Chapter 67 – Suspected Romance

Over the next few days, Huaxia Summit continued to see drops of Etwell’s Sword of Light and Etwell’s Ghostly Claws. Normally, weapons dropped by a boss aren’t class-restricted, but their stats tend to lean toward certain roles. For example, most of Unicorn Brother’s light-based equipment skewed toward support stats, so the Staff of Radiance became a legendary weapon, while swords, blades, and claws weren’t as practical. Even if they dropped, most players just extracted their appearances or sold them to broke brothers who couldn’t afford better weapons.

The strange thing was that, despite the continuous drops, the location and boss responsible for these items remained a mystery. If it were like before, where only the Ghost Server knew the light weapons came from the unicorn, that would make sense. But now, at least four different weapons had dropped—since only the first acquisition of a weapon type triggers a system announcement—and who knew how many duplicates were hidden beneath those four? Yet, every time a weapon dropped, countless players would flood the chat asking where the hell it came from, including some well-known legions and players. This suggested that the unicorn dropping light weapons was still a secret even on Huaxia Summit—perhaps even across the entire Huaxia Online—because nothing about it could be found online.

Secrets, once known by too many people, can’t stay hidden for long. Imagine several squads running to the same map every day—even an idiot would notice. So the most likely scenario was that only one or two, or at most three, teams knew the location and were discreetly farming it on a fixed schedule. The unicorn respawned every seven hours, meaning it could be farmed up to three times a day. Judging by the drops, it was being relentlessly cycled—poor thing.

But even more pitiful was the Ghost Server Legion Leader. Watching the unicorn get farmed while he couldn’t join in was torture. The Staff of Radiance was an eternal thorn in his heart, but he had already sold it, and the money was in his pocket. Could he really gather the legion again just to farm it for himself? Even if the members were willing, the already abysmally low moral standards he held himself to would strangle him before he could even ask.

Perhaps to match the leader’s gloomy mood, his internet cut out that day. According to an elderly neighbor who witnessed the whole thing, the incident happened at a street corner not far from the apartment building—a heating pipe construction crew accidentally severed the internet cables. Both sides argued, each blaming the other, and their supervisors arrived on the scene for a round of seemingly polite but underhanded negotiations. By the time Fang Zheng finally managed to log in, it was almost 8 PM.

Aside from Mad Lad, who had gone on a business trip two days prior, the entire legion was online. Right now, all of Huaxia’s players were racing to level up. Players like Fang Zheng’s group, who had already broken through level 60, were considered the first tier—though some grinding maniacs were exceptions. Levels between 60 and 70 were an awkward stage: max-level dungeons were still locked, while the XP from previously discovered dungeons—both old and new—was getting lower and lower. Farming elite mobs was often faster in the same amount of time, so dungeon entrances were growing deserted while high-level maps were packed.

“Why so late? Out on a date with some girl~~~” 2B Fighter Jet, speaking on behalf of the comrades, expressed sincere longing for the late-arriving leader.

Fang Zheng facepalmed. This guy’s thought process…

438: “What are you, flash memory? Our leader would date a guy, not a girl.”

No need to yell that out…

2B: “Oh damn, I forgot about that!”

How could you forget that?!

Your Uncle: “Leader, you’re GAY?!”

Oh great, here comes the newbie!

After that, the leader was no longer part of the conversation. The new recruit sat atop a metaphorical haystack as the veterans told the tale of how the leader forgot to disable F2 and was forced out of the closet.

The Ghost Server Legion Leader was mentally exhausted. Unbidden, he recalled the graying temples of his high school homeroom teacher. Though the understanding came too late, he still wished he could travel back in time and shake that man’s hand—leading a class and leading a legion were both life-consuming endeavors.

Perhaps thanks to the leader’s gossip-worthy status, not long after, Your Uncle and Your Sister—who had been running dungeons with random teams just to practice mechanics—brought back a legendary material. Apparently, it was the only good drop from the entire dungeon, and they had won it on a roll—or rather, Your Sister had won it, since Your Uncle’s abysmal 13-point roll couldn’t even qualify as moral support.

Your Sister knew nothing about the material but was thrilled after hearing Your Uncle call it “legendary.” At the same time, Your Uncle had given her a crash course on Huaxia legion basics—with a strong personal bias:

“Legendary materials must be handed over to the legion for unified distribution. Never think about keeping them for yourself, because the legion’s strength is our strength, and the legion’s growth is our growth. Trust that the leader will handle it appropriately and ensure every piece of gear and every material reaches its maximum potential.”

