Chapter 237 – Extra – Sister Blood Bull and Fighter Jet’s Love Dungeon (Part 2)

If Shi Kuo were to recount the most awkward moments of his thirty years of life, the current situation would unquestionably dominate the top spot. Ex-boyfriend versus current guildmate—which relationship was closer? It was a mountain towering over human intellect.

But clearly, this mountain posed no difficulty for Lin Yi, as she yawned once before making her choice without hesitation: “Why are you here?”

Shi Kuo froze for two seconds before realizing she was talking to him and hurriedly replied, “I was worried something happened to you!”

The moment the words left his mouth, Shi Kuo sensed something was off. He quickly realized it was the tone. Phrases like “I was so worried about you” or “I couldn’t rest until I saw you” were meant to be delivered softly—gentle words meant to make a girl happy, the softer the better. But what the hell was his response just now? A new recruit standing at attention under the scorching sun, shouting to his drill instructor, “I’m not tired at all!”?! TAT

Lin Yi was also torn between laughter and exasperation: “Have you ever heard of anyone whose life was in danger from getting hacked? Also, when talking to me, you don’t need to stand at attention with your hands glued to your pants seams…”

Couldn’t she just say “relax” instead of describing his stupid posture in such detail?! =_=

“Excuse me, I’d like to interrupt,” Wang Hao, who had been ignored for far too long, couldn’t take it anymore and forced his way into the conversation. “What do you mean ‘hacked’? That account was fucking registered by me!”

Shi Kuo flared up the moment he heard that: “So what if you registered it? Didn’t you give it to her? Taking back something you gave away—what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Wang Hao: “I just wanted her to answer my fucking calls!”

Shi Kuo: “You’re already broken up, what calls are you making?!”

Wang Hao: “I want to get back together, okay?!”

Shi Kuo: “…”

An ex-boyfriend wanting to reconcile—could a current guildmate weigh in? It was the second mountain towering over human intellect.

Shi Kuo fell silent and looked at Lin Yi.

Lin Yi was also looking at him, a faint smirk on her lips.

Shi Kuo suddenly felt like an idiot.

This judgment had nothing to do with Lin Yi; it was purely based on his own self-loathing. When he realized Lin Yi might never log in again, might leave Huaxia Online and him forever, he panicked. He panicked so much that he didn’t stop to consider the divide between the virtual and real worlds, didn’t think about whether his actions made sense. He just wanted to see her immediately, as if not doing so would mean losing her forever. Now that he’d seen her, his heart settled—only to be asked why he came. His blunt “I was worried something happened to you” vaguely summed up everything. Whether this answer justified his actions was debatable, but one thing was certain: it had already stripped him of any standing to oppose another man.

Wang Hao wanted to reconcile—was that okay?

The answer was obviously no.

But he couldn’t say it, because he had no right to.

Lin Yi had anticipated this outcome, so she wasn’t anxious or angry. She simply smiled, with the calmness of someone who’d expected this and the faint mockery of someone resigned to it.

Damn it, why couldn’t he say it?!

“No!” The moment Shi Kuo shouted those words, he had an illusion—as if he’d become Pangu, cleaving through chaos with an axe. From that moment on, the heavens rose, the earth settled, and everything became clear.

Wang Hao, furious, laughed coldly: “Oh? And why the hell not?”

Shi Kuo: “Because she’s my wife!”

“In-game,” Lin Yi, ever the stickler for accuracy, clarified.

But this time, Shi Kuo wasn’t indulging her: “Can you just shut up?!”

Lin Yi froze, actually falling silent.

Shi Kuo, agitated, ran a hand through his hair and decided to go all out: “Fuck it, I want to chase you in real life too, okay?!”

Lin Yi blinked but still didn’t speak.

Shi Kuo felt like he was about to explode: “Can you at least say something?!”

Lin Yi, feigning innocence, furrowed her brows: “You told me not to talk.”

Shi Kuo was on the verge of a breakdown: “You’ve never been this obedient before, why start today of all days? TAT”

Lin Yi pouted, her expression screaming men are so hard to please: “Fine.”

