Chen Fan turned his head and looked around, but he did not see anyone else nearby. Then he pointed at himself uncertainly. "Are you... talking to me?"
"Who else?" the middle-aged office worker said. "I'd like to treat some schoolgirls to grilled squid too, but unfortunately, I haven't seen many along the way."
Chen Fan felt awkward. He had never expected to be targeted and hit on by a strange old man himself. As the other man had said, he was not some pretty girl. There was no reason for something like this to happen to him.
Looking at it this way, the other man had probably only invited him to eat squid to amuse himself.
At that moment, Chen Fan felt like a complete failure. It was as if even a salaryman uncle could see through his weakness and casually bully him when he had nothing better to do.
"No, no need. I still have things to do." Chen Fan waved his hand, then lowered his head and prepared to flee without caring what the other man might say.
But the middle-aged office worker's next words nailed him in place.
"What's the rush? The game doesn't start for another thirty minutes. It should take you less than ten minutes to get from here to the designated Game Point," the middle-aged office worker said leisurely, picking up a skewer of grilled squid from the tray in front of him.
Chen Fan looked up in astonishment at the office worker uncle before him, who looked ordinary in his clothes, ordinary in his appearance, and ordinary in his every gesture—as if the word ordinary were stamped right across his face.
"Ah, there it is. That classic expression of, 'Why is a salted-fish passerby like me getting a protagonist-style lucky encounter?' It never