Chapter Twenty: Am I Really Just a Pretty Face?

Watching Xu Xingxing curse and lose control, Li Daoran found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to console him, for he had no idea just how formidable a level-three mecha operator was. Still, he knew that fate could play tricks on people—on Water Blue Star, people could choke to death just from drinking water, and dying from a drunken fall was not so unlikely. So he could only offer what comfort he could: “What’s done is done. My condolences.”

“No, he might not be dead. I haven’t seen his body. I refuse to believe he’s dead. And even if he is, it would never be from something as ridiculous as dying in a drunken fall. Someone must have interfered. I’ll find out who,” Xu Xingxing said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. Now could you let go of me? We’re here, this is the dorm.” Li Daoran gestured to Xu Xingxing’s hand, which was still gripping his shirt, and then pointed to the dormitory.

“Forget it, you wouldn’t understand.” Xu Xingxing released him, his spirits depleted.

Once they entered the dorm, Xu Xingxing quickly adjusted his mood. He looked around Li Daoran’s single room in awe, unable to hide his envy. He threw himself face-up onto the bed, sprawling out to claim it all for himself, then rolled back and forth a few times, savoring the comfort before asking, “Aren’t you lonely living here on your own? How about I reluctantly agree to be your roommate?”

“Get lost. Now where’s the landing pod you were talking about?” Li Daoran replied irritably.

Xu Xingxing sprang off the bed and crouched beside Whitey, circling it a few times before saying, “Maybe, possibly, this thing could be a landing pod too? It just looks kind of weird. I don’t think I’ve seen this kind of robot before. Why don’t you give it a try?”

“How exactly?” Li Daoran looked at Xu Xingxing with suspicion.

Xu Xingxing scratched his head and chuckled awkwardly. “No idea, hehe… Seems there really isn’t a landing pod. But don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

“Knew you were eyeing my robot. Well, what now? If you can solve this problem for me, I might consider letting you move in.”

“Really? Don’t trick me!” Xu Xingxing’s eyes lit up as he paced back and forth, then suddenly declared, “Forget it, let’s just go steal a landing pod from our dorm.”

“How many people are in your dorm?” Li Daoran asked, seemingly at random.

“Over two hundred, I think? I never counted, don’t remember exactly,” Xu Xingxing replied after a moment’s thought.

“How many landing pods?”

“Five?”

“You really have no fear of death, do you?”

“I was just kidding. Did you actually take me seriously?” Xu Xingxing looked at Li Daoran as if he were an idiot.

Li Daoran fought back the urge to curse and plopped onto the bed, refusing to pay him any more attention.

“Hey, don’t get mad! Why so petty, class leader? Aren’t you acquainted with Lady Liu? If she just flicked a bit from under her fingernails, it’d be enough for you to get a landing pod,” Xu Xingxing said slyly, taking a seat beside Li Daoran.

Li Daoran shot him a side glance. He hadn’t expected someone so honest-looking to encourage him to mooch off someone else. Did he really look like the type?

“Don’t look at me like that. If it weren’t for Lady Liu, would you be living in a single room? Remember the first day when you fainted? She ran over, and I carried you on my back—you don’t need to hide it anymore,” Xu Xingxing said, waggling his eyebrows.

“So you think I’m a freeloader too?”

“I used to think so. Otherwise, why would the class leader role fall to you? I still do, honestly. But I was naive—Lady Liu’s status, her figure, her face… she’s not someone just anyone can rely on. I ought to have realized you’re not an ordinary person. I was the foolish one.”

“Get out. Now. Don’t let me see you again.” Li Daoran pointed at the door.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving!” Xu Xingxing laughed, then sauntered out, leaving Li Daoran alone, frowning in distress.

Knock, knock, knock.

Lying in bed, Li Daoran was playing the domestic administration course at ten times speed. Startled by the knocking, he wondered if that rascal Xu Xingxing had come back.

He closed the course. Tenfold speed was ridiculous; he didn’t want anyone to know, which was another reason he’d refused Xu Xingxing.

He got up to open the door, only to find Xiong Shan standing outside.

Xiong Shan studied him, then, without expression, handed over a key. “The young lady asked me to give you this. It’s the key to Underground Room 04. The route has been uploaded to your wristband. There’s a brand-new landing pod inside. Don’t disappoint her. Oh, and she wanted me to tell you—one vial of medicine costs ten merit points.”

Li Daoran stared blankly at the key. Xiong Shan turned and left, muttering something that sounded like, “He doesn’t even blush.”

Li Daoran looked at the key in his hand, wondering if maybe he really did look suspiciously pale. There was no way to explain this now.

He shrugged, closed the door, and activated his wristband. Sure enough, there was a route to Underground Room 04. He followed the directions, arrived at the room, inserted the key, and opened the door.

Inside was an elongated, ostrich-egg-shaped landing pod lying on its side. He opened the hatch and climbed in—the space inside was tight, barely enough for one person to sit, not exactly comfortable.

He shut the hatch. The space instantly plunged into darkness, then sixteen screens lit up before him, displaying: Please enter your account.

Li Daoran entered the account and password he’d been given, naming himself: Don’t Push Me, I Have Ten Billion Behind Me.

After logging in, he followed the prompts, completed all procedures, and entered the mecha selection page. There were over a thousand mechas to choose from, ranging from the most basic Type 1 to the latest Gen 8, as well as a customizable option.

Figuring that the newer, the better, he picked a flashy Gen 8 “Leap Striker,” a small, nimble scout-assassin mecha. Li Daoran always preferred assassins in games, so he chose this model at first glance.

No sooner had he made his choice than the sixteen screens showed a 360-degree view. He found himself in a jungle—this was all he had to go on. In front of him appeared a keyboard made up of over three hundred tiny squares. The sight of so many buttons made his head spin.

How was he supposed to operate this? Only then did he realize he had no idea how to pilot a mecha, and there hadn’t been any sort of beginner’s tutorial—he’d been thrown straight into battle. Apparently, he’d been matched against someone called Cold Wind.

Li Daoran’s Leap Striker stood there, motionless. Soon, a laser beam appeared on one screen—he realized it was coming from behind him. Then another flashed in front, followed by a missile from the left. Panicking, Li Daoran pounded the tiny keys, but only got error messages, while his view remained stubbornly fixed.

Soon, his screens went black, and a message flashed: Score -1.

Then, Cold Wind sent him a voice message mocking him:

“Out of ten Leap Strikers, nine are imposters, and the other one’s just a noob. I even played it safe for half the match, only to run into a real rookie. Take my advice, kid—go play your Mecha Battle Storm. This network isn’t for chickens like you. Ten billion behind you? More like ten billion tadpoles. Tch, pathetic.”