The night was pitch-black, like an opaque curtain wrapped tightly around the world outside the window.
But a faint blue light glowed in Lu Ren's room.
The old, bulky CRT television crackled softly as it played a classic match from Spring High Volleyball a few years ago. The picture was only 480p, but to Lu Ren, this wasn't just match footage—it was a walkthrough video for a high-difficulty dungeon.
"Pause."
Lu Ren pressed the remote. The image froze at the instant the setter tossed the ball.
He opened Volleyball Tactics Illustrated and rapidly ran his finger over the pages, muttering to himself.
"Half a second of startup before the jump, the angle of the wrist flick... Right, there's a feint check here. If the system targets automatically, this ball will most likely go to the wing spiker on the left."
He picked up a pen and sketched a crude parabola in his notebook, adding a note beside it: [Setter feint: highly deceptive. Recommend predicting rather than following. Weakness: form deteriorates when stamina drops.]
"Continue."
The footage resumed. Sure enough, the ball flew to the left.
"That's right. Once I figure out the AI... No, the players' behavioral patterns, this game won't be so hard."
Lu Ren tossed the thick book aside. Two hours, more than three hundred pages—he'd finished the whole thing. He couldn't claim to know it by heart, but all the rules, foul thresholds, and basic tactical positioning had at least been uploaded to his brain's database.
For a hardcore player who could grind for three days and nights straight to get a rare drop, memorizing a strategy guide was no harder than a Novice Village quest.
"Theory mastered. Next, I'll break down the moves for practical use."
Lu Ren sat cross-legged on the floor, dragged the disc back to the beginning, and pressed play again.
This time, he wasn't watching the tactics. His eyes stayed fixed on every player's movements: the timing of their jumps, the angle of their swings, the way they softened their landings.
Once. Twice.
Rewind. Replay.
"If I were using a controller here, I'd press 'down' to charge up, then 'jump' and follow with a 'heavy attack'..." As he watched, Lu Ren mimed the motions of using a controller in the air, his expression as focused as if he were performing delicate surgery.
Time slipped by amid the electrical crackle.
When the clock's hand pointed to four in the morning, Lu Ren finally couldn't take it anymore.
"Stamina depleted... forced logout..."
He still clutched the remote tightly in his hand as his head lolled to one side and he toppled straight onto the floor. He didn't even have the strength to climb into bed. In that awkward, twisted position, he entered sleep mode.
The morning sun pierced through a gap in the curtains like a beam sword.
"Lu Ren! Get up! You're going to be late!"
The door flew open. Mashiba rushed in with her schoolbag on her back.
"Auntie said you hadn't come downstairs yet, so I knew you'd probably—"
Her voice cut off.
Mashiba looked at the scene before her, the corner of her mouth twitching twice.
Books littered the floor, a notebook lay open, and Lu Ren was sprawled amid the piles like a murder victim. The television was still tirelessly playing the end credits, listing the sponsors.
"Hey! Wake up!"
Mashiba crouched down and poked Lu Ren's cheek with a finger.
No response.
"Get up, or I'll overwrite your save file!"
Lu Ren's body jerked.
He struggled to open one eye. His eyes were bloodshot, and his vacant stare made him look as if his soul had been sucked dry.
"...Don't touch my save file." His voice was hoarse, as if his throat were full of sand.
"Are you an idiot?" Mashiba hauled him up from the floor and switched off the television. "I told you to read the guide, not cultivate immortality! Look at those dark circles—you could pass for a national treasure at the zoo."
"This is... a Grind King's medal." Lu Ren swayed to his feet, his brain clearly not booted up yet. "That boss... its second-phase transformation was too fast. I hadn't memorized the patterns yet..."
"What are you even talking about?" Mashiba sighed and tossed his uniform onto his head. "You've got five minutes to wash up and get dressed. I'll wait downstairs. If you fall asleep again, I'll sell all this junk to the scrap dealer."
Ten minutes later.
Sakashita Shopping Street.
With half a slice of toast in his mouth, Lu Ren drifted behind Mashiba like a wandering ghost.
When he passed the bookstore, Lu Ren stopped and slapped the disc case he was holding onto the counter.
"Boss, I'd like a refund—no, I'm returning this."
The owner pushed up his reading glasses and glanced at the time. "That was quick. This is a two-hour collection, young man. You only borrowed it last night. You finished it already?"
"Finished it." Lu Ren yawned, squeezing two tears of irritation from the corners of his eyes. "The plot was too predictable, and the stats weren't balanced well. The special effects were decent, though."
The owner: "..."
Outside the bookstore, Mashiba looked at him with concern. "Did you really finish it? Or did you decide to give up because you couldn't understand it?"
"Give up?" Lu Ren chewed his bread and mumbled. "I may be a casual player, but I never abandon a game. I've carved every move into my DNA. All that's left..."
He stretched, and his joints crackled.
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