Chapter Eight: Beauty in Distance

When Yuan Zhong returned home, he was met with his mother's shopping list, which made his head ache. Even if he managed to buy everything, how would he carry it all? After pondering for a while, he decided to just order online. Last year, his package arrived late, but this time he started early enough that nothing should be delayed on the road. Yuan Zhong placed his orders without asking for permission, but for the most important items, he still dutifully went to the supermarket himself, fearing his mother’s anxiety might flare up.

This year, they were spending New Year’s at his grandparents’ house. Yuan Zhong loved it there and arrived early by himself. Although the journey was tiring, the moment he stepped into the mountains, he felt all the hardship was worthwhile. The persimmon tree halfway up the hill was draped with naturally dried persimmons, so much tastier than anything sold in stores, and Yuan Zhong indulged his cravings right on the way.

At noon, his grandmother cooked wild vegetable cakes, a stir-fry of assorted mushrooms, and homemade spicy beef offal. Yuan Zhong ate until he was stuffed, then lounged happily in the courtyard under the sun, roasting sweet potatoes for afternoon tea.

He helped his grandmother dig bamboo shoots, dry them, and hang sweet potato slices, wearing a straw raincoat and looking quite the part. With nothing much else to do, he climbed two small hills nearby—an adventure of sorts.

When the novelty faded, Yuan Zhong finally logged into the game and found "Not Stingy" online, which surprised him.

Qi Leyu noticed "Former Heiress" had logged in and hurried to greet her.

Former Heiress: The signal in the mountains is pretty bad.

So she hadn’t thought of logging in these past days.

Not Stingy: No worries, I just wanted to check if you made it home and if your journey was smooth.

Former Heiress: It was. The roads are much better than before.

Not Stingy: That’s good. If you can’t play these days, we could just chat if you’re not busy.

Former Heiress: Don’t you have work?

Not Stingy: I do, but it’s not that busy. Sometimes it’s downright boring.

Dealing with a bunch of strangers was tedious and not his style, but he had to go along with the publicity—no choice.

Yuan Zhong thought for a moment and typed: Tough work.

Not Stingy changed the subject: What do you do at home? Isn’t it boring without the internet?

Former Heiress: There’s plenty to do at home. It’s not exactly without internet, just not smooth enough for gaming or videos.

Not Stingy seemed genuinely bored and pressed further: Plenty? Like what?

Yuan Zhong listed a few chores he’d just helped his grandmother with.

Not Stingy: Sounds exhausting.

Former Heiress: Not really.

It was rare for her to do such things, and she found it quite fun.

Qi Leyu thought to himself, growing up in the mountains, she must be used to these tasks.

With his mentor absent, Qi Leyu couldn’t help but play a few games solo, suffering repeated defeats, so he quit and decided to wait for his mentor’s return.

Alone, he needed something to pass the time. Qi Leyu wasn’t fond of crowds, so, after some wandering, he logged into the game again.

He frowned, considering: Maybe I can find that guy, even though he goes by “Unreliable.”

Unreliable was a game streamer and Qi Leyu’s fan. When he’d first chased after Qi Leyu for a signature, he’d exaggerated, claiming he finished the entire book in one day and night. Qi Leyu didn’t believe him—the book had over twenty million words, impossible to read so quickly unless skimmed.

Of course, Qi Leyu didn’t bother exposing him and signed coolly.

After getting the autograph, Unreliable lingered, hoping to chat, chattering incessantly.

Qi Leyu mused: You’re definitely suited for streaming.

With someone like him around, there was never a dull moment. Qi Leyu watched as this self-appointed friend chatted with fans, discussing everything from book characters to the meaning of life, with wild ideas.

Fan: I really like the second male lead.

Unreliable: Good taste. He’s the hidden gem of the author, actually the real favorite.

Fan: Really?

Unreliable: Really. He’s just like his own father.

Fan: What do you mean, just like?

Qi Leyu shot Unreliable a glare, warning him not to make things up.

Unreliable: Uh, cool, but fiery inside.

Qi Leyu said nothing, tacitly agreeing.

Later, when they were more familiar, Unreliable admitted he meant “reserved but passionate.”

Thus, Qi Leyu officially acknowledged him as a fan.

Someone at the event recognized Unreliable, bringing in a wave of fans, and the event was extended by more than an hour.

Unreliable: Don’t you owe me a thank you?

Qi Leyu frowned: Thank you for what? Are you paying me overtime?

Unreliable was flustered: Then pretend I wasn’t here.

At least they exchanged contacts. Later, Unreliable found out Qi Leyu also played games and repeatedly invited him to team up. Unable to resist his enthusiasm, Qi Leyu finally agreed.

After their matches, Unreliable delicately commented: Talent has its limits.

Thereafter, he stopped inviting Qi Leyu, only popping into his streaming channel now and then to urge him to update his writing. If he was slow, Unreliable’s fans would join in, pressing him together.

Thinking back to those days of writer’s block, Qi Leyu frowned, but that was how their friendship grew.

