"Wei Xiao, you did it!"
The words rang in her ears as if she had already conquered the world.
"Congrats, Wei Xiao, for making it to the top!"
"Congrats, Ms. Wei Xiao, for being Employee of the Year!"
"Congrats, Ms. Wei Xiao, for your promotion!"
A flood of cheers exploded around her. She stood tall under the spotlight, clutching the golden trophy with both hands. Flashbulbs sparkled. The applause thundered. Pride bloomed in her chest like a sunrise.
Yes.
Yes!
This was her moment — or so she thought.
But then... her brow twitched.
Wait. Employee of the Year?
Her eyes darted across the crowd.
But it's only been two months since I started working here. Something's not right.
Confusion crept in like fog. The stage lights began to flicker.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
"Wei Wei!"
Her dad's voice cracked through the fantasy like thunder.
"Wake up! Stop dreaming and wake up!"
—
Wei Xiao gasped.
The dream shattered.
Gone were the lights, the cameras, the praise.
Instead—kitchen light. The scent of butter. Her father flipping pancakes like nothing ever happened.
She sighed, groggy.
So it was a dream .Knew it. Something felt too good to be true.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Her alarm buzzed from somewhere beneath the covers. One of five, all set ten minutes apart.
6:15. 6:25. 6:35. 6:45. 6:55.
Each time, a lazy hand emerged from under the blanket to silence it — with the skill of someone who'd mastered the art of half-asleep swiping.
Finally, with a dramatic sigh worthy of an Oscar, Wei Xiao sat up.
Her hair looked like she lost a fight with her pillow.
Blanket drooping off one shoulder. Eyes still half-shut.
She stretched, yawned, and shuffled to the bathroom like a zombie answering destiny's call.
—
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, her dad — Wei Liang, 48, novelist, househusband, pancake master — was already at work.
Not an average dad.
Smooth. Unbothered.
The kind of man who could type a bestselling chapter while simmering miso soup. Whether he was flipping pages or pancakes, he had the relaxed grace of someone permanently on vacation.
—
By the time she dragged herself to the table, everything was already perfect.
Golden toast. Scrambled eggs. Crispy bacon.
A mug of her favorite green tea. Steam curling gently into the morning light.
Wei Xiao sat down, grabbed her phone, and propped it against the teapot.
BWAHAHAHAHA!
Laughter exploded from the screen — the latest Running Man episode. Someone had just slipped on soap. Water balloons everywhere. Absolute chaos.
Chopsticks in one hand, bacon in the other. She paused mid-bite, dangling the bacon in front of her face like a trophy.
"…Idiot," she muttered, grinning.
"You traitor!!"
Another voice screamed from her phone as the screen shook violently.
Across the table, her dad reached for the soy sauce, eyes never leaving the toast he was buttering.
"Eat your breakfast properly, Wei Xiao."
"I am eating, Dad."
Her eyes didn't leave the screen. The bacon was still untouched.
"Phone down. Just enjoy your food for once."
She chewed, still smiling.
"Let me just finish this part. It's so funny."
—
Seated beside her, silent until now, her mother gave her a look.
Ms. Hana, professor at Zhang University, Japanese, elegant, stern — everything her dad wasn't.
She was all sharp lines and discipline, yet soft-hearted underneath. The type to worry about your future and scold you for wrinkling your uniform.
Opposites, they said, attract.
She lifted her teacup gracefully.
"Do you remember, hubby…" she began, her voice soft, almost nostalgic. "When Wei Wei was little? Back when we lived in the old house and her school was just across the road?"
Wei Liang looked up, amused.
Ms. Hana's smile was faint — the kind that held memories.
"She was always ready early, but somehow, always the last to reach class."
Wei Liang chuckled.
"She hasn't changed."
"Seems like she doesn't want to break her record."
—
Wei Xiao was a little confused. Her mother's words brought back memories of her younger days—always rushing, always being the last to leave. No matter how much she tried to be punctual, something always seemed to get in the way.
She glanced at the time on her phone and froze.
Oh no.
Eyes wide, bacon forgotten, tea untouched.
"I'm late again!"
She shot up, knocking her chair slightly. Bag grabbed. Screen still playing chaos.
"I gotta run!"
"Finish what's in your mouth at least," her dad called calmly, reaching for another piece of toast.
She swallowed quickly, and then dashed toward the door.
