Cheng Feng returned to San Yao and sent a message in the group chat.
Ye Guicheng: Yes! Today is my birthday! Haha!
“Why does she suddenly seem so happy? There was no warning at all.”
“She’s just a kid. It’s normal.”
“Cheng Feng, start a livestream! I’ll send you money!”
“Cheng Feng’s recent matches have been way too mysterious. Stream a few games, or it’s just boring.”
“On such a great day, shouldn’t we celebrate? Stream and play matches all day long.”
Having learned her lesson from last time, Cheng Feng no longer goes full throttle from the start. Instead, she keeps a low profile, moving around the edges of the arena, keeping her distance, testing the opponent’s general skill level – before turning around and launching a fierce, explosive assault.
Thanks to the anonymous matchmaking system of the qualifiers, the examinees can’t easily figure out who’s behind the screen. Combined with Cheng Feng’s unpredictable, ever-changing fighting style, even the analysis group can’t get a clear read on her, let alone teach others how to identify her.
The result? The number of match videos circulating in recent days has dropped sharply. The analysis group, lacking new material, once again faces unemployment.
A bunch of students are now goofing off and chatting nonsense in the group. Yesterday, someone even started sharing book recommendations – truly a sign of the times.
Cheng Feng isn’t really fond of livestreaming – mostly because she’s just not used to it. But seeing how so many people were asking for it today for some reason, she went along with it.
She was just confirming the livestream time with her followers and getting ready to get up and wash up, when Xiang Yunjian had already sold her out.
Xiang Yunjian: It’s not today. She just made it up.
What’s Good About Summer: Huh? Well, whatever, let’s just pretend it is. Not much difference anyway. There’s gotta be at least one day a year when you can collect red packets.
Ye Guicheng patted What’s Good About Summer on the back to show appreciation.
What’s Good About Summer: Thanks for the approval.
My Family’s Got a Mine: So is she really nineteen? She’s not still a minor, is she?
A Little More Reckless: Last year we weren’t sure, but this year she seems older. She’s put on a bit of weight.
Ye Guicheng: It’s muscle.
What’s Good About Summer: [Oh] The little chick has grown up.
Cheng Feng closed the group chat, got up to wash her face, then went downstairs with Shen Dan to jog around the residential area before heading to breakfast.
Some followers wanted her to livestream from the start of her morning run, but Cheng Feng refused. It had nothing to do with her manual operation skills, and besides, she didn’t want so many people watching her eat, only to comment on how much she could pack away.
By the time Cheng Feng walked into the classroom to get ready for lessons, their group chat had a few new messages.
What’s Good About Summer: @A Little More Reckless, have you left yet?
A Little More Reckless: On my way.
What’s Good About Summer: On my way, my foot! You didn’t even turn off your location. I can see you’re still in your dorm!
A Little More Reckless: [Tsk].
Cheng Feng was in a good mood today, so she felt generous even toward Yan Shen’s procrastination.
Ye Guicheng: No need to rush so much. It’s only a little past eight in the morning. Are you guys heading to training?
What’s Good About Summer: We agreed to go out and buy you a gift.
Cheng Feng was shocked.
Ye Guicheng: @A Little More Reckless. The most important thing in life is integrity!
A Little More Reckless: You’re teaching me how to live? You, a robot?
Ye Guicheng: Hey –
This guy really wasn’t worth her kindness.
After the morning classes ended, Cheng Feng connected to the computer lab’s systems and unhurriedly went live.
The stream required a title. Cheng Feng thought for a moment, then typed in a line she found quite fitting: [Little Owl’s Full-Time Cameraman Match Livestream].
As soon as the video appeared in the relevant section, the unconventional title, combined with Cheng Feng’s built-in popularity, quickly made it the most eye-catching room in the entire streaming area.
“Cheng Feng, you’re finally here? Last time you said you’d stream, my kid went from being born to learning how to run.”
“I was about to go back to sleep, and then you show up. Do you have any shame?”
“What’s up with this stream title? Something wrong with it? I almost thought I clicked into the wrong room. No one beats Cheng Feng’s naming talent.”
“Looks like sarcasm is her real innate talent.”
“Did Cheng Feng mute herself? Is she going to stream a silent film?”
“Fine, it’s her birthday. We’ll let it slide.”
The match livestream didn’t show any comments, and Cheng Feng didn’t respond to anything either. She just quietly reviewed materials while waiting to be matched.
The viewers were plotting to vote her the “Worst Streamer in History,” but the stream’s popularity kept climbing anyway, and a bunch of people started calling each other traitors in the comments.
Five minutes later, the first match of the day officially began.
Sitting in the cockpit, Cheng Feng yawned and said lazily, just two words: “It’s on.”
She pressed the back of her neck and cracked her joints. Before the countdown ended, her eyes locked onto the screen. After sizing up the route, she shot off the moment the match started.
The viewers noticed that her current strategy was no longer the simple and brutal style she was known for. Instead, she began by slowly drifting toward the edge of the map, then, as the opponent approached, led them bit by bit toward the center.
Heartbroken, the viewers urged her to stay away from Xu Jingwang and not learn his disgustingly sticky playstyle.
Let there be a little less nightmare in this world and a little more sincerity.
“From the opponent’s transformation techniques, you can tell whether they’re good at high-speed driving,” Cheng Feng would occasionally add a merciful explanation when she remembered she was still streaming. “You can lead them through some obstacle sections or sharp turns, like this.” Since she was talking to herself, her voice was relatively soft.