Shi Kuo: “Huh?”

Lin Yi: “You said you want to chase me. Fine.”

Shi Kuo swallowed involuntarily: “Uh… shouldn’t you at least act a little reserved?”

Lin Yi tilted her head and asked earnestly: “Do you like women playing hard to get?”

Shi Kuo thought about it. It wasn’t that he liked it, but all the women he’d encountered fell into two categories: those who followed tradition, demure and shy, and those who were alluring, keeping him at arm’s length. With the former, he had to go all out—as long as she didn’t outright reject him, it meant tacit approval. With the latter, he had to play it cool, engage in a battle of wits until the perfect moment to strike.

He’d never met anyone like Lin Yi before.

No coy pretense, no unspoken romantic subtext, no need for seductive glances or hidden intentions. She just straightforwardly told him: You want to chase me? Fine. Clear as a mountain stream, bright as the moon in a cloudless sky.

“I don’t like it when they play hard to get,” Shi Kuo heard himself say. “I like you.”

Shi Kuo had never imagined he’d one day seriously say these words. He thought it would be an earth-shattering skill—once unleashed, even if he didn’t die, his HP and MP would surely bottom out, leaving him severely weakened. But in reality, he was in great condition—HP and MP full, buffs stable—except for his burning face, though that might just be due to vigorous blood circulation ╮(╯_╰)╭

In contrast, Lin Yi was faring worse. She’d anticipated Wang Hao’s repeated harassment was about reconciliation, she’d guessed 2B’s rush to her side was impulsive, she’d even predicted that if pushed, 2B might lie about being her boyfriend or outright say he wanted to pursue her. But one thing she hadn’t anticipated: 2B was serious.

Yes, Lin Yi believed the man standing in front of her now was serious—serious about liking her, serious about pursuing her, serious about… leaving her at a loss. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy, but a rational voice reminded her: So what if he’s serious? It’s just a thought, an impulse. Once the scene changes, its expiration date might arrive.

Shi Kuo didn’t get an answer from Lin Yi. He only caught a fleeting look of surprise on her face before it vanished, like a breeze rippling the surface of a lake—brief disturbance, then calm again.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on her reaction. The priority was dealing with the nuisance in front of them. With that in mind, he turned to Wang Hao, chin slightly raised, projecting the confidence of someone who’d already claimed the high ground: “You heard what I said, right? If you know what’s good for you, scram.”

Wang Hao, who’d witnessed the entire exchange, was completely baffled. He didn’t say he’d leave, nor did he refuse. Instead, he said: “Hold on.” He needed time to process what had just happened in the past minute. Starting from the moment he’d asked, “Why the hell not?,” the next sixty seconds had gone like this: guildmate said he wanted to pursue her, ex-girlfriend said okay, guildmate asked if she should be reserved, ex-girlfriend asked if he liked her playing hard to get, guildmate said no, guildmate confessed, guildmate told him to get lost… Holy shit, even fast-forwarding a movie wasn’t this fast!!! And could they at least respect him a little? He was here to reconcile, not to officiate a wedding!!!

Wait—agreeing to let someone pursue her only meant giving him the chance, not necessarily agreeing to date him in the end. Having dated her before, Wang Hao was clear on Lin Yi’s logic…

“Hey, I’ve waited long enough,” Shi Kuo snapped impatiently. “Have you made up your mind or not?”

Wang Hao had: “I’m not leaving. You want to chase her, I want to reconcile. We’re on the same starting line.”

Shi Kuo: “…” At first glance, it sounded so reasonable he was speechless =_=

Lin Yi sighed, grabbed 2B with a look of disdain, and stepped forward to face Wang Hao directly for the first time: “I didn’t agree to reconcile with you. I agreed to let him chase me. Your starting lines aren’t the same. No—you’re not even in the same league. He’s at a school sports meet; you’re at the Olympics. Your level’s too high. Exit left, no escort needed.”

