Chapter 26

Take twenty-six bites.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: (panic face)
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: That’s absolutely impossible.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: We literally grew up bare-ass together—him having desire for dogs is more believable than him having desire for me.
It was a bit exaggerated, but it wasn’t wrong: they really had witnessed each other at the most unbearable, most hated ages.
He Mingye having desire for her?
How beastly would that be?
Even if someone was starving, it wasn’t to the point of going after the person right beside them.
No, wait.
It seemed…
She was the one who made a move on He Mingye first.
And the feeling suddenly became… strangely subtle.
Ying Tao’s heart tightened. Even the hand holding her iPad tensed up for no reason.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: And…
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: He has someone he likes.
[BK]: ?
Ying Tao paused, not quite sure how to explain.
He Mingye having someone he liked wasn’t exactly a secret.
Even Zhou Lubai had replied to someone in Moments:
“Sure, the young master is still a virgin, but that doesn’t mean he’s still single. I’d say it won’t be long before he officially announces a relationship.”
When others pressed, Zhou Lubai only looked mysterious and refused to reveal any details.
They didn’t even know who the “girlfriend” was.
Someone even joked in the comments:
“No way. Could it be some blond, blue-eyed mixed-blood little sister? Young master’s insane—wherever he goes he ruins lives. A walking harvester, for real.”
“Walking harvester” was a nickname their school had given him back then.
Because wherever he went, people swarmed him—like some decadent second-generation pretty boy straight out of the 1980s.
And the worst part was, that face of his really was shamelessly charming.
If Zhou Chaoli was the kind of figure from a girl’s youth—like a clean breeze, bright moonlight—then He Mingye was absolutely a full-blooded playboy prince.
The former only created distance: too high to reach, too far to touch.
The latter was a poisonous drug—seductive, addictive.
If she had to pick a word, it would be… flirtatious.
He looked too improper.
Like anyone could profane him.
Like he could be toyed with.
And that made it far too easy to ignite people’s urge to conquer.
Conquering a wild horse was always more thrilling than taming a racehorse that had already been trained.
Ying Tao rubbed the tip of her nose, suddenly suspicious.
That day, after she drank, when she ended up making a move on He Mingye…
Was this part of the reason?
Maybe he’d tempted her, and she’d committed the crime without even meaning to.
But…
The feel really had been good.
Just looking at him, you’d never guess how sensual he was once he took his clothes off.
She licked her dry lip unconsciously. Heat crept up her face.
It was like a nameless fire flared inside her, burning into something… restless, unbearably hot.
[BK]: How do you know
[BK]: the one he likes isn’t you?
Ah…
This topic kept circling, only to land right back at the start.
Likes her?
He Mingye likes her?
Just thinking it sounded ridiculous.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Absolutely impossible.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Have you ever seen someone who likes a person and still fights with her every day? What is he, an elementary school kid?
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: He just enjoys the thrill of crushing me.
…
He Mingye narrowed his eyes slightly and let out a self-mocking scoff.
Stubborn as hell—salt and oil wouldn’t go in. No matter what he said, she didn’t believe it.
Maybe because he didn’t reply for a while, Ying Tao thought he was angry.
She hesitated for a long time, then finally poked him.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: God gamer.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: After the beta wipe, will you still play?
[BK]: Why?
Being asked so directly made her feel a little embarrassed.
Back then she played games purely to kill time. Other than match-three and tile-matching “brain games,” she wouldn’t touch anything else.
Most importantly, she was bad at them.
Once, Miao-miao dragged her into two rounds of a low-rank MOBA. Everyone was equally trash, but some people had a heavy “dad vibe” and loved preaching.
Their mouths never stopped running—like they existed just to curse.
Would she tolerate it?
She snapped back hard. The next thing she knew, her account got reported; the system ruled she had violated regulations and banned her.
She was so depressed she nearly couldn’t eat for a week. After that, she kept her distance from that kind of game and didn’t bother touching it again.
So when Shen Minglin gave her a Dream Jianghu beta account and asked her to test and evaluate, she’d found it baffling.
She’d asked, sincerely: “What makes you believe my skills are good enough to evaluate a game?”
Shen Minglin didn’t care. “Being bad has its benefits. Maybe from your angle, you’ll notice things other people don’t.”
“…”
He said it calmly, but she could taste the sarcasm.
He never expected her to provide anything useful.
And sure enough, she didn’t disappoint. She couldn’t give any useful suggestions at all.
Worse—she got more and more addicted.
It was strange. She was long past the age of being obsessed with online games. By all logic she shouldn’t have “gaming addiction.”
But lately, the frequency she logged in really was higher than all the times she’d played in the past twenty-plus years combined.
Aside from the forum incident that had put her in a bad mood for a couple days, she actually enjoyed logging in to clear tasks.
In this game she was a lone wolf. Other than Miao-miao, she barely had any friends.
But now Miao-miao had started an internship, leaving only her as the one who logged in obsessively.
Recently she’d heard that once Dream Jianghu officially launched, the beta server would wipe.
For some reason, she felt reluctant to let it go.
Every day she logged in and opened her friend list, even though the list was pitifully short.
