Chapter Forty-Six: Reminiscence

Zhang Congwen had grown up all these years, and aside from his mother buying him clothes, no one else had ever done so. Receiving clothes bought by Zhu Qingyan, it would be a lie to claim he wasn't happy. He immediately changed into the outfit Zhu Qingyan had chosen for him and flaunted it in front of Song Jiawei.

Though Song Jiawei considered himself quite handsome, he had to admit that, after Zhang Congwen donned the new clothes, Zhang was actually a bit more attractive than he was. This sparked a small pang of jealousy within him.

“Get out! If you keep strutting around in front of me, I’ll start chewing grass,” Song Jiawei grumbled, losing all interest in probing further into Zhang Congwen and Zhu Qingyan’s relationship. Frustrated, he retreated to his room and shut himself in.

“Want to play a couple rounds?”

Just as Zhang Congwen was basking in Song Jiawei’s reaction, a challenge came from Song’s room.

“I’m in,” Zhang Congwen replied instantly.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. “A couple rounds” meant playing two games of Red Alert, that old classic. Both Zhang Congwen and Song Jiawei were nostalgic, with a deep fondness for vintage games—especially Song Jiawei, who adored Red Alert above all.

In their free time, Zhang Congwen would occasionally accompany Song Jiawei for a few matches, though he usually lost more often than he won. Not because Song Jiawei was particularly skilled, but simply because Zhang Congwen was rather out of practice.

In fact, Zhang Congwen used to be quite good—much better than Song Jiawei. But after a long break from the game, he’d forgotten most of the shortcuts and, unwilling to relearn them, now played using only the mouse. This put him at a significant disadvantage against Song Jiawei, who made full use of both mouse and keyboard.

Song Jiawei’s invitation was nothing more than an attempt to vent his frustration by thrashing Zhang Congwen in the game. Zhang, caught up in his own glee, agreed without thinking. Had he realized what Song was up to, he would never have consented—letting Song stew in his own annoyance would have been far more satisfying.

Song Jiawei soon set up a server and urged Zhang Congwen to join. With no way out, Zhang begrudgingly entered the game room.

The map was a classic called “Frozen Wilderness,” a large battleground for up to eight players, with starting points arrayed along the edges. In a full match, players typically built their bases right at their spawn points to avoid falling behind and getting ganged up on.

But with only the two of them playing, tactical options multiplied.

Zhang Congwen didn’t hesitate—he drove his construction vehicle to the center of the map, intending to build his base there. Red Alert placed great emphasis on resources—money, as players called it. To gain more, one had to mine ore scattered across the map. “Frozen Wilderness” featured two types: yellow gold ore and multicolored gems, the latter being far more valuable.

By setting up in the center, Zhang Congwen hoped to mine gems more efficiently and thus outpace Song Jiawei economically.

But unexpectedly, as soon as Zhang reached the gem field, a dog came charging toward his construction vehicle.

Anyone who’s played Red Alert knows that dogs only harm infantry—they’re powerless against the ironclad construction vehicle. Nonetheless, seeing the dog, Zhang’s heart sank. He hurried to deploy his vehicle, but he was a step too late.

To deploy and turn into a base, the construction vehicle needed a wide, flat area free of obstacles. But before Zhang could do so, Song Jiawei had already maneuvered his dog right next to the vehicle. With the dog present, Zhang couldn’t deploy.

His only option was to keep moving, trying to dodge the dog and find a spot to deploy.

But Song Jiawei was unusually aggressive today—no matter how Zhang tried to reposition, Song’s dog skillfully blocked him at every turn.

In frustration, Zhang attempted to crush the dog with his construction vehicle. Yet the dog’s agility proved superior, and Song Jiawei exploited its speed to circle the vehicle repeatedly. No matter what Zhang tried, he couldn’t run over the dog.

Just as Zhang was growing exasperated, Song Jiawei’s sly laughter echoed from his room: “Aren’t you good at training dogs? Come train mine!”

“Train your damn dog! Laughing so shamelessly at this hour—don’t you know you’re disturbing the neighbors?” Zhang snapped.

The retort worked; Song Jiawei immediately stopped laughing.

At last, Song made a slip in maneuvering, and Zhang crushed the dog. Zhang was about to happily deploy his base when he saw five engineers trotting over.

The engineer unit had no offensive abilities, but served two purposes: entering friendly buildings to instantly repair them, or entering enemy structures to capture them.

Zhang hadn’t yet deployed his base, and Song Jiawei’s engineers had already surrounded his construction vehicle, as if watching a show.

If Zhang deployed now, Song would immediately send his engineers in to capture it. Everyone knows—in Red Alert, losing all your structures means defeat. Seeing Song’s engineers encircle his vehicle, Zhang didn’t even bother with token resistance; he simply hit the surrender button.

After the game ended, Song Jiawei sent a voice message.

Zhang, still irked, said, “Starting off with such cheap tactics—are we even playing?”

Song Jiawei promptly promised, hand on heart, that he wouldn’t resort to such underhanded tricks in the next round.

They entered another game, again on Frozen Wilderness. This time, Zhang played it safe, deploying his base right at the spawn point, intent on a steady strategy.

But he barely had time to get going before Song Jiawei sent tanks to harass him. With one wave after another, Zhang struggled to keep up, complaining over the phone about Song’s dirty play while scrambling to defend.

Just as Zhang felt ready to strike back, an explosion rocked his base.

“Damn! You used a suicide truck—how can you be so cheap?” Zhang said, staring at the green wreckage within his base, frustrated. He hadn’t noticed that, amid the chaos, Song Jiawei had secretly built a suicide truck and rammed it in at the perfect moment.

“Heh heh heh!” Song Jiawei chuckled wickedly over the phone, clearly pleased. “I’ve got as many as you want.”

“Cheap!”

Five minutes later, Zhang Congwen could no longer endure Song Jiawei’s torment and quit the game altogether.