Chapter 71: 071

Almost the instant Song Guiya’s aura turned frigid, Xue Yin realized she might have said something wrong.

“What do you mean ‘several hundred years’?” Xue Yin hurriedly backpedaled. “Oh, that’s just one of our overly dramatic expressions around here. Like when you’re starving, you might say, ‘I haven’t eaten in centuries—I’m dying of hunger!’ You know, that kind of thing.”

Afraid Song Guiya wouldn’t buy it, Xue Yin locked eyes with her, those big, sparkling eyes brimming with utter sincerity.

Song Guiya offered a gentle smile. “I see. I’ve got it now.”

For some inexplicable reason, that smile sent a shiver across Xue Yin’s scalp, stirring a powerful and deeply ominous premonition deep within her.

What was going on here?

They’d already shared that electric, lingering gaze on the show, and yet Xi Tongyue still hadn’t told Song Guiya about it?

Whatever the case, this was something Xi Tongyue needed to confess herself. An outsider like Xue Yin had no business sticking her nose in.

At least it looked like she’d dodged the bullet for now.

To avoid any more slip-ups, though, her only option was…

Of the Thirty-Six Stratagems, running away was the best.

“Um,” Xue Yin said, facing the door and forcing a casual tone as she addressed Song Guiya, “since Teacher Xi isn’t here, I’ll head out first. Let’s catch up another day.”

She’d just reached the door, her hand not yet on the knob, when Song Guiya’s clear, crisp voice rang out from behind. “Why not wait a little longer? Sister Huo said she’d swing by the company once she’s done.”

Xue Yin froze in place.

On any other day, that would’ve been fine, but she had urgent business to discuss with Xi Tongyue today—which was why she’d bothered coming all the way to the company in person.

After a moment’s hesitation, Xue Yin pivoted on her heel and dropped onto the sofa beside Song Guiya.

Song Guiya curved her lips in a smile and took a seat as well.

With no idea how long it would take Xi Tongyue to show up—and terrified of saying the wrong thing again—Xue Yin pulled out her phone and dove into a game, tuning out the world around her.

Song Guiya didn’t seem to mind in the least. She simply sat there, watching.

Mobile games were utterly foreign to her, but after a few minutes, she’d pieced together the rules.

Xue Yin maneuvered her little avatar through derelict rooms, scavenging gear and blasting other players with a weapon called a gun. Once she’d wiped out everyone except her teammates, a big, glossy roast chicken popped up on screen: victory.

Naturally, Song Guiya grasped the win condition not because of Xue Yin’s skill—far from it. Xue Yin had been dead weight from start to finish, catching nonstop flak, and owed the chicken dinner entirely to her carry teammates.

To dodge hassle, Xue Yin never used voice chat, though she kept the audio on for her squad.

Which meant Song Guiya heard every word:

“Number Two, positioning! What the hell—are you a bot? Toss some rice on your screen; the pigeons would strafe better than that.”

“Low health, low health—rush him!”

“Number Two, get out here and revive! Solo bush-camping—forget the TP?”

“Bot alert. Number Two, come fight. Don’t say I don’t look out for the ladies.”

“Bang-bang-bang.”

“? Number Two, you a monk or something? Pacifist mode?”

“…”

Number Two was Xue Yin, of course.

At long last, they clutched out a chicken dinner. Mortified, Xue Yin shot an embarrassed glance at Song Guiya, who’d watched the whole fiasco.

Song Guiya smiled back, warm and friendly, without a trace of mockery.

With Xi Tongyue still AWOL, Xue Yin ducked her head in silence, intending to bail on the solo queue squad and rematch with fresh victims.

Anything to keep Song Guiya from hearing more of that savage roasting—her dignity couldn’t take another hit.

But before she could tap exit, the squad leader queued up the next round.

Xue Yin: …

They were sticking with her even after that trash performance?

Mouths like sewers, but hearts of gold, apparently.

The instant they spawned, her chief tormentor piped up: “Sis, for that carry to chicken dinner? Lend me your skins?”

