Chapter 11

Meng Xingyu’s slick move stunned everyone.

If Meng Xingyu really wanted to play the Hero Cup, all he had to do was shout once on Server 1—plenty of people would be willing to carry him. Why come running all the way to Server 6?

To stir up a topic?

Bai Xiaomeng’s skill was indeed good, and her gear wasn’t bad either, but she wasn’t famous in the game, let alone comparable in popularity to an artist like Meng Xingyu. He had no need for it.

Moreover, Bai Xiaomeng’s dislike of him was plain to see. Meng Xingyu came looking for her to team up—was he a masochist?

Zhu Huai waited on the world channel for a while. After sending those question marks, Bai Xiaomeng disappeared. He searched her ID; it showed offline.

He couldn’t understand this melon.

After logging off, Zhu Huai opened Weibo. He looked at the hot searches on his main account for a bit, blocked a wave of haters, then switched to another account.

Zhu Huai had studied art, focusing on drawing. During that year and a half of unemployment, he’d been beaten down too hard and had barely survived by using games to distract himself. Without realizing it, he’d become an internet-addicted youth and a diehard fan of the Sword Shadow series. He’d set up a dedicated Weibo alt account, regularly posting web comic strips about game anecdotes or pretty pictures. His art style was highly distinctive, recognizable at a glance, and before he knew it, he’d attracted two hundred thousand followers.

But he hadn’t logged into this account in over three months. He hadn’t held a drawing pen in ages, and his hand was a bit rusty.

Zhu Huai connected his drawing tablet, took the time to draw a chibi character from the mobile game, and posted it to Weibo.

Piggy Huai:

Making a wish. [image]

[Grandpa, the blogger you follow updated!]

[The mobile game’s longsword! Piggy plays the longsword in the mobile game?]

[It’s a contest of lifespan between me and the author. When does the new chapter of 《Master & Disciple》 come out?]

[Pig, do you even remember the holes you left unfilled by the Daming Lake?]

[What are you wishing for? An orange weapon?]

Reply: [No. Wishing for teammates.]

[You’re joining the second Hero Cup?!]

Reply: [Mm.]

[You haven’t streamed in so long, will you stream drawing today?]

Back when this Weibo account first got popular, a certain big-name artist had accused him of hiring a ghost artist to hype himself. The reason for the suspicion was that the account had gained a hundred thousand followers shortly after opening, and the posts were basically always finished pieces with no information about the drawing process whatsoever—unnatural for any artist’s Weibo.

The suspicion was utterly baseless, and Zhu Huai initially ignored it. But a few days later, that blogger posted several images—fan art of other games—yet the structure, coloring, and poses were unmistakably identical to the recent images on Zhu Huai’s Weibo.

That artist had over five hundred thousand followers and had also built their name on Sword Shadow fan art. The two fan bases overlapped heavily. Many fans came to ask the truth. Most were rational and relatively mild, simply wanting to know what had happened. But some were more aggressive and less polite in tone.

Zhu Huai could endure anti-fans’ abuse, but he could not stomach the dirty water of a plagiarism accusation. And the so-called “original images” that blogger had posted were, unfortunately, actually his—old casual sketches from before his style had become distinctive. He couldn’t even remember which site he’d posted them on. That blogger really had talent for digging them up.

Later, to prove his innocence, Zhu Huai went live on a certain streaming platform, without showing his face and using a voice changer. He found the initial drafts of the images in question and drew a new piece live. That cleared his name and conveniently slapped the blogger’s face.

Still, the incident had left Zhu Huai with a bit of a shadow. He couldn’t tolerate plagiarism accusations, so he started streaming every now and then. Sometimes he’d run small lottery giveaways on Weibo, drawing pictures for netizens for free. That was how the ID “Piggy Huai” gradually accumulated over two hundred thousand followers.

Three months ago, he’d gotten the script for 《The Disloyal Minister》 and devoted himself to studying the story, so he hadn’t been back since.

Thinking about how long it had been since his last stream, Zhu Huai posted a streaming link. By the time netizens followed it into the livestream room, he was already drawing.

This time he turned on the camera, but pointed it at his hands and the drawing tablet. The youth’s fingers were fair and slender with defined knuckles, nails trimmed round and clean, with healthy white moons.

[This hand! I’m so for it! Are all creators with drawing skills blessed with these godly hands?!]

[Mom is asking me why I’m licking the screen!]

[Based on this hand, I’ll take a wild guess that the creator is a boy.]

[New here and confused—isn’t the creator’s voice a loli voice?]

[Old driver tells you: Pig uses a different voice every time he streams—male god voice, older sister voice, mommy voice… asking where Pig bought his voice changer?]

