Chapter 92 Only Heartbreakers Make Excuses

Chapter 92: Only a Cheater Makes Excuses

Recently, Lin Haoda had been seeing news about Lonely Cupid everywhere.

It started one late night when Tong Dong dropped a link into the group chat. Lin Haoda clicked it and found it was a friend-assist page, so he casually gave it a like.

The next day at work, meeting in the elevator, Lin Haoda quietly asked, "What was that you sent last night? Looked like some kind of lottery."

"A test key for the game." Tong Dong yawned as she told him, "The story seems pretty interesting."

She unlocked her phone, scrolled to a post on some social platform, and showed it to Lin Haoda. "Here, take a look."

The promotional image featured Sifenny, a character he was all too familiar with—a silhouette of her praying in the sunlight before a shattered statue of Cupid.

Lin Haoda was taken aback, focusing on the title—apparently, the game was launching next week.

Seeing his calm expression, showing no interest, Tong Dong kept pushing: "Wanna give it a try? It’s really popular lately. Even if you don’t want to play, you can sell the test code at a markup."

Before he could refuse, Tong Dong had already forwarded the lottery link and urged him to open it right away.

Lin Haoda forgot to mute his phone, and the cheerful background music suddenly started playing.

The morning rush-hour elevator was dead silent, with barely any sign of life. Amid the out-of-place game soundtrack, a short-haired girl standing in front of Lin Haoda suddenly turned around, stared at him for a few seconds, pulled out her phone, and said, "Hey, are you also hunting for Lonely Cupid? Can we add each other as friends to help with the lottery?"

Lin Haoda held his phone without moving, but Tong Dong beside him immediately agreed, opening her camera to scan the girl’s friend code.

The lottery list refreshed at a fixed time early each morning. Tong Dong got into the habit of dropping links into the group right on the hour. Every time the midnight notification went off, Lin Haoda knew it was another miss.

A week later, the game launched. Tong Dong bought it right away and blazed through it. The next morning at work, her eyes were puffy.

Lin Haoda asked if she hadn't slept well. Tong Dong’s eyes were red, her voice hoarse, but her tone was sincere: "Haoda, you've gotta play Lonely Cupid."

Lin Haoda gave an awkward smile and quickly changed the subject.

Once attention took root, more and more messages flooded in from all directions.

When Lin Haoda opened his apps, his feed increasingly showed game completion impressions. Clicking into the group chat, Xiao Ming and Xiao Ye had also gotten hooked by Tong Dong’s persistent recommendations. On the weekend morning, as he took a ride to work, he ran into crowds heading to an anime convention, and among them was a cosplayer dressed as Sifenny.

Perhaps because Lin Haoda had finished the game two weeks early and, to some extent, had identified himself with Sifenny, his mood was different from ordinary players—a bit complicated.

After the game’s own attention peaked, discussions about its creator grew louder. From official channels, very little information had been disclosed—the creator wasn’t verified, and under that name, no previous works had ever been released, only this one.

On the other hand, in his circle of friends, Jiang Tianyi was posting game sales celebratory posters enthusiastically—first one a day, later, he was posting two every half day.

Lin Haoda hesitated. He originally planned to send congratulations to Tang Chen, but worried he might be busy. After two days of putting it off, it fizzled out.

Not long after, one night, a player discussion thread appeared on the largest domestic game forum. The initiator claimed to be a player who had participated in Lonely Cupid’s earliest tests. In the post, they described in detail the differences between the test version and the final release, pointing fingers at the game maker, asking why the core gameplay had been altered, limiting the number of reload saves, and why, with so many romanceable characters, the game ignored difficulty and forced a bad ending.

And why wasn’t there a truly good ending? Was Sifenny destined to be the one who had to sacrifice, no matter what?

At the end of the post, they wrote: "This looks more like an arrogant, condescending confidence looking down on players."

Once posted, it gained support and spread among many players. Coupled with the official statement early in the game’s release that they didn’t want too much walkthrough spoilage to ruin the experience for some players, the game was indeed quite tough without guides.

Tong Dong was always on the front lines of gossip. She forwarded the post to the small group with a sharp comment: "Can’t figure it out themselves, and then they blame the game for being too hard."

