HGG - 42

“Do you want it?” Amidst the restless and sweltering heat, she turned her head. Her uneven black hair fell on either side of her face, and the icy coldness in her eyes was enough to freeze one’s heart. “It’s yours.”

What Luo Jiaming received from Song Yi wasn’t just a tennis ball.

But at first, he didn’t realize it.

The boy grew up alone.

Later, he entered middle school, reaching the same age Song Yi had been back then. At this stage in his life, Luo Jiaming was no different from his peers who were beginning to notice the changes in girls around them.

Yet, he never found anyone who reminded him of Song Yi again.

That absolute silence, but ceaselessly wandering sense of detachment.

One summer morning during middle school, he dreamed of her. And amidst the deafening cicada cries, he finally understood what he had received from Song Yi.

A few days earlier, he had caught a glimpse of a woman on the big screen at a tournament. She was still as cold, still as composed as ever. If it hadn’t been mid-competition, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from rushing out to see her.

In fact, he nearly did.

But an unexpected power outage prevented that mistake from happening.

And now, here she was, standing right in front of him.

Luo Jiaming walked up to Song Yi. Unlike a few years ago, he was now much taller than her, with stronger arms. And it wasn’t summer anymore.

He carefully studied Song Yi’s face. She seemed entirely at ease, exuding a sense of relief now that she remembered who he was. “You’re the kid who used to live next door, right?”

Kid.

Luo Jiaming paused for a moment, lightly clearing his throat. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing some teammates watching from afar.

“Mm. Sister Song Yi,” he said, “It’s rare to see you. There’s a café nearby where we can sit…”

Song Yi hesitated briefly. During those few seconds of consideration, Luo Jiaming felt incredibly nervous.

In truth, no one would believe it.

This star player renowned for his ultra-high APM (Actions Per Minute) in the gaming arena—Cor_tennis, who could calmly turn the tide of battle even when all his teammates were defeated—was actually nervous.

“Alright, let’s go together,” Song Yi finally replied, much to his relief.

Luo Jiaming led the way, while Song Yi sent the location to Chi Zhao from behind.

The café was near the training base, and occasionally fans would drop by hoping to catch a glimpse of the players. As soon as they entered, they drew some noticeable stares.

Noticing this, Song Yi chose a more secluded booth inside. The privacy there was better.

“I’ll treat you,” Luo Jiaming said. “What would you like to drink?”

Song Yi shook her head. “It’s been a long time since we last met.”

Back then, their families had a good relationship.

Most people would avoid neighbors burdened with debt, but Luo Jiaming’s parents were straightforward and carefree individuals. Their impression of Song Yi’s father had stopped at him being a diligent tutor before gambling took hold.

Sometimes, Luo Jiaming’s mother would make soup and send him over with a bowl for the neighbors. On rainy days, Song Yi would occasionally help their family bring in the laundry.

“I never expected you to become an esports player. How are your parents doing? Your mom and dad?” Song Yi asked softly, a faint trace of a smile appearing on her face. “You haven’t changed much from before.”

“The street we lived on has been demolished… My parents are doing well,” Luo Jiaming replied.

The career lifespan of professional esports players was short, but the income was indeed substantial. His parents didn’t have high academic qualifications and hadn’t placed many demands on his studies. When he decided to drop out of school to pursue gaming, they didn’t object too strongly.

He had talent, worked hard in training, and was lucky enough to quickly rise through the ranks. Once he stepped onto the competitive stage, he shone brightly and thrived.

Luo Jiaming knew he had changed a lot.

His appearance, his family circumstances, his demeanor, and his fate—all had shifted.

But Song Yi told him, “You haven’t changed much from before.”

Luo Jiaming replied, “I think, Sister Song Yi… you’ve changed a lot.”

“Is that so?” Song Yi asked. “Next time I visit your mom, I hope she hasn’t forgotten me.”

She still remembered how caring Luo’s mother had been toward her. In the past, when Li Mei had failed to fulfill her role as a mother, this kind-hearted neighbor had offered her plenty of help.

“She won’t forget,” Luo Jiaming immediately responded. After fumbling for words, he added, “When I said you’ve changed, I meant you seem more outgoing now.”

He suddenly felt a bit embarrassed.

Song Yi paused. Perhaps she had become more sociable.

Since joining Chongming Games, many things in her life had improved, and she had received help from many people. Now, her worries were fewer, and problems were being resolved one by one in an orderly fashion.

All of this was connected to one person—

Their small talk was about to wrap up when the door opened, and the wind chimes hanging from the eaves jingled melodiously.

Chi Zhao entered wearing an extra layer, glancing around the room. Song Yi stood up, her face bearing an imperceptible smile. “Over here.”

He quickly approached, smiling when he saw Luo Jiaming. Raising his hand in a “wait a moment” gesture, he thoughtfully recalled Luo Jiaming’s name: “You’re… tennis, right? Your gameplay is ridiculously OP, but truly impressive. No wonder you’re the strongest active player in your position. So amazing—if only I had hands that fast—”

As he spoke, Chi Zhao smoothly sat down next to Song Yi. She gave a brief introduction: “This is my superior, also from Chongming Games…”

“I know,” Luo Jiaming nodded slightly. “He’s the one behind ACDF … I’ve spent money in your game.”