Xue Yin:!

Ah, so that was it—they wanted her outfits.

Trust shattered.

Xue Yin sucked at the game, but she lived for decking out her character in every skin imaginable: vehicle wraps, gun camos, the works. Special event ones were draw-only, and with her eternal bad luck, she just pay-to-winned her way through, dropping tens of thousands in the process.

Good thing money wasn’t an issue, or her grandma-grocery-shopping skills—bad enough to make market ladies wince—would’ve gotten her blacklisted ages ago.

With heartbreaking expertise, Xue Yin stripped off her dazzling outfit, alive with flowing rainbow lights and brilliant emerald splendor.

The sharp-tongued big bro equipped his skin, struck a little dance, and said excitedly, “Stick tight to us in a bit. Don’t worry—with this skin bonus, I’ll carry you straight to a chicken dinner.”

Xue Yin replied, “You’re actually a pretty decent guy, but I’ve lost all my dignity.”

Once the game started, Xue Yin listlessly scoured the map for gear. Being flat broke, all she managed to scrape together was an Explosive Hunting Bow and a 98K.

To her, though, there wasn’t much difference between them. After grabbing a few med kits, she trailed after her teammates, trying her best to play the part of a proper medic. When no one was around, she’d flop into the grass and lie perfectly still, turning into the most unqualified rat imaginable.

While her teammates were looting a cluster of houses and Xue Yin lay on the ground bored out of her mind, Song Guiya suddenly spoke up from beside her. “There’s someone there.”

Xue Yin jolted upright, instantly on high alert. Her eyes scanned the screen frantically as she asked, “Where? Where? I don’t see anything!”

Song Guiya said calmly, “115 direction, halfway up the slope by the Twin Trees.”

“Twin Trees?” Xue Yin turned to look at Song Guiya. “What’s that?”

Song Guiya reached over and tapped Xue Yin’s 98K with one slender finger. The sniper rifle’s standard scope zoomed in instantly, revealing two trees of different species intertwined together. Beneath one of them crouched a figure in a Ghillie Suit, ass pointed right at Xue Yin as he faced the other way, stealthily observing something.

“There really is someone!” Xue Yin exclaimed in surprise. “You can spot them from that far?”

The Ghillie Suit was at least six hundred meters away—barely visible even with a 4x scope.

Song Guiya smiled faintly. “He moved just now.”

Xue Yin blinked. ?

Was this the legendary dynamic vision of a true warrior?

No wonder—she was a real general who’d seen actual battlefields.

Seeing Xue Yin’s dazed expression, Song Guiya prompted her. “The poison circle’s still far off, so he won’t move for a while. Shoot him now, and it’s a guaranteed hit.”

Xue Yin: !

Right!

If she could snipe someone, her teammates wouldn’t call her trash anymore!

Xue Yin held her breath, lined up the shot, and hovered her finger over the fire button without pulling it.

Song Guiya: ?

Three seconds later, Xue Yin shoved the phone at Song Guiya, pleading, “You do it for me, please.”

Song Guiya paused, then smiled helplessly. Her fingers moved awkwardly across the screen, adjusting the crosshairs just above the enemy’s head. She fired. A massive boom echoed, and the shot struck dead center.

Xue Yin flashed a thumbs-up, her eyes sparkling. “Awesome.”

Song Guiya said nothing, pressing her advantage with another shot. The Ghillie Suit, scrambling desperately toward the back of the tree, turned into a box on the spot.

At the same moment, shocked voices erupted from the phone.

“Did I see that right? The rich girl got a kill?”

“Bot, right?”

“Lemme check… Nah, it’s a real player. Ghillie Suit and everything.”

“Oh, lucky shot. She was playing like a total bot earlier. Gotta be a girl—or maybe her boyfriend took over.”

Xue Yin pursed her lips at her teammates’ chatter.

Sure, someone else had fired the shots, but what was with the sexism?

If they knew Song Guiya wasn’t just a woman but an ancient newbie who’d never touched a mobile game before, they’d probably drop dead from shock.

