The manual mech pilots were reveling in celebration, only the battlefield wasn’t on San Yao.
Comrades had unanimously reflected that, at a time when Cheng Feng’s momentum was running so strong, even their perfectly normal display of excitement could easily provoke backlash from netizens and negatively affect Cheng Feng’s image.
Besides, San Yao and the league had already shone more than enough spotlight on manual mech piloting. The conflict between the two camps was now at a boiling point, so they chose not to be among those in the industry fanning the flames.
And so, analysis groups related to Cheng Feng sprouted up like bamboo shoots after rain, with students from all grades mingling in them, finding their own research topics to pursue.
From Cheng Feng’s daily life and schedule to her mech configurations and equipment, they turned the analysis groups into full-fledged interest clubs.
The grand era Cheng Feng had hoped for still came to pass, just as she wished, in places she never knew about.
Compared to those students who screeched and howled in the groups, unable to articulate their feelings in sophisticated language, Mr. Kong’s reaction was relatively reserved – his many experiences had already taught him to remain composed in the face of upheaval.
He downloaded the battle footage, deciding to analyze it slowly later, and swiftly clicked on another link, the screen switching to the post-match interview of the two contestants.
Post-match interviews have always been hailed as the essence of the league and the cream of the battle. To put it in one sentence: We’re all military university students here – no need to hold grudges overnight. Settle them on the spot – that’s our style.
But when Cheng Feng and Xin Kuang appeared, they only sat harmoniously side by side, looking all peaceful and serene, as if no deep-seated grudges had been left behind.
Netizens gathered before the two with their chat windows open, rubbing their hands as they schemed up all sorts of divisive questions. Yet even after nearly wearing out their keyboards, the pair remained hollow-eyed, just sitting there in a daze – clearly slacking off in plain sight.
“Is there really no room left in your eyes for little old me?”
“You’re supposedly on the same team, but after one match you’ve got nothing to say to each other – what a terrible loss. [Sigh]”
“What are you looking at the time for? Let me tell you – ten minutes is plenty long! Answer the damn questions!”
Xin Kuang crossed his legs and shifted into a more casual, slouchy posture. Catching a glimpse of the increasingly agitated text messages scrolling by, he half-lowered his eyelids and finally took pity on his neighbor, striking up a conversation. “What’s for lunch?”
“No idea.” Cheng Feng turned her head and said earnestly, “Hopefully the cafeteria has braised pork today.”
Xin Kuang furrowed his brow, his expression grave yet utterly half-hearted – one had to admire his superb acting skills and over-the-top performance.
“Braised pork is a bit greasy. I thought you’d prefer leaner meat.”
“??”
“Is this what they call post-match emptiness? Xin Kuang, are you even capable?”
“Is this your desperate attempt to salvage your crumbling teammate bond?”
“I don’t care about that! All I want to know is – in that murky grey viewport, what exactly were you two doing behind our backs?”
“Nothing much, just blind-firing. I’m pretty good at that.” Cheng Feng answered with a perfectly serious non-answer. Finding that the netizens weren’t buying it, she said helplessly, “Really. Otherwise, want me to write out the code strings for you?”
Xin Kuang chuckled, one hand resting on his knee and the other propped against the back of his chair, and said, “I’ll go complain to Xiang Yunjian when I get back. As for the specifics, you can ask Xiang Yunjian about it… Why not say it now? Because I haven’t figured out how to make it up yet.”
The netizens, embarrassed and enraged, threatened to file reports, and only then did Xin Kuang casually drop a truthful remark. “I didn’t land a hit. I swung twice and missed both times, and then I realized she was lying on the ground. She sliced my legs clean off with two strikes – data transmission error. After that, it was out of my control.”
The chairs provided in the virtual scene were quite tall.
Cheng Feng sat far back, her feet slightly dangling in the air, while Xin Kuang’s long legs could just reach the floor.
“Well… I suppose that’s understandable?”
“I’ve accepted it, but I didn’t expect that even a mech couldn’t change how short a person is.”
Cheng Feng said with dissatisfaction, “It’s not because I’m short – it’s because manual mechs can transform. Didn’t you see when I deployed mine? I widened the base, lowered the chassis, and extended the arms.”
She patted Xin Kuang and corrected him. “I wasn’t lying on the ground. To be precise, I wasn’t even inside the mech.”
