Chapter 3

News of SK advancing to the Grand Finals spread like wildfire the next day. Fans cheered for the team without exception, but plenty of pessimists refused to place much faith in them. The internet overflowed with clashing opinions, netizens splitting into two polarized camps while neutrals tried to play peacemaker.

[Man, no chance. Everyone knows EU teams are the most terrifying in this game.]

[They just haven’t bumped into KRO yet. Finals are gonna be a bloodbath.]

[If SK can break out internationally and hit the global server finals, that’ll be legendary. Chinese teams haven’t even reached EU Grand Finals in three years.]

[Damn, I’d forgotten—it’s been three years since our last championship win. You have any idea how I’ve been suffering?!]

[Go SK! Crush KRO, go global, bring glory to the nation!]

[Esports can’t survive without Eidis, just like the West can’t lose Jerusalem.]

[Didn’t they say Eidis came back to China yesterday? Saw it online.]

[SK comments—why drag someone else into this?]

[Someone else? China’s top esports star could moonwalk over SK’s grave and we’d cheer.]

Cloud Summit Decisive Battle had long been a thorn in the side of Chinese players. In the years before, China’s esports infrastructure was rudimentary at best, and gaming earned little social acceptance or support. The Chinese Division languished in silence, producing no standout talents, while the EU Server lorded over the game for more than a decade. That changed three years ago with the arrival of a player using the handle Eidis.

He dominated the solo leaderboards across every rank’s random queues—solo, duo, five-stack, all number one. In the pro leagues teeming with experts, he burst onto the scene leading an indie team, exploding into fame after a clip went viral: diving and demolishing a pro team’s fountain in under ten minutes. Esports guild recruiters quickly zeroed in on this golden squad, only to learn during interviews that the players were total randos who didn’t even know each other’s real names. United by pure passion, they’d claimed the Chinese Division championship.

The tide washed away the sand, leaving core member Eidis to be scooped up by the guild. Representing the Chinese National Team on the EU Server, he ruled the Jungle with his Three-Form Card Demon, becoming the nightmare of pros everywhere. In 2018, a Chinese team finally hoisted a trophy with real prestige. Golden confetti rained down on hearts ablaze with fervor, and Eidis ascended to the status of esports deity.

Some claimed KRO had birthed the Server #1, but that got it backward: Server #1 Eidis had chosen KRO.

After joining, Eidis kept carrying the Chinese National Team into international tournaments, never dropping a beat. The Five-Star Red Flag flew proudly over foreign arenas. World #1. Global Server #1. China’s Esports #1. His legend spread across the globe.

Everyone believed that year heralded the rise of Chinese esports—that this god of the scene would unleash even greater miracles. Then the unthinkable happened. After sweeping every trophy that season, Eidis vanished from sight. His guild cited injury and treatment abroad.

Fans weren’t having it. Rumors exploded: he’d switched nationalities for a foreign team. Conspiracies swirled about capitalists silencing his brilliance. Bizarre speculations and fanfics festered for three years. In his absence, the Chinese team plunged into obscurity, shut out from WCG and other world-class prizes.

Pro teams since had scrapped only for domestic glory; none breached EU Server Grand Finals. That was Chinese esports in a nutshell. SK rode high as this year’s favorites, but every member knew their shot at conquering the EU Server was a slim 10%.

Even their Head Coach harbored no illusions.

“Try not to make it look too ugly,” he said in the SK Base conference room, voice low and face drawn tight. “You all know KRO’s credentials. Foreign server vets who spawned a Server #1. Want to go international? Get past them first.”

Around the table sat SK’s players and staff, all dreaming of forging a championship squad. But facts were stubborn: the EU Server had reigned supreme over Cloud Summit Decisive Battle for decades, hoarding nearly every title—save for that one year when Eidis joined KRO and led them to triumph after triumph abroad. No one dared underestimate that beast of a team.

“Right now, netizens have sky-high expectations for our SK. Every esports player in the country is watching us closely, but we need to stay clear-eyed about our own capabilities and not get complacent. Eidis has been out for the past two years, and we’ve been lucky enough not to run into KRO, which is the only reason we’ve sailed smoothly into the Grand Finals. I don’t expect you to take first place—just don’t let KRO shut you out cold.”

The coach’s words were blunt and cut straight to the harsh reality. Everyone’s expressions turned grave. The manager scanned the room and said, “Don’t talk ourselves down. Don’t lose your fire just hearing it’s KRO. Buck up, everyone—I believe SK holds its own. I’m counting on you to bring home our second Global Server championship.”

With that, he tilted his chin and asked, “Captain Lang, you confident?”

All eyes turned to him. Lang Xian, the grizzled veteran, didn’t overpromise. “We’ll do our best.”

“Tch, ‘do our best’ won’t cut it,” the manager shot back, rising to his feet. “Shape up, all of you. Fight for some pride. Jiu Shuang.”

Jiu Shuang, seated beside Lang Xian, leaned back in his chair with a creak. Staring at the table, he said offhandedly, “It’s not like I don’t want to fight hard, but the team’s skill levels are all over the map. Getting this far is already a miracle.”

The manager wasn’t dense. He caught the implication right away. “Who’re you calling out?”

Xue Yan glanced toward Yun Qi, sensing the undercurrents. Yun Qi and the mid laner had been at odds since day one, but Yun Qi wasn’t one for arguments, so things had never boiled over into open conflict. Still, the tension was palpable to everyone. Xue Yan was about to smooth things over when Lang Xian jumped in first. “What, you saying your top laner’s not pulling his weight?”

Jiu Shuang whipped his head around. “Captain Lang, that’s not what I meant at all.”