“Like these three pieces of gear I was issued?”

“Exactly!”

Those weren’t issued—they were just scrap gear I cobbled together for you because you were naked! Even if the stats were mediocre and worthless…

“Leader, we rolled a material! Uncle said it’s legendary and told me to give it to you!”

Uncle…

When did Your Uncle get promoted in seniority? =_=

They say everything has its nemesis—like brine solidifying tofu. Fang Zheng hadn’t believed it before, but now, watching Your Sister—once a blank-slate newbie—slowly adopt Your Uncle’s style under his guidance… Wait, is this really okay?! The Ghost Server can’t handle two Your Uncles! TAT

As the leader’s thoughts spiraled, the two recruits cheerfully returned to the legion hall. The moment Your Sister saw Milk is Mom, she initiated a trade without hesitation, startling Fang Zheng. Only after seeing the item did he realize what was happening and hurriedly clicked reject: “No need to give it to me, just put it in the legion warehouse.”

Your Sister blinked blankly. “Legion warehouse?”

“How do you not know anything? Playing like this is dangerous, you know.” Without waiting for the leader, Your Uncle launched into another lecture, guiding Your Sister through every window in the legion hall.

Your Sister stayed the longest at the legion warehouse, even asking something like, “Does the whole legion’s stuff go here?” But Fang Zheng didn’t pay close attention, because his mind was wholly occupied by the thought: “If Huaxia had a mentor system, Your Uncle would absolutely rank among the top model mentors.” Later, he dismissed this notion—because he wouldn’t just rank, he’d dominate the damn leaderboard. =_=

After touring the legion hall, the idle duo started some friendly PvP. It was clear Your Sister’s mechanics had improved slightly—at least some skills weren’t being spammed blindly anymore, and there was a hint of awareness in her play. As for Your Uncle, he was as unpredictable as ever. Sometimes it seemed like he’d win easily, but his skills just wouldn’t fire off in time. Other times, it looked like he was about to eat a big hit, yet he’d dodge at the last second.

Post-PvP, they analyzed their performance—

Your Sister: “Why’d you just stand there?”

Your Uncle: “I wasn’t standing there on purpose! I just didn’t have time to press the skill before you pounced.”

Your Sister: “Are your hands pork trotters? Just pickle them already, so slow.”

Your Uncle: “You’re the one with spasming fingers, smashing the keyboard like it’s going out of style, pressing buttons whether they’re useful or not!”

Your Sister: “If you’re slow, just admit it.”

Your Uncle: “If your awareness is bad, just admit it.”

Your Sister: “Piss off piss off piss off!”

Your Uncle: “No no no no no.”

Fang Zheng silently pulled the onlookers into a private chat and individually whispered to them: If you’re not busy, tab out for a discussion. Soon, all the busybodies except Birdy had gathered—

Milk is Mom: Did any of you tell Your Uncle about the relationship between Drink and Your Sister?

Crossplayer’s Blessing: I think…

Refined Into a Demon 715: No.

2B Fighter Jet: HAHAHAHA, swing the hoe well, and no wall can’t be toppled! Your Uncle is killing it~~~~

Milk is Mom: I’m definitely going to get murdered by Drink. =_=

A usually polite and gentle man going berserk is way scarier, okay?!

Blood Bulls Don’t Graze: You’re overthinking it.

Blood Bulls Don’t Graze: They’re fine.

2B Fighter Jet: Babe, how do you know? Wait—did that bastard Your Uncle chase after you?! Are you his one true love?!?!?!

Crossplayer’s Blessing: …

Refined Into a Demon 715: …

Milk is Mom: …

Blood Bulls Don’t Graze: Leader, can I get a different man?

Milk is Mom: Approved. =_=

Blood Bulls Don’t Graze never explained her reasoning—or perhaps no reasoning was needed. It was just a woman’s intuition. Later, Fang Zheng observed the pair with his sensitive gaydar and still found nothing suspicious. The two teamed up for dungeons, mob grinding, leveling, PvP, and occasionally even Audition Online—claiming it was to “train their APM.” Like comrades who survived the battlefield together, their bond was both transparent and unshakable. But that’s a story for another time.

Rewinding to 8:30 PM that night, after gossiping with the legion, Fang Zheng remembered his elusive deputy—

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Where are you?

