The coffee shop was on the fifth floor of the Snowfield Ship. It was a modest space of just over a hundred square feet, furnished with four or five small tables in a serene atmosphere, complete with a private booth.
By now, it was past nine in the evening. The staff had clocked out, leaving them to help themselves.
Several laptops were already set up on the table in the private booth.
Wu Yue blinked at the three newcomers. “Aren’t we one too many?”
“Too many?” Song Yu set down her computer. “You said we were short two people, so He Fu brought Liu Gong along.”
Liu Gong was the Snowfield Ship’s mechanical engineer, in charge of coordinating all the big and small repairs onboard. He was highly skilled and easygoing, the type who got along with everyone.
Wu Yue remembered it was her who had forgotten to tell Song Yu they had enough players. She waved it off. “No worries—more the merrier. Six is perfect for three-on-three.”
Liu Gong claimed a seat and patted the sofa beside him. “Nice, we even get to use the coffee shop.”
Wu Yue grinned. “Thanks to Captain Pei.”
At the mention, Song Yu paused mid-plug with her laptop charger. Her brow furrowed for a split second before smoothing out, her expression remaining impassive, betraying nothing.
Speak of the devil—and in he walked, pushing open the door.
Song Yu looked up.
Pei Zhi wasn’t wearing his Scientific Expedition Team uniform today. Instead, he sported a casual gray sweater, a silver laptop tucked under one arm while the other hand was stuffed in the pocket of his relaxed pants. His black hair fell over his forehead, eyelids heavy as if he hadn’t fully woken up, giving him an air of utter nonchalance.
Ever since their unhappy parting on the first day aboard, she hadn’t crossed paths with Pei Zhi in ages.
The Snowfield Ship wasn’t huge, but if you really wanted to avoid someone, it wasn’t hard.
Wu Yue waved him over with a cheeky smile. “Captain Pei, we were just waiting for you.”
She could hardly sit still, buzzing with excitement as she urged everyone to get started.
Pei Zhi glanced around. As the others settled in, the only empty seat was across from Song Yu. He hesitated for a moment before taking it.
He Fu and Liu Gong knew Pei Zhi too and greeted him warmly.
Song Yu said nothing, flipping open her laptop.
“Hey, that’s not your usual one,” Wu Yue noted from beside her.
Song Yu explained, “Yeah, my main one doesn’t have the game installed. I brought an old spare.”
She had gotten a new MacBook at the start of the year, leaving the old one idle for ages as a backup in her luggage.
As the computer booted up, Song Yu noticed a photo wedged in the keyboard.
It was flattened smooth, as if it had been there for a long time—long enough for her to forget about it.
She stared at it blankly, her lashes trembling faintly. Then her palm slammed down over it, crumpling it into a ball in a burst of frustration before tossing it into the trash bin under the table.
Wu Yue caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye. “What’d you throw away?”
Song Yu launched the game, brushing it off lightly. “Nothing. Just some scrap paper.”
Zhang Cheng logged into his account. “How do we group up?”
“Just go by seating—keeps it simple. One side versus the other.”
Wu Yue eyed her teammates on either side: Song Yu to her left, He Fu to her right.
She had privately checked Song Yu’s match history earlier and been surprised to learn she was a Diamond player from the top server. He Fu wasn’t far behind, a current Diamond as well.
Wu Yue beamed, confident in their victory. “Sounds good.”
She slapped both teammates on the shoulders. “Time to show ’em what real reaction speed looks like from folks in their twenties.”
Song Yu: “…”
He Fu: “…”
He wouldn’t have dared say that himself.
Stung by the age jab, Zhang Cheng chucked a packet of napkins at her. “Trash-talking before the game’s even started?”
He was Wu Yue’s senior brother, but he’d entered his master’s-PhD program a few years after starting work and had just turned thirty this year.
Liu Gong burst out laughing. “Hey, once you hit our age, your reflexes just can’t keep up with these games.”
Pei Zhi showed no reaction, propping his chin on his hand as he focused intently on his screen, idly tapping a finger on the keyboard as if he hadn’t heard a word of Wu Yue’s banter.
Liu Gong looked around. “Am I the oldest one here?”
Wu Yue lobbed the napkin packet back at Zhang Cheng. “How old are you, Liu Gong?”
“Thirty-one.”
She waved it off. “Nah, you’re not. Captain Pei’s the oldest.”
“He’s thirty-two.”
Song Yu’s fingers paused over her keyboard as she entered her login. She did the math without thinking—five years older than her. He didn’t look a day over thirty.
For some reason, it only made her angrier.
Pei Zhi’s brow creased at Wu Yue’s loudmouth reveal. He shot her a sharp look.
Wu Yue scratched her head, backpedaling fast. “I mean, Captain Pei might be the oldest here, but among the professors, he’s the youngest!”
“…”
Some damage control.
Pei Zhi tapped the table with a fingertip. “Let’s get started.”
The match kicked off. Six champions spawned at opposite ends of the map. Everyone locked in, chatter dying down to just the click of mice in the booth.
