It started with a few downloads. Then a few dozen.
By the end of the first week, Xu Jie's mobile game had crossed ten thousand users.
He almost didn't believe it—until he checked the analytics again and saw the curve climbing like a mountain: reviews pouring in, word of mouth from students, coding forums sharing strategy threads, and even a local YouTuber doing a gameplay review.
Minimalist puzzle mechanics. Smart level design. A backstory that makes you feel something.
Someone even commented: "Whoever made this game really gets what it's like to feel invisible, and still want to matter."
Xu Jie didn't cry—but he did sit still for a long time after reading that.
He'd built it late at night, coded quietly between homework, exams, and healing from a bruised past. He didn't think it would reach anyone.
And now?
Now it was paying his rent.
And more than that—it was about to pay for something he never thought he'd be able to give his mother.
By the end of the month, he'd earned enough for a down payment on a place.
He kept it secret at first.
Every day after school, he'd sneak off with documents tucked into his backpack, reviewing listings, meeting real estate agents, learning about floor plans and maintenance fees.
He finally found it on a quiet street near the river, nestled in a high-rise with glass balconies and a rooftop garden. The apartment was bright, with wide open windows and polished floors. The kitchen had real granite counters, and the guest room overlooked a blooming row of cherry trees.
He brought his mother to see it on a Thursday evening.
She stepped inside slowly, her worn hands hovering over the doorframe like she was afraid to touch anything.
"Jie Jie," she whispered, "this place looks like a hotel."
He handed her the keys. "It's ours."
She turned, eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"
"I bought it. With money from the game. I already signed the papers."
She blinked rapidly. "We don't have that kind of money."
"I do," he said gently. "Now we do."
Her knees buckled, and he caught her, guiding her to sit on the plush new couch.
"I want you to rest now, Mom," he said. "No more double shifts. No more late-night sewing. Just... come live here with me. Starting next week."
She didn't say anything for a while—just reached for his hand and held it tight, her fingers trembling.
He knew that grip.
It said everything she couldn't.
Tang Rui turned eighteen on a Sunday.
April was soft that year, cherry blossoms falling like whispers on every breeze. The city looked washed in blush-pink and gold, like it had dressed up just for her.
Xu Jie didn't give her the full plan. Just told her to wear something nice. And meet him at the train station at 4 PM.
She showed up in a pale blue dress and a small pendant he'd never seen before. Her hair was up, eyes lined subtly, cheeks carrying the flush of early spring.
"You're late," she said, mock-scowling.
"You're beautiful," he replied, without missing a beat.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.
They took a short train ride out of the city. When they arrived at the new apartment, she stepped in and froze.
The lights were soft, the floor warm underfoot. A small table held her favorite strawberry cake and a bouquet of white gardenias. Fairy lights framed the windows, casting golden stars across the glass.
"Is this...?"
"My new place," Xu Jie said. "Well, my mom's and mine. She's moving in next week. But today, it's just for you."
Tang Rui didn't speak at first. She just turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. "It feels like a dream."
"I know," he said. "But it's real. Like you. Like this."
They sat down by the window, eating cake and laughing over stories from the past year. He told her about the game—how it blew up, how players left messages that reminded him of her voice. How he kept the sprite of her in the test version, hidden in a secret level, like a treasure only he knew how to find.
As the sun set, turning the river outside into molten gold, Xu Jie handed her a folded envelope.
Inside was a screenshot from the game: her pixel-art version standing under a cherry blossom tree, holding a glowing heart.
Below it were the words:
"In every world, I'd find you. And choose you again."
Tang Rui looked up at him, eyes shimmering.
"I can't give you a ring yet," he said softly, "but I'm working toward it. I want to be with you. Not just through school, or university, or the good days—but all of it. The hard parts too. The boring parts. Everything."
She was quiet. Then, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn't shy.
It wasn't uncertain.
It was warm and honest and steady. The kind of kiss that settles into your bones.
When they pulled back, she rested her forehead against his and whispered, "Yes."
He held her close as the first stars appeared outside the window, and in that still, golden space between heartbeats, Xu Jie knew—
This wasn't the end of a chapter.
It was the beginning of a life.