The real young master thought he was hated by everyone

This wasn’t the first time Wei Zhuowei passionately promoted a favorite streamer.

Whenever he met new friends through gaming—or even if he met someone he knew was into games—he’d share his admiration for his favorite streamer without hesitation. And every time he received feedback from others, saying they found the strategy guides useful and were immediately following the streamer, he’d feel a strong sense of pride.

“His explanations are so detailed,” he rambled enthusiastically. “He also makes highlight reels for high scores or speed runs, pulling out important tips and techniques. Even though he doesn’t release a lot, he’s always stable with his output, and the quality keeps improving.”

Wei Zhuowei was on a roll. “His old videos used to lag a bit, probably because he didn’t have good equipment. But his recent guides don’t have any of those issues. The thumbnails are adorable, and he even has chibi characters explaining moves on the side! He genuinely loves games.”

“But he doesn’t stream often anymore. During my cram school sessions last summer, I used to tune in and study while listening to his streams. Some of the veteran fans mentioned that he’s been busy IRL.”

Li Heng blinked, feeling surprised yet subtly delighted.

His streaming account had thirty thousand followers, a number that had doubled over the past few months. Although the popularity of *Boundary Lord* had dipped slightly by the time he made his guide, its views skyrocketed and it even made it onto the platform’s weekly recommended videos.

Unexpectedly, his new roommate was one of those thirty thousand fans.

“The high-quality guides are thanks to a strong support team,” he said modestly, feeling the need to downplay his achievements. “There’s a lot of interest-grabbing mini-clips and title highlights.”

Some examples were little clips titled things like “How I Died 18 Times in 3 Moves.” The team had thought of that one, asking him to re-record the lines with the viral audio. He had felt a bit embarrassed while recording it.

“Still, that’s all thanks to his skills,” Wei Zhuowei insisted, clearly admiring him. “He 

streamed *Boundary Lord* shortly after its release, and when I watched the replay, my reaction was basically ‘wow.’ He really has insane reaction speed. If he wasn’t just a single-player gamer, if he played online games or MOBAs, he’d have even more fans—single-player audiences are still a niche.”

“‘Forever a legend!” he declared dramatically. “If you like him too, then we’re definitely good friends!”

Li Heng could barely keep his composure, his feelings caught between joy and embarrassment as he debated telling him the truth about his own identity.

But he hadn’t changed his game platform account, so if Wei Zhuowei saw the friend request, he’d recognize it. 

“Being good at single-player games doesn’t mean he’d necessarily excel in others. There are still plenty of better streamers out there,” Li Heng said. He hoped to temper Wei Zhuowei’s enthusiasm with some realistic criticism. “And his streams can be pretty dry—sometimes they barely capture the game’s feel.”

Basically, he lacked flair. He kept a cool tone in adrenaline-fueled games and didn’t exude much emotion in touching, heartfelt games either.

“But that’s what makes him a ‘real man!’” Wei Zhuowei replied, confused. “Don’t you think he’s like a totally different person when he streams, compared to when he’s explaining strategies? That contrast makes him stand out!”

Wei Zhuowei was determined. He felt his bond with this new roommate would hinge on whether the guy shared his enthusiasm for Li Heng’s alter ego.

Resigned, Li Heng quietly sent him a friend request, inwardly wishing he could rewind time.

If he’d known things would escalate like this, he never would have asked about Valkyrie gear or agreed to add him as a game friend right away.

He also felt a strange tension in the air, as if their discussion left the third person in the room, Lin Mo, feeling awkward.

It wasn’t that he felt awkward himself, but as he turned slightly, he glimpsed Lin Mo’s uneasy expression out of the corner of his eye.

His bed was right beside his.

He seemed awkward.

During meals at home, his family would often discuss stock trends and market movements, and during these times, Li Heng couldn’t really join in.

But this was normal. Even among close family and friends, it was impossible to have conversations everyone could engage in at all times. Getting along with people, whether family, friends, or classmates, was often a process of finding common ground and respecting differences.

But it wasn’t his imagination—Lin Mo seemed particularly sensitive.

He didn’t know if Wei Zhuowei had noticed Lin Mo’s discomfort, but once he did, he found himself feeling similarly uncertain. Suddenly, the lively atmosphere from earlier felt a bit strange.

“…Whoa.”

After sending the friend request, he logged off the platform. He didn’t plan to jump straight into gaming with Wei Zhuowei. If he did, Lin Mo would likely feel even more out of place.

Besides, he had his own plans for the evening: he’d intended to copy his class schedule and start organizing his books based on it. 

He’d just gotten out a pen and paper when he heard a loud noise from Wei Zhuowei’s desk.

A chair scraped against the floor, something dropped, and then there was the sound of him scrambling.

Startled, he turned, seeing his roommate frantically picking up a bunch of figures he’d accidentally knocked over.

“…No way. You’re really Pythagorean Theorem?”

Seeing Li Heng’s stunned expression, Wei Zhuowei continued, “Holy crap, it’s actually you!”