Song Yu was on Jinx, the marksman. She cleared a wave in bot lane, checked mid, and saw Wu Yue’s mage struggling hard—pinned down and already down to half health.
No one showed bot. Song Yu circled through her jungle toward mid.
But a few steps in, she spotted the enemy jungler Blind Monk who had sneaked home.
Song Yu froze for a beat, then ulted.
Liu Gong’s reflexes were a bit sluggish. His slow-developing jungler couldn’t match her farm. After a couple hits, he bolted while yelling, “Holy shit, holy shit—help, someone help!”
Ahri flashed out from the enemy bush, landing her ult on Jinx.
The jungler wheeled back around, and together they burst Song Yu down.
From the damage speed, Song Yu knew that Ahri was trouble. She bolted toward mid. “Wu Yue, a little help!”
Wu Yue blinked. “Huh? I’m back at base healing up.”
Song Yu: “…”
Moments later, the game announcer blared—
First blood!
Liu Gong snagged the kill and grinned. “That Jinx earlier was you, Little Song? Not bad at all. Good thing Captain Pei rotated in quick.”
Pei Zhi paused his Ahri mid-stride toward mid. He lifted his gaze to meet Song Yu’s across the table.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t look up, eyes fixed on the respawn timer, emotion hidden—but her fingertips drummed impatiently on her mouse.
Wu Yue was the type who sucked at League of Legends but was hopelessly addicted. She’d figured teaming with Diamond players Song Yu and He Fu meant an easy win.
But Song Yu had fed first blood.
The game snowballed fast after that. Wu Yue couldn’t hold mid, and He Fu dashed around like a full-time firefighter, but it was no use.
One pushed nexus later, and Liu Gong went full troll mode. “That the best the twenty-somethings’ reflexes can do? Hahaha.”
Song Yu wasn’t usually the hot-headed type in games, but today, that kill from Pei Zhi had her fuming.
“Rematch?” she asked.
Wu Yue, ever the sore loser, queued up instantly.
In the second game, Song Yu switched to jungler, He Fu grabbed a comfort mage pick, and Wu Yue played a safe support.
Solid comp, ready to go.
They still lost to the three old guys who were actually trying.
After several straight defeats, Wu Yue was getting salty. She cleared her throat. “Wanna switch teams?”
Zhang Cheng arched a brow. “What, the youngsters giving up already? Can’t hang with the geezers, huh?”
He Fu wiped sweat from his palms with a napkin and waved her off. “Keep going. Just don’t rush into fights next time.”
By deep night, the waves grew rougher, the ship rocking hard.
Song Yu had been out in the cold wind all day and already felt off. Staring at the screen for hours now had left her face pale, her stomach churning.
Pei Zhi noticed the color drain from her face. He frowned, closed his laptop. “Let’s take a break.”
With that, he rose and headed straight to the counter to brew coffee.
He Fu leaned past Wu Yue. “You okay? You look rough.”
Song Yu shook her head. “Just seasick. Be right back—bathroom.”
Liu Gong watched her go. “Gaming on this ship is brutal. I’m feeling queasy too. Maybe we call it once Little Song’s back.”
“Captain Pei, you were ruthless out there. No mercy?”
Pei Zhi selected a deep green mug from the rack and scoffed lightly. “You wouldn’t be complaining if you’d won.”
Besides, it wasn’t him being aggressive—Song Yu had been the one diving headfirst, even tower-diving to try and kill him.
He had no idea what her deal was. A few days apart, and she was still this feisty.
Five minutes later, Song Yu emerged from the bathroom. “Ready to keep going?”
Liu Gong blinked. “Feeling better?”
Song Yu wiped her mouth. “Puked it up.”
Liu Gong: “…”
Pei Zhi leaned back in his chair, elbow on the table, a faint curve to his lips as he shook his head helplessly.
What a stubborn kid.
Song Yu returned to her seat and found a steaming cup of coffee in front of her laptop, topped with fine foam. She’d been gone a while, and everyone else had fresh cups too. Assuming someone had kindly made one for her as well, she didn’t ask.
The bitter taste lingering in the air made her feel a little less miserable.
Seeing how dedicated she was, everyone stopped commenting and fired up the next round.
In this game, Song Yu played with exceptional seriousness, leaving her opponents no room to exploit any mistakes. She finally managed to turn things around and claim a victory.
The moment they pushed the crystal, Wu Yue leaped to her feet in delight. She lifted her coffee cup with both hands. “Bottoms up from me! You all do as you please.”
Having finally snagged a win, Song Yu burst into laughter and clinked her cup against Wu Yue’s in playful imitation.
He Fu raised his own cup and joined in the toast.
“See? See?” Wu Yue stuck her tongue out at Zhang Cheng. “Esports really does rely on the young blood.”
Zhang Cheng glanced at Wu Yue’s smug grin and replied with feigned agreement. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Esports would be a total loss without you.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sofa, his gaze drifting sideways to the computer screen.
Tucked into the team’s chat window was a single, terse message.
It came from Pei Zhi—
“I let you win.”