“Thank you for the support,” Chi Zhao continued to smile, though he appeared somewhat distracted. His practiced, indifferent demeanor came off as slightly aloof, but it was friendly enough for strangers. “Are you acquaintances?”

“We were neighbors when we were kids,” Song Yi replied.

Suddenly, Chi Zhao was drawn to something on Song Yi’s face. “What color is that?”

Song Yi lowered her gaze, realizing he was referring to her lipstick. She answered honestly: “Miss Jenny lent it to me today. I realize now the shade seems a bit… off.”

Chi Zhao grabbed a napkin from the table and handed it to her. Song Yi accepted it and began wiping her lips. Without a mirror, she used her phone screen to check.

She hadn’t thought much about it when applying it, but now she regretted it. As Song Yi worked to remove the lipstick, the overly bright color smeared, spreading unevenly to the corners of her mouth.

Chi Zhao watched her intently. At that moment, he leaned forward.

“Excuse me,” he said. “May I?”

His request was concise, but Song Yi understood without effort. “It’s fine.”

With her permission, Chi Zhao gently took the napkin from her hands.

There was no unnecessary physical contact. His gaze remained focused as he carefully wiped away the smudge at the corner of her mouth.

Across the table, Luo Jiaming silently watched as Chi Zhao wiped Song Yi’s lipstick. The man exuded reliability yet a hint of playfulness, while the woman appeared cold yet compliant. Both carried distinct contradictions, yet their interaction didn’t feel jarring.

Luo Jiaming couldn’t utter a sound because, in that instant, he realized he was being shut out.

Song Yi pretended to lower her eyes, but secretly observed Chi Zhao’s face. His smile had faded, replaced by a blend of harsh fluorescent light and shadowy gray. It was a strained gentleness.

Silent, he seemed to hold his breath, rowing a quiet boat across calm waters.

She dared not exhale. This version of Chi Zhao was too kind, making her feel a little timid. Whenever she faced him, Song Yi often felt unsettled.

Voices filled the café, laughter drifting lazily toward the ceiling, mingling with the clinking of coffee cups and spoons.

“It’s done,” Chi Zhao finally said, folding the napkin into his hand as he sat back down. “Actually, it looked fine even without removing it.”

Song Yi replied, “Well, it’s already gone.” She didn’t mean to criticize; it was merely an offhand remark.

“Sister Song Yi looks good either way,” Chi Zhao said, pulling out his wallet. Looking up, his smile returned, erasing the previous distance. “Can we pay the bill now?”

Only then did Luo Jiaming snap back to reality, as if the movie had ended and the rain had soaked him completely. “Let me pay…”

But Chi Zhao had already handed the cash to the server, adding casually, “By the way, this light bulb seems a bit loose.”

They got up to leave.

Luo Jiaming hadn’t managed to do anything, and instead, Chi Zhao treated him to a cup of coffee he barely touched.

Song Yi received a work call and excused herself, walking aside to answer it.

Chi Zhao idly played with his car keys, repeatedly pressing the button to flash the headlights as if to pass the time.

In truth, Luo Jiaming wasn’t skilled at one-on-one interactions. He felt awkward, wanting to leave but also wishing to say goodbye to Song Yi in person and exchange contact information.

“Uh,” Chi Zhao suddenly spoke, looking into the distance. “Your team’s been causing quite a stir lately. Did management scold you?”

Luo Jiaming turned his head in surprise.

“You’re the one who complained online about us interfering, aren’t you?” Chi Zhao said.

Luo Jiaming froze. “How do you know?”

Chi Zhao didn’t answer, simply saying, “Focus on the competition. I’m looking forward to seeing you win.”

From afar, Song Yi was finishing her call and walking back.

Luo Jiaming felt something surge violently in his chest. Failure hit him hard, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where he’d lost. Perhaps out of desperation, he blurted, “Sister Song Yi!”

She looked at him.

“If Cor wins the rematch at the Grand Prix, can we meet again?” he asked.

He felt as though he was awaiting judgment.

Song Yi gazed at him. “Sure,” she replied. She should find time to visit Luo’s mother.

They exchanged social media accounts naturally, and throughout this, Chi Zhao showed no reaction, patiently waiting.

After parting ways, Chi Zhao sat in the driver’s seat. As Song Yi closed the car door and fastened her seatbelt, she suddenly asked, “How many questions can I ask at once? And when will the next opportunity be?”

Chi Zhao was momentarily confused. “What?”

“I want to learn more about you,” Song Yi earnestly replied. She wasn’t planning to let him evade with excuses or feign sleep. She insisted on continuing their previous conversation. “When did you learn to skate? Where did you attend high school in Japan? What about university? Was Paris fun? Do you get motion sickness on planes? Is your aunt married…?”

She had so much more to ask, but Chi Zhao abruptly turned his face away.

“I don’t know much about your past either,” he said.

She had even been childhood friends with a professional gamer.

After some thought, Song Yi spoke again. “You answer me first.”

Chi Zhao left no room for negotiation. “No.”

“Why not?”

“What if after I tell you everything, you lose interest in me?” Chi Zhao muttered almost to himself. “Who will take responsibility then?”

His sudden honesty caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected such reasoning.

Turning away, Song Yi fell silent, deep in thought.

She assumed he was rejecting her out of fear she’d grow tired of him.

A sense of reassurance flooded her heart. The car was too quiet.

“I’ll take responsibility,” Song Yi said.