Chapter Thirty-One: The Light That Never Goes Out

Because of our impressive performance in the WCG tournament, the internet café we frequented struck a deal with us: during our team’s training sessions, we could use their equipment and servers for free, on the condition that we displayed our team banner with their café’s logo during competitions. Such a good offer was impossible to refuse. As students, our monthly allowance was meager, and saving on internet fees eased our financial burden considerably. This allowed us to devote even more time to CS.

The last period of the day was a self-study session, and as usual, there was no teacher in the classroom. Before class began, Liu Han suggested we skip and head to the café for training. Ye Hui and I agreed without a second thought.

When we arrived, Allen and Larry were already sitting in front of their computers, practicing one-on-one aim duels.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be in class? What brings you here?” Allen and Larry were both surprised to see us.

“We skipped, obviously,” Liu Han replied nonchalantly as he booted up his computer.

“It’s still early. Why don’t we find a team online for a match?” I suggested. Lately, school had been ending late every night, so even if we made it to the café, we could only practice aim against each other. It had been days since our last match, and I was itching for competition.

Everyone quickly agreed. I logged into the chat room and soon found an opponent.

Just as we were warming up on the map, fully focused, a familiar voice sounded behind us: “Li Xiaobei, Liu Han, Ye Hui—having fun online, are you?”

All five of us turned around at once. Good heavens! It was our homeroom teacher, Ms. Li!

“How did she know we were here? Did someone rat us out?” I groaned inwardly.

The three of us were practically dragged out of the café by Ms. Li. After confiscating our internet cards, she tapped our heads one by one, lecturing us with a stern face: “Look at the date! The college entrance exam is just around the corner! And yet you’re still so nonchalant, sneaking off to play games! I have nothing more to say to you right now—go home and reflect on your actions! In a few days, I’ll visit each of your homes…”

Home visits? Really? We exchanged worried looks—this time, it seemed we were truly doomed.

Several anxious days passed, but the dreaded home visit never came. Gradually, my nerves began to settle. Perhaps Ms. Li had only been trying to scare us.

The weekend arrived quickly. On Sunday morning, I was lounging in bed when a sudden knock at the door made my heart leap into my throat. I jumped up and hurriedly got dressed.

“Xiaobei, your teachers are here!” My mother called from outside my room.

Oh no! What was meant to happen could not be avoided. This was the end.

With trepidation, I walked into the living room. There, sitting on the sofa, were Elder Duan and Ms. Li, my homeroom teacher—a formidable delegation for a home visit. I couldn’t help but gasp.

“Hello, teacher.” Despite my nerves, I approached them politely.

“Would you like some tea? There are bananas—please help yourselves…” My parents fussed around, serving tea and fruit with exaggerated hospitality, as if the teachers were emperors in our home.

After the polite small talk, Ms. Li cleared her throat, produced a card from her bag and placed it on the table. I glanced at it—wasn’t that my confiscated internet card? This was it.

“The college entrance exam is almost here, yet Li Xiaobei doesn’t seem to feel any tension or pressure. Instead, he skips class with his friends to play games at the café! With such an attitude, how can he face the upcoming exam? As teachers, our energy is limited. As parents, you must work together with the school to supervise your child…” Ms. Li’s speech was full of official gravitas, and Elder Duan nodded fervently beside her, adding fuel to the fire.

I sat quietly in the corner, counting the supplies consumed during their lecture: four bananas, five cups of water—they really could eat, I mused silently.

Ms. Li’s monologue seemed endless. When she finally tired, Elder Duan took over, chatting idly with my father. The home visit lasted a full hour, and only as noon approached did they finally prepare to leave.

“Teachers, why don’t you stay for lunch?” my mother offered politely.

“Oh, no need, we have other students to visit,” Elder Duan declined with a wave.

“Take care, teachers. Please continue to look after Xiaobei,” my father said as he escorted them out.

“Goodbye, teachers,” I called after them, waving half-heartedly at their retreating backs.

As the security door closed, the silence in the house was almost suffocating, as if the end of the world was upon us.

“Li Xiaobei!” My father turned, his voice low and furious.

Save me…

Ever since that home visit, my parents imposed a strict curfew. I was forbidden from going to the internet café, and for several days, I was listless and dispirited.

I sat at my desk, bored out of my mind, fiddling with eraser shavings atop a mountain of revision materials. Deep into the quiet night, I dozed off at my desk and woke to find it was already 10:30. The light in my parents’ room was out.

“May as well go to bed,” I muttered to myself, drawing the curtains before turning off the light and climbing into bed.

I hadn’t been lying there long when the phone on my nightstand rang shrilly in the darkness.

Who on earth would call at this hour? Rubbing my bleary eyes, I picked up the receiver, irritation in my voice. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Li Xiaobei! It’s not even that late—how can you already be asleep? The college entrance exam is almost here! Can’t you show a little self-discipline?” It was Ms. Li.

She lived in the eighteen-story building across the street, and her bedroom window happened to face mine. From her vantage point, every move I made was under her watchful eye.

It’s not fate’s fault, I thought grimly. Hanging up, I resigned myself to switching the light back on. “Fine, if you won’t let me sleep in the dark, I’ll sleep with the light on. With the curtains closed, you can’t see anyway!” I muttered, climbing back into bed.

Perhaps I really was exhausted, for despite the glare of the light, I soon drifted into sleep.