Chapter 13

Lin Su didn’t know much about Yun Qi’s ex-boyfriend. That had happened before the two families merged.

After Yun Qi’s mother passed away, Wang Xiu had brought Lin Su into this home. Back then, he’d heard that Yun Qi had dated a boyfriend, and Lin Su simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. He never would have imagined that his younger brother was gay. The topic was too sensitive, so he rarely mentioned it around Yun Qi and only picked up bits and pieces from their father.

Yun Qi had broken up with that boyfriend three years ago. Rumor had it that Yun Qi had been prepping for his college entrance exams at the time, while his ex-boyfriend wanted to go pro in esports. Their visions for the future just didn’t align. In any case, it hadn’t ended well, and with Yun Qi’s family about to move here, they’d called it quits hastily.

Lin Su had assumed Yun Qi had gotten over his wild phase. He never expected this conversation to uncover such a bombshell: Yun Qi was still hung up on his callow ex from back then, brazenly declaring that his feelings hadn’t faded one bit over all these years. Didn’t that mean he hadn’t made any headway in his love life at all?

Lin Su had a whole speech of brotherly advice queued up, but Yun Qi’s words left him speechless. He knew next to nothing about the guy himself, so most of his questions died unspoken.

Yun Qi noticed Lin Su’s silence. “Bro, you okay?”

Lin Su rubbed his hands together. He’d always steered clear of the topic—not just because it felt awkward to pry, but because Yun Qi wasn’t his blood brother, and butting in too much was bound to cause trouble. “Nah, just… surprised, that’s all.”

In other words, Yun Qi had spent the last three years pining for his ex-boyfriend. That wouldn’t sit well with their dad, who still thought it was just a youthful fling, Lin Su mused.

Yun Qi said, “Don’t worry about me. Dad frets too much, and I’m not exactly ancient—no need to rush into settling down.”

“Fair enough,” Lin Su replied, “but Dad doesn’t want you alone. He hopes you’ll find someone to look after you.”

“That’s outdated thinking these days,” Yun Qi said. “Relationships are about mutual care. I can’t just find somebody to take care of me—they’re not obligated to. I’ve got this under control. Just help me stall Dad a little, yeah, bro?”

Times had changed, and so had the way young people thought. Back in the day, Lin Su’s mother had gotten chewed out by the family as if it were normal—she shouldered all the housework. Wives caring for husbands had become the default. So naturally, Dad wanted Yun Qi to date a girl who could take care of him. Lin Su hadn’t questioned it before, but Yun Qi’s words made him realize how simplistic that view was.

“I’ll do what I can,” Lin Su said.

A little after six that afternoon, He Ying showed up with her younger brother in tow. She wanted Yun Qi to have a talk with He Xuan, who had just started junior high. He had zero interest in school, and hearing that Yun Qi was in esports only solidified his ambitions—he was dead set on breaking into the pro scene.

Yun Qi chatted with him for a bit, but He Xuan dug in his heels. “I’m no good at school. I suck at everything else—this is my one dream. You’re seriously not gonna let me go for it?”

He Ying clicked her tongue. “Tch, Brother Yun doesn’t mean it like that. You couldn’t even get in right now…”

“Sis-in-law.” Yun Qi cut off her lecture with a shake of his head. She got the message and clammed up. Yun Qi stood and walked over to the window beside He Xuan. “You really wanna go pro?”

He Xuan shot him a glance and muttered, “Yeah.”

Yun Qi asked, “You main jungler, right?”

He Xuan said, “I can play other roles too, but jungler’s where I shine.”

“Good,” Yun Qi said. “Wanna solo with me?”

He Xuan’s eyes went wide with disbelief as he stared at Yun Qi. “Bro, you don’t play jungler.”

Yun Qi grinned. “True, it’s not my main, but that doesn’t mean I’m limited to support. Bottom line: you brave enough to solo your bro?”

“What’s to be scared of?” He Xuan shot back. “Just don’t cry bully later.”

Yun Qi let out a couple of chuckles. He Ying started to scold He Xuan for his cheek, but Yun Qi headed her off and turned to Lin Su instead. “Bro, mind taking us to an internet cafe?”

Lin Su blinked, puzzled. “What about phones? Looks like he plays on his all the time.”

“It’s a PC game at heart,” Yun Qi explained. “Mobile version’s full of bugs—not fully baked yet. And pros compete on PC anyway.”

Lin Su nodded, getting it. “Oh, right. Grab your gear—I’ll fire up the car.”

Yun Qi clapped He Xuan on the shoulder. The kid brimmed with confidence. He could never make his family see reason, but a shot at soloing a pro? No way he’d pass that up.

The three piled into the car. He Ying stayed behind.

Lin Su dropped them at a nearby internet cafe.

