Chapter Twenty-Five

Upon hearing Huang Feifan’s request, Yu Xingyue was stunned. All he intended was to let them witness the wonders of this leg technique—he hadn’t thought they’d actually want to learn it. He glanced at Xiao Jian and Zhang Yi.

Zhang Yi, too, was swayed by Huang Feifan’s enthusiasm and wanted to learn the “Scattered Strike.” Yu Xingyue turned to look at Xiao Jian, remembering that the complete notebook on the Scattered Strike was in Xiao Jian’s possession. Yet, as the creator of the technique, Yu Xingyue knew Xiao Jian couldn’t make the decision for him.

With a sigh, Yu Xingyue said, “I’m just a regular medic on your team. Why would you want to learn the leg technique from me?”

Huang Feifan replied, “You’re not ordinary at all. In my eyes, you’re much more impressive than anyone else.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Zhang Yi chimed in, nodding.

Faced with their eager anticipation, Yu Xingyue was left speechless. Was it really so difficult to live a peaceful life? Still, he’d chosen to meet with them, so he had no one to blame but himself. After some thought, he realized both of them possessed a persistent spirit and were full of fighting spirit, even in games. Perhaps teaching them would help share some of his burdens.

With this in mind, Yu Xingyue said to Huang Feifan, “If you want to learn, you can. But you must agree to my conditions.”

“Senior, say the word,” Huang Feifan replied.

“Before you begin, you must be aware of your physical condition. If anything happens, I won’t be responsible. You need patience and enough stamina to study diligently. If you can do that, I’ll teach you,” Yu Xingyue said, taking a sip of water.

“Alright, Senior.”

Yu Xingyue continued, “The complete leg technique is with Xiao Jian. And stop calling me ‘Senior’—I don’t like being shown so much respect.”

“Then can I still call you ‘Star’ like before?” Huang Feifan asked.

Yu Xingyue gave a wry smile. Huang Feifan simply couldn’t let go of that nickname. “Call me whatever you want—just don’t keep calling me ‘Senior.’”

“Thank you.” Huang Feifan bowed to Yu Xingyue again, and Zhang Yi followed suit. Were they finally going to learn Yu Xingyue’s leg technique? Since the complete notebook was with Xiao Jian, they would study under him, not Yu Xingyue directly. Yu Xingyue would be responsible for observing and correcting their form.

From then on, Xiao Jian guided them through the leg technique, while Yu Xingyue watched from the sidelines. The two knew this would be tough, but they were especially resilient—no matter the exhaustion, they persisted. It was their choice, and they worked hard not to disappoint Yu Xingyue’s expectations.

Lin Zimo, observing Huang Feifan and Zhang Yi being coached by Xiao Jian, was indignant. Why shouldn’t girls be allowed to learn, too? So she secretly watched and tried to pick up the technique herself. Yu Xingyue had no idea that there was an invisible novice observing in the shadows.

Days passed, and soon it was the National Day holiday. The two continued practicing the Scattered Strike. Compared to before, they had made great progress and had already learned the second move, “Scattering Sand.” It had taken them two weeks to master the first move, so reaching the second was no small feat.

Yu Xingyue was gratified. He hadn’t misjudged them after all—these two did have promise.

During the National Day break, Xiao Jian, Huang Feifan, and Zhang Yi didn’t rest, but kept practicing. The others began their own holidays: Wang Tianqi traveled to Switzerland, Chen Siyu visited Zhangjiajie, and Yu Li played games with Yu Xingyue. As for Lin Zimo, she and her parents, along with Lin Xinxin, returned to their home in Japan. Lin Zimo hadn’t been back in a long time, and though she could only stay for a week, she was reluctant to leave.

Once their legwork had reached a decent level, the five of them began training together in preparation for future tournaments. Their coordination was exceptional: Yu Li played the top lane, Yu Xingyue was mid, Zhang Yi supported, assisting the marksman Huang Feifan in the bottom lane, and Xiao Jian roamed as the jungler.

Apart from Yu Xingyue’s group, everyone else had a relatively typical National Day holiday.

Fortunately, the “Glad to Have Met You” team slowly grew in the gaming community. Everyone wanted to join: first, because Yu Li was a veteran player of five years and their ranked scores never dropped; second, because the team was famous for its harmony. The five of them had never quarreled, not even over small things—arguing over trifles, after all, was childish.

After official confirmation, the “Glad to Have Met You” team qualified for the tournament, though the event was scheduled for a year later—by then, they would all be in their second year of middle school, and Yu Li would just be starting her own journey in junior high. Who could say how much would change by then?

When the National Day holiday ended, Yu Xingyue caught up on the lessons he’d missed. He’d spent so much time gaming, he’d lost interest in studying, but he forced himself to get back into it—and soon enough, fell into the rhythm.

“It’s been a while, Hugo,” came the voice of Lin Zimo. She had changed after returning from Japan, and to Yu Xingyue, she seemed like a different person—gone was her childish aura, replaced by an air of maturity.

And with her Japanese school uniform, Yu Xingyue felt as if a heroine had stepped out of an anime and into real life.

“L...long time no see,” Yu Xingyue murmured, staring at Lin Zimo in a daze. She was nothing like the Lin Zimo he remembered.

Blushing, Lin Zimo asked, “What’s wrong? Is there something strange on my face?”

“You’ve changed so much in just a week. What happened to you?” Yu Xingyue demanded. He much preferred the old Lin Zimo, the tomboyish one.

In short, Lin Zimo had lost all her tomboyish flair—now she was every bit a girlish young woman. Yu Xingyue thought this version of her had no soul; it wasn’t the Lin Zimo he knew.

Hearing his remark, she simply said, “Really? Am I pretty today?”

The words rang familiar. Yu Xingyue replied, “You are, much prettier than before—with that heavy makeup gone, it’s easier on the eyes.”

By her old temperament, Lin Zimo’s first reaction would have been to twist his ear and shout in it, but this time, she just gave his chest a gentle punch, which made Yu Xingyue even more uncomfortable.

In truth, all this was the work of her younger sister, Lin Xinxin. Wanting to attract the attention of the boy she liked, Lin Zimo had turned to Lin Xinxin for advice. Lin Xinxin, a genius in such matters, was thrilled to hear her sister had a crush—she guessed it was Yu Xingyue, but Lin Zimo denied it, claiming she only wanted to learn makeup.

Makeup was Lin Xinxin’s forte—any look was easily achieved in her hands. Lin Zimo even gave her a nickname: the “All-Purpose Makeup Artist.”

Following her sister’s request, Lin Xinxin had poured all her effort into giving Lin Zimo this stunning look—a transformation lethal to any homebody, though Yu Xingyue, ever the straight man, was an exception.

Lin Zimo grinned and said, “Let’s not talk about the past. Thank you for the compliment.”

“I don’t get any of this,” Yu Xingyue muttered, unable to understand Lin Zimo at all. But then, what was the use of trying to fathom a woman’s heart?