[Whisper] Polly: Grinding.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Every time I ask, it’s the same thing. Got anything new?

[Whisper] Polly: Grinding, but boring.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: …

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Are you doing something shady behind my back?

[Whisper] Polly: Guess ^_^

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Never mind, my brain doesn’t have enough RAM to process any theories about you.

[Whisper] Polly: Heh.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Whatever you’re doing, come grind elite mobs with me when you’re done.

[Whisper] Polly: Okay.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: How much longer?

[Whisper] Polly: Twenty minutes.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: That’s more like it.

[Whisper] Polly: I can actually solo these.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Hey!

[Whisper] Polly: So you can just sit there.

[Whisper] Milk is Mom: Mooching XP feels so bad~~~ [shy]

[Whisper] Polly: Mm, I’ll hurry up.

…Damn it, from now on, no finishing the leader’s inner monologue!!!

Twenty minutes was nothing for a gaming addict, but that didn’t account for sudden blackouts halfway through.

After the internet outage came a power outage. ╮(╯_╰)╭

The apartment building instantly erupted into chaos as neighbors poked their heads out. The paper-thin walls—which didn’t block sound and might as well have amplified it—carried their outrage into the night—

“How the hell are we supposed to sleep in this heat without power?!”

“If the wiring can’t handle AC, at least let us use a fan!!”

“Who’s using high-wattage appliances? Fess up!!”

“This place is unlivable, I’m telling you. There’s an old building on the next street that looks just like ours, but it’s been renovated inside, and the rent is only…”

Why is there a random ad in here? =_=

For Fang Zheng, the blackout at least brought some relief from the heat—no more being roasted by two overheating computer cases. Since he wasn’t in the middle of anything important, this was way better than a power outage mid-dungeon. He got up to use the bathroom, splashed some cold water on himself, then lay down on the bed. His body, stiff from long hours at the desk, immediately relaxed. He had to admit, constantly hunching over to smash keys and click the mouse was exhausting, even if he usually didn’t notice in the heat of the moment.

About ten minutes later, as Fang Zheng was drifting off, his phone buzzed on the pillow.

A glance at the message—no need to check the sender—confirmed it was Birdy, given the trademark brevity:

[?]

Fang Zheng rolled his eyes at the invisible ceiling and replied—

[Power’s out.]

The response came quickly—

[Oh.]

And that was it.

It suddenly occurred to Fang Zheng that this guy was also gay, and he couldn’t help but worry for Birdy’s future partner. They say a man’s heart is as vast as the ocean, but to handle this guy? You’d need the frickin’ Pacific!! Otherwise, you’d be coughing up blood from internal injuries every day!!

Just as he turned over to sleep properly, his phone buzzed again. Fang Zheng thought his deputy had grown a conscience and sent a follow-up, but it turned out to be Jiang Yang, who had been MIA for two and a half days—

[Miss me, babe?]

Having just chatted with Birdy, the contrast was stark. Fang Zheng laughed dryly but replied in a style worthy of Birdy—

[Nope.]

[No way, I totally felt your longing~~]

[Delusion.]

[HAHAHAHA~~~]

Fang Zheng frowned slightly, sensing something off.

[You drunk?]

[A little, not too much.]

Fang Zheng thought, Not too much, but definitely buzzed, given the excitement.

Before he could reply with a snarky comment, another message came—

[I want to see you.]

Fang Zheng froze. His hand slipped, and the phone smacked him right in the nose—so hard his eyes watered from the sting.

The other man didn’t wait for a response—

[Don’t run away, got it?]

Fang Zheng was speechless. Where would he even run? This was so dramatic—anyone listening would think Jiang Yang was about to camp outside his door tomorrow.

There was no reasoning with a drunk, so Fang Zheng just humored him with a few empty words. Soon, the other end went silent—probably passed out.

This time, putting down the phone, Fang Zheng finally fell asleep. But perhaps because he’d never gone to bed this early, his sleep was restless, filled with chaotic dreams—some of him getting beaten up after coming out, others of him tying a classmate’s pigtails to her chair in elementary school. Memories, real and exaggerated, flooded in. The only fantasy was Gou Xiaonian confessing to him—which was so absurd it woke him up laughing.

The cramped room was still pitch-black.

Fang Zheng felt a dull headache—maybe from his sleeping position, maybe from the stuffy air. Struggling to turn over, he grabbed his phone to check the time and saw a missed call at 9:48 PM—two minutes ago. He suspected this midnight horror had ruined his dream—otherwise, he might’ve gotten to the steamy part.