After powering on their computers, the two sat side by side. Over seventy percent of the people in the internet cafe were deep into Cloud Summit Decisive Battle, headphones clamped on as they dove into their own worlds. Shouts, table slaps, and the frantic clatter of keyboards echoed around them. He Xuan was a regular at these places; his hands moved with practiced ease across the machine.

Yun Qi asked him, “Which hero do you want to play?”

He Xuan replied with confidence. “Pick the one you’re best at.”

Yun Qi shot him a glance. That youthful bravado—it reminded him of his own younger days. “How about Shang? I saw your game profile; it’s got your highest combat rating. Your main, right?”

“I don’t pick Shang unless I have to,” He Xuan said. He created the custom room, searched for Yun Qi’s account, and dragged him in. “It’s just too much of a bully move.”

Such confidence. It was a good thing to have, but Yun Qi hoped it wouldn’t tip over into arrogance.

“Then let’s solo on this hero,” Yun Qi said. “Heading to Mid Lane now.”

Lin Su didn’t quite follow, but he watched from the sidelines as others played the same game. The hype around it had exploded lately, fueled by the esports scene.

Shang was a jungler with tons of playmaking potential—built-in dashes and crowd control, insane dive power. Three lashes, and a squishy was toast.

His first skill slapped a mark on the target, amping up normal attack damage against them. The ultimate? Five lashes in a combo, devastating burst once you were fully geared.

Shang dominated the current patch. He Xuan had climbed to Top National Benchmark on him early in the new season. The National Server leaderboard had fifty slots, but only the Top 10 National showed names on the National Ranking—a badge of prestige. He Xuan sat just outside that elite group, nameless on the board.

They kicked off with equal gold in Mid Lane—no minions, no jungle camps, both rocking full Six Gods Gear. He Xuan had his own spin on Shang; their builds diverged a bit, one stacking attack speed, the other cooldown reduction. Even footing meant it all came down to raw mechanics.

He Xuan started cocky. Taking down a support main? Piece of cake. He’d seen the online trash talk questioning if Yun Qi had truly earned his SK spot with skill, so he slacked off a little. First duel—maybe the underestimation cost him the win.

He Xuan sucked in a sharp breath and glanced at Yun Qi’s screen. “…I zoned out for a second there.”

Yun Qi waited for him to respawn. “Then stay focused.”

Round two, He Xuan poured in everything. No lane to retreat to, no dodging across the map. He marked Yun Qi’s Shang, popped ult, and swung—the first lash whiffed on a flash dodge. That tiny repositioning threw off the whole combo. He Xuan fell behind fast and ate a quick death.

His screen went black, and so did his expression. He stared at his hero’s corpse in disbelief, bit down on his thumbnail, said nothing, and queued up round three.

This time, he played it careful. Yun Qi’s mechanics were sharper than he’d expected—sharpening the old esports truth: no pro can’t fill any role. No more coasting; he went all-in. And lost.

Cooldown build meant more frequent skills; attack speed tightened the gaps between them. He Xuan clocked the build flaw but hesitated to straight-up copy Yun Qi’s gear. As he agonized over it, Yun Qi spoke up. “Remake your build. Sell the Black Blade and grab Demon Blade.”

He Xuan swapped items. Now perfectly mirrored economy and gear—pure skill showdown. He played ultra-safe, but the same hero felt worlds apart in their hands. Every prediction read like an open book. Ten seconds later, he crumpled again under Yun Qi’s lashes.

“No way!” He Xuan couldn’t hold back this time, nearly leaping from his seat. He glared at the black screen, frustration boiling over, words dying on his tongue. What was there to say? Skill gap was skill gap.

Lin Su didn’t game much, but he could tell a loss from a win. “Can’t beat Brother?”

He Xuan whipped his head around, face a mask of shock and shame. Yun Qi’s hand drifted from his mouse. He turned to He Xuan and said simply, “Sit down properly.”

Half out of his chair, He Xuan dropped back into his seat.

“Round one: underestimating your opponent. Round two: game sense. Round three: itemization. Round four: mechanics,” Yun Qi said. “You’ve got a mountain of work ahead.”

He Xuan fell silent, hanging his head in shame.

Yun Qi said, “If you want to go pro, of course you can. No one’s stopping you from chasing your dreams. But the esports circle isn’t like other industries. It’s all about raw talent. You can’t just sit down and grind for a few years to make it big. If hard work was all it took, why has China only produced one Eidis in over a decade? Don’t other pros want to dominate the world? Don’t they dream of becoming Server #1?”

He Xuan lowered his eyes, looking far calmer now.

“Back when I was in youth training, I saw so many players who could grind like crazy. They’d play from dawn till dusk, drilling their game sense and mechanics over and over, day after day. In the end, though, most of them couldn’t even make the starting roster. This circle is overflowing with geniuses, and what you call ‘good skills’ doesn’t even come close to touching their level.”