—
As she hurried out, her parents watched her go. Mr. Liu, with his warm puppy eyes, smiled fondly.
"She's still a kid," he said with gentle affection.
Ms. Hana gave him a long sideways glance, lifting her teacup with a sigh.
"Same as you."
—
Half an hour later, Wei Xiao stood at the base of Tengxin's headquarters — a gleaming glass tower that pierced the sky.
TENGXIN.
Tengxin, an innovative tech giant that had shaped the future of communication, entertainment, and gaming, dominated the digital landscape. Founded in the early 21st century, it had grown from a small startup into one of the most powerful tech conglomerates in the world. Known for its diverse portfolio, the company operated everything from social media platforms to cloud gaming and artificial intelligence.
The company's headquarters, located in a high-rise tower in the heart of the city, was sleek and commanding — a glass-and-steel marvel that gleamed under the morning sun. But what truly caught the eye wasn't just the building itself — it was the holographic 3D billboard hovering just above the main entrance.
Fwoosh.
A 3D hologram burst to life: a warrior queen in silver armor, suspended midair. Eyes glowing, sword blazing. She rotated slowly, blade slicing through invisible air, skill effects sparkling around her like digital fireworks.
Her gaze followed you.
It didn't feel like an ad — it felt like a challenge. Like it was alive, watching, waiting.
Wei Xiao paused beneath it, letting the energy of the display wash over her. Something stirred in her chest — sharp, electric, like a quiet jolt of confidence. A subtle refresh. With a small breath, she pulled her gaze away and headed inside.
Click.
Badge flashed. Facial scan passed.
The lobby was a sci-fi fantasy: AI reception pods, interactive walls flashing stats and promotions, holographic avatars floating with polite voices.
The company moved like clockwork. People streamed past, coffee in hand, earbuds in, eyes sharp.
She took the elevator up to the eleventh floor — the Development Department. It was the heart of the company's gaming division, where teams coded late into the night, brainstormed feature updates, designed events, and squashed bugs that could derail millions of players' experiences.
The atmosphere hit her immediately — fast-paced and electric. It felt like stepping into the control room of a digital world in constant motion. Employees rushed between desks, some clutching papers, others typing furiously. Screens were everywhere — flickering with concept art, lines of code, bug trackers, and live gameplay previews. Code blinked like a pulse. Digital art spilled across desktops in bursts of color. Caffeine-fueled creativity thrived in every corner.
Clack-clack-clack. Keyboards roared like rain.
"Late again?"
Qian Ru, arms folded, lips curled in a knowing smirk.
She was ambitious and sharp, her confidence radiating in the way she carried herself. She wasn't fresh to the scene either — a little more seasoned than most, with the kind of certainty that came from seeing things fall apart and still managing to deliver. Though her tone often bordered on arrogant, she was the kind who delivered results — quick, assertive, and always ready to jump into the fray when needed.
Before Wei Xiao could answer—
"Hey, Wei Xiao! I gave you company today," said Zhou, strolling in casually. He was older than most of the team but never acted it — lazy in style, fun in spirit, and always seconds away from pulling a prank. His wrinkled shirt, untucked and paired with his usual crooked smile, somehow added to his charm. Handsome in that effortlessly disheveled way, Zhou had a knack for lighting up the room without even trying.
Qian Ru turned to him, arms still crossed.
"Tch, it would be a miracle if either of you ever arrived on time," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "I swear, it's like you're competing for the title of 'Most Consistently Late.'"
Zhou chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "I don't know. I try to be on time. I guess destiny doesn't want me to be early."
"Ah, you're here, Wei Xiao!" Chen said brightly as she looked up from the bundle of papers in her hands.She was effortlessly pretty, with a soft elegance to her features, and dressed in a pastel designer dress that whispered luxury with every step. A slim, rose-gold watch sparkled on her wrist — a limited edition piece that only someone with serious money would casually wear to the office. From her polished heels to the way her hair was done in loose waves, everything about her said well-off and well-styled — but she wore it with the ease of someone used to attention, not chasing it.
"Manager Li just texted — there's a meeting in ten minutes about Event: Project Fracture," Chen said, glancing up from his phone.
"Got it," she nodded quickly, hurrying to her desk. She powered on her monitor and opened her documents, piecing together the key updates from her week: bug fixes, UI adjustments, and her latest notes for the upcoming in-game event.
