Chapter 3: The Confrontation at Her Door

The rain hadn't let up yet. The rolling shutter of Old Zhou's Internet Cafe was yanked open, and a gust of cold, damp air swept into the dim interior. Su Nian stood in the doorway, her shoulder damp, her gaze scanning the row of dark screens until it locked onto Lin Qian. She gripped a USB drive in her hand, her knuckles white.

Old Zhou leaned out from behind the counter, half his body visible, flashing a wide grin. "Well, well, Analyst Su. A rare visitor. Renting the whole place tonight?"

Su Nian ignored him and walked straight to Lin Qian's desk. She slapped the USB drive onto the table, her voice as cold as the rain outside. "I watched the surveillance footage from last night. Your positioning, your reactions, your prediction timing—they were all beyond human limits. Explain that."

Lin Qian looked up, calmly removing her headphones. "Explain what?"

Su Nian pulled a chair over, sat down, and opened her laptop. The screen lit up, displaying a series of data curves. "Your APM peaked at 402. But the weird part? There's zero correction error in your mouse trajectory. Pro players always have some jitter. You don't. So tell me, what else can it be if not a hack?"

Lin Qian didn't answer immediately. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes landing on Su Nian's keyboard. The typing was rapid and even, the force of every key press nearly identical—classic mechanical memory, the result of long-term training.

When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, neither hurried nor slow. "Analyst Su, your model has a flaw."

Su Nian raised an eyebrow. "What kind of flaw?"

Lin Qian pointed at the keyboard. "You type at a rhythm of 6.2 keystrokes per second, with force held constant around 78 grams. That means you're running the data on a fixed test template. But you've missed one thing—human reaction has noise. My 'anomaly' is simply the result of that noise being eliminated."

Su Nian's fingers stopped on the keys, her expression shifting subtly. "What are you getting at?"

Lin Qian continued. "What you saw on the monitor was me *listening*. The electrical hum in the headphones, the clacking of the opponent's keyboard, the sound of their mouse moving—I reverse-engineered their actions based on those cues. This isn't a hack. It's hearing."

Su Nian fell silent for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. "Hearing? Do you think I'm a three-year-old?"

Lin Qian didn't get irritated. Instead, she reached out and opened a data analysis report on Su Nian's laptop. "In this report, there's a timestamp mismatch. For the data at minute 47, you labeled it as 'Enemy Jungler on the bot lane.' But in reality, the enemy Jungler had already returned to base by then. Your model misjudged the footstep of a return-to-base as a movement signal."

Su Nian's pupils constricted slightly. She quickly flipped through the report and saw it—sure enough, the annotation near that timestamp didn't match the match footage she remembered. She looked up, scrutinizing Lin Qian for the first time with genuine seriousness. "How did you know that?"

Lin Qian said, "Because I heard you typing at that moment. When you were logging that data point, you paused for 0.8 seconds—you were hesitating because you weren't sure about the signal yourself. Your intuition told you it was wrong, but your model convinced you otherwise."

Su Nian's fingers trembled slightly. She closed the report and stared at Lin Qian for a long time before finally speaking. "What the hell are you, really?"

Lin Qian replied, "A deposed former War God. Now I'm just a Sparrow here."

Su Nian stood up, went around the desk, and walked up to Lin Qian. She lowered her voice. "The 'Hunt Protocol' I mentioned last night—have you heard of it?"

Lin Qian nodded. "Heard of it. But I haven't touched it. I just need one opportunity."

Su Nian took a deep breath, pulled a business card from her pocket, and placed it on the table. "I'm Su Nian, a data analyst. I need someone who can 'listen' to a match. If you're up for it, come to my studio tomorrow at three PM. I'll show you some real data."

Lin Qian didn't pick it up immediately. She looked over at Old Zhou. Old Zhou was huddled behind the counter, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't look at me. Make your own decision. Besides, you're always welcome to come back here."

Lin Qian picked up the business card and pocketed it. "Okay. I'll go."

Su Nian turned and headed for the door, pausing in front of the rolling shutter. She didn't turn back, but her voice carried clearly. "Lin Qian, you better not be lying to me. If I find out you're full of it, I'll use my methods to make you disappear from the esports scene completely."

Lin Qian watched her retreating figure and said quietly, "You won't find out."

Just then, Old Zhou's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his face changing instantly. He rushed over to Lin Qian and lowered his voice. "Something's up. Someone sent an anonymous email to Lu Chen's team, claiming you used a hack at the internet cafe last night. The email includes a video of you playing."

Lin Qian's eyes sharpened. She turned slowly, looking out the window at the pitch-black rainy night. "Lu Chen... which clip did he get?"

Old Zhou shook his head. "Don't know. But the email came from an encrypted server—no trace back to a source. Lin Qian, who did you piss off?"

Lin Qian didn't answer. She put her headphones back on, closed her eyes, and listened to the raindrops hammering against the metal outside, speaking one word at a time. "Whoever it is, I'll drag them out. Tomorrow afternoon, I'll meet Su Nian first."

Old Zhou sighed, pulled an umbrella from under the counter, and tossed it to her. "Take it. Don't get a cold, or it'll mess up your state."

Lin Qian took the umbrella. She didn't say thank you, just nodded. She pushed the rolling shutter open and walked into the rain, her figure disappearing into the night.

Old Zhou watched her go, muttering to himself. "This girl... there's a killing intent about her. I hope the path she's walking doesn't end up swallowing her whole."

Back in the internet cafe, only Su Nian's laptop remained, its screen still glowing. On it sat her unfinished analysis code. The cursor blinked at the end, waiting for an answer.