Chapter 43 – Summer Season (Part 1)
Xu Sunian bent down slightly to fasten the watch, the cool gray metal just covering the scrape.
Only after it was on did Chen Bai realize what his neighbor had done.
He glanced at the watch, which fit snugly, then looked up at his now-standing neighbor.
“It suits you,” Xu Sunian said.
Chen Bai glanced down and replied, “Does it?”
And so, the watch stayed on, and the curious glances around them disappeared.
Thanks to Little Xu’s extensive list, their shopping cart was full, and the bags ended up in Old Xu’s hands.
Back at the apartment, Xu Sunian carried the grocery bags and supported Chen Bai, whose legs were jelly from all the walking, up to their place.
With no strength left to go back out, Chen Bai headed upstairs, where his room, pajamas, and toiletries were waiting. He collapsed and immediately fell asleep.
—
After a restful night, Chen Bai woke at six the next morning with a head full of messy hair.
Half-asleep, he stumbled through his morning routine, grabbing his keys and phone before heading out, only to be stopped by his equally early-rising neighbor.
His neighbor placed a cap and mask over him, ensuring he was sufficiently covered before letting him leave.
With his head and face protected, he waved and finally headed out.
It was another sunny day. By six, the morning light was already flooding the city, with the purple and red hues reflecting off the hotel’s glass façade, giving it a regal glow.
The temperature was already rising, but the hotel’s cool interior offered instant relief.
When he arrived at the makeup room, his manager and assistant were already there, but the makeup artist and the rest of the team were not.
He removed his cap, revealing his tousled hair, and sat down, half-open eyes scanning the room, noticing the makeup artist was still missing.
The manager said to him, “The makeup and styling teams went to a quick meeting. They’ll be back in about ten minutes.”
Chen Bai nodded and accepted the breakfast his assistant handed him, thanking her.
He took a sip of the soy milk, and instantly relaxed, sinking into his chair, eyes half-closed.
As he enjoyed his soy milk, the manager seemed to notice something, sitting up slightly and looking over at him.
“Hmm?”
Noticing his manager’s gaze, Chen Bai looked down and saw the soy milk in his hand first. Then he noticed the watch still on his wrist.
It was his neighbor’s watch. Last night, his mind was focused solely on sleep, so he had forgotten to take it off, and this morning, he hadn’t even brought his brain along—he had completely forgotten it was there.
He had unwittingly walked off with his neighbor’s watch.
Master Thief Chen rubbed his face and said, “It’s my friend’s watch. I forgot to take it off.”
As he removed the watch, he asked, “Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing,” the manager replied. “It just looks like an expensive watch.”
Chen Bai looked up. “What do you mean?”
“Your salary for three films would cover the down payment,” the manager replied.
Chen Bai “…”
Zhou Jing entered the makeup room just in time to see Chen Bai carefully wrapping something and placing it into his manager’s bag with a serious expression, as if he were making an offering.
He asked what was going on.
Chen Bai turned and replied, “Safeguarding a family heirloom of sorts.”
Zhou Jing raised an eyebrow.
The manager, now with the bag slung over her shoulder, nodded, saying, “I’ll keep it safe.”
Unsure what they were talking about, Zhou Jing sat down nearby.
Soon after, the makeup artists and assistants who had been in a short meeting returned to the room and started setting things up.
Chen Bai, now silent, let the makeup artists do their work while the manager looked at his wrist.
The wound was mostly on the inner side, so it wasn’t very noticeable at first. But once seen, it was hard not to look again. The cut was long, extending to the protruding wrist bone. Without the watchband, it was visible with even the slightest movement.
After a few more glances, the manager said, “I’ll get you a wristband in the next few days.”
Chen Bai glanced at her, unsure but nodded anyway.
The weather changed quickly. By afternoon, the bright sky had turned cloudy, and a warm wind began to blow, hinting at an impending rainstorm. The crew quickly rescheduled, moving the outdoor scenes indoors.
Chen Bai was delighted to get some in-character gaming time on the clock.
This meant filming scenes of his character playing video games.
Xu Yifan, his character, spent a lot of time in internet cafes early on, avoiding studies and gaming whenever he was stressed. Later, he became a paid game booster, which meant there were plenty of gaming scenes.
