Chapter 82: The Price of Skill

Old Shen’s expression remained serene as she glanced at me, then returned her gaze to the screen. Her teammates were all eliminated, and the game had now entered its final circle. Clad in a ghillie suit, she lay prone in the grass, the upper-left corner of the screen indicating five players still alive. Not far ahead, four enemies, guns raised, scoured the area for her.

“You’ve been drinking,” Old Shen murmured, “I can smell the alcohol and smoke on you.”

I powered on my machine and entered my member account and password. There were still over five hours of playtime remaining, more than enough to last me until midnight.

Slumped in my chair, I said, “I saw Xiao Cuihua this morning and ended up drinking with him all afternoon.”

Old Shen remained silent, her silver-grey eyes fixed intently on the screen.

On screen, Old Shen’s character suddenly rose from the tall grass. She aimed down sights, and with her fully equipped M4, there was no need for strenuous recoil control; the bullets flew like laser beams, instantly felling an opponent.

The remaining three enemies immediately reacted, standing and spraying bullets toward Old Shen’s position. However, Old Shen had already begun to reposition the moment she downed her target, ducking behind a nearby tree.

“Why haven’t you been streaming lately?” I asked softly.

I recalled Old Shen used to stream every few days on a popular platform, attracting a considerable number of viewers.

After all, a female streamer with both stunning looks and exceptional skill was a rare sight. Old Shen had amassed a large fanbase, and at one point, when boredom struck, she had even considered streaming full-time from home, reportedly earning four to five thousand a month.

Old Shen’s character stood concealed behind a tree. The opponents were clearly cautious: one threw two smoke grenades to the left, then, with another teammate, moved into the smoke with guns ready. A third enemy circled around to the right, attempting to sandwich Old Shen from both sides.

The one circling right was merely a decoy. If Old Shen engaged them, the player emerging from the smoke, no matter how poor their aim, could easily take her down.

A single tree would certainly not provide enough cover.

Old Shen’s account ranked exceptionally high, she claimed over three thousand points, meaning even the weakest players she encountered would still possess considerable skill.

“I’m not streaming anymore. It’s too much trouble,” Old Shen said softly.

Her character pulled out a grenade and hurled it into the smoke. After about three throws, an enemy was sent flying out of the smoke. Old Shen quickly landed two single shots to finish them, then abruptly spun around, unleashing another laser-like burst of controlled fire, downing the enemy who had flanked her from the right.

“Hmm, why did you stop streaming?” I asked, clicking on STEAM on the desktop.

Old Shen didn’t reply. At this point, only two players remained on the field as the smoke in the final circle gradually dispersed. The player previously blasted out by the grenade was now downed and crawling toward a tree.

Old Shen switched to her 98K and fired a shot at the crawling player’s backside.

The gunshot had barely faded when the player behind the tree peeked their head out.

“Chicken dinner,” I murmured, already too disengaged to watch, and opened my own game.

Old Shen let out a soft sigh, removed the heavy headphones from her head, and shook her long, silver hair, gazing at the screen with an air of utter boredom.

A moment later, she turned to me, bored, “Want to play together? Should I switch to my smurf account for streaming?”

I nodded, logging into the game interface. “Switch accounts,” I suggested. “Your main account’s rank is too high; we’ll die in inexplicable ways.”

Old Shen sighed as she switched accounts.

“I don’t know how Bluehole’s ban system works,” she explained. “A few days ago, I got 15 kills in a row while streaming, and they banned my account right in the middle of the broadcast. The chat exploded with people saying it was ‘proof’ I was cheating, and I lost a ton of fans.”

I sent Old Shen an invite. “That sounds pretty rough for you.”

Old Shen joined the room, saying softly, “Since I’m a girl now, whenever something happens, the chat is full of insults, some of them truly disgusting.”

