Chapter 14: Soda
Xiahou Ming was dragged by Yu Yuhui, skipping the entire afternoon’s classes.
It was her first time escaping school’s cage, not for fighting or work, but for a ridiculous reason—“go out and play with me.”
They avoided main roads, threading through familiar, locals-only alleys.
Yu Yuhui’s hand was cold and weak, but Xiahou Ming didn’t pull away.
She followed mechanically, numbly, unsure where they were going.
They stopped at a video parlor, its thick, grimy curtains boasting “Hong Kong and Taiwan Classics, Latest Blockbusters” in red paint.
Faded posters of Chow Yun-fat and Andy Lau hung on the door.
Yu Yuhui pointed to a nondescript door nearby.
Loud electronic music and teenagers’ excited shouts spilled out.
A crooked neon sign read: “Black Hole Video Game Room.”
“I’ve only come here for videotapes,” Yu Yuhui said, her tone casual. “Never been inside that place.”
She turned to Xiahou Ming.
“Take me in.”
It was less a command, more a request.
“…You sure you want to play here?”
Xiahou Ming hesitated.
As boys, they’d look like two weak girls in school uniforms to anyone watching.
“Why else are we here?” Yu Yuhui smiled faintly. “But I don’t know how to play either.”
Xiahou Ming eyed the door.
A paper sign in red letters read: “No Minors Allowed.”
Yet boys from other schools, in uniforms, strolled in, laughing.
No one cared.
This was a ruleless vacuum, a haven for “problem students” like them.
As a boy, Xiahou Ming had been here twice—once treated by a lackey, once after extorting cash.
She’d stopped coming when she realized an afternoon here cost a week’s food for her and her mother.
“Let’s go.” She nodded, stepping over the threshold.
A wave of sweat, cigarette smoke, and scorched electronics hit her.
The arcade was dim, lit only by flashing arcade screens.
Loud music, fistfight sounds, and crude shouts filled the air.
“Sht! Why you spamming that move?”
“Combo! Combo! Finish him!”
This was another world, pulsing with raw vitality, unlike the school’s oppressive silence.
Xiahou Ming felt her taut nerves loosen slightly.
Yu Yuhui seemed uneasy, trailing behind, her usually calm eyes flickering with curiosity and wariness.
She scanned the room like it was a new ecosystem, pausing on a junior high kid hammering buttons in the corner, blinking.
“Do these games need coins?” she asked softly, oddly serious.
“…Of course, or how’d they make money?” Xiahou Ming stifled a laugh, feeling for the first time that Yu Yuhui was her age.
“Where’s the coin exchange?”
“Follow me.” Xiahou Ming didn’t look back, weaving through gawking students to a wooden counter.
She dug into her pocket, feeling sweat-soaked bills and coins—four dollars and forty cents.
Hesitating, she steeled herself, slapped two yuan on the counter.
“Boss, two dollars’ worth.”
She planned to use the coins for a quick game with Yu Yuhui, expecting the bookish girl to tire of it fast—a thank-you for lunch.
Clink.
Four brass coins hit the counter.
Xiahou Ming gave two to Yu Yuhui.
“Here, start with these.”
The two arcade novices burned through the coins quickly.
Xiahou Ming felt embarrassed; this “date” was fizzling out.
Then Yu Yuhui walked to the counter.
Under Xiahou Ming’s stunned gaze, she pulled out a stack of neatly folded ten-yuan notes—at least four or five.
“Boss,” she said calmly to the cigarette-smoking, newspaper-reading man, “fifty yuan.”
Where’d she get that money?
Xiahou Ming grew curious about Yu Yuhui’s background.
Clatter.
The boss dumped a pile of brass coins into a plastic basket.
“Here.” Yu Yuhui handed it to Xiahou Ming. “Now we can have fun.”
Xiahou Ming stared at the full basket, feeling surreal.
They headed to the innermost machines.
She found she was surprisingly good.
Whether dodging bullet hell in Metal Slug or clearing The Punisher* with one coin, she reclaimed a spark of her old confidence.
Her unextinguished instincts—fighting, winning—stirred awake.
Yu Yuhui surprised her more.
The “weirdo” with no apparent interests was a gaming prodigy.
After watching Xiahou Ming once, she mastered the controls.
Her reactions were lightning-fast, her timing precise.
Xiahou Ming played aggressively, mowing down enemies; Yu Yuhui calmly covered her, sniping stragglers or grabbing health items at critical moments.
They barely spoke, but their teamwork was seamless.
For the first time, Xiahou Ming felt someone matched her rhythm, even anticipated her moves—far better than her old, order-following lackeys.
After a flawless clear, Xiahou Ming slapped the machine, panting, throat burning.
A cold bottle pressed against her cheek.
“Here.” Yu Yuhui’s voice.
She’d bought an iced orange soda from the counter.
“Thanks.” Caught up in the moment, Xiahou Ming took a deep sip through the straw.
The cold, fizzy sweetness quenched her restlessness.
About to take another sip, she noticed two straws in the bottle.
She froze.
In that moment, Yu Yuhui leaned down, casually taking the other straw in her mouth.
Their faces were inches apart.
Xiahou Ming saw Yu Yuhui’s eyelashes trembling, delicate as butterfly wings, impossible to ignore.
She caught her scent—not perfume or detergent, but a faint, cool fragrance, like old book pages mixed with damp air.
Xiahou Ming’s face flushed.
She jerked back, trying to create distance.
Yu Yuhui looked up.
Their eyes met, less than ten centimeters apart.
Xiahou Ming saw her reflection in Yu Yuhui’s dark pupils—a flushed, panicked girl.
A pure, girlish smile spread across Yu Yuhui’s face, sly with the triumph of a prank, yet tender.
Time froze.
“It’s so sweet… tastes better than that recorder.”
The arcade’s noisy music and shouts blurred into the background.