Zhou trailed behind at a much more relaxed pace, hands in his pockets, whistling casually as if the meeting didn't involve him at all.
The meeting room was already buzzing when Wei Xiao stepped in. Rows of chairs filled quickly, coffee cups in hand, half-finished breakfast buns on the side. Screens on standby.
Someone from the design team was whispering about the bug in last night's patch. Another muttered complaints about the cafeteria's new soy milk brand.
Then the glass door clicked open.
Manager Li walked in — sharp black trousers, a crisp white shirt tucked neatly, her dark hair swept back in a low twist. She didn't need to raise her voice. Her presence, calm and composed, quieted the room immediately.
A dozen backs straightened
She took her seat at the head of the table, tablet in hand, eyes scanning the room once before she smiled lightly. "Good morning, everyone."
Professional, yes — but not distant. She had this calm, collected air, like nothing could shake her. The kind of leader who'd stay up all night with the team if a server crashed.
Manager Li stood by the display, fingers tapping lightly on her tablet.
"As you all know, Project Fracture's in sprint mode. The teams are already assigned — let's go over the splits officially."
She tapped once — names appeared in two clean rows.
Team A: Logic Core & Bug Shield
→ Wei Xiao, Chen Mo, Ling, Zhou
→ Backend Support: Tian
Team B: Flow & Narrative Systems
→ Qian Ru, Mei Yan, Zhou
→ Event Systems: Tao
For a second, everyone was still.
Ling Chen—the team's youngest member, a razor-sharp intellectual and its best hacker—pushed her glasses up with a light tap of one finger, the gesture that always meant something serious was coming.
"There's a flag mismatch in the Day 5 encounter chain," she said, voice steady. "If it rolls during the timed event window, it'll bypass the reward trigger and softlock progression."
The mood shifted instantly.
Manager Li's eyes narrowed as she scanned her tablet.
"That would've been a nightmare once the live patch rolled."
She looked at the room.
"Fix it now. Don't wait."
Zhou leaned forward, already typing.
"I can rewire the flag group to sit outside the main event chain. That way, even if it misfires, the fallback kicks in."
Qian Ru, across from him, added quickly,
"Or we build in a conditional delay based on player proximity. That'll force a buffer so it doesn't get skipped too early."
Manager Li nodded once.
"Do both. I want zero risk on this chain".
She immediately started pulling up the scene on her monitor, fingers already dancing over the keyboard to prep the debug environment.
Suddenly, the group chat pinged—once, twice, then a steady stream of messages flooded in.
On Manager Li's tablet, the screen lit up with notifications from the two usual suspects:
[Tian]
Reviewed Ling's flag. Cleaned up logic layers, fixed node overlap. Reduced trigger conflict chances by 80%.
[Tao]
Added pacing buffer and soft transition fallback for camera triggers. Smooths out fast player movement glitches.
The room glanced at the screen. The two "Sloth Brothers" lounged lazily in their seats, eyelids half-closed as if fighting sleep—but their screens told a different story. When on their keyboards, they moved with the speed and precision of tigers, devouring code and problems like pros.
Zhou smiled quietly and said,
"They may look like sloths when idle, but once they're on the screen, they're predators. Fast, focused—unstoppable."
Ling adjusted her glasses, eyes lighting up behind the lenses.
"Nice work, both of you. This will save us a ton of debugging time."
Manager Li glanced at the chat again, then back at the team.
"Good work, guys."
She tapped her tablet once more.
"Wei Xiao, review the proposals and choose the cleaner fix."
Wei Xiao gave a quick nod.
"Got it."
Manager Li's gaze swept the table one last time.
"No delays, guys."
She slipped her tablet into her bag, gave a small nod—and without another word, walked out of the room.
The meeting wrapped up quickly, the hum of quiet chatter returning as people packed up their things.
Qian Ru rose, gathering her tablet and slipping on a lightweight jacket—signs she was about to head out. Without looking back, she called over her shoulder, her voice calm but firm,
"Mei Yan."
Mei Yan blinked, then stood in one swift motion. "Yes?"
Mei Yan hardworking and quietly competitive. She never let an opportunity pass. Sharp without show, always watching, always ready — she'd do whatever it took to climb.
Qian Ru didn't pause. "Grab me a coffee from the break room. Black. No sugar. And make it quick."
