You Boys Play Games Very Well

Chapter 32

Shan Zhu was answering some questions about the night’s match when the dormitory room door was quietly pushed open and a small head popped in.

Shan Zhu: …

Ling Meng silently pointed to the computer and Shan Zhu understood.

“That’s all for tonight. If I have time tomorrow, I’ll do a re-watch.”

— What’s going on, Lemon Dad just came to Mang God after ending his broadcast? Did you plan to elope together?

— What will I do without the streams of Mang God and Lemon Dad tonight.

— The scent of something fishy comes across the line.

“Ending the broadcast. Good night, everyone.”

Shan Zhu shut down the live broadcasting software and looked up at Ling Meng, asking: “Why’d you come over?”

Ling Meng had suddenly just been excited to come over and see him, but he said, “Nothing, I wanted to congratulate you in person.”

“It was just a friendly training match. Look at all of you treating this like the World Cup finals.”

“It was at the same level as the World Cup finals.”

Ling Li grabbed a seat and sat down next to the computer. For the first time, Ling Meng had come to Shan Zhu’s room. The other’s mouse and keyboard were a professional-level configuration.

“Speaking of, I haven’t seen your commentary yet. What are they talking about…Lemon Dad’s kiss? What’s that?”

“Nothing!” Ling Meng hurriedly clarified, “There’s nothing interesting to look at, don’t watch. Nothing to see but you fighting well.”

Shan Zhu saw no need to rush. There must be videos of tonight’s match. They were probably still compressing and uploading right now; they would be available by tomorrow at the latest.

“Why don’t you go pro?” Ling Meng asked.

“It’s very hard to play a pro. I’d have to practice for more than ten hours every day. I just want to play the game as a hobby… Do you want me to go pro?”

“It’s not that, it’s just a pity. As an amateur just having fun, you beat someone who practices more than ten hours a day.”

“One match alone doesn’t say much. Professional players sometimes fail and amateur players sometimes play beyond their skill level.”

Ling Meng nodded his agreement in Shan Zhu’s words.

Looking at Ling Meng like this, Shan Zhu’s thoughts suddenly twisted.

“Actually, I can’t play pro.” His eyes drooped slightly, making him look as if he was feeling a sense of loss.

Not wanting to play and not being able to play were two completely different things. Ling Meng urgently questioned: “Why?”

“I have chronic tenosynovitis. It hurts to hold the mouse for too long.” Shan Zhu raised the right hand, with his five fingers lightly folded, “This match just now was a bit too tense and now my hand is a little stiff and it can’t move.”

Ling Meng listened anxiously: “What can I do?”

“It’s not a big problem. It’ll automatically recover if I calm down.”

“Is there no cure?”

“Only through physical therapy, a little rubbing would make it feel better.” Shan Zhu said this with a straight face.

Still, massaging was not a simple matter. Ling Meng willingly grabbed Shan Zhu’s right hand: “I’ll help you.”

“Is it here?” He referred to the spot where he, who often held a mouse, would usually feel an uncomfortable ache.

“Just a bit more towards the side, use your thumb to rub counterclockwise, yes, that’s it.”

Ling Meng did, seeing Shan Zhu’s brow wrinkle. “Is it painful? Take it easy.”

“It hurts when you rub it. Just keep rubbing like that.”

“What kind of inflammation did you say, is it the so-called ‘mouse hand’⁷?” Ling Meng lowered his head and worked hard, “Sometimes I get it when I play for a long time.”

“Then I’ll rub it for you later.”

“I don’t feel any pain right now.”

Shan Zhu’s plan was in vain, it was a bit of a pity.

Ling Meng rubbed and kneaded distractedly, raised Shan Zhu’s hands and looking at the left and the right.

As a matter of fact, Shan Zhu’s hands had ten slender fingers, sharply contoured knuckles, and neatly trimmed and rounded nails. A single mole and scar couldn’t be found.

Unlike Ling Meng’s right hand tiger’s mouth⁸ where there were two permanent tooth marks, which he had chewed in when he was bored as a child.

Shan Zhu’s comment of “hand play year” suddenly came to mind. According to that standard, Shan Zhu’s hands and feet could inspire someone to play for three years. Imagining how such a slender finger can be quickly tapped on the keyboard, anyone who looked at it would find it pleasing.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

Ling Meng touched the acupuncture point and pressed hard twice. He then released his hand. “Is it better now?”

Shan Zhu quit while he was ahead. He moved his hand and praised him: “Much better. With your skills, you could go to a pro team as a team doctor.”

“What skill is there,” Ling Meng said shyly. “It’s just ‘prolonged illness makes the patient into a doctor’.”

“Unfortunately, I still don’t know whose small account Guava is.” Ling Meng lamented.

“He’s very good. There aren’t many people in the country with that level of ability.” The implication was that as long as you’re diligent, you can find him out there sooner or later.

“I’m just blabbing. If he doesn’t want to be public, just let it go.” Ling Meng waved his hand. “It’s too late, I’ll go back.”

Shan Zhu swept his eyes to the clock. “There is still more than an hour before lights out. One more match?”

“Wasn’t your hand hurting? Still, better not, la, take a rest.”

“Then you fight and I’ll watch.”

“Here? Using your account number?” Ling Meng’s interest was piqued.