Grumbling internally, Fang Zheng quickly called back. The missed call was from Birdy, who definitely wouldn’t spam him like Jiang Yang. From the day they met, the number of times this guy had called him could be counted on half a hand.

Birdy answered instantly, skipping useless complaints like ‘Why didn’t you pick up?’ and getting straight to the point: “Power back on?”

Fang Zheng paused, then obediently replied, “Nope.”

Two seconds of silence, then—”Give me your account and password.”

If this weren’t a phone call, Fang Zheng would’ve 100% assumed it was a hacker. =_=

One dictated, the other noted, and soon it was done. Only then did Fang Zheng think to ask, “What do you need my account for?”

Birdy deadpanned, “Bit late to ask, don’t you think?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Fang Zheng retorted righteously. “If it were anyone else, even if they gave me ten thousand reasons, I might not hand it over. Pfft!”

Was it his imagination, or did the voice on the other end sound amused? “Got bored and joined a random party to grind. Accidentally ran into the unicorn again. Accidentally got another Staff of Radiance. Accidentally, the healer in the party was a DPS build and didn’t need it, so they sold it to me for a friendly price.”

“How… friendly?”

“2,000 Huaxia Coins.”

“That’s… criminally low…”

“Got lucky.”

“…”

“My leader?”

“Birdy, I love you love you love you love you love you the most ahhhh—!”

“Mm, heard you.”

On a sweltering summer night, Lu Yue—a fine young man with no desire to sleep—impulsively headed to an internet café to grab late-night snacks with his business partner. But the moment he walked in, he saw Meng Chudong on the phone with someone, looking happier than Lu Yue had ever seen. Meng Chudong’s happiness came in two flavors: the first was when something unrelated to him was hilarious, in which case he’d laugh like a maniac before moving on. The second was when it was related to him—genuine, deep-seated joy—in which case he’d do exactly what he was doing now: lips quirked, eyes slightly narrowed, not quite smiling but radiating contentment from head to toe, sending inexplicable chills down Lu Yue’s spine.

“What’s up? You look like you’ve lost your soul,” Lu Yue teased as he reached the private booth where Meng Chudong was seated, just as the call ended.

Meng Chudong looked up, eyes lighting up at the sight of Lu Yue. “You’re here?”

Lu Yue shivered and took a subconscious step back. “I feel like… my timing’s off…”

Before he could retreat to safety, Meng Chudong stood and grabbed his arm, smiling. “No, buddy. Your timing’s perfect.”

In the end, Lu Yue never figured out why he—who had come to eat with his childhood friend—ended up sitting in a private booth, mouse in hand, staring at a boss’s dropped loot but forbidden from picking it up… For someone who only played Fight the Landlord, this was way too hardcore!!!

Meanwhile, Meng Chudong wasn’t idle either. He scoured the café for an empty computer and finally found one in another section. Soon, a system notification popped up—someone had applied to join the party. Lu Yue didn’t dare touch anything, so his phone rang.

Meng Chudong: “Add me to the party.”

“This is you?” (What Lu Yue really wanted to say was Your name’s so extra.)

But the reply was: “Not me. A friend.”

It wasn’t that Meng Chudong had few friends—it was that Lu Yue had never actually met any of these so-called “friends” in real life. He accepted the party invite, and soon, Milk is Mom appeared on his screen. Meng Chudong instructed him over the phone to release the mouse and close the boss’s loot window. Lu Yue obeyed, and soon, the party log announced that Milk is Mom had obtained [something something] Staff of Radiance.

Though a gaming noob, Lu Yue had picked up some knowledge from Meng Chudong. Clearly, Meng Chudong was helping a friend secure an item—probably because said friend couldn’t log in.

For the usually lazy Meng Chudong to go to such lengths, Lu Yue grew even more curious about this “friend.” But he wasn’t the nosy type, and the world of online gaming was beyond him. So when his friend returned, he stuck to his original purpose: “Enough gaming. Let’s grab a bite.”

Meng Chudong tilted his head, neither agreeing nor refusing. Instead, he made another call—

“Got the item… Yeah, I know. Control your emotions—no need to keep repeating… Still no power? Then I’m logging off. Going out for late-night snacks with a friend… Huh? Not trying to tease you. If I were, I’d say I’m getting skewers…”