She didn't mind the tone — not one bit. In fact, she welcomed it. Every sharp instruction from Qian Ru felt like a challenge, a chance to prove she could keep up. If being helpful meant getting closer to someone like her — confident, cool, untouchable — then Mei Yan was all in.
Even if it meant being the unofficial coffee runner.
As she disappeared into the hallway, Chen leaned toward Wei Xiao with a grin. "She's really trying to butter her up, huh?"
Wei Xiao shrugged. "Wouldn't you? If Qian Ru glared at me, I'd say thank you."
Ling gave a faint, knowing smile.
"At least Mei Yan's smart enough to learn from the best."
Just then, Chen's phone buzzed. She glanced down, snorted softly,
"Who do they think they're threatening?"
She turned the screen toward Wei Xiao and Ling.
Two messages from the Sloth Brothers:
[Emergency: sleep coma. Project at risk.]
[Coffee us or the project crashes with us.]
Chen looked at them through the doors — both still in their seats, barely upright, eyes half-lidded like they were sleep-synced.
Wei Xiao glanced back — the twins were still in their seats, barely upright, eyes half-lidded like they were sleep-synced. One of them gave the faintest thumbs-up, then let his hand drop like gravity had betrayed him.
"They move like sloths," Ling remarked, lips twitching, "but their requests come in like missiles."
Chen sighed. "Guess we're no better than Mei Yan."
Wei Xiao raised a brow. "What's next, bribing the twins with cupcakes?"
Chen grinned. "They may look half-dead, but their fixes actually save us hours."
Ling gave a small shrug. "Donuts are the least we can do."
Chen and Wei Xiao both laughed, glancing at Ling — who smiled too, just a little.
As the trio made their way down the hallway toward the company café, Weixiao couldn't help but notice how absorbed Ling was in her phone, her eyes glued to the screen as she walked, her fingers moving rapidly across it.
Weixiao, always the curious but reserved type, finally asked quietly, "What are you looking at?"
Ling's eyes flickered up from her phone, a spark of excitement in her gaze. "I'm reading about the Wang family in the Gossip Girl group," she said, her tone full of intrigue.
"What's the article about?" Chen asked, leaning in.
Ling said, "Apparently, the Wang family's grandson — their heir — has been living in secret all this time. But now, he's finally going to be introduced to the public. Rumor has it he might be our next CEO."
Chen raised her eyebrows, impressed. "So everyone's finally gonna see Wáng Yìfán, huh?"
Weixiao tilted her head, still confused. "Wait, first tell me, what's this 'Gossip Girl'?" She glanced between Chen and Ling, her voice curious but cautious.
Chen, now excited to explain, said, "It's a group for the ladies in our company. They share all the latest gossip and updates—about the company, employees, the CEO, directors—basically, anything that's going on behind the scenes."
Weixiao raised an eyebrow. "How come I'm not added to this group? I've never even heard of it."
Ling smirked, looking up from her phone. "Well, you hardly started talking to us until recently. You don't even talk to anyone unless it's work-related. You don't really interact with people unless you have to."
Weixiao felt a bit embarrassed but nodded. "I guess that's true."
Chen teased, "I never knew you were into gossip, ling." She nudged Ling with her elbow.
Ling replied with a shrug, still not looking up. "I told you, I'm not interested in gossip and all that."
" She nudged Ling with her elbow. "But I heard they only add people who are either from their circle or those who provide the gossip—like me. I have my own connections, so I get authentic news. That's how they added me."
Weixiao raised an eyebrow. "So how come they added you, Ling? You don't exactly talk to others much, do you?"
Ling, still absorbed in her phone, responded casually, "Yeah, I don't really talk to people outside our team. But I did some work for them. That's how I got added. They kind of forced me into the group after that."
Weixiao blinked, surprised. "You did work for them?"
Ling shrugged, not looking up. "Nothing major. But it's useful, I guess. Even though I'm not interested in all the gossip, it keeps me updated on the company's latest affairs and secret stuff. Helps to stay in the loop."
Chen nodded. "It does come in handy, doesn't it? You're always the first to know when something important happens."
Weixiao, not sure if she was interested in all of it but still processing, said, "For now, I'll just stick to the coffee."
Ling chuckled. "Sure, Weixiao. Coffee first, gossip later."
Chen and Ling strolled up to the café counter, already bickering over which iced coffee was superior.
"Vanilla cold brew is undefeated," Ling argued.