“Before, they’d always say there’s no way a girl could pull off those moves, that I must be cheating. And there were a lot of people saying it. When I got banned a few days ago, those people all went wild. I lost over five thousand fans in a single day; it was incredibly frustrating.”

“Those people are just like that. If you play better than them, they think there’s something wrong with you,” Old Shen said, clearly indignant. It seemed the incident had truly disgusted her. She mumbled, running a hand through her silver hair, then sighed, “They think, ‘We all have two eyes, one brain, and two hands, so why are you better than me? You must be cheating!’ And ‘explaining is covering up, covering up is the truth.'”

“And because I’m a girl, these people are even more resentful, even more jealous. Normally, I don’t even want to look at the chat, it’s so passive-aggressive. One day, I was streaming with a cold, my eyes were a bit red, and the cold medicine made me drowsy, so I kept yawning. They immediately started saying the streamer clearly didn’t get enough sleep, asking if someone had ‘ridden her all night.'”

“Isn’t that just asking for trouble? You should have cursed them out,” I said, a little speechless.

Old Shen looked a bit dejected. She sighed, saying, “Interact with that bunch? The internet isn’t real-name verified. Plus, tens of thousands of people are watching; it’s practically like being on TV, which is cool. If I cursed back, they’d just say even worse things.”

“Even more bizarre, some people privately messaged me, asking if a ‘cheating streamer’ would ‘sleep around.’ They offered ten thousand for one night, or fifteen thousand for a long-term ‘godfather’ arrangement, demanding ‘cash on delivery.’ Cash on delivery, my ass!” Old Shen laughed, exasperated, as she recounted this, grabbing a can of cola from the table and chugging it down.

After finishing, she let out another long sigh.

“Didn’t your account get unbanned? Shouldn’t those people shut up now?” I asked, genuinely feeling that things had gone too far.

“Oh, it’s fine now,” Old Shen said dismissively, looking at the screen. “A few days ago, I made it to the game’s trending topics. The first day I streamed on my smurf account, the chat was full of people cursing me. Then I told them to wait, that I’d address it in a few days.”

“The day my main account was unbanned, the stream audience broke a hundred thousand, probably all waiting to curse me out. But when they saw the account was perfectly fine, that it truly was a mistaken ban, those people all fell silent. They played dumb, no longer claiming I was a ‘cheating confirmed’ or that they’d ‘ride me until dawn.'”

Old Shen took a sip of cola, lazily watching the screen.

“I had taken screenshots of over a dozen chat messages from before. I displayed them on stream and cursed out every single one of them. I cursed them to hell, especially the one who demanded ‘cash on delivery.’ I exposed his ID and cursed his ancestors back eighteen generations. I cursed for over ten minutes until my throat was dry, then took a sip of water and kept going.”

“Eventually, I got tired of cursing and said, ‘I’m sick of looking at all of you. You’re all as useless as crippled dogs, only knowing how to dig at dog paws and spew filth in the stream. You should just kill yourselves and become fertilizer for the farmers. Your existence is no different from excrement; even bird droppings and vomit are nobler than you. The stream is closing today; go disgust someone else. I sincerely wish you all a swift and peaceful demise. Goodbye, you motherf**kers.'”

Hearing her fluent tirade, I said with a hint of helplessness, “But what about the fans who actually like you? If you stop streaming, what will they do? Didn’t you curse them out too?”

“What’s it to me?” Old Shen lazily took a sip of cola, looking at the screen. “Just because they like me, I have to stream? Does that mean if they want to get on top of me, I should just stick my ass out for them?”

Her words made several college students nearby blush, glancing furtively at Old Shen.

Old Shen drank her cola. The internet café had dimmed its lights, and the glow from the monitors illuminated her face.

“It’s not bad not streaming. At least I don’t have to listen to all those sarcastic remarks every day. As for streaming, I don’t really need the pocket money anyway. Just loafing around at home, waiting to die, is quite enjoyable.”

