Chapter 22

◎Are You Trying to Be a Simp?◎

Xu Yan heard strange noises coming from Chen Yi’s end and messaged her on WeChat.

XYZ: What’s up?

Chen Yi: Master~~, your profile pic—

XYZ: It’s really nice. I just changed it to that.

XYZ: Do you mind?

Chen Yi: Hahaha, no way at all! It’s my honor, hehe!

XYZ: Wanna keep gaming?

Chen Yi hurriedly typed back: Yes, yes, yes!

XYZ: In a good mood today?

“Of course I am,” Chen Yi said into the in-game voice chat. “Because we added each other as friends!”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Chen Yi quickly added, “Also because I did a good deed today! Oh, and get this—my boss actually complimented me! Holy crap, it’s a miracle!”

In the game, Fade replied: A good deed?

Chen Yi: “Yeah. There was this jerk who was picking on our team lead, so I gave him a little trouble.”

Xu Yan frowned.

Liu Lingfeng?

Harboring a few ulterior motives, Chen Yi took the initiative to ask, “Master, is your birthday 913?”

Fade: No.

Fade: Why’d you suddenly guess that?

Chen Yi’s grip tightened on her mouse. “Oh, oh, I just noticed your WeChat ID and thought it might be your birthday.”

Fade: It’s not.

“So what day is it?” Chen Yi tried to keep her tone as casual as possible.

Fade: An important day.

That spark of joy she’d felt moments ago scattered like mist in the wind.

An important day? What kind of important day? Her ex’s birthday? Chen Yi’s mind raced with possibilities, but she didn’t dare voice any of them. What right did she have to ask? Who was she to her?

Chen Yi quietly patted her own cheeks.

It’s fine, Chen Yi. Someday, your birthday will be the important day on Fade’s lips. WeChat IDs can be changed once a year anyway—if it’s her ex’s, she could just ask Fade to update it after this year passes.

Chen Yi had already imagined all the sweet scenarios of dating Fade. In reality, though, she hadn’t even figured out the core question: Did Fade even like girls?

After finishing the game and watching Fade log off, Chen Yi bolted straight to the living room without a word.

Su Dai was watching TV—some cheesy idol drama. She could curse at it one moment and burst out laughing the next, or roll her eyes in disbelief.

Chen Yi: “I need to ask you something.”

Su Dai was munching on sunflower seeds, spitting out the shells with a “pthoo.” Her eyes stayed glued to the screen as she asked without turning her head, “What?”

Chen Yi blurted it all out in one breath: “I just sent her a photo, she said it was nice and immediately made it her profile pic. Is that normal?”

Su Dai: “Totally normal. The photos you usually take are cute—I set them as my profile pic all the time.”

Tears welled up in Chen Yi’s eyes. “I get it now.”

“You straight girls are so mean.”

Su Dai’s sunflower seeds suddenly lost their appeal. “Hold up—what do you mean ‘us straight girls’? Explain!”

“Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe she’s flirting with you?”

Chen Yi: “You watch too many dramas.”

Su Dai was speechless. “Fine, you won’t believe the good possibilities, and you don’t want the bad ones either. Chen Yi, what are you even trying to do?”

“Here’s an idea: just ask her outright. Save yourself from all this overthinking.”

Chen Yi: “Are you crazy?”

“If I ask if she likes girls, won’t that make it super obvious that I like her?!”

Su Dai stroked her chin thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point.”

“But does not asking really keep it hidden?” Su Dai lounged on the sofa, hugging a pillow and tilting her head up at Chen Yi.

Whenever Chen Yi mentioned that person, her smile and expression were always genuine—the tone of her voice changed too.

“She’s an adult,” Su Dai said. “If you really like her that much, I mean—if you like her for real—even if she’s straight, do you think she couldn’t tell? It’s not like she has no other friends. Doesn’t she know how normal friends act?”

Su Dai left the rest unsaid.

If the other person hasn’t made a move, maybe it’s not ignorance—maybe it’s just playing dumb.

Chen Yi: “You’re right.”

In that moment, amid Su Dai’s words, enlightenment struck her.

“Master, I’ve seen the light.”

Su Dai instinctively replied, “The student has potential.”

Only after Chen Yi had turned and headed back to her bedroom did she realize her slip.

“Wait—no! Chen Yi! What the hell did you ‘see the light’ about?!”

Chen Yi paused, leaning against the wall with casual ease. “Liking her is my business. And originally, this feeling wasn’t born to win her affection in return. It’s just that her presence in my life makes me happy, makes me feel fulfilled—that’s all. Somewhere along the way, other emotions crept in.”

The desire to possess, to claim her, pointless fantasies of Fade treating her even better than now.

That wasn’t right.

She knew exactly what her mind and body felt when those emotions arose. It was the same as facing a tough challenge in a game and wanting to conquer it, or spotting gear you had to have.

Fade wasn’t a challenge. She wasn’t an item.

“I just need to cherish this feeling properly.”

As for good outcomes or bad ones—could she even control that?

It was like a dating sim. She could only follow her heart and make choices in the moment; what ending she unlocked was decided by the developers from the start.

Chen Yi loved games, but right then, she realized nothing in the world was more thrilling than life itself.

Because you’d never know how a single choice today might ripple into months, years, even decades later. In the end, some sharp arrow would pierce the river of time and strike her heart. The most captivating part? This game had no walkthrough. Even if millions had played before, every person faced infinite unknowns every single day.

Maybe she didn’t need to obsess over the ending.

Chen Yi thought that love itself should just be the journey.

Su Dai listened, utterly amazed, and after a long pause, she said, “You’re totally gearing up to be a simp, aren’t you?”

Chen Yi laughed.

“If I get to be a little puppy lost in love, what’s so bad about that?”

“Puppies are adorable.”

Su Dai: “You’re seriously beyond help.”

“What if she turns you down? What if you crash and burn?”

“Then I’ll accept it,” Chen Yi said without hesitation. “Getting rejected is totally normal, isn’t it?”

“Going to bed. Tomorrow’s Friday—work. Finish your game and rest soon. Clean up the guest room yourself.” Chen Yi didn’t hold back.

Su Dai agreed and shooed her off to sleep.

The TV droned on with the leads caught in their whirlwind romance, but Su Dai couldn’t focus anymore. In that instant, she confronted a truth she’d long envied about Chen Yi: Kids raised in love really did have the strength to face anything.

The next morning, Su Dai was jolted awake by Chen Yi’s screams.

“Aaaah, I’m gonna be late! I’m gonna be late!!!”

Chen Yi raced frantically around the apartment, grabbing her bag one moment and chugging water the next.

Su Dai yawned in the guest room doorway, silently retracting her words from last night.

Fine.

So apparently, not everything could be faced head-on.

Work, at least, was off the table.