Lin Haoda saw it the next morning. After a night of controversy brewing, the game’s reputation had reversed; it was no longer mostly positive reviews.

Though he had thought the same when he first finished—was it the game developer’s willfulness? But after a few days of reflection, he let it go. They were just playing Sifenny. What truly constituted a good ending for the lonely Cupid? No one knew.

Whether influenced by public opinion or not, Jiang Tianyi had stopped posting victory reports in his circle. Lin Haoda was preoccupied all morning, sent a message expressing concern, saying he had seen the online posts and asked if Tang Chen was okay.

Jiang Tianyi quickly replied, "It’s fine," telling Lin Haoda not to worry.

A while later, she added out of the blue, "Someone’s going to get mad." She sounded oddly gloating.

Despite that, Lin Haoda secretly registered a new account, logged onto the forum, and posted a reply arguing the opposite view, which got quite a few likes and comments.

Evening, rush hour. The platform where Lonely Cupid was sold published a public response from the producer.

The response addressed the issues that players were most concerned about, presented in a Q&A interview format, addressing each one.

Reporter: "Players have expressed concern about the differences between the test and final versions. When did the idea to change the core gameplay come about? Were the consequences considered at the time?"

G: "When the game was first created, there were indeed no gameplay restrictions. But as the story fleshed out, I felt that changes in gameplay were also part of the story’s completion—a necessary form of expression."

"G" was the developer’s alias. The text said he paused briefly, thought for a few seconds, then continued:

"About Lonely Cupid, many might think that since it’s a romance game, dating various NPCs should be the core theme. But I believe what this work truly wants to express is ‘salvation and fulfillment.’

Self-righteous salvation, and self-indulgent fulfillment.

Sifenny, as the one who seemingly ought to be saved, had to agree to whatever love interest players throw at her. But from the start, the game’s goal is clear: she must find her ‘true love.’ So why would infinite trial-and-error exist?

On the other hand, Haines’s departure is similar…"

Because it involved plot points, G didn’t reveal too much, only saying he personally preferred the ending where the two embrace and die in the flames of war.

The reporter expressed understanding and asked a few more pointed questions. G’s logic and eloquence were excellent, smoothly defusing each conflict.

Toward the end, the reporter asked, "Among the many characters, did you have a special preference for any during creation? Did you invest more effort into one or a few?"

"The one I invested the most in is, of course, Cupid Sifenny."

G chuckled, perhaps to lighten the mood, and finally said, "The one with the most complex feelings is Haines, probably because… he’s a lot like me."

The report ended there. The explanations for the questions seemed reasonable, and the game’s reputation gradually returned to normal.

Later on, Tong Dong forwarded the report to the group again, still sharp: "Alright, playing the victim for themselves now. Next they'll probably say Sifenny has a real-life prototype."

Lin Haoda couldn’t tell if she was on the support side or the condemnation side.

Xiao Ming, ever supportive, said dreamily, "How romantic. Maybe there really is a prototype?"

Tong Dong immediately scolded her, telling her to watch fewer romantic dramas, saying this G didn’t seem like a good person.

Xiao Ming, eager to learn, asked Tong Dong how she knew.

Tong Dong lectured her: "Only a cheater makes excuses for his betrayals."

Christmas Eve. Pei Mingyi reserved a spot at a top-floor restaurant in the city center and came early to pick up Lin Haoda from work.

At 6:30, the office building was bustling. Many people were holding flowers and gifts, but Pei Mingyi, leaning against his car door, stood out with his striking aura, easily catching attention.

Lin Haoda walked out the glass door and down the stairs. Pei Mingyi, as if by telepathy, happened to look up in his direction.

Both had been busy lately, not having much time to meet. As Lin Haoda got into the car and was about to pull down the seatbelt, Pei Mingyi suddenly leaned in close. Lin Haoda’s mind went blank for a second, and he awkwardly slumped his shoulders, pressing his back tight against the seat.

Pei Mingyi noticed too, froze for a moment, then withdrew his hand and sat back.

He smiled at Lin Haoda, said gently, "Cold? Want me to turn on the heat?"

Lin Haoda grabbed the seatbelt, cleared his throat awkwardly, and said, "Sure."

The road was a bit congested, the car moving slowly toward downtown. The weather was gloomy, the sunset colors completely hidden by dark clouds that seemed to drift in from nowhere.

