Chapter 29: “This stuff’s great.”

Qin Ji was probably quite good at observing.

He sensed Tong Xilin’s voice drop lower. Though it wasn’t obvious and his expression didn’t show much, after hearing a response like that, he didn’t continue the topic.

Having arrived close to noon for registration anyway, after going through all the procedures, plus eating and buying things, half the day was practically gone.

Following Qin Ji back to the dorm entrance, Tong Xilin glanced out from the adjacent drying balcony. The sky was already tinged with that yellow-orange hue of evening.

The dorm door wasn’t shut tight. Clearly, someone was inside. The lock was latched loosely, just barely hooked.

Both of them had hands full. Qin Ji nudged it lightly with the tip of his shoe. The moment the door cracked open, a male voice laced with laughter burst out from inside: “Oi, no way—wait, my guy?”

Qin Ji was a bit taller than Tong Xilin and couldn’t quite see what was happening inside. Tong Xilin couldn’t help but lean around to peer in.

Both other roommates had arrived. They were sitting side by side, one chair each, apparently playing a game.

“Yo, back?”

One of them wore a baseball cap flipped backward. Hearing the door, he turned his face and proactively greeted them.

His voice was clearly the one that had just yelled “my guy.” His face still had a hint of laughter on it. A pretty fashionable look—his outfit was modern too, and his manner was open and easygoing.

“How’s it goin’, what’re you two playing?” Qin Ji smiled and asked.

“Right when you went out to buy stuff, this guy came back. Started a match of Honor of Kings. He was so bad… I just laughed my ass off.”

This baseball cap guy was probably the roommate surnamed Qi that Qin Ji had mentioned.

Seeing Tong Xilin behind Qin Ji, he leaned over with a “Yo,” craning his neck to look, and asked, “You the last roommate I haven’t met? Name’s Qi Yuan.”

Qi Yuan had the northern accent Tong Xilin was familiar with and loved playing Honor of Kings. Tong Xilin thought of Zhou Qi. He felt a sense of familiarity.

The remaining roommate came over to greet too. His name was Pang Xiaoda. He looked bookish, had the face of a top student, and his reactions and speech were both a bit slow.

“I told you my touch was off today, my touch was off,” Pang Xiaoda was still holding his phone, asking Qi Yuan, “Why’d I die again?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” Qi Yuan nudged him, laughing. He was a warm person, not shy with strangers at all, and directly called Qin Ji and Tong Xilin over to play together.

Normally, Tong Xilin had zero interest in playing games.

But at this moment, watching these laughing, joking new classmates, the apprehension he’d originally felt about struggling to fit in slowly eased and settled. The sensation of being wrapped in a new life, a new environment—it was like a restless hot air balloon finally touching down on solid ground, stirring something deep in his heart.

College really was going to be better than high school.

Better than every previous stage of schooling he’d ever experienced.

He should also learn to slowly change himself.

“Alright,” he said, setting his things down, and asked Qin Ji, “Can you play?”

“Let’s do it,” Qin Ji said with a smile, casually pulling a chair over for Tong Xilin. “But the farm lane’s gotta be mine. I only know how to play marksman.”

“My guy, you just farm in peace,” Qi Yuan was too relaxed. The accent in his words couldn’t be suppressed at all. “Just watch and see if I don’t carry you all.”

Listening from the side, Tong Xilin felt like laughing. Silently, he planned that when Zhou Qi came, he absolutely had to introduce them.

The four of them sat close together, forming a somewhat irregular circle.

Tong Xilin hadn’t logged into the game in too long. It needed updating. Qin Ji’s did too.

After entering the game and adding each other as friends, they clicked into each other’s profiles to glance around. Qin Ji looked over at Tong Xilin’s phone and said with a smile, “You don’t have many skins either.”

He held out his own phone and slid it for Tong Xilin to see. “Me neither.”

Tong Xilin wouldn’t actively spend money on games. The last time was sending Zhou Qi a skin during Spring Festival last year. The few skins on his account were also all gifts from Zhou Qi.

He didn’t know if it was an illusion, or if the life he’d lived since childhood made Tong Xilin more perceptive in this area.

He felt that Qin Ji’s words weren’t merely sharing with him. They were more like someone sensitive to money, someone with limited material means, using game skins as a way to find a “similar kind” in terms of spending level.

It was a higher-EQ form of caution and observation.

A disguised, transmuted sense of inferiority.

Tong Xilin wasn’t really in a position to pity anyone on this front. He was clear in his own heart: if Kong Ji hadn’t taken him away, what would his life have been like?

Though even at his poorest, he’d always been quietly poor on his own, never comparing himself to others—he still felt a sense of understanding toward Qin Ji.

“I can’t bear to spend money in games,” he admitted frankly, then tapped on his rank to show Qin Ji. “I don’t play much either. Dropped all the way to Bronze.”

Qin Ji shifted his gaze from Tong Xilin’s phone to his profile. He’d moved his chair closer at some point without noticing, sitting nearer to Tong Xilin now.

“I got skins,” Qi Yuan chimed in.

After living with Kong Ji for over a year, Tong Xilin had come to recognize quite a few brands. From his getup, Qi Yuan was a young rich kid who didn’t lack for pocket money.

Rich kids didn’t think about that stuff. He showed his big, shiny VIP emblem openly to the group. “You guys just use my skins.”

“Stop showing off,” Pang Xiaoda drawled slowly. “Just start already. Let me show you my true power.”

