Chapter 337 - 184: Action (3)

Chapter 337: Chapter 184: Action (3)

"Oh, stop boasting for him. If he’s not the blockhead here, who is?"

Zhang Qiang’s mother was beaming.

"Alright, you two drink your soup. Xiaozhuo, once you’re done, go ahead and use the computer. Don’t mind him. You’re eating at our place for lunch. I’ll make your favorite—braised pork ribs."

"Okay, thank you, Auntie."

Zhang Qiang’s mother gave a few more instructions, then left, closing the door behind her with a satisfied smile.

Chen Zhuo took a sip of the mung bean soup. The beans were cooked until they had a fine, sandy texture, and the sweetness of the rock sugar perfectly balanced their earthy flavor. One mouthful seemed to dissipate half the summer heat.

He sat back down in the swivel chair and glanced at the computer screen.

He moved the mouse and clicked on the red "X."

The chat window disappeared.

The screen reverted to the wallpaper from the game *Legend*, featuring a character holding a Dragon Slayer saber.

He stood up and stretched, his joints letting out a few soft pops.

"How far along are you?"

He walked over to Zhang Qiang, holding his mung bean soup.

"Almost done! Just the last big problem!"

Without looking back, Zhang Qiang drew a long line with the red marker in his hand, stopping just before the last switch. He then quickly switched to a blue pen and, starting from the negative terminal, completed the final circuit path.

"Done!"

Zhang Qiang tossed his pen onto the desk, let out a long sigh, and grabbed the other bowl of mung bean soup. He tilted his head back and downed it in one go. GULP, GULP.

"Brother Zhuo, isn’t it incredible?"

Zhang Qiang wiped the mung bean paste from his mouth and turned to look at Chen Zhuo.

"I used to think physics was something no human could possibly learn. Now, I feel like it’s not so bad after all."

Chen Zhuo leaned against the nearby doorframe, watching Zhang Qiang’s smug, "mission accomplished" expression, as if he were waiting for praise.

"Finished?" Chen Zhuo asked.

"Finished! The whole workbook is done!"

Zhang Qiang pounded his chest proudly.

"Let’s go, then."

Chen Zhuo put down the empty bowl.

"Go where?"

Zhang Qiang was taken aback for a moment.

"Didn’t you say you’d saved up some allowance?"

Chen Zhuo looked at him, his eyes clear and gentle, yet with a hint of casual indifference.

"The arcade downtown. *The King of Fighters ’97*. I’ll use Shiranui Mai. I’ll even play you one-handed and spot you Yagami."

Zhang Qiang’s eyes instantly lit up like a pair of searchlights, all traces of fatigue from his homework vanishing in an instant.

"Holy shit! Brother Zhuo, are you serious? Don’t you regret this! I’ve been practicing my combos in my dreams every night!"

Zhang Qiang shoved his stool aside, swiftly pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk, and from beneath a messy pile of old books, he fished out a crumpled roll of cash—all ones and fives. He stuffed it all into his pocket.

"Let’s go, let’s go! Today, I’m gonna make you call me Daddy!"

Zhang Qiang eagerly headed for the door.

"Don’t let your mom hear you."

Chen Zhuo smiled and turned to follow.

Zhang Qiang quickly made a hushing gesture. Like a little monkey on a heist, he gently pulled the door open. After confirming his mom was stir-frying in the kitchen and couldn’t hear them, the two slipped out of the house, one after the other.

The sun outside was intense, its glare blinding. Cicadas shrieked themselves hoarse from the camphor trees lining the road, their calls rising and falling in relentless, tireless waves.

Zhang Qiang ran to the freezer at a small kiosk, bought two old-fashioned popsicles, and handed one to Chen Zhuo.

They tore off the wrappers and, chewing on their popsicles, walked toward the city center under the blazing sun.

The arcade was in a basement. As they walked down the stairs, the light grew dim. The moment they pushed aside the door curtain, a wall of sound slammed into their ears.

