Countdown: 10 seconds
Chi Zhan froze. Why did cooking require a quiz now?
His boyfriend? That meant Song Guang, right? And it was a Q&A challenge!
Completely unprepared, Chi Zhan clicked the answer box and typed: black.
Pure guesswork.
The moment he hit confirm, the game chimed with a “wrong answer” sound effect and a big red X appeared.
[Sorry, incorrect answer.]
Minus one minute. Remaining time: 07:49
“……”
Losing time immediately made him tense up. He had been chopping vegetables but suddenly remembered he hadn’t started the oil. Dropping the half-cut ingredients, he went to heat the pan—only to find that Song Guang had already started stir-frying.
Their dishes were about to overlap.
Just as Chi Zhan turned to grab a new ingredient, another quiz box popped up in front of him.
[Compatibility Quiz Challenge]
What is your favorite color?
(If your partner answers correctly, +1 minute. If incorrect, –1 minute.)
Countdown: 10 seconds
Now Chi Zhan understood. These were mutual-answer questions—only if both answered the same would they pass.
But he and Song Guang had never discussed such things. He had no clue what the other person liked. How were they supposed to get these right?
Chi Zhan thought for a moment, then typed: white.
[Congratulations, correct answer!]
+1 minute. Remaining time: 08:19
Golden confetti burst across the screen in celebration.
He had no idea how Song Guang guessed right, but thank god he did. One more wrong answer and they might’ve run out of time.
Unfortunately, Chi Zhan was being way too optimistic—because from that point on, a new compatibility question popped up every single minute.
[What is your boyfriend’s favorite animal?]
Chi Zhan typed: dog.
[Sorry, incorrect answer.]
“……”
[What is your favorite animal?]
Chi Zhan paused. Honestly, he liked both cats and dogs. But you could only choose one…
In the end, he typed: cat and dog.
Not exactly a clean answer, and Chi Zhan wasn’t expecting a match. But then, the answer box lit up, and the screen exploded with golden confetti again.
[Congratulations, correct answer!]
Chi Zhan was stunned. How the hell did Song Guang get that right?
He really wanted to ask, but the game didn’t allow private messaging—only emotes.
Chi Zhan: shocked cat head.jpg
Song Guang, busy chopping vegetables and boiling water, had his character overloaded with tasks, but a “cat head blowing a heart” emote popped up above him.
Chi Zhan couldn’t help but laugh. But the laughter didn’t last long.
[What is your boyfriend’s hobby?]
Song Guang’s hobby… Time was running low, so Chi Zhan typed: playing games.
[Sorry, incorrect answer.]
“……”
Aren’t most guys into gaming? And Song Guang clearly played well—how could he not like it?
The next quiz appeared almost instantly.
[What is your hobby?]
Chi Zhan thought it over and again typed: playing games.
[Congratulations, correct answer!]
The familiar sound effect of victory played, and confetti filled the screen once more.
But because Chi Zhan had gotten two wrong and Song Guang had answered two correctly, the net result was zero. Time kept ticking down. Meanwhile, Chi Zhan was still reeling from Song Guang’s perfect score so far.
How can he get every single one right?!
Chi Zhan was in the middle of frying an egg when the final question appeared. Unlike the previous ones, this time two questions popped up simultaneously.
[How long has it been since you first felt something for him?]
[How long has it been since he first felt something for you?]
This is a mutual response challenge. If both answers match, +10 minutes. If they differ, all remaining time will be deducted.
This was, by far, the hardest question.
Because “feeling something” wasn’t a clear emotional benchmark. If the question were “How long have you been together?”, that’d be easier. Most couples remembered anniversaries, but the exact moment of falling for someone? Even they might not know.
Chi Zhan recalled that it had been about five and a half years since he and Song Guang added each other as friends.
But when they officially marked themselves as a couple in-game? He had no idea. So in the end, he randomly filled in two numbers.
[Sorry, incorrect answer.]
The game screen turned gray. Challenge failed.
“……”
Now he understood exactly where that infamous 99.9% failure rate came from. No matter how well you did before, once you hit this question, there was almost no way to get it right—unless both players were in the same room and could discuss it together.
They were kicked back into the game lobby.
Each day allowed for two attempts. If they failed both, they’d have to start again from Stage One the next day.
Chi Zhan: How did you guess so accurately? You got both the first questions right! shocked cat head.jpg
Song Guang: They were easy questions.
Chi Zhan: You’re making me look like a total dunce here…
But after a moment’s pause, Song Guang replied with a surprisingly thoughtful line:
Song Guang: Love has never been a test, has it?
Chi Zhan: …That’s deep.
Chi Zhan: So, O wise scholar, how about sharing the answer key?
Song Guang: The first two questions are randomly drawn. Just answer however you like.
Chi Zhan: And what about the last one?
Instead of answering, Song Guang asked back: What was your answer?
Chi Zhan had wanted to say “one month,” but it felt too short, so he changed it to “two years.”
Song Guang: Your account’s been inactive for four years.
In other words—they hadn’t even spoken in four years. How could he have fallen for him two years ago?
Song Guang: Just answer truthfully.
Chi Zhan: But…
Song Guang: Put “one day.” If that feels too much, “zero” works too.
Chi Zhan: ……
He didn’t know why, but even though there was no blame or emotion in Song Guang’s tone—it was just a calm, neutral suggestion—Chi Zhan suddenly felt an inexplicable, crushing pressure.