For a moment, Shi Kuo felt like he was seeing Blood Bulls Don’t Graze in-game again—always standing in front of her teammates, a greatsword in hand, cutting through thorns and brambles, no matter how treacherous the world or how bloody the storm.

But Wang Hao wasn’t a boss. He was a former teammate, once the closest of allies: “If you want me to give up, why are you still wearing this down jacket?”

Shi Kuo froze. What was this? She was still wearing clothes her ex gave her after the breakup?

Lin Yi frowned, puzzled: “You gave it to me, so it’s mine now. And it’s really warm.”

Now it was Wang Hao’s turn to freeze—not just freeze, but instinctively glance at Shi Kuo, as if seeking solidarity from a fellow man.

Shi Kuo, having abandoned team allegiances, sincerely conveyed through his eyes: Don’t look at me, I’m just as confused.

Lin Yi, though not entirely understanding, picked up on the implications from his words and the awkward atmosphere. She immediately started taking off the down jacket: “If wearing this is giving you the wrong idea, I’ll change right now.”

Wang Hao, flustered, reached out to stop her, but before he could touch her, Shi Kuo had already pulled her to his side, swatting away the Berserker’s still-restless hand. He zipped her back up himself, all the way to the top, the raised collar covering half of her oval face.

Only after ensuring she was fully bundled did Shi Kuo start scolding: “Are you insane? It’s the dead of winter!”

Lin Yi thought 2B was overreacting: “If wearing this makes him misunderstand, then giving it back settles it once and for all. What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal? It could kill you!” Shi Kuo paused mid-rant as a thought struck him. “Ohhhh~~~ Did you plan this? You knew I wouldn’t let you freeze, so I’d definitely take off my own jacket and—”

“If I’m cold, I’ll just go upstairs and grab another one. It’s only a few steps.”

“…Never mind =_=”

Wang Hao was also torn between laughter and tears. An hour ago, when he’d come to the university to corner her, he never could’ve imagined the absurd turn of events. After days of rejection and being blocked, his emotions had reached a boiling point—only for this bizarre guildmate to appear out of nowhere like a bucket of ice water in the height of summer. It was chilling, but watching someone else get tormented by Lin Yi the way he once had brought a twisted sense of schadenfreude. He was starting to think he’d gone insane =_=

At any rate, he’d seen her, expressed his desire to reconcile, and clearly—it wasn’t happening. At least not today. So Wang Hao didn’t press further, settling for a compromise: “I promise I won’t call to harass you anymore, and I’ll give you back the game account. So… could you do me the honor of having dinner with me?”

Lin Yi shook her head firmly: “Call all you want, play the game all you want. The honor… not happening.”

Shi Kuo also objected: “And if she honors you, what about me? I flew here on a budget airline with no meal service, rushed straight here from the airport, and now I’m so hungry my stomach’s stuck to my back like a shadow puppet. Where’s your humanity?!” Without waiting for Lin Yi’s consent, he grabbed her hand and started walking toward the school gates.

Lin Yi didn’t protest, following along cooperatively. Truth be told, the moment she’d received 2B’s text saying “I’m outside your dorm,” she’d already planned to go eat with him. First, based on travel time, he’d probably be hungry by now—assuming there was in-flight food. Had she known there wasn’t, her calculation would’ve upgraded his state to “starving.” Second, as guildmates, they ought to catch up, and a female grad student dorm wasn’t the best place for that. As for Wang Hao? An unexpected boss spawn, entirely off-script.

It wasn’t until Shi Kuo and Lin Yi were a dozen meters away that Wang Hao snapped out of it and hurried after them. Not because he was slow, but because he’d never seen this side of Lin Yi before—no domineering aura, no sharp words, just letting herself be led along, quiet and docile.

Was it really the first time?

Wang Hao racked his brain, trying to recall if this Lin Yi had ever appeared during their relationship. But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t remember. Every memory fragment of Lin Yi in his mind had nothing to do with gentleness or obedience.