The electronic sounds of game cabinets, the CLACKING of furiously mashed buttons, the grinding of joysticks being spun wildly, and a colorful variety of curses and shouts.

Zhang Qiang confidently strode to the counter, knowing his way around, and slapped the crumpled roll of cash on the surface.

"Boss, twenty tokens!"

With a handful of greasy arcade tokens, Zhang Qiang was like a general about to enter battle. He led Chen Zhuo through the rows of machines and found an empty *The King of Fighters ’97* cabinet.

Insert coin. Select character.

Light and shadow flickered across the screen.

Chen Zhuo placed one hand on the joystick, his index and middle fingers resting on the buttons. His posture was casual. He picked Shiranui Mai and then randomly selected two characters he didn’t recognize for the remaining slots.

Zhang Qiang, on the other hand, looked as if he were facing a formidable enemy. He gripped the joystick with both hands and chose his best team: Yagami Iori, Kusanagi Kyo, and Benimaru.

"Ready? Go!"

The on-screen countdown began.

Zhang Qiang’s Yagami Iori rushed forward. He worked the joystick so hard it CLICKED AND CLACKED, and he slammed the buttons as if he were pounding on a table.

Chen Zhuo just flicked the joystick lightly.

Shiranui Mai dodged the attack with an agile backflip, then immediately sent a Flower Butterfly Fan flying, precisely interrupting Zhang Qiang’s opening move.

"Fuck!" Zhang Qiang cursed, charging in again.

Chen Zhuo was still playing with only one hand. His movements were minimal, but every button press hit the most precise activation frame.

Block, dodge, heavy punch, super move.

There were no wasted movements, no flashy combos—only the purest calculation and reaction. It was as if he had deconstructed every frame of the game into discrete data points and found the shortest response path in his mind.

Less than thirty seconds.

A large "K.O." appeared on the screen.

Zhang Qiang’s Yagami Iori lay defeated on the ground.

"Again!"

Zhang Qiang, refusing to accept defeat, slammed the button for another round.

Second round. Kusanagi Kyo entered the ring.

The result was no surprise. Twenty seconds later, Kusanagi Kyo was also taken down.

"This can’t be happening!"

Zhang Qiang’s Benimaru was up.

「Ten minutes later.」

Zhang Qiang’s twenty tokens were more than half gone.

He slumped in his chair, staring at his character collapsing on the screen again, feeling like he’d lost the will to live.

"I’m done, I’m done. This is no fun."

Zhang Qiang shoved the last few tokens into Chen Zhuo’s hand.

"You play something else for a bit. I need a break. Brother Zhuo, how is your brain even wired? You’re a beast at school, and you’re a beast at *The King of Fighters*, too."

Chen Zhuo pocketed the tokens and stood up from his chair.

"Let’s go. Time to head back."

"Back already?"

Zhang Qiang glanced at the time.

"Didn’t Auntie say she was making braised pork ribs?"

Chen Zhuo started walking toward the exit.

"Right, right, the ribs!"

Zhang Qiang’s spirits instantly lifted, and he followed Chen Zhuo, squeezing their way out of the arcade.

The two walked side-by-side down the street.

A nearby music store was blasting Jay Chou’s "Qili Xiang." The sound was loud, mixing with the summer cicadas and drifting far into the distance.

"Brother Zhuo, after you go back this time, when will you be back again?"

Zhang Qiang asked casually, kicking a small pebble on the side of the road.

"Probably winter break."

"That’s still a long way off."

Zhang Qiang sighed.

"With you gone, Old Zhao is definitely going to be on my case about memorizing formulas every day. All this confidence I just built up will probably be gone in a few days after he’s done yelling at me."

"You don’t have to brute-force memorize formulas," Chen Zhuo said. "When you get stuck on a problem, just take out your colored pens and draw it out."

"Alright."