Song Guiya handed the phone back to Xue Yin, but she waved it off. “I’m way too trash at this. They’ll yell at me. You play for a bit—I love watching.”

Song Guiya didn’t argue and kept controlling the little avatar on screen, sticking with the team.

Before long, they ran into another squad in a neighborhood. The three teammates charged straight at the enemies, ready for a straight-up brawl. Song Guiya glanced at her loadout, grabbed the Explosive Hunting Bow, and circled around to the foes’ rear.

Her teammates and the enemies traded furious fire. Song Guiya climbed onto a rooftop, drew her bow, and loosed arrows into the cluster.

But these weren’t stationary targets like before. Moving ones proved tricky for Song Guiya’s still-clumsy controls, and sure enough, her first two shots went wide.

The enemies spotted the flank and ducked behind a wall, unleashing a hail of bullets at her rooftop. Song Guiya dropped prone in a flash, dodging the barrage.

One teammate yelled into voice chat, “Hey, lady, watch it! They haven’t even touched me yet, and you got me bombed!”

No sooner had he spoken than the teammate—down to a sliver of health—got finished off by an enemy grenade.

The team exploded in rage. “If you suck, just hide somewhere! Stop messing things up!”

Song Guiya ignored the rant, repositioned, and closed in on the enemy squad. She unleashed arrows point-blank while strafing, using walls and buildings for cover. She didn’t lose a single drop of blood—and wiped the entire team single-handedly.

“Bro, your skills are legit! You a streamer or something?”

“Add me as a friend—let’s climb ranks together!”

“Big bro, keep your girlfriend away from the phone. Please carry us!”

Xue Yin: ……

What girlfriend? Don’t spout nonsense!

Song Guiya glanced at Xue Yin. After getting her nod of approval, she opened voice chat. “First time playing this game. Sorry for accidentally grenading you earlier.”

The slapped-in-the-face teammate: ???

What the hell?!

Hearing things?!

A girl?!

Voice changer, right?

And her voice… it’s kinda nice!

To make sure Player Two wasn’t just having her boyfriend play while she chatted on the side, the teammate stubbornly refused to let Song Guiya mute herself.

Song Guiya didn’t refuse. She kept leading them toward the safe zone.

Along the way, they ran into three full squads, while their own team was short one player and had to fight four-on-three.

At first, the teammates had planned to camp until the end, but Song Guiya preferred to strike aggressively.

After scouting the enemies’ positions and the surrounding terrain, she quickly devised a plan and somehow took on all four of them by herself, wiping out the enemy squad. By the time they reached the final circle, she was even deploying military strategies, directing their two remaining teammates in a tactical ambush.

In the end, it was no surprise.

Winner winner, chicken dinner.

Forget the teammates—even the fully informed Xue Yin watched with her jaw on the floor.

You could use Art of War tactics like that?

Once they returned to the lobby, friend requests started pouring in, each one radiating obvious desperation.

Song Guiya handed the phone back to Xue Yin. Xue Yin took it without so much as glancing at the screen. Her eyes were locked on Song Guiya with pure adoration. “Teacher Song, you’re incredible! Can you carry me up ranks? I’ll do whatever you say!”

Outwardly, Xue Yin had that cool older-sister vibe, but inside, she was pure child at heart—and the type who sucked at games but loved playing them anyway.

She adored this game, loved collecting outfits and skins, but she had one big regret: over seventeen seasons, she’d been stuck hovering in Platinum, never once earning the Ace title.

She refused to hire boosters, though. What was the point if it wasn’t her own skill?

Sticking to her “play my own account myself” principle, Xue Yin had always relied on friends nearby to carry her.

Unfortunately, the ones around her either thought she was too noobish or were even worse than she was.

Now, seeing Song Guiya in action, it was like a goddess had descended. Xue Yin gazed at her with total reverence, completely forgetting all the earlier awkwardness.

Song Guiya took in Xue Yin’s innocent, pleading expression, and a sly glint of triumph flickered in the corners of her eyes.

“Sure.”