Chapter 15: A Teenage Showdown
At Mu Xiaoyao's words, Wu Yifan's eyes lit up like a man dying of thirst spotting an oasis, a prisoner starved for weeks eyeing a feast, a bachelor celibate for decades glimpsing a nude beauty. "You—you can beat her?" he blurted, leaning forward.
Mu Xiaoyao giggled, stepping back slightly. "Her skills aren't *that* impressive," she said, though her cheeks flushed—whether from nerves or the memory of their close call in the alley, Wu couldn't tell.
"Of course not!" Wu puffed out his chest, though his voice lacked conviction. He'd been getting trounced by "Little Fox Sprite" for months; admitting she was good stung. "I just… let her win. Chivalry, y'know?"
"I'll beat her for you," Mu Xiaoyao said, "if you teach me how to fight. Deal?"
She knew begging wouldn't work. Better to barter—offer something he wanted (pride) in exchange for something she needed (skills).
Wu stroked his chin, feigning thought. "Hmm. I *might* consider it."
"Great!" Before he could move, Mu Xiaoyao plopped onto his lap, her small frame fitting surprisingly well against his. She typed rapidly: "Rematch."
Little Fox Sprite replied instantly: "You again? Even if you challenge me a hundred times, you'll lose. Go hide in a corner for a few millennia—maybe then you'll stand a chance."
Mu Xiaoyao smirked, typing back: "That's what *I* was going to say. Your skills are so basic, you're only a big fish in a tiny pond of rookies."
"*You're* the rookie!" Little Fox shot back, clearly riled.
"Predictable attacks, boring unit combos, mindless zerg rushes—your gameplay is pathetically bad. And if I had to put a timeline on it? It'd stay that way… for all eternity."
Wu gaped. *Damn.* The girl had a way with words.
Little Fox's response was instantaneous: "Big talk. Let's go. Prove you're not just hot air."
"Idiot," Mu Xiaoyao murmured, clicking "Start."
The game exploded into life. Mu Xiaoyao, all playfulness gone, leaned forward, her eyes locked on the screen. Wu watched, fascinated, as her fingers danced over the keyboard—faster, sharper than his clumsy fumbling.
Warcraft III wasn't just about clicking; it was chess with swords, a test of strategy and split-second decisions. Wu had always treated it like a brawl. Mu Xiaoyao? She played like a general.
Little Fox, true to form, launched early harassment—tiny raiding parties picking off Mu Xiaoyao's workers. But Mu Xiaoyao didn't panic. She built defenses, sent scouts to map the terrain, and bided her time.
Then, just as Little Fox's raiders attacked again, Mu Xiaoyao struck. She'd hidden four squads in the trees surrounding Little Fox's base. They erupted from the shadows, taking out towers and barracks before Little Fox could react.
"Got you," Mu Xiaoyao whispered, a satisfied smile on her lips.
Little Fox scrambled to counterattack, but the damage was done—40% of her base destroyed, 70% of her army wiped out. She'd recover, but it would take time. Mu Xiaoyao had the upper hand.
Wu, meanwhile, was struggling to focus. Mu Xiaoyao's body, warm and soft, pressed against his, her hair tickling his jaw. The faint, sweet scent of her shampoo teased his senses. And then there was the way she shifted—subtly, unconsciously—as she clicked, her hips brushing against his lap.
A low, involuntary groan escaped him. He felt Mu Xiaoyao stiffen.
Her cheeks flushed, her breath coming faster. She glanced back, her eyes wide and dark, a hint of confusion—and something else, something softer—in their depths. "凡哥哥…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Wu's hands, which had somehow found their way to her waist—small, delicate, barely spanning the width—began to stroke gently back and forth. He wasn't thinking anymore, just feeling: the curve of her spine, the rapid thud of her heart against his chest, the way her body melted slightly into his as his touch lingered.
Mu Xiaoyao whimpered, a soft, breathy sound, and leaned back, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered closed, a faint, dreamy smile on her lips.
The air thickened, sweet and tense, like honey. Outside, a hostess laughed, but in the booth, time slowed.
Wu's mind wandered—*This is wrong. She's sixteen.* But his body, traitor that it was, didn't care. It had been too long since he'd been this close to someone, too long since he'd felt anything but the cold hum of the Enhancer.
Mu Xiaoyao shifted again, pressing back against him, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Xiao… Xiaoyao…" he started, but the words died in his throat.
She tilted her head, her lips brushing his ear. "It's okay," she whispered.
For a heartbeat, he almost believed her.
Then, the screen flashed—Little Fox had surrendered.
Mu Xiaoyao blinked, as if emerging from a trance. She looked down at their position, her face turning crimson, and scrambled off his lap, nearly falling off the chair. "I—um—we won!" she stammered, pointing at the screen.
Wu cleared his throat, adjusting his pants. "Y-yeah. Nice job."
Awkward silence descended.
Mu Xiaoyao fidgeted with her sleeve. "So… about that lesson?"
Wu nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Tomorrow. After work. But no funny business. Deal?"
"Deal!" She brightened, the momentary awkwardness forgotten.
She grabbed her bag, pausing at the door. "Thanks, Brother Fan. For… everything."
Wu grunted, but he couldn't help smiling.
As she left, he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. *What the hell am I doing?*
But beneath the guilt, there was a flicker of something else—excitement, maybe. For the first time in years, life felt… alive.
He glanced at his watch: 1 enhancement point left.
Tomorrow, he'd teach Mu Xiaoyao to throw a punch. Tomorrow, he'd face Ye's gathering. Tomorrow, he'd figure out how to get 50,000 yuan for her father.
But for now, he just sat there, replaying the feel of her in his lap, the sound of her whisper in his ear.
*This is going to get complicated*, he thought.
And somehow, that didn't bother him one bit.