with sent a request to join their team: You play this game too? Let’s team up for the next match~
“I have a classmate who wants to play together,” Lin Zhexia said, lying on Chi Yao’s sofa. “Can I add her?”
Chi Yao did not react.
Lin Zhexia clicked “Accept.”
Seeing that a classmate was also online, it was quite normal to add them and play together.
The girl’s voice came through from the team: “Hi, Xia Xia.”
Lin Zhexia also greeted her.
Chi Yao didn’t turn on his microphone, remaining silent throughout like a professional carry who was just there to boost them.
Female classmate: “Why isn’t the other person speaking?”
Lin Zhexia: “Don’t mind him, he’s mute.”
“Huh?”
Since Chi Yao wasn’t using his microphone anyway, Lin Zhexia casually labeled him: “His phone is broken, and he’s from a poor family, so it’ll be a while before he can replace it with one that can make calls.”
“…”
The game ended quickly.
After being carried to victory, the girl remarked before leaving, “Your friend is really strong.”
Then she asked: “Is this a classmate from our class? I don’t think I’ve added them as a friend.”
Lin Zhexia was silent for a moment, not knowing how to tell her that the person she had been playing with was Chi Yao from Class One.
In the end, she could only say: “…Not from our class.”
A few days later, the courier delivered a package: “Is Chi Yao Big Stupid Pig you? Sign here, just sign right here.”
The package wasn’t large and was quite light.
Chi Yao had just woken up and expressionlessly took the pen from the courier.
After the courier left, he closed the door, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he muttered, “childish.”
Lin Zhexia was constantly checking the tracking status to prepare Lin He’s gift.
She ran to Chi Yao’s house in her slippers: “Has my stuff arrived—”
“It has.” Chi Yao was about to go back to his room to continue his nap, but before turning around, he warned her at the door, “Next time you use this kind of messy recipient name, don’t blame me if I throw your stuff out one day.”