To make it more authentic, the props team had even bought several gaming accounts. According to one of the staff, Xu Yifan’s account was the priciest, given his rich and skilled character profile. They’d spent quite a bit haggling over a high-rank, well-paid account.
The props team—always ready with both physical and virtual props.
Instead of building an entire internet café set, the crew had negotiated a temporary space at a nearby café.
The director didn’t have strict requirements for the actors’ gaming skills. As long as they could move their characters around and shoot, the rest could be handled in post-production.
For these scenes, Chen Bai would play with a group of friends, A, B, C, and D, who also had gaming scenes. One actor admitted he had never played before, so the director sent him to do a beginner’s tutorial.
As the lighting and sets were prepared, Chen Bai found himself with nothing to do. He checked the account and password sent by the staff and logged in.
It was the same game he usually played. Right around the time he’d usually go live, he felt like he was about to start streaming.
Once logged in, he looked at the account interface and saw a row of honors and achievements that mirrored the character’s profile.
You get what you pay for.
Without his usual gaming buddy in this scene, he had no one to talk to. As he logged in, he had nothing else to do, while his co-stars, A and B, were already bored, leaning on the desk to rest.
C and D, unfamiliar with the game, were intently following online tutorials on how to use WASD and control keys like Ctrl and Shift. Each successful key press lit up their faces, making them feel accomplished.
Chen Bai figured they’d be at it for a while.
It was his usual streaming time, and he had considered sending a text to tease his neighbor when a notification popped up on his phone.
It was from his friend Qingzhou, asking if he’d be streaming that day.
Realizing he hadn’t streamed in three days, Chen Bai replied that he wouldn’t be going live today, as it was already late and he couldn’t stream for long. He promised to pick it back up next time.
His friend, resigned to streaming solo, went online alone.
As his colleagues struggled with WASD, the director came over to check on their gaming skills.
Although he addressed all five, it was clear that the two struggling with the controls were not included.
Friends A and B, who had just sat up, replied that they were decent, though not experts.
Chen Bai echoed their sentiment.
Satisfied, the director positioned the three of them closer to the camera.
They could film without showing the game screen, but due to some sponsorship and marketing considerations, they would include a few shots of the game in action.
Chen Bai felt fine with it all; whatever worked.
The camera tracks were set up, the lighting was ready, and the two who had just completed the beginner’s tutorial joined the three who could play somewhat decently. All were dressed as high school students cutting class.
The internet café was dimly lit, with yellowish lights casting shadows in the corners. The place reeked of an old musty smell, with other patrons scattered around, leaning back in their seats. Smoke curled up from cigarettes clutched between fingers, clouding the space, and there was a faint smell of alcohol in the air. Crumpled cans littered the small tables, remnants of those who had stayed overnight.
The group of students in blue and white uniforms looked completely out of place. The café owner didn’t want to let them in, but the student leader, with a lazy look in his eyes, shrugged off his jacket and threw a wad of cash on the counter, saying, “We’re not students.”
Take off the uniform, and they’re no longer students.
The others, a bit slower on the uptake, followed suit and shrugged off their jackets.
The owner glanced around, took the money, and remarked, “You said it, not me—you’re not students.”
With that, they were allowed in.
The high school students took seats along the wall, shrugging off their jackets but still visibly out of place. Yet somehow, the dull lights and their slouched posture made them blend in.
A couple of them turned and called Xu Ge generous, praising his guts, grinning. Xu Yifan didn’t smile; he just casually put on his headset and opened the game.
“Cut!”
The internet café scene was done, and next would be the scene where they get caught gaming by the dean.
The director watched the playback while the cameraman adjusted the angles.
The lighting crew had to readjust the reflectors, but the students remained in their seats, unmoving.
Sitting there, Chen Bai heard the voice of one of his friends, even two seats away, muttering intensely. He turned slightly and saw that Friend C was staring at the keyboard, fingers moving oddly, mumbling.
It looked like some strange kind of incantation—chant it, and you’d become good at gaming.
And indeed, in a way, it was a chant to get better at gaming.
Friend C’s voice wasn’t too loud, but you could make out what he was saying if you listened closely.
“Space to jump, Left Shift to sprint, Left Ctrl to walk, Z to crouch, C to go prone…”
Chen Bai corrected him helpfully, “C to crouch, Z to go prone.”
Friend C thanked him with a groan, covering his face in frustration.