Pei Mingyi usually didn't talk much while driving, but today he was in a talkative mood, telling Lin Haoda about his recent business trips to various places. He even mentioned a seaside town, praising its fresh air, not too far, and suitability for a short vacation.

Lin Haoda took the opportunity and agreed, saying that since the New Year was next month, he planned to take an extended leave and rest, and the timing was perfect.

Pei Mingyi turned his head, his gentle eyes looking at him with undisguised delight, and said "Good, good" twice.

After a long wait, the car finally crawled through the intersection. Pei Mingyi was about to resume the previous topic, planning which hotel to stay at and which sea view to enjoy, when "ding"—Lin Haoda's phone rang.

The car was silent for two seconds. Pei Mingyi heard the unlock sound. Lin Haoda lowered his head to check the message, half his face lit by the screen's glow.

It was a notification from a gaming forum: "Developer G liked your reply."

Passing the intersection, the car had to turn right. Pei Mingyi turned the wheel, then glanced at the right-side mirror. When he looked away, he accidentally caught sight of the screen in Lin Haoda's hand.

He recognized the familiar blue-and-white UI of a well-known Chinese gaming forum. Surprised that Lin Haoda had become such a hardcore gamer, he asked what he was looking at.

Lin Haoda put away his phone, said "Oh," and said, "It's a game that's popular right now. Lots of people in the office are playing it."

He didn't mention the game's name, nor did he tell Pei Mingyi that he had played it.

Fortunately, Pei Mingyi didn't press further. He simply thought Lin Haoda had been too tired from work and wanted to find another way to distract himself.

The conversation quickly returned to the travel plans.

Lin Haoda had wanted to say that since they were going to the seaside, they should take the opportunity to see real hermit crabs at the beach. But Pei Mingyi suddenly brought up old news about tourists being bitten by sea snakes, warning him not to get too close to the shore.

Lin Haoda didn't say what he wanted, but he didn't show any disappointment either.

Pei Mingyi was very considerate, telling him not to worry about anything or about the cost. Lin Haoda listened earnestly, finally realizing there was nothing left for him to do but nod in agreement.

There were more cars in downtown than usual, and it took them a while to drive into the underground garage.

The parking spaces were also cramped. Worried about scraping other cars while parking, Lin Haoda got out first, walked around to the front, and helped guide him in.

Vehicles came and went, brushing past his back. Though they moved slowly, it still looked dangerous.

Fortunately, Pei Mingyi parked quickly, opened the door, and got out. Lin Haoda stood in front of the car waiting for him. The garage was much colder than the ground floor; he was not dressed warmly, so he pulled his scarf tighter, leaving only a small part of his profile visible.

Several cars drove by, barely slowing since the nearby spots were all taken, the automatic gate going up and down. A black car slowly drove in, not hurrying to find an empty space, but instead easing into the inside lane and honking twice at Lin Haoda.

Lin Haoda instinctively turned his head and looked toward the car.

The windshield reflected a large glare, and there was the vague outline of a person in the driver's seat, but he couldn't make out the face.

The black car didn't move or leave; it stopped not too close, not too far. Then Pei Mingyi suddenly stepped forward from behind, wrapped his arm around Lin Haoda's shoulder, and pulled him into his arms firmly.

"Are you okay?" Pei Mingyi had heard the honk from behind the car and thought Lin Haoda had been grazed by the incoming vehicle, so he quickly pulled him in.

Lin Haoda looked away, blinked, looked up at him, and smiled at the tense-faced Pei Mingyi and said, "I'm fine."

Pei Mingyi's fingers gripping his shoulder were cold from anxiety, his brows slightly furrowed. He told him not to get out on his own next time, as standing by the roadside in such a narrow, car-packed garage was dangerous.

The two stood close, gazing at each other and speaking softly, completely unaware that the black car had already pulled up beside them.

The headlights flashed, shining right at Lin Haoda's face. He squinted a bit uncomfortably, his gaze extending into the distance, and Pei Mingyi also turned his head to look.

The light in the underground garage wasn't bright. The slightly reflective tinted window rolled down, revealing a face that was almost too handsome.

Lin Haoda was startled. It was Guan Junshan.