The comment feed had gone absolutely wild:
[I never imagined the character could be used like this! Why do I just end up dying when I use the skill? Is this the difference between a seller’s showcase and a buyer’s tragedy?]
[Waaah, what’s the point of owning the character, just give me a decent pair of hands! This poor child really needs them!]
[Forget hands, can I just take Seven home? I’d buy a dozen!]
Meanwhile, the more technical viewers were beginning to raise doubts.
[Why was the damage so high at the end? Is that even humanly possible? Are we sure we’re playing the same character?!]
[The character has a passive—lower HP equals higher damage. Based on Seven’s health bar just now, I bet that move shattered the shield in one hit!]
[Even if I tried the same thing, I’d be dead before I got a single hit in.]
The match entered the result screen, and Seven was, unsurprisingly, crowned MVP—his damage output was off the charts.
The comment feed was completely unhinged, updating at a pace of several hundred messages per second. No wonder the stream lagged when Chi Zhan first entered. One glance at the viewer count, and it was already some staggering, ridiculous number.
And yet, Seven remained utterly calm. Those slender, beautiful hands moved out of frame to pick up a cup of water.
Somehow, Chi Zhan had the feeling that Seven wasn’t in the best of moods today.
Last night everything had seemed fine—was it stress from the match?
Chi Zhan wanted to ask, but their relationship wasn’t nearly close enough for that. So he simply sat and watched in silence.
The mic quality was excellent. The sound of the bottle cap twisting open, the faint meows of a cat, even the subtle sound of swallowing—it all came through crystal clear.
[Ah-Wei’s dead.]
[That was so sexy…]
[I want to be that water bottle so bad.]
“There’ll be a giveaway later,” Seven’s voice rang out, cool and impassive. “But get ready to be wrecked by me. I’ll draw one person—for a one-on-one match.”
The chat flooded with question marks.
[Excuse me, who the hell wants to—ugh—get beat up by Seven?!]
And yet the number of participants was rapidly climbing.
Chi Zhan casually clicked “Join” as a gesture of support, then returned to his work.
He was just searching up data when—ding—a notification sound chimed.
Chi Zhan looked up. At the same moment, Seven’s giveaway result popped up on the stream overlay.
Seven: “The user ID is…”
His voice suddenly cut off, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A long pause—five full seconds—then he continued in an even tone, “The user ID is ‘CHI.’ Please contact me within five minutes. If you can’t, just reply with a ‘0.’”
“…???”
It wasn’t just Chi Zhan and Seven who were stunned—even the fans watching were completely dumbfounded.
[If I remember right, the last person who won the giveaway… wasn’t it also this guy? No way, seriously?!]
[Seven’s giveaways are 100% fair and transparent. The draws are shown directly on screen. No way there’s any cheating. The only explanation is that this guy is fated to cross paths with Seven!]
[Waaahhh, he must’ve saved the galaxy in a past life!]
Meanwhile, over at the WT team base—
Chen Che was lounging with a bag of chips in hand, watching Qi Song’s livestream. From this third-person perspective, watching their captain game was unexpectedly educational. He turned to Wen An and said, “Honestly, gaming is a great stress reliever. After how Qi-ge looked this morning, I swear I thought he was gonna snap.”
“If you care that much, why don’t you go solo him?”
“Spare me! Playing against Qi-ge? I’m not trying to die today.”
When Chen Che first joined WT, he was young and cocky. He boldly declared he’d 1v1 Qi Song, and if he won, he’d be the team’s new carry.
Qi Song accepted the challenge. The next few days, Chen Che got obliterated so hard that he developed a physiological fear of the game itself.
“No way. Speak of the devil,” Chen Che’s eyes widened, “Qi-ge’s really about to draw someone for a solo match! Has he seriously gone insane?!”
“He wouldn’t do that to a fan. His self-control’s solid. Don’t project your chaos onto him.”
“Alright, alright,” Chen Che mumbled. “Qi-ge’s usually pretty gentle… unless he’s trying to teach someone a lesson, right?”
Crunch. Crunch. He continued munching chips, watching the stream—then suddenly shouted, “Holy sh*t!”
“Now what?”
Chen Che’s hand shook as he pointed at the screen.
“We’ve got a problem. Secretary Chi just won the draw…He’s gonna get wrecked!”
***
Chi Zhan’s luck in giveaways was usually terrible. Twist-off caps always said “Thanks for playing,” and if he ever did win, it was third prize at best. His game gacha pulls always hit pity—he’d never been blessed by RNG.
And yet, in Seven’s stream, he’d been favored by the gods not once, but twice.
Chi Zhan seriously wondered if it was someone else with the exact same username. He opened his giveaway page, only to see the very clear words: Congratulations, you’ve won.
He was dazed. Then a private chat window popped up.
Seven: Coming?
Chi Zhan glanced at his half-finished work, then looked again at the giveaway confirmation. Since the task wasn’t done yet, obviously he should…
CHI: Hold on, I’m logging in.
Choosing between work and gaming with Seven? There was no competition.
He logged on, buzzing with excitement. Seven invited him into a 1v1 challenge room—and that’s when it hit him.
He’d been so focused on finishing his data sorting, he hadn’t paid attention earlier. Now he remembered: the winner had to fight Seven.
“……”
Was there even a point in playing?
This was basically a baby-tier newbie going head-to-head with a max-level elite boss.
He’d agreed way too quickly—too late to back out now.
Still, maybe he could pull off a win?
Humans suffer from three great delusions. One of them is: “I can turn this around.”
How would you know unless you tried?
Seven: Want to pick each other’s characters?
Chi Zhan accepted with a grin. This might actually be kind of fun.