“Mhm.” Xin Kuang nodded. “Actually, if you guys really want to know, you can also look through Shen Dan’s analysis report. She did a special feature on Cheng Feng. Although her analytical stance is a bit biased, overall it’s still relatively comprehensive.”
Shen Dan’s homepage did indeed have an endlessly long string of analysis reports.
They were too lengthy, and all focused on individual matches – most of them on manual mech piloting – so Cheng Feng had never really browsed through them.
Catching a hint of something off, she asked, “She wrote about you guys?”
Xin Kuang said, “I was fortunate enough to occupy a spot in them.”
Cheng Feng asked, “What did she say about you?”
Xin Kuang recited it without having to think, clearly deeply impressed. “She said Jiang Linxia is especially fussy.”
Cheng Feng vaguely felt that assessment sounded familiar. It seemed to be the same baseless accusation this group had once pinned on her, until Dr. Lin smacked that notion right back out of her head.
So it was a transfer of grievances.
Xin Kuang explained with great interest. “In one team instance, we were assigned to a map with harsh environmental conditions. Shen Dan ran the stats on Jiang Linxia – over two and a half days, he complained about dirt 15 times, stench 21 times, cursed with 39 swear words because of it, and displayed extreme resistance. At night, he even stole Xiang Yunjian’s pack to use as a pillow under his head. Jiang Linxia never expected that such a covert move would still be caught by Shen Dan. It hit him right where it hurt – he’s been nursing a grudge ever since, accusing Shen Dan of blatantly ignoring his bravery and sacrifice during that final charge into Area **.”
Cheng Feng thought to herself, I never knew Jiang Linxia was like that!
Xin Kuang said, “But there’s one important point she got wrong.”
Cheng Feng asked, “What?”
“She said our team had internal discord, and that Yan Shen was likely ostracized by the whole squad, which prevented the team from coordinating smoothly.” Xin Kuang let out a low chuckle. “She underestimated Yan Shen’s power.”
Cheng Feng agreed. “I can understand that.”
She couldn’t imagine what a team that stayed in step with Yan Shen would even look like.
Probably either calling the police, or on their way to call the police.
Cheng Feng’s focus was as remarkable as ever – even after being led in circles, she still didn’t lose sight of the main topic and asked with a face full of curiosity. “What about yours?”
Her peripheral vision swept over the netizen comments. Among the floating text suspended in midair, excluding all the meaningless exclamations, some people were issuing warnings: “He’s lying.” “Friend of the devil.” “Xin Kuang told me that in this world, besides money, nothing is real – don’t believe anything else.” “Here’s something terrifying: this seemingly honest man has a lot of friends.” “Let Xiang Yunjian tell you all about his experiences taming his teammates – that’s priceless unpublished league material.”
Cheng Feng asked, “What do they mean?”
Xin Kuang stood up, tugged at his wrinkled hem, and said, “Ten minutes are up. Time to log off. The meteor-drop shooting tactic is pretty good – worth promoting. This is actually a blind spot for sensory mechs.”
For this type of fixed-point shooting, the feel of sensory mech pilots can’t quite match the precision of manually calculated results from hand-operated mechs.
With that, Xin Kuang exited the scene, and Cheng Feng followed suit by logging out.
All around was silent. The examiner stood at the front of the podium, smiling as she nodded at Cheng Feng. Cheng Feng stepped forward to collect her optical brain and walked out of the exam hall. After powering it on, she immediately received a friendly greeting from Jiang Linxia.
The fussy Jiang Linxia let out two roars at her:
“Why did you drag me out as a shield in your post-match interview?!”
“That shameless bastard Xin Kuang slandered me, and you didn’t even defend me – you actually nodded! Am I not good enough to you? Where’s your conscience?!”
Cheng Feng, blowing in the bleak cold wind on the street, sent Jiang Linxia a [Owl Smirk] sticker in reply.
It wasn’t mealtime yet. She roamed the quiet teaching district for a while with her bag, then decided to head to class. As she passed by the library, she happened to run into Xiang Yunjian and a few others coming out.
Xiang Yunjian spotted her and stopped to wait for a moment. Jiang Linxia, still nursing his lingering anger, stood at the back of the group with his hands in his pockets, casting sidelong glances at her to pile pressure on her conscience.