Chen rolled his eyes. "It tastes like regret and melted ice."
Back at their table, Wei Xiao sat by the window, quietly watching a reel on her phone. A bubbly girl in the video spoke excitedly to the camera, "Did you hear? YangYang—yes, that YangYang—is finally making his acting debut!"
The clip cut to highlights of YangYang dominating in a recent eSports final—his third consecutive championship win—followed by a slow-motion shot of him stepping onto a film set, looking effortlessly cool in costume. The girl's voice continued, "He'll be starring in a romantic sci-fi movie opposite Qin Yuxuan! Can you believe it? Gamer, model, and now actor—what can't this guy do?"
Wei Xiao blinked, amused, as the comment section exploded with heart emojis and screaming fangirl reactions. With a half-smile, she whispered, "YangYang."
She looked up just as Chen and Ling returned, coffee carrier in hand.
Chen handed her a cup and narrowed his eyes. "Seriously, Wei Xiao. When are you going to start placing your own orders?"
She shrugged with a small smile. "Why ruin a perfectly good system when I've got you two trained?"
Ling groaned. "We're your teammates, not your interns."
"Correction," Wei Xiao said, raising her cup like a toast. "Efficient, caffeine-bearing interns."
The three shared a laugh and made their way back to the office.
Once inside, Chen headed straight to the most predictable desks in the room—those belonging to the Sloth Brothers.
She dropped off the drinks with mechanical precision. "Oolong, half sugar, no ice for you. And latte, extra shot, two sugars," she said, placing each cup without waiting for a reply.
The brothers stirred slightly, just beginning to inhale for what was probably going to be a slow "thanks."
Before they could get a single syllable out, Chen cut in, deadpan: "No need to give your body that much work. We know your fingers are the only parts that move faster than a glacier."
Zhou laughed. "Good call. Might take them half an hour just to form one word."
As the Sloth Brothers blinked in sluggish agreement, the trio returned to their desks.
A few hours later…
Despite her concentration, something wasn't clicking.
The logic wasn't lining up.
No matter how many times she adjusted the event parameters, the outcome refused to trigger correctly. The PvP modifier wasn't applying, and the event reward logic kept skipping entirely. She frowned at the screen, muttering to herself.
"Why isn't the event condition firing properly…"
"Because your trigger's tied to the global cooldown state instead of the match instance," came a calm, confident voice behind her.
She jumped slightly, then turned to see Zhou Yiming, one of the devs from their own Game Dev division, leaning casually beside her chair, hands in pockets, signature half-smile on his face.
Sharp and clever, with real technical chops, he talked like everything was just a chill conversation, even when solving problems most people had to Google twice. Somehow, his casual vibe only made his expertise stand out more.
"Oh."
She made the fix. The logic clicked into place.
A pause.
"…Thanks," she said quietly, eyes still on the screen, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Zhou didn't press. Just gave a short nod and a small smile of his own before wandering off like it was nothing.
Just then, a voice called from a few desks over.
"Hey, Zhou! Can you help me too? I'm stuck with this error."
Zhou walked over, friendly as ever. "Sure. What's the issue?"
Mei Yan turned her screen toward him. "The blend tree animation won't transition smoothly. I thought I set the parameters right."
He scanned the setup, then nodded. "You missed a condition flag in the animator state machine."
A few keystrokes later: "There — fixed. It wasn't registering the idle exit properly."
Mei Yan beamed. "Thanks, Zhou! You're a lifesaver."
Zhou stood up and stretched. "Alright, folks. Time to feed the team—lunch break. Who's in?"
Chen looked up. "You guys go ahead. We'll catch up. Ling's still wrapping up something."
Ling waved without looking. "Almost done! Save me a spot."
Wei Xiao nodded. "Yeah, we'll be right behind you."
Zhou nodded. "Cool. Come on, Mei Yan."
Mei Yan lit up. "I'll come with you!" she said quickly, already halfway to standing. "Let's try that iced matcha today .
She practically skipped to the door beside him.
As they left, Chen glanced at Wei Xiao. "Did you see her face?"
"She definitely saw you laugh with him earlier," Chen added with a smirk. "Probably marked you for assassination already."
Wei Xiao rolled her eyes. "Relax. I have zero interest in becoming part of her soap opera."
Ling, finally wrapping up, spun slightly in her chair and added with a grin, "And you're the cool-headed MC who just wants her AI scripts to work."
