Chapter 46 – The Fairy Senior’s Contrasting Game Tag
1159 Words
After getting back to the dorm, Li Haoyang wrapped himself in a blanket and stayed completely silent.
Sorrow doesn’t transmit from one person to another. The 515 dorm isn’t big, but human greed had already shown its teeth.
Even though Li Haoyang was gloomy, Wang Dachi was thrilled.
He stuck out a smug grin, swayed his hips in front of Li Haoyang’s bed, and muttered to himself, “Another single girl gone, that’s one more addition to my harem.”
“Hahaha.”
“Feeling good, let’s sing.”
“Brothers, let’s hype it up!”
Wang Dachi’s joy was a stark contrast to Li Haoyang’s mood.
Luo Ye and Shen Qiao just stared, mouths agape.
Suddenly Luo Ye’s phone buzzed.
Fairy Senior: “Chicken?”
Seeing that, Luo Ye shot back, “Eat.”
It was the secret phrase he’d used with “Senior Qin” for gaming. As to why the Fairy Senior was sending it now… probably because they were all roommates and “Senior Qin” had passed the message along.
Su Baizhou, after a day’s work, invited Luo Ye to play.
Both were solid gamers—Luo Ye had multiple top‑finishes on the elimination ladder, and Su Baizhou was a female battle‑god, a one‑woman g*n‑king. Neither streamed nor played professionally, but in the “chicken” (PUBG) scene they were top‑tier casuals. Even pro‑level racers or tech‑streamers could hold their own; who would win was anyone’s guess.
Because they disliked random teammates, they almost always queued as a duo in a four‑man squad.
After the match‑making screen popped up, Luo Ye slipped on his headset.
Since his bond with the Fairy Senior had deepened, she now chatted on mic while playing.
Lately, though, “Senior Qin” had gone quiet—no messages at all. Was she mad? No wonder, after meeting the Fairy Senior, he’d stopped reaching out to Qin Yuwen, treating her more like a gateway than a friend. He resolved to find Qin Yuwen in person and thank her properly someday.
“Let’s go,” Su Baizhou said coolly.
“Alright.”
The game launched, and they jumped from the plane.
Both landed in the most crowded part of the map and dove straight into a chaotic kill‑fest.
“Kid Ye, you’ve been sneaking in games behind our backs?”
Wang Dachi, perched on Luo Ye’s bed, saw the phone screen and widened his eyes in surprise, “You’re still carrying a girl?”
Su Baizhou was logged in under Qin Yuwen’s account—her own account had been renamed “Qin Yuwen,” so she had to use the borrowed one.
Qin Yuwen’s PUBG and MOBA accounts shared the same ID: [I’m a bear, do whatever].
Wang Dachi instantly perked up, “Take me with you, I wanna carry a girl too.”
Because they were using Qin Yuwen’s account, Luo Ye assumed Su Baizhou’s in‑game skill was junk. Her stats looked bot‑like, probably not even better than an elementary student. With a handful of “rice” (bullets) on the screen, even a bot would outshoot her.
Given that, adding Wang Dachi as a “bot” would pile on pressure, so Luo Ye flat‑out declined his request.
But once inside the match, things looked different.
The Fairy Senior wasn’t just a pretty face; her gaming chops were on par with Senior Qin’s. Sharing a dorm, they often played together, so comparable skill made sense.
Then why did the account’s historical data look so terrible?
Distracted, Luo Ye stepped on a grenade that detonated at his feet.
When he shook off the daze, his avatar lay on the ground, waiting for rescue.
His mouth twitched.
Crap, he’d just embarrassed himself in front of a goddess.
It was his “first” PUBG session with the Fairy Senior; he’d only dabbled in a few MOBA games before.
Ironically, Luo Ye’s PUBG skill usually outshone his MOBA rank, yet here he flopped.
Soon enough Su Baizhou swooped in, took him out, and revived him.
Determined to prove himself, Luo Ye blurted, “Senior, I’m taking the C‑point this round.”
He surged forward like an executioner, revving his vehicle and tearing across the island map, killing anyone in his path.
Since Qin Yuwen’s account was only Platinum, for Luo Ye it felt like playing in a low‑tier lobby.
When the match ended, Wang Dachi finally got a word in, “Kid Ye, is this the senior you’ve been dreaming about?”
Luo Ye nodded, automatically answering, “Yep.”
The moment he said it, he panicked and muted his mic.
Damn, the senior heard that.
Up in the staff apartments, Su Baizhou caught the phrase “dreaming about” and raised an eyebrow.
She typed, “Still up for another?”
“Ready.”
Luo Ye would never turn down a game with the Fairy Senior.
Across the female dorm, Tang Enqi logged into the game, saw Luo Ye online, and her eyes flickered.
She knew Luo Ye was a strong player; back in high school they’d squad‑ed up a few times. She also knew he had a gaming buddy named “I’m a bear, do whatever,” though that person’s gender was a mystery.
Now that she clicked Luo Ye’s party invite, she realized the current teammate’s ID was [I’m a bear, do whatever]—obviously a girl’s nickname, and one that bragged about confidence in her own body.
She tapped the reservation message:
[Want to squad up next round?]
[The other player declined your request.]
Tang Enqi blinked.
A decline… this was the first time she’d ever seen Luo Ye say “no.”
Would she reject the girl he was currently duo‑queueing with?
She furrowed her brow.
Luo Ye might not like her, and she could accept that.
But she couldn’t stand the idea of Luo Ye liking someone else.
She could give up on him, but she wouldn’t let anyone else snatch him away—especially since she still had feelings for him. She’d wait, see who could actually win his heart.
Meanwhile, Gao Yuming kept pinging her.
Gao Yuming, a rich kid who strutted around with his family’s money, never appealed to Tang Enqi. He was constantly harassing her, so compared to him, Luo Ye’s modest background seemed a plus—though she wasn’t sure just how much better he was in every other way.
Inside the dorm, Liu Bing Xin was gone. After dinner with Gao Yuming, she’d gone strolling with an upper‑class senior named Shuai Kun, who’d tried to pursue her in junior year but failed, then switched his attention to Liu Bing Xin.
College life was beautiful, but the larger the forest, the more scum you’d encounter.
- Writer