He hadn’t struggled this much even while memorizing lines. Unable to pat him on the back, Chen Bai offered some mental support from a distance.
The cameras were set up, and Friend C didn’t have much time left to finish his chant.
They started filming. Due to sponsorship agreements, they had to accurately portray the game and show their reactions, so they played for real.
All five queued up, forming a squad. Xu Yifan was the lone wolf, mostly because his teammates were too inexperienced, so he went off on his own.
Friends A and B stuck together, while C and D wandered off recklessly.
With everything ready, the pressure was now on the actors.
For this scene, they had to capture at least one of the students managing a kill—while two of them weren’t expected to contribute much—and also Xu Yifan being caught mid-game by the dean and killed.
Chen Bai’s job was simply to stay alive until one of them scored a kill.
Remembering his objective, he cautiously avoided danger, staying far from anything risky. But then he glanced at a nearby screen, where he saw a character slowly changing weapons, trying to target someone in the distance. By the time the weapon was switched, the target had moved on.
Not everyone could be at Qingzhou’s level, he realized.
By the time this sank in, Friends C and D had already fallen, slumping back in their chairs, frustrated but perhaps also a bit relieved.
With unreliable teammates, he could only rely on himself. Leaning forward, Chen Bai became a more focused, quiet version of himself, speeding up his keystrokes.
His seemingly ordinary game character suddenly moved more boldly, no longer hugging the edges of the map. Others around him watched as the kill notifications popped up on the screen, slowly realizing that he had quietly amassed resources and skills.
Seeing his teammates’ kills show up on the side, Friends A and B felt a sense of relief. They weren’t just being modest when they said they were merely decent at gaming—they genuinely were, and had only now experienced a high-level match thanks to the fancy account the crew provided.
Just surviving was a huge effort for them, so expecting a kill was a bit much.
Luckily, Chen Bai scored a kill, giving them a clip that could be edited together to look usable.
That was their initial impression.
But as the game went on, and the kill feed kept popping up, they realized their teammate wasn’t just lucky.
The internet café manager, who had been chatting in the corner, eventually wandered over to watch Chen Bai play, joining other staff members behind him.
With more kills and another circle passed, Chen Bai saw two figures flash by in the distance. He instinctively climbed to the second floor of a nearby building, only to remember that he didn’t have his usual buddy as a decoy today. He quietly descended again.
As he came down the stairs, he ran into someone about to enter the building. Face-to-face, gun-to-gun—whoever reacts faster survives.
Chen “Er Bai” was definitely the one to survive. He casually took out another player and left the building, just in time to catch a glimpse of a familiar pink-skinned character disappearing at the edge of his screen, heading in the opposite direction.
The player moved quickly, but Chen Bai didn’t follow. Instead, he headed to a nearby high ground with no one around, looking to scout the area and find his next target.
The high ground was the right choice. Once he got up there, everything around him became clear.
He could see everything, including several figures in the distance. Among them was the pink character he had glimpsed earlier, along with three others trying to take the pink one down.
The trio moved in formation, looking intimidating as they swiftly approached the pink player, constantly adjusting their positions. When they got close, they grouped up and made their move.
Then, in a few quick shots, the pink character mowed them down, and all three collapsed in perfect unison.
Chen Bai “…”
Chen’s lips tightened as he turned his character around without hesitation.
Everyone else watching could guess what he was thinking—he’d likely decided the distant enemies weren’t worth the trouble, especially given the limited range of his gun, so he wisely chose to retreat.
—He steered his character away, relying on decades of self-restraint to suppress the urge to speak. If he had stayed for even one more second, he might have burst out laughing.
Those three players had lined up like pieces in a match-three game, and once grouped together, they were neatly eliminated. It was hard not to crack up.
Fortunately, his rational adult self held it together. As soon as he came down the hill, the next safe zone started shrinking.
Quite coincidentally, Chen Erbai found himself at the edge of the zone, where he quickly eliminated another player.
Although he maintained a casual attitude, his fingers twitched slightly as they danced over the keyboard.
…If the dean didn’t show up soon, he was about to win this match.
——
Qingzhou’s Live Stream
Without his usual squad, Li Qingzhou was once again randomly matched into a four-person squad, but it ended up being another solo exploration for him.