“Oh? Not me, then it must be Chen Xia?” Lang Xian pressed. “Which jungle camp did he farm too slow?”

Seeing Lang Xian play dumb—and thinking of his obvious soft spot for Yun Qi—only made Jiu Shuang more irritated. He shoved back his chair and stormed out, tossing over his shoulder, “Whoever’s the weak link knows it in their heart.”

The manager turned to Lang Xian. As captain of the First Team, he knew all the team’s dirty laundry. He just flashed the manager a smile and said nothing.

Some things weren’t fit for polite company.

After the meeting broke up, Yun Qi headed back to the Training Room. Jiu Shuang had gone out to grab food, not without shooting him a warning glare on his way. Yun Qi noticed but couldn’t be bothered.

He settled into his seat and, true to his germaphobia, wiped down the desk several times before resting his hands on it.

Lang Xian rested a hand on the back of his chair, looming behind him. In a low voice, he said, “Shuang’er’s got a sharp tongue, but his heart’s in the right place. When he gets back, I’ll chew him out. Don’t let it get to you.”

Yun Qi booted up his computer. “It didn’t. I’m used to it.”

He launched the game. The loading screen featured Athena, the mage dominating the current patch—Jiu Shuang’s strongest hero by far, with his highest mastery score.

Yun Qi realized Lang Xian hadn’t budged. He glanced back. “Really.”

Lang Xian was staring at Yun Qi’s long, straight, milky-white legs, lost in a daze.

He had a body that was just too beautiful—not rugged or brutish like most guys. Yun Qi was like a flower bud on the verge of blooming: tender, fresh, and irresistibly alluring. He dressed casually around the SK Base, his shorts revealing legs even more stunning than the ones Lang Xian had seen in comics. Topped with that soft, feminine face flushed with a perpetual blush, every glance at Yun Qi’s eyes felt like floating among the clouds.

Yun Qi came from an ordinary family. Lang Xian couldn’t fathom how he’d been raised into such perfection.

Fresh as a green shoot, so tender you could squeeze water from it.

“Yesterday at the interview, the fans asked if there’s any chance between you and me.” Lang Xian pulled up a chair and sat. The manager had deliberately placed their stations side by side to hype their fan-favorite ship—everyone ate up their looks and bought into the manufactured intimacy. Simple as that.

Yun Qi didn’t reply, but he heard every word. The Training Room was empty save for the two of them; Lang Xian made no effort to hide it.

“You say you’re tagging along for my training sessions, available at the drop of a hat—all just to play along with the company? Yun Qi, there’s not even a sliver of personal desire in that heart of yours?”

Yun Qi asked, “What’re you queuing?”

Lang Xian held his gaze. Yun Qi turned to meet it, boredom plain in his eyes. Bored with what, exactly? His questions? Lang Xian stared into those eyes for a moment longer, then let it drop. He opened the game client. “Phila.”

They duo-queued. Yun Qi locked in Mudman while Lang Xian took Phila for top lane. They got recognized before champions were even picked—chat exploded in the pre-game lobby, zeroing in on the third-floor player.

[Floor 1: Captain Lang?! No way, is that really you?]

[Floor 5: Floor 4 can’t be Qiluo, right?]

[Second Floor: You two queuing together again? Something up?]

[Yun Qi: No]

[Lang Xian: Play well]

They dove into the game without a word, slipping under the radar. Training accounts and pro accounts were kept separate, matched at similar ranks precisely to dodge prying questions. Yun Qi stuck to his role dutifully in this match, while the other duo duo-queuing in voice chat kept up a steady stream of chatter.

“Eidis is back today, right? Saw someone mention it last night.”

“Yeah, no clue where E God vanished to these past two years. Skipping out on competitions to mess around overseas—foreign server players are absolute beasts, no one to rein them in, and he’s just fine with that?”

“They’re saying it’s an injury. Who knows if it’s legit.”

“No shot. I’m not buying it.”

“I’d sooner believe he switched nationalities and turned traitor.”

Yun Qi had voice chat open, catching every word from team comms crystal clear. The man had been gone from the competitive scene for years now, yet the legends lingered on. He was a god—an unprecedented god who had defined an entire era—only to vanish from sight at the height of his powers, leaving fans stunned and sighing in disbelief.

“Don’t you like Eidis?” Lang Xian glanced up. Yun Qi had his headset on, piloting the absurdly goofy Mudman in perfect sync as they took down the enemy jungler together.

“Mm.” The sound was faint, barely audible.

Lang Xian pressed on. “You’ve gotta be realistic. I’ll give it to him—Eidis is the real deal. But a genius like that? One and only. Don’t get lost in fantasies. Cherish the people right in front of you.”

His implication hung in the air, plain as day.

Yun Qi didn’t reply. He stayed locked in, fingers flying across the keyboard, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Lang Xian halted his own inputs. His gaze turned ravenous, pinning Yun Qi in place—no more evasions. He went straight for it. “You always say you go for the strong ones, Qi Qi. I won’t stack up against your idol. Just compare me to your ex-boyfriend—that one you can’t seem to shake. Am I better than him?”

The kill feed pinged with the latest: the enemy mage had been tower-dived by their support, jungler, and shooter, going down in a gruesome splatter. Yun Qi pulled his sliver-of-health Mudman back under tower. Moments later, his own highlight flashed up.

Key damage dealt: 76%.

Yun Qi flung his mouse aside and twisted around. Lang Xian watched him with eager anticipation, the computer screen casting a hazy reflection of Yun Qi’s face. “Him…”

Yun Qi fiddled with the mic around his neck, eyes dropping to his knees. In that soft murmur hid an unnamed swell of pride. “But he’s one of a kind in the whole world.”