“Come on, let me help you pick Luban.”
Her fingers were almost about to touch the screen, but Qiao Liuyue was quicker, dodging slightly.
The phone slipped right past Dong Jiaoyan’s fingertips.
At the same time, the countdown for hero selection reached its final second, and the system let out a crisp locking sound.
Galio, confirmed.
Dong Jiaoyan’s move hadn’t succeeded, and she withdrew her hand in mild irritation.
She crossed her arms, leaned back on the bed, and let out an unhappy snort:
“Liuyue, what’s going on with you? I told you to help me test my boyfriend, but you’re not listening to me at all.”
She paused, then added, “Are you doing this on purpose?”
In the past, faced with her bad temper and explosive emotions, Qiao Liuyue had always silently endured, calmly obedient, never resisting.
But now, she was starting to change—subtly yet steadily.
“Jiaojiao, are we really good friends?” she asked.
Dong Jiaoyan was taken aback. A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes, which were lined with delicate eyeliner.
Her lips moved as she instinctively replied:
“Of course we are. Why are you asking that?”
Qiao Liuyue lifted her head and reached up to brush aside her thick bangs.
Revealing the eyes beneath her glasses—eyes that had always been so thoroughly hidden.
Clear and bright, with a resolute gaze.
Like a pool of water once the floating duckweed had been swept away.
“Good friends should respect each other. You asked me to help, and I agreed.”
“But that doesn’t mean every move I make has to follow your wishes.”
“I’m a living person, not a machine.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word carried weight.
Hearing this, a trace of awkwardness spread across Dong Jiaoyan’s face.
Probably, since they were kids, she had never heard Qiao Liuyue speak to her in this tone.
Still, she quickly adjusted her expression, waving her hand dismissively.
With an air of “It’s no big deal,” as if the little friction just now had been nothing but an accident.
“Fine, fine! You’re right.”
“So I picked Galio—big deal if she dies. There are other ways to fix things.”
As she spoke, she tossed her hair back, her tone light.
“Liuyue, you know how I am—I’ve always been easygoing and careless. You used to understand that, didn’t you? Why can’t you understand now?”
“Forget it, forget it, let’s stop talking. The game’s started.”
She pointed at the screen with a gesture that carried a sense of finality, as if to say, “This topic is closed; let’s get back to work.”
The game loaded, and the screen lit up.
The support picked by “Thanks, Goodbye” was Zhuang Zhou.
A hero who could cleanse control effects and soak up damage—in skilled hands, he could weave through team fights with ease.
The randomly matched teammates were the jungler Yao, the mid-laner Angela, and the top-laner Xiahou Dun.
This lineup had tanks, damage, and crowd control—balanced enough to both attack and defend, advancing and retreating with some strategy.
Qiao Liuyue maneuvered her marksman Galio toward the bottom lane, while “Thanks, Goodbye” controlled Zhuang Zhou, riding his translucent giant fish close behind. Together, they cleared the first wave of minions.
Galio’s longbow fired arrow after arrow, while Zhuang Zhou chipped in damage with his second skill, their sync reasonably good.
Just as they finished clearing the minions and were about to take the red buff eagle, the enemy marksman Luban and his support Yao emerged from the river brush.
One in front, one behind, charging in aggressively.
Qiao Liuyue didn’t back down. She kept controlling Galio to continue attacking the red eagle.
Taking this monster would boost the entire team’s economy—securing it early could give a significant lane advantage.
“Thanks, Goodbye”: [Keep hitting, I’ll hold them off.]
Zhuang Zhou planted himself firmly in front of Galio, tanking every bullet from Luban’s barrage. His health bar plummeted, but he never retreated a single step.
He also used his first skill to precisely interrupt Luban’s ability animation.
A few seconds later, Zhuang Zhou’s health had dropped to a third, while Qiao Liuyue’s Galio had successfully taken down the red eagle, still with half her health left.
The two were about to withdraw, retreating under their tower, when the enemy Luban and Yao got overexcited.
Probably thinking that Zhuang Zhou’s sliver of health was an easy kill, they chased recklessly without regard.
“Thanks, Goodbye”: [Want first blood?]
“The World’s Cutest Support”: [Yes.]
“Thanks, Goodbye”: [Alright, then take it.]
Without any extra words, Zhuang Zhou suddenly made a sharp U-turn, changing his direction of retreat.
Like a nimble fish, he lured Luban into a narrow pathway in their own jungle.
That spot was just within the tower’s attack range—a natural hunting ground.
“Thanks, Goodbye”: [Switch to longbow.]
Galio’s first skill allowed her to toggle between a longbow and a short bow.
The longbow had extended range but a slower attack speed; the short bow shot faster but had shorter reach.
Just as Luban’s shell was about to hit Zhuang Zhou, “Thanks, Goodbye” reacted instantly and activated the healing spell.
A green light flared, restoring a big chunk of HP for both Zhuang Zhou and Galio. Qiao Liuyue’s Galio went from half health back to nearly full.
She had already switched to the longbow, positioning herself at the tower’s attack range edge.
Arrow after arrow rained down on Luban, each one chipping away a significant amount of his health.
At the same time, Zhuang Zhou used his first skill to send out a burst of butterflies, precisely interrupting Luban’s ability, leaving the enemy no chance to counterattack.
The enemy support Yao tried to jump in and save him, but Galio’s range was just too far.
So far that by the time Yao got close, Luban’s health bar was nearly empty.
In the final moment of low health, Zhuang Zhou stopped attacking altogether.
He simply floated there on his giant fish, watching as Galio landed the finishing blow.
“Thanks, Goodbye”: [Finish him.]
Qiao Liuyue’s fingers tapped the attack button rapidly—once, twice, three times.
The next second, Luban’s portrait went gray.
The kill confirmation banner popped up at the top of the screen, accompanied by that familiar, adrenaline-pumping system announcement.
From the moment Zhuang Zhou turned around to when Luban fell, it all happened within just over ten seconds.
Watching from the side, Dong Jiaoyan couldn’t help but lift her chin smugly, a proud grin spreading across her face.
“How was that?”
“Didn’t I tell you my boyfriend’s support skills are awesome?”
When she said this, the pride in her voice was impossible to hide.
Qiao Liuyue said nothing.
Her heart began to pound, thumping faster and faster.
A wave of heat surged from deep in her chest—pure excitement.
Her fingertips tingled slightly.
Not because of “Thanks, Goodbye.”
But because of that moment when the kill banner popped up on the screen, when the system announcement rang out—the raw thrill that came from competitive gaming.
Her ambition was swelling.
Besides a man, she wanted other things too.
