Charm point maxed out, inheriting game assets

An ice-white Bentley Continental GT navigated through the streets of Yan City.

It drew numerous glances.

The car drove out of the South Second Ring, and after a few turns, the scenery on both sides of the road suddenly changed.

The towering buildings gradually faded away, replaced by rows of bare locust trees, and various snack shops, roadside stalls, second-hand bookshops, and accessory stores.

The passersby along the road mostly comprised young men and women.

They gathered in threes or fives, laughing and bantering, the air thick with the youthful energy that belongs to college students.

Familiar street scenes flashed by her eyes, and the shyness and restraint on Zhang Yan’s face gradually faded away unconsciously.

”Tang Song, this is outside Yan City University of Science and Technology.”

”Yeah, our school’s commercial street.” Tang Song turned his head, looking at her rejuvenated almond eyes, and chuckled, ”You used to come here quite often.”

Zhang Yan gently nodded, then looked out the window with a hint of shyness.

How could she not come often?

She had secretly observed his routine, knowing that every Wednesday afternoon, he would come to this street to buy food.

Thus, this street became a place she frequented.

She would time it right, alone or dragging Feifei and the others along, pretending to pass by.

More often than not, she’d sit in that tiny bookstore on the street corner, holding a book she couldn’t really read, her eyes always glancing out the window.

Only when that familiar figure appeared would she quietly follow behind him, watching which stall’s grilled cold noodles he bought, which noodle shop he entered, and then secretly try them herself.

As if this way, she could get a little closer to his world.

The car slowly came to a stop in a vacant spot by the road.

”Let’s get out.”

Zhang Yan quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, cautiously pushing the car door open, imitating Tang Song.

A gust of air, filled with the cumin scent of grilled skewers and the sweet aroma of sugar-roasted chestnuts, rushed into her nostrils.

She took a deep breath, raised her head, and looked at the overcast sky and the bare treetops, her face breaking into a radiant smile.

The smell hasn’t changed a bit.

Just then, a slender hand reached out in front of her.

Zhang Yan’s breath hitched.

She bit her lip, her heart pounding, and lowered her head, slowly placing her slightly cool fingertips into his palm, testing.

The warm touch instantly enveloped her small hand completely, the heat seemed to travel up her arm, scorching all the way to her heart.

Her face flushed crimson.

Was this considered her taking the initiative to... hold hands?

The two walked side by side on a sidewalk covered in gray-yellow fallen leaves, each step making a ”creak, creak” sound.

The students passing by couldn’t help but cast amazed looks at Tang Song.

He was almost twenty centimeters taller than her, her head bowed, she could only see the corner of his dark gray coat and her own shoe tips stepping forward.

A winter noon, overcast, no sunlight.

The light was as soft as a tranquil landscape painting.

They looked like any other ordinary college couple walking this street, yet somehow different.

”What do you want to eat?”

Zhang Yan hesitated for a moment, then quietly said, ”...noodles.”

In all her taste memories of Yan City, the most vivid was that steaming bowl of authentic Anhui beef noodles brimming with bright red chili peppers.

The dry aroma of the chilies, the al dente noodles, were flavors she couldn’t replicate no matter how she tried in Yang City.

”Let’s go, I haven’t had it in a long time either.”

He held her hand, expertly leading her into the small noodle shop.

At noon, the shop was bustling, fortunately, there was an empty seat.

”Wide or thin? Add anything?”

”Small bowl, wide noodles, add a meatball.” Zhang Yan murmured softly, as if reporting a secret.

Tang Song made an OK hand sign, skillfully placing the order and paying, then sat back down across from her.

He didn’t look at his phone, just propped his elbow on the slightly greasy table, smiling deeply at the girl sitting opposite him.

She wore a soft cream-colored down jacket, her clean and delicate face tinged with a faint blush of shyness.

She looked so beautifully vulnerable.

After all these years, he could still see a shadow of her junior high school self in her.

Back then, she had a neat student haircut, and her writing was neat too.

She was always quiet, not very interesting.

Tang Song was somewhat late to mature.

In junior high, his world was filled with ”Naruto,” ”One Piece,” and ”Dragon Ball”...

His daily life revolved around studying, messing around, reading comics, his biggest dream being to open a comic book store and live in it forever.

(In that sense, he indeed had a lot in common with the ”otakus” like Jing and Xu Qing.)

His genuine interest in his female desk mate sparked one day in seventh grade.

That noon, his parents weren’t home, so he bought some fried noodles, carrying his comic book back to the classroom, only to see, through the window, that she hadn’t gone home either.

She sat alone at the desk, holding a plastic bag with half a white bun inside.

He saw with his own eyes how she sprinkled the powder from an instant noodle seasoning packet onto the bun, nibbled it little by little, then sipped some cold water.

At that moment, even though he wasn’t mature, his mind full of shounen manga’s passion and justice, he knew her family’s circumstances probably weren’t great.

So, the boy immersed in the world of comics started playing the ”protagonist.”

He would occasionally bring her snacks; if he saw her while riding his electric bike to school, he would, without asking, give her a ride; if he saw classmates bullying her, he’d stand up just like in the comics...