Cheng Feng asked, “What are you all up to at this hour?”
Xiang Yunjian looked down and replied to a message, then said, “Xin Kuang lost. To show our consolation, we’re going out to eat.”
Cheng Feng asked, “Who’s paying?”
Jiang Linxia announced loudly, “The treasurer, of course!”
Cheng Feng paused, then asked curiously, “What if I were the one who lost?”
Yan Shen said without hesitation, “Then Xin Kuang would treat you to a meal.”
…Got it.
Xiang Yunjian raised his hand and beckoned. Xin Kuang came over from behind and, as he passed Cheng Feng, casually dropped a bombshell. “Your red envelopes for the next month are all gone.”
Cheng Feng: “…” Damn it. A dimensionality-reduction strike!
Xiang Yunjian turned her by the shoulders and pointed her in another direction, saying, “You go to class. Next time, we’ll take you along to play.”
Cheng Feng turned back and pointed. “I was supposed to go that way!”
“Oh. Then go ahead.” Xiang Yunjian stepped back, and as she walked past, he gave her a pat on the back. “Good fight.”
Cheng Feng lifted her chin. “Of course.”
…
Whether it was a turn of fortune from bad to good, the second round of matches in the finals left everyone utterly dumbfounded – Cheng Feng got a bye.
A swarm of online spectators who had placed their bets were left licking their wounds in defeat. They couldn’t believe that someone with Cheng Feng’s notorious luck could ever be paired with the word “bye” in this lifetime. On one hand, they scolded San Yao for its uncanny ability to dash netizens’ hopes every single time; on the other, they made reasoned guesses that San Yao’s algorithm must have malfunctioned, urging the maintenance guys to check it ASAP before any bigger bugs surfaced.
Cheng Feng scoffed at them, delivering a clear jab of sarcasm and shooting a cold, disdainful glare in the form of a little owl emoji.
She screenshotted the match list and fired off a message in the group chat to show off, as a counterattack against their earlier slander about her bad luck.
Ye Guicheng: Got a bye. What a shame. Isn’t that a pretty slim probability?
A Little More Reckless: Not that slim – there aren’t many people left.
What’s Good About Summer: I’ve had a bye too, and it was in the prelims. [Pinch cheek]
Cheng Feng closed the chat window outright and promptly hit the mute button.
Everyone in this group was jealous of her. Terrifying.
Thanks to the bye, the time Cheng Feng had set aside for data analysis suddenly opened up, leaving her with two hours of free time in the afternoon.
She decided to fulfill her promise to take Shen Dan into a team match to get some practice in – as a token of gratitude for her good roommate’s help in gathering intel – and to stream a tutorial while she was at it.
Mr. Kong had always told her to start a stream whenever she had the chance, to promote manual mech piloting. The content shouldn’t be too difficult or technical – ideally, it should make viewers think, “Hey, even I could do that.”
Bringing Shen Dan along couldn’t have been more perfect.
She couldn’t be bothered to come up with a creative title, so she casually went with: #CarryingMyRoommatetoMVP#.
Netizens clicked in with a hint of skepticism, only to be collectively shocked when they found that the so-called “roommate” was indeed Shen Dan.
“How dare you use that title? Is it the bye that gave you this confidence?”
“Getting full of yourself.”
“Even Shen Dan, with all her nerve, wouldn’t dare say that. You stream once a month and you’re going this big?!”
“I’m calling it right now – absolutely impossible!”
Cheng Feng muted the barrage and hit matchmaking.
While waiting, the screen jumped to an ad page as usual, and the person on it had a face that Cheng Feng found both incredibly familiar and somewhat strange – it made her freeze mid-yawn.
The netizens beat her to it, spamming rows of question marks.
“Am I seeing things? I think this person looks a bit like Cheng Feng?”
“Other than the face, what exactly looks like her?”
“Next door has Xiang – this is clearly Cheng Feng herself!”
Cheng Feng belatedly recalled that this was the ad she had filmed earlier, which officially went live today.
It was a clothing advertisement – not exactly within Cheng Feng’s wheelhouse, and she generally turned down such offers.
But the San Yao staff member she’d worked with before had explained it to her, saying it was actually very simple and would only take an hour or two. Just changing into a few outfits and taking a couple of photos – no difficulty at all. They’d handle the retouching, and it would definitely look good.
