"Clickety-clack, clickety-clack..." Skillful fingers danced across the keyboard with a rhythm that could have given Fred Astaire a run for his money. The clicking was upbeat, almost musical. Then, boom-a burst of light on the screen, followed by the pixelated blood of a defeated adversary. Ye Qiu, sporting a lopsided grin, made a show of flicking the ash from his cigarette, which dangled artistically from his lips. The ash hung on like a tenacious trapeze artist, surviving a whirlwind of rapid mouse twirls and keystrokes without plummeting to its death. Disposing of the butt into a surreally designed ashtray, Ye Qiu's hand zipped back to the keys with the intent to taunt his downed foe. But that's when the door slammed open. Not even a fractional head turn from Ye Qiu. This was a movie scene he had seen a hundred times. "You here?" The reply was just as terse. "Let's roll," said Su Mucheng. Leaving the glow of the monitor behind, Ye Qiu grabbed a coat from the hanger with the casual flair of a noir detective and followed Su Mucheng out the door.