Zhu Huai occasionally paused to glance at the bullet comments and interact with viewers. “Voice changer? Just from Moubao… What am I drawing? Guess… Yeah, it’s a gift for a friend… Um, not a girlfriend, and not a boyfriend. It’s for a certain senior. Don’t talk nonsense.”

[Why do I feel like Pig is shy?]

[To the person above, be more confident. Take out the “why” and the question mark. Every time he uses this tone, he’s shy.]

[Ying, does Piggy actually have a crush on someone?!]

Zhu Huai was teased until his face was red. Fortunately, the netizens couldn’t see him. He explained, “Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s really a senior. He’s been very good to me at work. I want to send a gift to show my gratitude, but I don’t know what to send.”

At that point, he suddenly felt that sending only a drawing was indeed too shabby. He simply asked the netizens for help. “What do you guys usually give when giving gifts to a senior?”

[A thermos cup! A certain brand’s thermos cup is only 159 yuan! I just bought one for my dad. Super practical!]

[If your finances allow, buy a massage chair.]

[An automatic massage foot basin also works!]

Black lines filled Zhu Huai’s mind. He said, “My senior isn’t old… how old? Should be around thirty this year?… Not married, single… Handsome. Very mature, steady, and gentlemanly…”

[Got it. Just wrap yourself up and call it done!]

Zhu Huai’s face turned crimson. He couldn’t keep interacting anymore, so he simply shut up and played dumb. What were these netizens thinking every day? Weren’t they afraid the police would come for them?

After two hours of drawing, Zhu Huai rubbed his aching shoulders and neck from maintaining a single posture. It had been too long since he’d sat like this; his body really couldn’t take it.

During his free time, Zhu Huai managed to track down Meng Xingyu’s contact information through various channels. He dialed without hesitation. The one who answered was his assistant.

“Hello. Meng Xingyu is currently working and not available to take your call. May I ask what this is regarding?”

Zhu Huai held the phone, his tone calm. “Hello. This is Zhu Huai.”

There were several seconds of silence before the other side reacted, her voice hesitant and cautious. “Hello.”

Zhu Huai didn’t mind what the female assistant was being cautious about. “I have some personal matters I’d like to discuss with Meng Xingyu. When will he be free?”

“Please hold on a moment.” After she spoke, the ambient noise on the other end disappeared—the assistant was probably covering the receiver. After a while, a new voice came through, a male voice tinged with impatience. “I’m Meng Xingyu. What do you want?”

Zhu Huai frowned slightly, lowered his voice, and stated his purpose directly. “This weekend is Dad Qi’s fiftieth birthday. Do you have time to come for a meal?”

Meng Xingyu’s tone was odd. “Me?”

“Yes.” Zhu Huai remembered how Qi Baojia had sounded implicitly hopeful from beside his mother in that phone call, and appealed, “It’s his full fiftieth. Please, in consideration of how hard Dad Qi worked to take care of you, go see him.”

Meng Xingyu was silent. Only his ambiguous breathing came through the receiver. After a long while, he spoke. “Sorry, my schedule is very tight. I’m afraid I can’t make it.”

Zhu Huai wasn’t surprised by the refusal. He only felt pity for Qi Baojia in his heart. “In that case, there’s nothing to be done.” Then the two hung up courteously.

After lazing around in the company dormitory for a few days, Zhu Huai played games for the same number of days. His desire to join the Hero Cup wasn’t just talk. His equipment was already strengthened to the max level, and he’d practiced team matches with his teammates a few times. Little Beggar only knew how to play Beggars, so Zhu Huai had him practice a second mental skill. Starting from the Top 16 round, heroes would be banned. If the opponent banned Beggars, this team would be done for.

The friend Hua Rouya had mentioned—Zhu Huai still hadn’t met him. According to Hua Rouya, he’d been held up by something three times and hadn’t been online much lately. Zhu Huai had never played with him.

He’d also made time to check on Server 6. Perhaps remembering his ID, Li River had replied to his mail, directly declining the team invitation and stating that he had no plans to participate. This was undoubtedly a blow to Zhu Huai. If they couldn’t gather a full five-person team, they would either disband on the spot or register for 3v3, with the extra person as a substitute.

However, 3v3 had no endorsement benefits and was clearly less attractive than 5v5. But since he’d promised his teammates to participate, Zhu Huai still threw plenty of enthusiasm into 3v3. He had Little Beggar form the team and register on the official website.

Two days before the weekend, Zhu Huai started packing. When he’d been popular two years ago, he’d had some money and bought a house outright in his hometown, a small third-tier city. He didn’t live in it himself, so he’d had his mother and Qi Baojia move in. Qi Baojia drove a taxi in the city; his mother worked as a cashier at a chain supermarket near the neighborhood. The salary wasn’t high, but the family had no burdens now—just for her to earn some pocket money. Their little life was ordinary and warm.

Warmth filled Zhu Huai’s heart.