The main reason wasn’t that they paid too well, but rather that the liaison guy was incredibly approachable, and Cheng Feng had mulled it over for a while before feeling too awkward to turn him down.
In the end, it really was that simple. Cheng Feng went in, changed into over twenty outfits, put them on, and ran and jumped over obstacles across the pre-set backdrop – completely clueless about what the photographer was even capturing – then walked away with her pay.
The clothing brands used for the shoot also sent over a whole new set of each outfit, ensuring Cheng Feng would have her spring wardrobe covered – thoughtful of them.
She hadn’t shot with Xiang Yunjian, but the editors cut them together.
Xiang Yunjian was on the left side of the screen, and she was on the right, both wearing coordinating colors.
Cheng Feng jumped to the beat of the background music, changing outfits with each leap.
Skirts, long dresses, shorts, pajamas – everything was there.
Xiang Yunjian changed outfits alongside her, and in his hands, a shopping bag would appear.
Just a thirty-odd-second clip, ending with a flash of the brand name.
After confirming that it really was Cheng Feng, the netizens completely forgot the topic they’d been discussing and treated the ad like the main feature, pausing to admire it for a long while.
“This advertiser knows what they’re doing – they actually put Cheng Feng and Xiang Yunjian together.”
“Pretty heavy hint, but too bad folks these days don’t need to carry bags when they go out.”
“Is this also one of Xiang Yunjian’s methods of taming his teammates?”
“I’ve never seen Cheng Feng in a skirt before – it’s all uniforms in the San Yao scenes. Darling, you look so good! Isn’t this just the girl-next-door softie?”
“A softie who can knock out a burly man with one iron fist? Thanks, I’d go weak in the knees just meeting her.”
“I spotted my daughter’s abs! Okay, I now believe you’re all muscle.”
Cheng Feng tabbed out to search for the original ad and played it back again, still not satisfied.
Whether it was the post-production skills, the photographer’s talent, or – most importantly – her own physical coordination, the freeze-frame shots made her legs look long, her hair flowy, and she didn’t look particularly short even standing next to Xiang Yunjian. She was very pleased with it.
Shen Dan’s side probably wasn’t showing this ad – she was still flipping through her own materials, muttering and sharing her thoughts with Cheng Feng as they went.
“I’ve done extensive research and I’m really feeling it now.” Shen Dan assured her repeatedly, then asked in the preparation interface, “Which configuration should I pick? I think your Windwing set is pretty well-balanced – how about I use ‘Yejing No. 1’?”
Cheng Feng pulled her attention away from the ad, paused for a moment, and said, “You’d better stick with the default.” Everything else is beyond your grasp.
The two loaded into the scene.
It was a free-for-all match with dozens of players. Cheng Feng immediately pulled out her cannon at the start, located Shen Dan’s position, and had her clear the path ahead while she provided cover from behind, instructing, “Don’t go too fast – keep yourself within my line of sight.”
“Got it.” After writing over a dozen reports, Shen Dan was now a seasoned scholar of wind mechanics. She restrained herself and said, “I know no one in this match is a match for you, but I want a little chance to shine!”
Cheng Feng humbly replied, “Not at all – everyone here is very skilled. Let’s stay alert.”
Cheng Feng drove forward for a bit, and when nothing stirred, she tabbed out again to take another look at the freeze-frame photo.
She switched views very quickly – within her usual professional speed, taking less than a second total – and took the opportunity to compare their height difference.
Nodding with satisfaction after confirming it.
She maintained that the key factor was still her own physical coordination. Her height was no lie.
Netizens felt like they’d been flash-banged.
“? Is it really that good to look at? Is Xiang Yunjian that unforgettable to you?”
“Be a proper person and focus on the match.”
“You actually dare to get distracted while teaming up with Shen Dan? You’ve got some serious guts!”
“Be honest – are you just narcissistic? Can you do whatever you want just because you’re good-looking?”
Cheng Feng straightened her back and got down to business, following Shen Dan at a moderate distance.
Since it was a multi-player free-for-all with many participants, the radar quickly picked up enemy positions. Shen Dan noticed too and instinctively started to transform, but Cheng Feng immediately called out, “Don’t transform, don’t transform – stay exactly like that, don’t move. Back up, aim directly at Zone 2’s armory, and fire!”