After leading this match’s opponent through two continuous turns and confirming that the examinee’s piloting skills still lacked soul, Cheng Feng’s patience ran out. She quickly turned back and started bombarding.
The two mechs launched fierce attacks at each other, greatly obstructing each other’s vision. They had to rely on the monitoring panel to assist their judgment.
Cheng Feng began switching perspectives frequently. The chaotic, shifting interface made the already blurry battle even more unpredictable.
All the viewers could see was a dark silhouette flying wildly across the sky and ground. Before they could accurately lock onto the target, the view had changed again.
This kind of pace, completely impossible to follow, inexplicably stirred up frustration.
The viewers were already feeling an inexplicable irritability and really wanted Cheng Feng to stop spinning around.
“As long as you dodge fast enough, it’s fine. The opponent probably can’t see us either and can only rely on auto-calibration shooting,” Cheng Feng timely spoke up, her tone eerily calm against the backdrop of blazing battle. Moving with one hand while pulling up the weapon arsenal with the other, she helpfully demonstrated, “You need to type the code a bit faster. Don’t just stand there and take hits.”
Saying that was pretty much the same as saying nothing. The viewers called her a true master.
After sharing her unhelpful insights, Cheng Feng lapsed into another long silence. It seemed those sentences had already fulfilled the “engagement quota” she’d set for herself.
The first match ended in victory. The metallic icon of triumph materialized in the air – a spectacular sight – but Cheng Feng showed not a trace of attachment. Without so much as a glance, she coldly exited the scene and returned to standby mode.
Knowing that Cheng Feng could see the comments now, the viewers furiously flooded the chat with complaints.
“Great explanation. Next time, please say something else.”
“How do you manage to say so little while being so useless? I thought normal people would avoid having both problems at once.”
“If you can’t explain the key points like this, how are you ever going to be a commander? Or are you just blatantly half-assing it?”
“Watching other people’s streams makes me eager to try – I think I could do it too. Watching your stream makes me want to quit a hundred times in the middle, do you understand?!”
“What did the audience ever do to you to deserve this kind of torture?”
Cheng Feng set up a barrage filter to reduce some of the more harsh comments. Staring at the stream of complaint-filled text flashing across the screen, she still furrowed her brow, thinking to herself, What are they even talking about?
She had been diligently and conscientiously running this livestream! What a slander!
“I’ve said everything that needed to be said. There’s nothing left worth saying,” Cheng Feng clarified. “Besides, I need to focus on my operations. Even if I gave you real-time analysis, you wouldn’t understand it anyway.”
Just then, a familiar name flashed across the middle of the screen.
What’s Good About Summer: Just say something, anything. What are you thinking? Do you really think people are watching your stream to learn? Be flexible, my friend!
[My Family’s Got a Mine donated a Rocket Launcher.] [1]
My Family’s Got a Mine: Say what?
What’s Good About Summer: …Damn, are you mocking me?
Cheng Feng visibly brightened. She even lowered her head and half-bowed in thanks. “Thank you, Brother Kuang!”
She loved this kind of person – one who throws money around without saying much!
My Family’s Got a Mine: Easy. It’s your birthday.
Prompted by Xin Kuang, other viewers started sending tips one after another, telling Cheng Feng to dig deeper into her potential as a streamer and promising to send even more next time.
Cheng Feng couldn’t see them and had no way of telling whether their words were sincere. She also hadn’t yet fully grasped just how much viewers liked to talk big. After chatting casually with everyone for a bit, the second match soon began.
As everyone knows, Cheng Feng is someone with strong learning abilities who takes criticism humbly. Educated by the power of money, she became noticeably more proactive in the second match.
This mainly manifested in a significant increase in useless short sentences.
“Getting ready to go.”
“Five seconds left.”
“Three seconds.”
“Here we go, here we go.”
In this round, Cheng Feng unfortunately ran into a tough opponent who had no interest in actually fighting.
She headed straight left at the start, trying to bait the opponent. But to her surprise, the opponent unceremoniously went right, positioning themselves on the opposite side of the map, gazing at each other from afar like a pair of star-crossed lovers determined never to meet.
Cheng Feng held her ground for two minutes, during which the opponent took the opportunity to move to an even more distant spot. This move was practically a provocation.
Cheng Feng had to admit she wasn’t as ruthless as the opponent. She couldn’t take it anymore and accelerated to give chase.
The initial distance between them was just too great. As a result, by the time over a third of the match had passed, the two were still circling back and forth across the map. This thoroughly extinguished Cheng Feng’s enthusiasm.
The viewers in the livestream were actually quite pleased with this boring turn of events.
“She’s gone silent again. She’s tilted.”
“Cheng Feng definitely has ‘I’m going to destroy you’ written all over her face.”
“Too bad we can’t switch to the cockpit view.”
Just as everyone was gleefully mocking her, a line of golden text – clearly extraordinary at first glance – drifted across the middle of the screen. At its tail hung the verified badge of San Yao.
[Ji Ban has entered the stream.]
The barrage in the stream went silent for a full second, and a deathly stillness fell.
The viewers’ smiles froze on their faces as they couldn’t help but glance at the viewer list in the info panel. Ji Ban’s special account level sat right at the very top.
He’s here.
Still online.
Wonder if it’s an account theft.
If it is, that’s pretty serious.
Meanwhile, completely unaware in the middle of the instance, Cheng Feng was still muttering to herself, “Almost caught up. Geez, I keep running into opponents like this lately. Why do I have to have bad luck even on my birthday?”