The strange trio walked side by side to the school gates. Wang Hao’s car was parked nearby, and he made one last attempt: “Where are you going? Let me give you a ride.”

Not plural you, just you.

Shi Kuo caught the nuance but couldn’t retort. After all, the other man’s SUV was undeniably right there, while he could only raise his admittedly sturdy arm: “Taxi—”

The restaurant was Lin Yi’s choice. Shi Kuo’s knowledge of this city was still a blank slate.

Perhaps because of the wind from the car ride, Lin Yi’s nose and cheeks remained flushed by the time the first dish arrived—a pretty pink, like an autumn apple.

“So why did you two break up, anyway?” Along the way, Shi Kuo had asked about the harassment and the account hijacking but somehow missed the core issue.

Lin Yi didn’t hide it. She took a slow sip of tea and answered plainly: “I had acute appendicitis and was hospitalized. I called him all night but couldn’t reach him. By the time we finally connected the next morning, I’d already had surgery.”

“So when did he get to the hospital?”

“That next morning. He came as soon as we got in touch.”

“Well… that’s understandable,” Shi Kuo didn’t want to defend his rival, but objectively, this fell under force majeure. “If the call didn’t go through, he wouldn’t have known you were sick…”

“It wasn’t that the call didn’t go through,” Lin Yi cut in. “It went through, but he didn’t pick up. From the tests to the operating room, it was three hours. My phone was nearly dead from calling, and he just wouldn’t answer.”

“Maybe his phone was on silent, and he didn’t hear…” It was a plausible scenario, but for some reason, the more Shi Kuo spoke, the less conviction he felt.

“I wish that were the case.” Lin Yi smiled faintly, a trace of bitterness flickering in her expression.

Shi Kuo suddenly understood. He didn’t want to admit he and Wang Hao were the same kind of person, but in that moment, he truly sensed a frequency within himself that resonated with the other man: “He wasn’t on silent. He was busy, so he saw it and ignored it. Even after he was done, he pretended not to see it. The best move was to wait until the next morning to call back, making it seem more genuine.”

Lin Yi laughed—a real laugh this time—before eyeing him with amusement: “Can’t help but feel a kinship, huh?”

Shi Kuo winced: “Just eat. No insults.”

Lin Yi’s smile faded, and then Shi Kuo heard her say: “He was busy entertaining clients. He was afraid I’d need something he couldn’t get away from, so he just pretended not to see it.”

Shi Kuo suddenly lost his appetite.

He wanted to call Wang Hao scum but had no right. He’d never deliberately ignored calls from colleagues, friends, or family, but he’d absolutely screened calls from a few girls out of annoyance—some admirers, some exes. Regardless, he’d always smooth things over with perfect excuses afterward, never feeling the slightest guilt.

Until now.

It wasn’t just guilt. There was also heartache. Though Lin Yi had stated it objectively, without any emotional embellishment, the mere thought of that strong-willed girl enduring the pain while dialing an unanswered number over and over made him want to hit someone. Hit Wang Hao. Hit himself.

The dishes arrived, but silence and awkwardness spread faster than the aroma.

Shi Kuo set down his chopsticks, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, steadying his voice into something formal: “When I said I want to pursue you, I meant it.”

Lin Yi had just picked up a shrimp. She didn’t pause, eating it before nodding: “Mm. You also said you were twenty-four. That was true too.”

“…” Shi Kuo sweatdropped. That was ancient history—did she have to dig it up so precisely? “Back then, we’d just met. I was just joking around…”

Lin Yi didn’t speak, just stared at him.

“I’m sorry TAT” Shi Kuo surrendered. “I swear, from now on, everything I say will be the truth. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you everything without holding back. No more secrets!”

Lin Yi lowered her eyes, as if thinking it over.

Shi Kuo had never felt a minute drag on so painfully.

Finally, Lin Yi’s lashes fluttered, and she looked up: “Can I ask, then?”

Shi Kuo sat ramrod straight, not even daring to breathe too loudly: “Go ahead.”

Lin Yi: “What’s your name?”