In her nervousness, Shen Dan punched in the code for modeled targeting instead of the actual shooting-aim code. She realized her mistake and sucked in a sharp breath.
Cheng Feng fired a shot to cover her – her tolerance as vast as the sea today – and reassured her. “It’s fine. Try again. Just keep firing.”
Seeing that the enemy was about to flee, Shen Dan hastily sent a message in a panic.
Love and Peace: Don’t go!
The opponent, seeing it was Shen Dan, decisively turned around and came back without much caution, eager to snatch up the free points. He called out in the public channel: [Shen Dan’s here, folks. This match is heaven-sent!]
Halfway through, a shot came flying at him – not quite aimed, with a certain deviation.
He quickly veered his mech aside and dodged it safely, only to run right into Shen Dan’s line of fire.
His mech displayed a 60% damage warning.
The young man was dumbfounded.
The two noobs accidentally hit each other?
He instinctively started counterattacking. But his shot was intercepted mid-flight, and at the same time, Shen Dan fired another round, blasting his interface into gray scale.
He died without ever understanding what had happened. What the hell?
With Cheng Feng’s assist, Shen Dan successfully secured a kill and immediately gained a boost in confidence.
Cheng Feng handled it with ease and said to the viewers, “If your hands are slow, don’t bother transforming. Get used to the functions one part at a time.”
The manual mech code library was far too massive – trying to tackle the whole thing at once was practically asking for trouble.
Even Cheng Feng herself, when she first encountered the mechanical modifications, could only use a portion of the code library. It was only through frequent real-combat practice that she eventually became proficient.
Shen Dan’s biggest problem was actually the code memory confusion caused by her professional background, combined with her tendency to offer unsolicited critiques without self-awareness – though in terms of information gathering and judgment, she was absolutely outstanding.
She could find safe positions and convenient routes on her own. As long as she didn’t bring along all those strange ideas and stop obsessing over coordinating with others, she was still salvageable.
Even if she made the occasional mistake, with Cheng Feng there to cover for her, the duo’s margin for error was quite high.
Cheng Feng led Shen Dan through the match like a beginner’s tutorial, holding her back from her impulsive urges and keeping her focused solely on movement and shooting. Cheng Feng herself took care of intercepting enemy fire and pinning down opponents.
Shen Dan was happy to listen to Cheng Feng, so she refrained from adding any flashy moves of her own. As she adjusted, though there was still a slight sluggishness in her code input, she was already starting to look the part.
Even Cheng Feng was somewhat surprised by the result – after all, when she first teamed up with Shen Dan, she was completely on the back foot, trying to pinpoint Shen Dan’s flaws but never quite finding the core issues. She could never guess what Shen Dan would do next, so she couldn’t coordinate with her either.
Now, not only did she know that Shen Dan was bad, she also knew exactly how bad she was.
A whole new level of mastery!
“So this is what it feels like to have wings on a tiger?” Shen Dan clattered away at her code, feeling as if Cheng Feng had possessed her, her blood pumping. “I get it now – I finally get it!”
With someone watching her back, Shen Dan ended up securing six kills in the end.
One shot, one takedown – she created a miracle amidst the viewers’ incredulous exclamation marks. It wasn’t until the latter half, when she ran into a three-person encirclement and, drunk on the fight, took a wrong turn, that Cheng Feng couldn’t save her.
Even so, Shen Dan still clinched MVP with her six-kill score.
When the icon appeared, every San Yao netizen who had ever been under Shen Dan’s shadow completely lost it.
Love and Peace had briefly vanished from this world.
Back in the activity hall, Cheng Feng finally turned on the barrage.
“???”
“I had this expression the whole time [dazed].”
“Shen Dan actually became a competent student?!”
“Shen Dan can get MVP?! I don’t need to leave a last will for my son anymore?”
“I declare Cheng Feng a god – she’s bridged two fields that were never meant to merge!”
“So this is the strength of a finals contender?”
“Wings on a tiger, my foot – this is clearly a human-shaped cheat code!”
“Looking at it this way, manual mech piloting doesn’t seem that hard?”
“Don’t be fooled – first you need a god-tier support. The problem is, in over a decade, there’s only been one of those!”