“You got the power of an egg,” Qi Yuan roasted him, laughing.

“Hurry and start,” Pang Xiaoda wasn’t mad, laughing even harder than Qi Yuan. “I still gotta use your minion skin.”

The old Tong Xilin had never had this kind of experience, nor this kind of state of mind. For the first time, he knew that as long as he was willing to actively blend in, a room full of guys could get familiar this fast, this lively.

The rank gap was too large; they could only play casual matches. Winning or losing in casuals didn’t matter. Within the span of a few games, Qi Yuan had roasted all three of them through and through. Tong Xilin’s bizarre and spectacular deaths made him laugh so hard he slid down in his chair.

“Even more deaths than my man Pang. This little Tong Xilin.” The way he addressed people had already turned affectionate.

“Why’d I die again?” Tong Xilin imitated Pang Xiaoda.

“Stop imitating me,” Pang Xiaoda was now the second-worst player. His accent had been infected by Qi Yuan’s. He was laughing too. “I die way less than you.”

“Only my man Qin Ji’s doing anything right.” Qi Yuan called to Qin Ji. “Bro Qin, come get the red.”

Before the game started, Tong Xilin had been mulling over introducing Zhou Qi to Qi Yuan later. Halfway through the match, Zhou Qi’s voice call suddenly popped up.

Tong Xilin casually answered. Zhou Qi’s voice burst out from the speakerphone: “How’d you get so bad, Young Master?”

Qin Ji raised his eyes and looked over.

“How do you know?” Tong Xilin’s eyebrows twitched. He fumbled frantically with the controls.

“I’m spectating you.” Zhou Qi basically lived in Honor of Kings. “Why’d you log on today? Playing with new roommates?”

Before Tong Xilin could speak, Qi Yuan couldn’t help but butt in, “He’s even got someone checking up on him?”

“No.” Tong Xilin laughed. “My friend. He loves this game. He’s a pro.”

“Bring him in too,” Qi Yuan was far too naturally sociable. The competitive spirit between pros was roused too. “Let’s see how good he really is.”

“Carrying you guys will be like child’s play,” Zhou Qi had just been waiting for that line. “Hurry up and drag me in.”

Four easygoing roommates, plus his good friend Zhou Qi.

Tong Xilin couldn’t open up that much all at once, but listening to their chatter and noise, wrapped in this lively atmosphere, he felt bathed in a simple, effortless happiness.

Competitive games had no end once you started. During the second match after Zhou Qi joined the squad, another call came in on Tong Xilin’s phone.

“Gotta take a call,” he apologized to them.

“Go ahead,” Qin Ji said.

“Your presence or absence doesn’t affect anything,” Zhou Qi roasted him over the in-game mic, then asked, “Your uncle?”

It wasn’t Kong Ji’s call. It was an unfamiliar Tianjin local number.

Tong Xilin walked to the balcony and swiped to answer. Before he could ask, a middle-aged man’s voice came through from the other end: “Which building are you in at Balitai Campus?”

The guy spoke in the local dialect, with the background noise of driving and wind. The interference was too heavy. Tong Xilin didn’t react for a moment and frowned. “What?”

“I’m saying,” the man cleared his throat and switched to Mandarin, “delivering some stuff to you. You’re Tong Xilin, right? Dorm number what?”

Tong Xilin hesitated but told him the building number. The man said quickly, “Alright, alright, that’s right. Third floor? Hold tight, be there soon.”

What was delivered up was a set of bedding.

A soft mattress custom-sized to the dorm bed, a duvet, a pillow, including a four-piece sheet set.

The man who delivered the items wore the uniform of some home furnishing brand. He pushed the things into the dorm and handed Tong Xilin a form. “Alright, that’s everything. Already paid for. Just sign to confirm receipt.”

“This stuff’s great,” Qi Yuan made room for the items, sitting on the edge of a desk and glancing at the heap. “My family uses this brand too. I wanted my mom to order me a set, she told me to piss off.”

“Comfy?” Pang Xiaoda asked.

Qi Yuan said, “Yup.”

Tong Xilin didn’t join the chat. He silently signed the form, pressed his lips together at the five-figure bill, and then looked at the contact info of the person who’d placed the order. It was Kong Ji’s phone number.

He’d only packed his clothes when he came. The bedding was what the school had issued during registration. The quality was subpar, but it was usable.

Touching the mattress propped against the staircase, he lowered his eyes and didn’t speak for a long while.

“Let’s change the mattress first. The rest can be washed before use.” Qin Ji came over. “I’ll help.”

“Together,” Qi Yuan and Pang Xiaoda also came over. “After we switch it, let’s all go grab a meal. Playing games makes you hungry.”

Kong Ji and Jiang Lin were eating at Silver Star. Jiang Lin ate while talking about some exhibition invitation in France. Kong Ji listened with one ear, his head turned to look at the night view outside the window.

His phone vibrated once on the table. He picked it up to look. A message from Tong Xilin.

Simple and plain. Not a single extra word: “Thank you, Uncle.”

He smiled, tapped Tong Xilin’s profile picture—like patting the kid on the head back at home—set his phone down, picked up his wine glass, and took a sip.

“Whoa, a smile,” Jiang Lin across from him saw it crystal clear. “From the moment I picked you up at the airport, you’ve had a long face, not responding when I talk. Whose message finally cracked a smile?”

Kong Ji didn’t engage him. He turned his head and lit a cigarette. “Keep going with what you were saying.”