In the spawn island, Old Shen listlessly controlled her character, hitting a black woman with an afro.

I sighed and nodded. “Then don’t stream. Our happiness is what matters most.”

“I won’t,” Old Shen nodded. “It’s the desert map. Let’s drop at the military base.”

The military base was in the far upper-right corner of the desert map. The flight path this time cut diagonally from the bottom-left to the upper-right, placing the military base at the very end of the route.

As Old Shen and I parachuted, we noticed other players dropping as well, perhaps two teams. I had a feeling Old Shen could handle them herself. After landing, I first entered a warehouse. Fortunately, my luck held; I found an M16, loaded a magazine, and had sixty rounds of spare ammunition.

“Come here for a moment. I don’t have a gun, and there’s a team about two hundred meters ahead,” Old Shen said.

In front of Old Shen’s position lay a stretch of blue pipes, riddled with many trenches. With some luck, one could find supplies within them. When I arrived, Old Shen was crouched behind a low wall in front of the blue pipes. I adjusted my character’s view and, sure enough, on the other side of the pipes, two people were picking up loot, guns in hand.

I remembered two teams had dropped in this area, but the remaining team was nowhere to be found. I crouched beside Old Shen and threw her my M16 and all my spare ammunition.

Old Shen crouched on the ground, loading the magazine.

As soon as the magazine was loaded, she immediately stood up from behind the low wall, peeked twice, and fired a three-round burst with perfect recoil control.

The person a hundred meters away was still engrossed in looting. I watched as they picked up a first aid kit, only to be instantly downed.

“One down,” Old Shen said softly.

This was Old Shen’s smurf account, only around a thousand points, with an overall skill level slightly below my own.

The other teammate didn’t even realize what was happening, hopping and vaulting over a wall. With no cover, they began to revive their downed teammate in the open.

Old Shen fired another three-round burst, and that person instantly turned into a death box.

Old Shen said in voice chat, “Cleared. Go loot.”

I eagerly vaulted over the wall and crouched beside the death box to loot.

The death box’s open mic blared a male voice yelling, “Cheater, orphan! F*** your mother, may your whole family die!”

Inside the box was an MP5, one hundred twenty rounds of spare ammunition, plus a first aid kit. The other box contained mostly attachments, but at least I could fully kit out my submachine gun.

The open mic behind me was still spewing curses. I pulled a green helmet from the box, put it on, and went to find Old Shen.

Although this team was cleared and the game’s rank was not high, Old Shen’s movement was still very cautious. When I reached her, Old Shen was hugging the wall, searching inside a factory building. She already had an S686 on her back and was wearing a pristine white level-two helmet.

“The zone’s coming soon. The last team is still here. There’s a vehicle spawn point outside. Here’s a drink for you, get ready for a fight,” Old Shen said, crouching and throwing me two cans of Red Bull.

I silently picked up the two drinks.

“Footsteps,” Old Shen suddenly said.

She controlled her character, who abruptly spun around and began firing three-round bursts toward the doorway.

As Old Shen opened fire, the person outside the door spurted blood, startled into a mid-air jump, landing behind the door. At that moment, another player, wearing a level-one helmet, peeked out from the doorway, engaging Old Shen with an AK. But Old Shen’s recoil control was masterful; a three-round burst made blood gush from the person’s chest, forcing them to quickly retreat behind the door as well.

“Both are heavily damaged. Go finish them! The first one who came in had a level-three helmet; give it to me later!” Old Shen murmured, reloading her magazine.

I quickly grabbed my MP5, switched to full auto, and burst out the door to find two people crouching there, healing. I immediately raised my gun and sprayed at them, forty bullets roaring out. But having drunk earlier, I wasn’t in top form. After a frantic spray, I had painted two lifelike figures on the wall.

I saw images on the wall resembling a great roc spreading its wings and devils entering the village.

One of them was particularly vivid, looking exactly like someone crouching and drinking a beverage.

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