To a dedicated fan like him, this was monumental. Had it not been too awkward, he’d have joked about asking Li Heng to “adopt him.”

Li Heng was at a loss. Unsure of what to say, he just thanked him for supporting his streams and guides.

“Li Heng, you’re amazing,” Lin Mo finally joined the conversation, seizing his chance to speak up. “Unlike me. All I know is studying for exams.”

Saying it out loud seemed to ease his nerves, and his expression relaxed a bit. But as he realized the self-deprecating undertone in his words, his face reddened again.

“Well, I think your homemade candies are much better than store-bought ones,” Li Heng said, trying to make him feel included. “And you chose such pretty colors for the wrappers—they go together really nicely.”

“And those videos aren’t even mine.”

He attributed all the credit to the editing team. “I’m just there to do a little explaining and supplement it when I have the time.”

“Well… I can make small cakes too,” Lin Mo offered shyly. “If I go home for National Day, I could make you some.”

“It’s all a bit much for me,” Wei Zhuowei chuckled. “I’d be honored if I could just hold both of your hands.”

In his view, he was easily the least capable of the three—just an average gamer and self-proclaimed “ordinary otaku.” 

“I’m serious,” he continued, glancing between the two, “You both should teach me something.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Li Heng said, smiling as he recalled Zhuowei’s antics from earlier. 

Lin Mo had a good personality too.

Though they had one roommate yet to arrive, he felt optimistic about their dorm life.

But this sense of anticipation would only last until their final roommate arrived.

He entered just as he and Lin Mo were discussing elective courses.

They had two afternoons off, one on Wednesday and another on Friday.

Lin Mo preferred Fridays, as that allowed for more rest, and a break in the middle of the week’s busiest time.

Wei Zhuowei, however, was off in a different world, fighting for a kingdom in his game and wasn’t part of the discussion.

“But there’s still P.E. to choose,” Li Heng said, “and from what I read in the forums, P.E. is usually scheduled on Wednesdays.”

“They” referred to senior students on the forum.

“…Oh, I haven’t decided what to take yet.” Lin Mo felt a tinge of anxiety at the mention of P.E. “I’m not good at any sports.”

“Seems like there’s also a dance option. You could ask on the forum later to see which is easier.”

Li Heng hadn’t decided on a sport either, but he figured he’d go with the flow and choose whatever seemed easy to get into at the time.

“Then I…”

Lin Mo was about to ask him for advice on how to ask without coming off as annoying when a loud noise from the door startled them both.

The person standing outside spoke as if he knew everyone would be there. He was loaded with luggage, a phone pressed to his face, clearly in the middle of a call.

“Of course the out-of-towners arrived first. Got it, got it. I’ll call you later—still need to unpack.”

“Just put my things inside the dorm,” he told the people trailing behind him, as he tucked his phone away and walked in casually.

Li Heng, snapping out of his daze, handed him a box of cookies his mother had made as a greeting, “Hi, my mom made these coo—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he cut in, “I don’t eat unbranded stuff. I only eat JR’s fresh-baked cookies.”

His overly dramatic entrance and “unbranded stuff” comment left a sour first impression.

Still, seeing the heap of luggage, Li Heng felt it was only polite to offer, “…Oh, do you need help?” He set the box back on his desk, making a note to bring it to his former desk mate after the class meeting tomorrow.

“Sure!” The newcomer was quick to accept, nodding eagerly, “You two can lend a hand, too.” He motioned to Lin Mo and Wei Zhuowei.

Lin Mo hesitated briefly but eventually stood to help with the bags.

Wei Zhuowei, however, was fully immersed in his game. His headphones volume was maxed, and he focused intensely on his screen, anxious that his character’s precariously low health would plummet to zero in the next enemy move. If he could withstand this boss’s combo, he’d seize an opening and break through.

Then, someone slapped him hard on the shoulder, and he misclicked, causing his character to get killed off and sent back to the respawn point.

“Hey, I—” he turned, his frustration caught in his throat.

Before he could say anything, the newcomer frowned and scolded, “If you don’t want to help, at least say something. That’s just plain rude.”

“…?”

Wei Zhuowei froze, momentarily forgetting how to spell the word “polite.”

He had always considered himself respectful when gaming—never blasting music or yelling; at most, he’d yell in a friend group chat after losing, only to get a “hahaha” response from them. Never had he ever “offended” anyone while gaming.

Realizing what was happening, he glanced at the other two, who were hauling boxes, and seemed to connect the dots: the final roommate had arrived.

“Sorry, I was in a game and didn’t hear,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll help, too.”

It was past eight in the evening, and lugging all this stuff here couldn’t have been easy.

“I’m Wei Zhuowei—just call me Ah Wei.”

It was only after introducing himself that he noticed Li Heng’s bewildered expression and his unexpected gesture of covering his own face.

After introducing himself, it seemed to dawn on the new arrival that he hadn’t given his own name:

“I’m Xue Ce, from right here in S City. My family’s in business, and I just got back from Bali this afternoon, so I’m a bit late,” he explained with a swagger.

