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Keqing's small, pale fist thudded against the computer desk, making the mouse beside it jump. She was absolutely fuming! In all her years of growing up and climbing the ranks of Liyue's leadership, she had never stumbled like this. To think she would meet her match in a silly game.
Seeing his favorite "cat-girl" official in such a state, Li Mo reached out and gently patted her head—a gesture of comfort he might offer a frustrated friend. He handed her a cold can of sparkling water. "Here, take a break. You can't conquer this mountain if your head isn't in the right place."
Keqing took the drink and thanked him softly, leaning back against the sofa to let the icy liquid cool her nerves. It took a moment for her to realize that Li Mo had just patted her head and called her "Ah Qing." Such an intimate gesture was usually reserved for family, and the realization made her bow her head as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.
However, the peace didn't last. Once her daily three-hour limit was reached, Keqing didn't look refreshed—she looked like a gray stone statue slumped on the sofa. Her spirit was broken. The world could end now; she wouldn't care.
That treacherous section above the barbecue grill had become her graveyard. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn't clear it. One slip of the hand, and it was back to the beginning. Eventually, her coordination collapsed entirely. She couldn't even scale the first cliff anymore; her movements were so tense and deformed that even the "home tree" at the start became a hurdle.
Up and down. Up, then back to the happy hometown.
And the narrator continued to pour salt into the wound with every fall:
It's like you've been traveling for an hour, only to realize your wallet is still on the table at home, and you have to go back.
Or like winning a fortune at the casino and betting it all on Red, only for the ball to land on Black.
It's like putting on your favorite, freshly dry-cleaned shirt right before a wedding, only to drop a plate of food on it.
It's like having a massive argument with a friend and finally convincing them you're right, only to have them go back to their original opinion five minutes later...
After a long, heavy silence, a few tears actually welled up in Keqing's eyes. She was crying. In her entire life, she had never felt this level of sheer, unadulterated grievance. Why? Why was a broken game about a man in a pot with a hammer making her heart explode?
Seeing her on the verge of a breakdown, Li Mo tried to comfort her while suppressing a grin. "It's just a temporary setback. Falling back to the start is a standard part of the experience. It's no big deal."
"If you fall back to the happy hometown a few hundred times, you'll eventually become so proficient that the level becomes easy," he added.
Keqing looked at him, feeling even more miserable. A few hundred times? Falling once was enough to make her soul leave her body; did he really expect her to survive a hundred more? Was this how people were supposed to comfort each other?
"Hmph! That's enough for today," Keqing said, standing up and trying to reclaim some of her dignity despite her tear-streaked face. "Don't forget, Mr. Li Mo, you are expected at the Jade Chamber tonight."
With that, she marched out of the cafe, her footsteps heavy with lingering anger. She felt like she needed to go home and chop a hundred logs just to vent her frustration.
The onlookers watched her leave in a daze. They felt a mix of amusement at the Yuheng's misfortune and genuine terror at the game's later stages. This game wasn't entertainment; it was a psychological experiment designed to torture the human spirit. And yet, seeing how difficult it was only made them want to clear it more—just to imagine the prestige of being the one to finally win.
With Keqing gone and the lunch hour passing, Li Mo realized he was hungry. Since he couldn't cook to save his life, he called over a kid who was hanging around the shop and gave him some change to run to Wanmin Restaurant for takeout. Li Mo's policy was simple: as long as they had the Mora, he'd let them play. However, he made a mental note that if he ever added more "mature" content, he'd have to start checking IDs.
Not long after lunch, another familiar face entered the shop: Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, also known as Tartaglia.
Even though he had heard rumors, Childe was visibly taken aback the moment he stepped inside. He could feel his Hydro Vision go cold, and his formidable physical strength seemed to be replaced by the stamina of an average civilian. He had originally planned to find this "visitor from another world" and challenge him to a duel, but it was clear that within these walls, fighting wasn't an option.
Childe walked up to the counter with his usual boisterous charm. "Boss Li Mo! Good to meet you. I'm Tartaglia, but you can call me Childe."
Li Mo looked up, giving him a casual, somewhat disinterested nod. "Oh, hello there, Childe."
Truth be told, Li Mo wasn't a huge fan of the Harbinger. In fact, he found the man's presence a little bit exhausting.