Chapter 17

That single remark had completely exposed his sexual orientation—whether intentionally or not. A flicker of surprise crossed the girl’s face before it vanished just as quickly. “That’s too bad,” she said.

She probably didn’t even know what exactly was “too bad” about it. It was just the standard polite response. The kitten in her arms let out an adorable meow, and right then her phone rang. She said goodbye to Yun Qi and walked off in the other direction.

Yun Qi watched her leave. The park bustled with people coming and going. After sitting there a while, boredom set in. Professional gamers weren’t exactly party animals. Without matches to play, they spent their days cooped up at the base. Now that SK was eliminated, all the excitement in the esports world had nothing to do with them. Grinding through daily training to gear up for next year’s grand tournament—that was the routine for every team that had crashed out.

But on second thought, would next year’s tournament even matter to him? Given his current standing at SK, there might not be a next year for him at all.

He hated indulging in self-pity. He’d ended up here through his own doing. Teenagers really were impulsive and reckless, arrogant and foolish. Thinking back on it now was downright laughable. Every major decision he’d made in life had been a mess.

He lingered in the park for half the afternoon until the sky grew thick with dark clouds, rain threatening. Only then did he finally head back.

When he returned to the base, the training room was pathetically empty. He learned that Lang Xian was out, and so was Assistant Yueqiu. Chen Xia was probably holed up in his room. The only ones there were the new arrivals, Danwan and Xue Yan.

They weren’t gaming. They were watching a variety show. Yun Qi glanced at the screen, and Xue Yan caught sight of him, waving him over. “Where you been?”

Yun Qi stepped inside and gave Danwan a nod by way of greeting. “Nowhere special.”

Xue Yan paused the show. “The manager swung by earlier, looking for you.”

Yun Qi hadn’t brought his phone. “Didn’t see him.”

“He’s up at headquarters for a meeting. Captain Lang went too. Should be back soon.”

“Did he say what it’s about?”

“Not a peep. Total mystery.”

“Figured as much,” Yun Qi said. “In this situation, what else could it be?” What was there to talk about besides the elephant in the room? Danwan was already on board. The only question hanging over Yun Qi was whether he’d stay or get shipped out.

Xue Yan tugged him down to sit and shot a quick glance at Danwan, making sure he wasn’t listening in. Then, in a hushed voice: “So what’s your plan here? I told you, cozy up to Captain Lang a little and you’d be golden. Even with Danwan joining, he wouldn’t give you grief. Getting bumped to the second team still leaves a shot at coming back, but if you’re listed on the exchange? That’s game over, different story entirely.”

Their manager worked out of headquarters, handling all the big-picture stuff with the league. He never showed up at the base unless it was serious—probably roster shake-ups.

How could Yun Qi not know? If anything, he was calmer than Xue Yan, the guy on the outside looking in. And Xue Yan hated that calm—it screamed like Yun Qi wasn’t even trying to save himself.

“I gave it a shot,” Yun Qi said, the midday run-in with Lang Xian in the wash area still fresh in his mind. “But I just can’t do it. He’s got ill intentions toward me, Brother Yan—you know that. If he was that easy to butter up, he never would’ve backed me into this corner. Schmoozing him does nothing; he’s dead set on that one thing. Nothing’s gonna stop him.”

Xue Yan studied him, fully aware of what that “one thing” meant. He let out a sigh. “But you gotta fight for yourself, man. Even tossing him a scrap of hope would buy you time. Don’t make it look like zero chance.”

“It’s fine,” Yun Qi replied, crystal clear on the matter. “I can’t give him what he wants, and I’ve got no time to drag this out with him. That’s my line in the sand. It’s zero or nothing, every time. The manager strong-arming me into faking CP with him? That’s already me bending further than I ever should. Anything else? Forget it. I’m here to compete, not play house.”

“But if you keep this up…”

“Don’t sweat it, Brother Yan. Getting traded or listed on the exchange—I can deal with either. Hell, it’d be better than the status quo. If nobody bites, I’ll land a normal job and start over fresh.” Every pro gamer harbored ambitions. Who didn’t dream of carving out their own legacy? And for SK, coming this close to the championship hurt worse than never getting near it. So damn close—just a hair short.

SK had been utterly dismantled by KRO. They’d all wallowed in it for a stretch, but even in the darkest moments, nobody breathed a word about bailing on esports for some nine-to-five. For Yun Qi to say it out loud meant his mind was made up.

Xue Yan had known him since their youth training days. Yun Qi came off as gentle and well-mannered, but Xue Yan knew better: he was gentle, sure, but with a core of steel. Once he decided something was off-limits, there was no swaying him.

The words of persuasion died in Xue Yan’s throat. He gazed at Yun Qi, eyes full of pity, like they were bidding a final farewell. Yun Qi just smiled. “What’s with the face, Brother Yan? Can’t bear to part with your little support?”

Xue Yan replied earnestly, “I really can’t bear to see you go.”

Yun Qi had meant to brush it off and tell Xue Yan not to take it to heart. But now, seeing the look on Xue Yan’s face, he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He pursed his lips, stared at his computer screen, and said, “Wanna play? I’ll duo with you for a couple games.”

Xue Yan and Yun Qi queued up for some casual games while Danwan practiced on his own. They didn’t call him along this time—there really wasn’t much time left. Yun Qi figured he might as well be a little selfish with what little they had; he’d do whatever he wanted.

Xue Yan’s go-to shooter was Fanny. Compared to immobile marksmen, she had decent self-peel with her one or two displacements—lifesavers for any squishy carry. Even after the nerfs this season, she wasn’t over-tuned but still sat comfortably at T1. All in all, a well-designed champion.