She still persisted. Every day she came on to try her luck—just to see whether he would log in, whether he would still come.
Maybe games were just too good at getting people hooked.
Across the screen, she didn’t know who he was—his name, his face, his age. She knew none of it.
Yet her affection for him came out of nowhere, and had even surpassed reality.
She fell silent.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: I think if it wipes, your account resets too. That’s a shame. And…
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: After the official launch, we probably won’t be able to contact each other anymore, right?
If the accounts reset, it meant everything returned to the beginning.
[BK]: Mm.
Ying Tao’s mood sank.
She really would miss him, and she didn’t want to just forget each other in the jianghu.
She’d heard people say an MMO “breakup” felt like a real breakup.
This hollow, wistful feeling—she really did have a bit of that.
Ying Tao thought for a long time, then tentatively brought it up.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Then…
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Want to add WeChat?
She sent the message carefully. The wait for a reply became unbearably long.
She couldn’t tell if something suddenly came up on his end, or if he felt her request was too much—too boundary-less.
She knew some people didn’t like adding WeChat. A game was a game; socializing didn’t need to extend into real life.
They were, at most, net friends who had never met.
Her request might make him uncomfortable.
Just as she was debating whether to explain, he finally replied.
[BK]: You want to add me?
[BK]: Why?
“…”
Add means add—did she really need a reason?
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: You’re good at the game.
[BK]: So?
This guy…
Did he have to dig to the bottom of everything?
She licked her lips nervously and chose her words.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: It’ll be convenient to pull you into games later.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: And…
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: I kind of like you.
After she sent it, he didn’t respond for a long time.
Only then did she realize what she said could be misunderstood.
She quickly explained.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: Don’t misunderstand. Not like that.
[One Slash and Your Peach Blossoms Bloom All Over the Sky]: I just… don’t really have anyone to play with.
[BK]: Heh.
“…”
What did “heh” mean?
Ying Tao frowned, unable to figure out his intention, when he suddenly tossed over a WeChat ID.
She copied it, searched it, and sent a friend request—only for him not to accept.
The next day was the first day of the Lunar New Year.
Every year she had to get up early and go visit relatives. This year was no different.
She got up so early she could barely stand, covering her mouth as she yawned.
Ying Zhaohui shot her a look; she reined it in a bit, but she was truly exhausted.
She’d been up all night, insomnia plus gaming too hard. It wasn’t until five in the morning that she managed to close her eyes for a moment.
Now she kept nodding off.
Zhou Chaoli brought her a cup of black tea. “Didn’t rest well?”
Ying Tao nodded, took the cup, but didn’t drink.
Zhou Chaoli looked at her. “Peach, did you come back with Mingye last night?”
She looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”
Zhou Chaoli gave a bitter smile.
When the Ying family called, he was already nearby. From far away he’d seen the two of them in the deep winter night, leaning close to keep warm.
Beside He Mingye, she wasn’t like the quiet, obedient version she showed to others.
She smiled freely—able to be herself, to show her real emotions, without hiding.
“Sorry,” Zhou Chaoli said gently. “Last night I didn’t take good care of you. I let you get scared.”
Ying Tao tugged at the corner of her mouth, a little awkward. “That’s not your fault. There were just too many people. And I’m fine, aren’t I?”
“Mm. As long as you’re fine.”
The smile in Zhou Chaoli’s eyes was warm, and the way he looked at her was earnest.
Ying Tao lowered her gaze, holding the mug, and took a quiet sip.
After a long while, to ease the awkwardness, she casually found a topic.
She smiled. “By the way, little uncle, why haven’t I ever seen you bring your girlfriend home for the New Year? Grandma Zhou said your good news is coming soon—are you planning to get married this year?”
Her tone was light, with no gloom at all. She probably truly had let it go.
Zhou Chaoli frowned slightly. “Peach, actually…”
“Yo—”
A teasing voice suddenly came from behind them.
“You two—so affectionate. Under a melon patch and a plum tree, hiding here to flirt in secret?”
Ying Tao came back to herself and turned, only to see Zhou Lubai walking in from outside, with a familiar figure beside him.
That man stood there coldly with his hands in his pockets, expressionless—looking downright intimidating.
Ying Tao’s courage shrank. She avoided his gaze instinctively.
But that reaction, in a watchful person’s eyes, only looked like guilt.
Zhou Lubai was loud and careless. Looking at the two who were clearly mid-conversation, he deliberately hooked his elbow and bumped He Mingye’s arm.
“See? I told you Peach would be hiding here.”
“Our old lady’s been going all-out lately, trying every trick to matchmake Peach and my little uncle.”
“Might as well be honest—maybe Peach really will marry into our family this year.”
He Mingye lifted his eyes coldly and glanced at him.
Then his gaze fell on the figure in the corner trying her hardest to play dead.
His eyes narrowed. His molars ground slowly. A vein jumped faintly at his temple.
Good.
In the game, she could chat with some net friend about romance and moonlight like there was nothing she couldn’t say.
And here, she was already being tender and intimate with someone else, sweet and in sync.
Two sides, no delay.
She really could have it both ways.