“And you?” he asked, already acting like they were friends. “I heard S University admitted a lot of students from other provinces this year. Are any of you from out of town?”

“My family’s from the neighboring province.” Wei Zhuowei felt this was oddly personal but continued anyway, “Just one of those very, um, loosely structured ones.”

“Parents are just regular office workers.”

One worked at a hospital, the other at a community office.

As he spoke, he helped pull out a desk lamp from one of the suitcases. “What kind of business does your family do?”

“Export. We just run a few factories,” Xue Ce replied offhandedly, then turned to the other two. “What about you guys?”

“My family also works regular jobs,” Li Heng said, figuring he was also technically a local resident. “We live here in S City.”

“Doesn’t sound like it from your accent.”

Xue Ce’s tone felt a bit condescending, and he went on to assume Li Heng’s family must live in one of the districts often considered “outside” S City proper.

Li Heng found the assumption rude and chose not to respond further, finishing his help by cleaning off Xue Ce’s desk and then hinting that lights would be out by eleven, suggesting he should wrap things up.

Xue Ce’s pace quickened slightly, but the quiet didn’t last long.

“Hey, I still don’t know your name, do I?” He tapped Lin Mo on the shoulder. “What’s your name?”

Lin Mo, feeling uneasy, murmured his name with a tremble in his voice.

“What a girly name,” Xue Ce remarked, oblivious to Lin Mo’s pale face. “So, is it the ‘silent’ Mo or something?”

“It’s the Mo for ink,” Li Heng interjected subtly, moving slightly to block Lin Mo from view. “Right?”

Lin Mo nodded, suddenly feeling a wave of reassurance.

“My family runs a bakery,” he added, “and we live pretty far, in H Province.”

“H Province, huh,” Xue Ce seemed uninterested, but then something seemed to click in his head, and his curiosity renewed. “Isn’t there a lot of pressure there? I heard tons of people end up jumping off buildings because they can’t pass the entrance exams.”

H Province was known for its intense college entrance exams, with high population and limited educational resources, unlike S City’s abundance of universities.

“…” Lin Mo opened his mouth but didn’t know how to respond.

But Xue Ce continued, “Is your family’s bakery a franchise?”

He rattled off a list of brands that elicited blank stares from the group.

Some names Li Heng recognized, others he didn’t. Wei Zhuowei was similarly confused.

“We’re… uh, it’s just our own little thing,” Lin Mo said softly. “Just a small shop.”

“Oh, a family business,” Xue Ce nodded knowingly. “I get it—low-cost, lots of profit.”

He then thanked everyone for their help, casually offering to treat them to a fancy buffet someday.

Unaware of how his comments came off, even easygoing Wei Zhuowei looked slightly perturbed, while Lin Mo’s face was visibly strained, his lips clenched and his eyes red-rimmed with some mix of anger and discomfort.

“By the way, have you guys elected a dorm leader? If not, I’ll volunteer,” he said magnanimously. “I’ve been helping with my dad’s business since I was little, so I have great management skills, and I could get us lots of perks.”

He also announced his intention to run for class monitor in tomorrow’s meeting, hoping for his roommates’ support, and promised another treat if he won.

“Oh, too bad. We already chose a dorm leader when the housemaster checked in earlier,” Wei Zhuowei replied swiftly. “With everyone not here, they made a temporary call for me, isn’t that right?”

“Wish you’d been here earlier,” he said with a syrupy tone of regret, his expression utterly insincere.

But Xue Ce missed the subtle undertone.

In other words, Wei Zhuowei felt the guy was just a bit… overly self-assured.

“Nothing I could do; I got in late. But vote for me for class monitor tomorrow! If I win, I’ll treat everyone at a hotel.” he repeated.

He knew that holding a leadership role in college could mean more opportunities, and he also planned to join the student union, specifically the university’s central student union, which held sway over various campus activities and awarded students academic credits for their involvement.

“…Are you planning to join the student union too?”

Though he viewed his roommates as no threat to his ambitions, he still asked as he fitted sheets on his bed.

“It’s easier to join the department’s union, and it means you don’t have to attend evening study sessions,” he said.

His roommates each muttered noncommittal answers.

“Well, I’m getting back to my game—gotta finish before lights out,” Wei Zhuowei said, slipping his headphones back on.

Li Heng climbed up onto his bunk, ready to text his friends.

Then he noticed that he’d just been added to a new group by Wei Zhuowei, whom he’d only recently befriended.

Actually, there were two new groups.

One was simply named “Dorm 324” with all four of them.

The other was a bit more direct: “Why’s He Acting So Cool?” complete with an eye-rolling emoji as the group picture. It did not include Xue Ce.

He buried his face in his pillow, stifling laughter. He realized that when it came to roasting people, he might have a lot in common with his friend Gu Mingyue back in the capital.

He silently screenshot the group name and sent it to Gu Mingyue.