Wei Xiao sighed, half-laughing. "Exactly."
Next stop — Tengxin's cafeteria.
Calling it a cafeteria felt… inadequate. It looked more like a luxury hotel buffet crossed with a tech billionaire's private dining hall. Sleek white marble floors, soft jazz humming in the background, chef stations sizzling behind glass, and a waterfall — yes, a literal waterfall — running along one wall. You could grab handmade sushi or go for wagyu beef bento boxes, plated to perfection on the spot. Every dish looked Instagram-worthy.
The team walked in casually, but even casual had class here.
Wei Xiao picked a grilled eel rice bowl while Ling poked her chopsticks at a mountain of colorful vegetables, building her plate like an artist at work.
From two tables away, a low conversation drifted over.
"…so they're finally going to introduce him, huh? Wang Yifan?"
"Yeah. It's about time. He's been under the radar for so long."
Wei Xiao took a slow bite, glanced sideways, and muttered, "First it was the girl group now them. Looks like Wang Yifan is officially the talk of the town."
Chen, seated across from them, gave a casual glance at the gossipers. "He's the heir of the Wang family. The hype makes sense. There's also a stepbrother, apparently — but all the real power stays with the grandfather. And he only backs Yifan."
She sipped her soup before adding, "Word is, he might be the next CEO of Tengxin."
Wei Xiao tilted her head. "Where do you even hear all this?"
Chen smiled. "The girl group. They know everything."
Ling raised her chopsticks like a toast. "They've got more energy than actual paparazzi."
Chen laughed. "Seriously — even the media couldn't get a hold of him. But those girls? They've got connections. Somehow, they dig up more info than anyone else."
They chuckled lightly.
As the talk from nearby tables continued to hum with the same name, Wei Xiao looked around casually, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement.
Wang Yifan, huh…?
She wasn't sure what to think yet — or if she even cared.
But there was no denying it.
His name was everywhere.
—
Back at the office, the noise faded. Monitors glowed, keyboards tapped, coffee cups refilled without a word.
Wei Xiao scrolled through event data, adjusting timers and reward rates. Not hard — just endless.
Ling barely looked up, deep in backend logic.
Chen Mei stirred when footsteps passed, muttering something about "compiling shaders."
Hours passed like that. Quiet, steady.
When the clock finally hit end of day, they packed up without speaking and stepped out into the soft, early night.
—
Just around the block, beneath a flickering streetlamp, was their usual dinner spot — a shabby vendor stall with a blue tarp roof, a squeaky folding table, and Boss Lin behind the grill, cigarette tucked behind one ear, eyes kind despite the gruff tone. Generous and stubborn, he always slipped in extra skewers without a word.
"Evening, girls," he called, flipping skewers. "You're late today."
"We worked," Chen said. "Barely survived."
"You'll live longer if you eat more vegetables," he muttered, handing her a bowl stacked with lotus root and cabbage.
The stools wobbled as they sat. The air smelled of garlic, smoke, and chili — sharp and comforting. Steam curled from the hotpot, catching the swing of a bare bulb overhead. Jay Chou's music drifted softly from the cracked speaker of Boss Lin's parked car nearby, looping the same playlist he'd played for years.
"Don't spill the broth this time," Ling warned, nudging Chen's elbow.
"That was one time."
"One time too many."
Wei Xiao smiled, looking at them.
Moments like these didn't mean much to anyone else — but for them, it meant everything.
Steam. Spice. The clink of chopsticks.
A pause in the noise of the world.
Later that night, the city outside her window had gone still. Wei Xiao sat at her desk, music playing softly in her ears as she worked beneath the glow of her screen.
She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead before tugging out one earbud. The room was still — only the faint hum of the city below.
Just then, her tablet buzzed from where it lay on the bed.
She glanced over, pushed her chair back, and crossed the room, the soft rustle of her socks brushing against the floor.
A glowing notification waited:
"Last Week's Battle — BLOOMKILL Showdown — Now Trending #BloomKillBattle"
She tapped it open.
The screen lit up with clips from the latest championship match hosted by BloomKill, the mysterious and wildly popular female streamer who never revealed her real identity. Wearing a sleek, stylized mask and cloaked in shadows, BloomKill was a ghost behind the camera — the secret queen of the online PvP world.