“Esports only has room at the top of the pyramid. It’s ‘corpses littering the ground’ out there. Handing over your youth and getting nothing in return is the norm. Breaking into this world takes real courage and passion—half measures won’t cut it. You’ll face constant disappointment, self-doubt, and negativity. And your prime years are so short. You have to take a hard look at your own abilities first.”

He Xuan’s confidence shattered. He fell silent for a long time. Lin Su gave his shoulder a squeeze. The internet cafe buzzed with noise, but Yun Qi’s voice cut through clearly, striking at the boy’s restless soul.

“Nothing in this world is easy,” Lin Su said quietly. “Xuanxuan, you need to think this through. Even Brother Yun, with all his talent, is saying this. You’ve got to be sure. Your sister and I just want you to have a good future.”

He Xuan stayed quiet for a long while. Yun Qi and Lin Su exchanged a glance. Soon after, the three of them headed home.

Yun Qi didn’t say much in the car. He Xuan’s mood was low, and he stayed silent the whole way.

Back home, He Ying asked what they’d been up to. Lin Su pulled her aside to explain privately. He Xuan and Yun Qi went into the room. Yun Qi poured him a glass of water and handed it over.

“Has Eidis been through all this too?” He Xuan took the glass and looked up at Yun Qi with the lost gaze of a lamb.

Yun Qi replied, “He hasn’t.”

Leaning against the cabinet with both hands braced on the counter, Yun Qi said warmly, “He’s a true genius.”

Geniuses came in levels, and that man was leagues above them all—a god who couldn’t be manufactured through training.

“You really admire Eidis, huh?” Yun Qi asked him.

He Xuan gripped the glass, staring at the swirling water inside. Dejected, he said, “The jungler’s pinnacle is Eidis. Who wouldn’t want to reach his level?”

After a moment, He Xuan sighed again. “But I can’t even beat you. Forget about anything else.”

He Xuan drank the water, his heart plunging into utter despair. The boy’s hopes were crushed, leaving him drowning in self-doubt.

“You’re still young, and making it to the National Server ranks already puts you ahead of a lot of people. But in pro play, being strong doesn’t guarantee you a spot. Strength is relative. You think you’re hot stuff, then some random player shows up and crushes you until you question your entire existence. That’s life as an esports pro.”

He Xuan licked his lips, unconvinced yet unable to argue.

“In other industries, even mid-tier talent gets a piece of the pie. But esports has no mid-tier. If you can’t beat the others, you’re trash. You won’t make the starting roster or step onto the stage. You grit your teeth, pat yourself on the back for grinding, but then age catches up. Your mechanics slow down. You grind your whole life and never get your shot. By then, your passion’s burned out, and you just accept defeat. That’s the norm.”

The more He Xuan heard, the colder his heart grew.

“Having dreams is great. I support you chasing yours—as long as you can accept the very real chance you’ll amount to nothing your whole life. Then go for it. No one can stop you. Your family’s just scared of that outcome.”

“Your life is yours, Xuanxuan. In the end, the decision’s up to you.”

“I get it.”

Yun Qi’s words laid bare the harsh road ahead. Half of He Xuan’s impulsiveness faded, and even his passion didn’t burn as fiercely anymore. He weighed the pros and cons, lost in thought, unable to decide.

They stayed in the room a bit longer. Then a voice called from outside.

“Xuanxuan, it’s getting dark.”

He Xuan heard He Ying’s voice. He stood, set the now-cold glass down, and started toward the door. Suddenly, he turned back to Yun Qi. “Bro, why did you join SK back then?”

Yun Qi paused blankly. “Huh?”

He Xuan said, “Uncle mentioned you took your college entrance exam scores—over seven hundred points—and went to play games instead. My sister said the same. With grades like that, gaming shouldn’t have been your only path.”

He Xuan couldn’t understand it. If his grades had been even halfway decent, he never would have fixated so stubbornly on going pro. Gaming was the only thing he had any real talent for. When grinding away at his studies failed to budge his scores even a little, he’d abandoned that road entirely, pouring all his energy into his one bright spot. Even if that so-called bright spot had now been smashed to pieces.

It took Yun Qi a long time to answer. “It’s cliché. You won’t want to know.”

“I do want to know. Tell me, bro.”

After a moment’s thought, Yun Qi said, “Because this path holds a past I can’t let go of… and a future I want to seize.”

In that instant, He Xuan glimpsed something like hope in his eyes—bright and resolute, yet fragile and guarded. In his youth, he didn’t fully grasp what it was. Hearing the urging voices from outside, He Xuan set the mystery aside for the time being.

“Go on,” Yun Qi said, seeing him to the door. “It’s getting late.”