Qi Leyu opened WeChat and sent a message: Unreliable, are you there? Got time for a game?

Unreliable: I’m here, what’s up?

He automatically ignored the “game” part, not keen on teaming up for fear of dragging down his stats.

Qi Leyu was straightforward: Let’s play a match.

Unreliable deflected: Bored? If you’re bored, go write.

Qi Leyu: It’s the New Year, can’t I rest for once?! With an angry emoji.

Unreliable: Sure, sure. I’ll keep you company and chat.

He persisted in changing the topic.

Qi Leyu rolled his eyes inwardly: What’s there to chat about with you? So he pressed: Are you playing or not?

Unreliable replied after three seconds: Fine, I’ll use my alternate account...

Very reluctantly.

They logged into the game, sent invitations, and Unreliable’s acceptance came several seconds late.

Qi Leyu activated voice chat: It’s the New Year, at least be festive.

Unreliable: You know it’s the New Year? Climbing ranks is hard work, you know. It’s tough.

Qi Leyu: You don’t trust your own skills?

Unreliable was speechless.

They started, chose characters, and fifteen minutes later, the screen flashed “Defeat.”

Qi Leyu: Let’s play again.

Unreliable gritted his teeth: Sure, those two teammates were definitely elementary school kids.

Thirteen minutes later, another defeat.

Qi Leyu: Are you sure you’re up to this?

Unreliable snapped: What do you mean, “up to this”? Do you know how hard you are to carry?

Qi Leyu: How hard can it be? My mentor got me to the top rank.

Unreliable: My sympathies to your mentor.

Qi Leyu: You’re just not as good as she is.

Unreliable: Then why come to me? Go find your mentor.

Qi Leyu: If I could play with her, I wouldn’t bother with you.

Unreliable: Oh, so you got rejected.

Qi Leyu: Shut up! My mentor went home for the holidays, bad signal, can’t play.

Unreliable grew curious: Your top rank is really thanks to your mentor? Impressive.

Qi Leyu: Yes, she’s truly amazing.

Unreliable: Next time, let’s team up with all three so I can meet her?

Qi Leyu nearly agreed, but stopped himself, realizing if they met, his true gender would be revealed. So he awkwardly changed the subject.

Unreliable didn’t really believe such an expert existed and didn’t press further. They chatted a bit longer, but both found each other’s conversation skills lacking and logged off to seek peace elsewhere.

After this, Qi Leyu missed "Former Heiress" even more. A good mentor was rare—no, too rare!

After the New Year, to avoid the peak crowds, Yuan Zhong chose to return later, staying in the mountains for nearly a month.

During that time, every time she logged in, she received gifts from "Not Stingy." Yuan Zhong repeatedly told him not to send any more, but he paid no attention; every conversation ended with him asking when she’d return, making Yuan Zhong feel awkward, as if she was holding him up somehow.

All this just for gaming? Yuan Zhong didn’t understand.

Qi Leyu saw it differently—afraid his mentor would forget him, he tried everything to stay visible. The allure of glory in the game was simply irresistible.

Back home, Yuan Zhong took some time to recover. The mountain life was freeing for the spirit, but less comfortable physically than the city.

She thought of Lin Hui, who had spent New Year’s alone at school. Though they’d kept in touch, now that she was back, she let her know right away.

Lin Hui replied a bit late: Just finished a match, I’m good.

Yuan Zhong: Want to have a meal together? My treat. (Smiling emoji)

Lin Hui: Sure, but let me treat you—earned some money over the holiday.

Yuan Zhong considered and replied: Why not come to my place, homemade food.

Lin Hui sent a shy emoji: Don’t want to bother your parents.

Yuan Zhong: No worries, my little apartment is all set up. Mom even hand-delivered ingredients—perfect!

Lin Hui gave a thumbs-up and agreed, then invited: Want to play a match together? Let me see your skills.

Yuan Zhong was itching to play too and logged in. Just as she entered, a message from "Not Stingy" popped up—dated yesterday—she dismissed it and accepted Lin Hui’s invitation.

Teaming up, Yuan Zhong opened voice chat, chatting as they played, enjoying themselves.

Qi Leyu wasn’t so pleased. He noticed "Former Heiress" online, expecting her to reply so they could chat or play, but she went straight into a team game without a word.

What was going on? Was his worst fear coming true—his mentor forgetting him? Qi Leyu stared at the screen anxiously.

After her game ended, he quickly sent an invite, but she went straight into another team match, ignoring him. Qi Leyu lost his composure, typing "Mentor, mentor" repeatedly in the chat box, quietly waiting for the next round.

Next round, his invite was ignored again. He watched helplessly as "Former Heiress" started a new game.

It seemed he really was abandoned... He’d worried about this, but now it happened, he couldn’t believe it.

"Distance creates beauty," people say, but this beauty is hazy and ephemeral, close to vanishing.

After agonizing a while, Qi Leyu tried to watch her game, but she had restricted access.

Ah! Setting his phone aside in frustration, Qi Leyu lamented—the dream of glory was slipping away.