He casually dealt with three players who seemed out of their depth in a high-level match. Afterward, he glanced at the high ground where he had briefly seen a figure earlier, but there was no one in sight, so he shifted his focus back to the game.
[It’s so quiet without Er Bai around, I miss hearing his voice.]
[Wait, was there someone up there just now?]
[If Er Bai were here, I bet he’d say those three players were like a match-three game lol]
[That guy who was taking all those kills earlier had some familiar moves x]
[By the way, is Qingzhou going to the Summer Tournament? Is Er Bai going too?]
“I’m not sure yet,” Li Qingzhou replied, glancing at the chat. “As for Er Bai, I’ll ask him for you.”
The safe zone shrank again, and they entered the final round. The tension was noticeably higher than before, with fewer places to hide, and everyone who hadn’t encountered each other yet was bound to soon.
Viewers in the stream watched as another player occasionally appeared on the edge of the screen, while gunshots echoed from various directions, and more players were eliminated.
Li Qingzhou continued racking up kills, and the already small number of players in the final circle was dwindling fast.
[This is a god-tier match! Who are these players left?]
[Wasn’t this match pretty normal at the start?]
[Forget eating, I need to see how this ends first.]
In the tiny final circle, only three players remained.
Li Qingzhou, standing just outside a hillside, directly faced the last two. He didn’t know their exact locations, but he could clearly hear two distinct gunshots in quick succession.
He immediately locked onto the direction of the sound, and when he zoomed in with his scope, he found a gun already aimed right at him.
In an instant, while viewers barely had time to react, Li Qingzhou had already clicked his mouse and fired.
The expected two gunshots never came. The player with the gun aimed at him seemed frozen, unable to pull the trigger, standing still as if stuck. Li Qingzhou landed a perfect headshot, ending the game.
[My heart skipped a beat when I saw that gun! I thought this match was over for sure!]
[Did that player freeze or something?]
[Look at the username, haha—xyfan, Xu Yifan. Maybe the dean caught him x]
[Lol, the comment above hahaha]
……
Xu Yifan had indeed been caught by the dean.
Thankfully, with a timely tip-off from the café owner and the staff who had been watching the game, the dean arrived just in time for the last critical moment.
It was a close call, but they managed to get through the whole scene without any major hiccups. The filming was done, and now the pressure was on the post-production team to piece everything together.
Once they wrapped up, they still had to film the scene where the dean enters the café to find them. For now, Chen Bai had nothing to do, so he quickly stood up from his seat, stretching his arms and legs.
His fellow actor, standing nearby, was surprised and said, “Wow, you’re pretty good at gaming.” Chen smiled without saying much.
After complimenting him, the actor then praised the café owner, who was standing nearby. The owner, who was quite friendly, casually complimented his gaming skills too.
Although the owner didn’t play games himself, he spent every day watching others play in his café, so he knew exactly how skilled Chen Bai’s moves had been.
Chen Bai, as always, smiled. Then someone quietly asked, “So, can I ask why you went to the second floor of that building in the middle of the game? I’ve been thinking about it, and I still can’t figure it out.”
The café owner, with a genuine expression of curiosity, looked like he sincerely wanted to know, his face full of pure inquisitiveness.
Chen Bai “…”
“Well,” Chen Bai said, “The air on the second floor is fresher. It’s good for thinking.”
It was an impeccable answer. The owner paused. “Huh?”
Chen Bai nodded firmly. “Yup!”
The owner felt like he was being messed with, but Chen Bai’s attitude was so earnest and his gaze so sincere that he couldn’t think of a good response. Hesitantly, he nodded.
Well, that was a successful dodge.
Chen Bai wrapped up his conversation with his boss, and just as he finished, his assistant mentioned that his phone seemed to have vibrated twice. He then checked his phone.
There were messages, sent just moments ago. One was from the platform staff responsible for his live streams, and the other from his friend, Qingzhou. The two messages arrived back-to-back.
The first message contained several links and a couple of brief updates. In short, the platform had sponsored this year’s summer gaming tournament and had internal tickets available. They were planning to give these tickets to some of the top streamers in the gaming community, and Chen Er Bai was on the invitation list.
Without replying to the first message, Chen Bai opened Qingzhou’s message.
Qingzhou’s message was also related to the summer tournament: [I saw your ID on the invitation list for the summer tournament.]
Then Qingzhou asked: [Want to go together?]