Two famous gamers locked in a fierce digital duel:
ShadowRaven — known for his tactical precision and lightning-fast reflexes, streaming from his sleek apartment in downtown Toronto.
CrimsonFang — fiery and aggressive, battling from a neon-lit gaming den packed with fan art and LED chaos.
Both played from their own setups, cameras live — faces visible, screens monitored, every input logged — a full-proof anti-cheat system keeping everything clean while fans watched the chaos unfold from all over the world.
She curled up on the couch, tablet in hand, and loaded the full replay of the BloomKill Showdown — 3 Days Ago.
The match burst to life — spell flashes, sword clashes, counter-jumps and split-second dodges. The kind of gameplay that demanded silence, awe, and fast scrolling fingers in the chat feed below:
"Did you see that combo? Unreal timing!"
"ShadowRaven's defense is next level — a real master!"
"CrimsonFang's aggression is unmatched, love the energy!"
"BloomKill's commentary always makes the battle so hype 🔥"
"Her mask is iconic — who even is she?!"
"She explains it so well while being hilarious omg???"
"These two are the best in the game right now, hands down."
The energy was all BloomKill — chaos and charm, slang and spice.
Her stream wasn't just popular — it was a phenomenon.
Millions of people were watching live, the chat flying faster than most could read.
Stickers poured in nonstop — laughing ghosts, flaming swords, and BloomKill's signature masked flame emoji.
Some viewers even dropped premium packs — digital gifts worth millions — just to pin their messages to the top.
One flashy user sent a "Golden Throne" sticker with the message:
"Queen of PvP. Say less."
Over the chaos, BloomKill's voice cracked in — playful, sharp, fearless:
"Yo, squad — someone better call a medic because that hit just broke the sound barrier!"
"Crimson's charging like he just saw his ex with a new boyfriend — chill out, tiger!"
"Okaaay — this combo? If ShadowRaven lands it, I'm putting his name in my phone as 'Legendary Mode Activated.' No joke."
She even broke into a cartoon voice halfway through and dropped a cheesy meme reference just to keep the chat laughing.
"LET'S GOOOO — this is the moment we all came for! GG or rage quit, no in-between!!"
She couldn't help but get excited every time BloomKill's commentary kicked in — the way she hyped up every move, made the match feel electric, like anything could happen next.
Her voice was all chaos and charm, slang and spice — the kind of energy that filled a room without ever being in it.
Nothing like Wei Xiao.
BloomKill was bold, unfiltered, impossible to ignore.
Wei Xiao was quiet. Still. The kind who stayed in the background, observing more than speaking.
Maybe that's why she liked her so much.
Or maybe… some small part of her wished she could be like that too — bold and unfiltered, impossible to ignore.
There, hidden in one of her app folders, Wei Xiao had even saved a little masked flame emoji — a quiet nod of admiration for the streamer no one knew.
The battle ended with a stunning reversal — ShadowRaven blocked the final hit and landed a blink counter. Game over. CrimsonFang down.
A final roar from BloomKill:
"ShadowRaven takes it with style! Somebody clip that — I'm framing it in my brain forever!"
As the match ended and the chat flooded with emotes and cheers, a bold graphic flashed across the tablet:
The screen faded to a bright, flashing teaser:
COMING NEXT WEEK — BLOOMKILL EXCLUSIVE MATCH: YANGYANG vs KAZUTO
🔥 Premiering Saturday, 9PM CST 🔥
💬 "He's back. And he's bringing heat."
A burst of strobes. A fast montage.
YangYang walking through a tunnel of lights, hoodie half-zipped, earbuds in.
The beat dropped.
Kazuto appeared next — calm and focused, framed by flickering grayscale fire, the contrast sharp and striking.
The chat exploded:
"NO WAY — YANGYANG??"
"BloomKill got the YangYang?!"
"Yo this is gonna break the net 😭🔥"
"Who's he fighting? Don't tell me—wait, wait—IS THAT KAZUTO???"
"Oh we're eating GOOD next weekend."
"This ain't just a match, it's a full-on event."
"Canceling everything for this."
"This better be a full-length brawl. I want blood pixels."
Wei Xiao blinked once, her fingers hovering over the edge of the tablet.
YangYang's face flashed across the screen — all swagger and ease.
Kazuto followed, eyes sharp and still like glass.
She let out a soft breath through her nose, almost a laugh —
Then turned the screen off, letting it fade to black with a soft click.