Yun Qi preferred Little Cherry Blossom, which synergized perfectly with Fanny. Their skill combos clicked like clockwork, making them a nightmare in casuals. With a solid lineup and no glaring weaknesses, they snowballed into an early lead.

“Why were you still grinding in the training room so late last night?” Xue Yan recalled to base under tower. He spotted two Green Arrows on the table and tossed one to Yun Qi. “You’re not the type to pull all-nighters. What, up till three in the morning?”

“Was duoing with a friend,” Yun Qi said. “Couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Who?”

“Sour.”

“That guy from DYJ?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you met him during last year’s Spring Split.” Xue Yan paused. “You two still chat?”

“Not super often. He shares videos and stuff sometimes. We just kinda got to know each other over time.”

“DYJ crashed out in round four this year. They used to be contenders—probably tanked after their jungler got poached.” The esports scene was a small world; news traveled fast.

“Right. He mentioned they’re short-staffed. Even tried recruiting me during casuals yesterday.”

Xue Yan chuckled. “Jungler’s the rhythm engine of any team. Swap one out, and all that hard-earned synergy goes poof—strength takes a nosedive. Their old jungler was a beast, worth more than Chen Xia even. Heard he landed at KRO? Haven’t seen him in official matches yet, though.”

KRO was notorious for brutal starting roster battles—even Little E God Liu Ying wasn’t a lock. He’d sat out foreign server scrims a couple years back. Their annual internal tryouts kept everyone on their toes, fostering fair competition while lighting a fire under the starters. At least, that’s what their players claimed in interviews. Xue Yan wasn’t sure how much of it was PR.

“I don’t follow that stuff closely,” Yun Qi said. “Just know the guy’s a monster jungler.”

“He is. DYJ wouldn’t have posted those results without him.” Xue Yan sighed. “But esports teams are built on steel; players come and go like water. Always has been. Sticking with one squad from day one to the end? Rare as hell.”

Xue Yan’s tone grew heavy. “Can’t be helped if you wanna last. It’s just business.”

Yun Qi listened, and couldn’t help drawing parallels to his own situation. Why was he doing this, really? To stick around the scene a bit longer? That was just a line to feed the others. Truth was, his personal ambitions always trumped any passion he claimed.

A little after six, Yueqiu and Lang Xian came back. Their faces were grim, eyes locking straight onto Yun Qi. He’d just wrapped up with Xue Yan and had braced himself for this, so their stares didn’t catch him too off guard.

Before long, Yueqiu said, “Yun Qi, come with me.”

Lang Xian held that heavy gaze for a moment, then went still. He sank into the living room sofa and lit a cigarette, looking helpless in the face of what was unfolding.

Yun Qi trailed Yueqiu to a quiet spot by the stairwell. No one else around. Yueqiu rubbed his temple, struggling to find the words. “How long since you last talked to the manager?”

“We don’t chat much. Haven’t privately since finals.”

“Brother Li’s been catching heat at headquarters—you’ve gotta know why.” Yueqiu went on. “You got any new career plans? Couple days back, a pair of veteran teams reached out to me about you. Brother Li shut it down. They’re big fans.”

Was it fandom, or just not wanting to let his value run dry?

“Brother Qiu, spit it out. New guys are moved in, you met with the manager today—you know where I stand.”

Yueqiu shot back, “Why the hell is this my mess to handle?”

He muttered under his breath, but he had no choice except to concede. Throwing caution to the wind, he said, “Alright, I won’t beat around the bush with you. There are two arrangements for you from today’s meeting. Your skill level is actually about even with Danwan’s. In the end, they decided to keep him in order to open up another possibility for the team. You’ve had some bad blood with him and Jiu Shuang, and everyone up top knows it—they’ve been turning a blind eye so far. But now it’s starting to affect the matches, so the plan is to let Danwan have a shot for a year. You step back behind the scenes for that time and let them gel as a unit. We’ll see how it goes.”

“What’s the second option?” Yun Qi didn’t hesitate for a second, clearly dismissing the first plan outright.

“The second path is switching positions,” Yueqiu said. He touched his nose, his gaze flickering away evasively. “We’re not short on supports right now. You could try mid laner or side laner. Weren’t you a side laner back in youth training? I remember that much. But Captain Lang’s got the side lane position pretty well covered, so you’d probably have to head back to the second team for a fresh evaluation.”

“In other words, compete with everyone all over again for a spot on the starting roster.”

“You’d make it no problem,” Yueqiu added. “You’ve got the experience, after all…”

“Brother Qiu, you know Captain Lang’s background here better than I do. I’ve got no shot against him. We’re at this point now—please, just be straight with me. Can you get them to let me go?”

Yueqiu shot him a guilty glance but didn’t reply right away.

“You can’t,” Yun Qi said, reading the silence perfectly. “You still see some value in me. Sure, I might not be able to play in matches anymore, but I can stream and pull in traffic for the team. Plus, I’ve got a bunch of sponsorship deals. Keeping me around definitely isn’t a loss.”

He had nailed the entire content of the meeting. Yueqiu tried to smooth things over. “It’s not entirely for those reasons. Brother Li thinks highly of you…”

“But Brother Li didn’t fight to keep me.”

Yueqiu lowered his voice. “He did what he could.”

Yun Qi nodded. “I know. Thanks. Can I talk to the one at the top who actually makes the call?”

Yueqiu looked troubled. “I’m afraid that…”

Their manager answered to people higher up the chain—direct decision-makers. Yun Qi knew trying to negotiate with them would be a waste of breath. In the end, only the top leadership held the power to decide his fate.

“Please,” Yun Qi pressed.

Yueqiu stared at that face—so pitiful, so innocent. This wasn’t his call to make; he was just the go-between. If Yun Qi went over his head to the higher-ups, no blame would fall on a mere life assistant like him. Besides, Yun Qi had always been even-tempered at the base, never stirring up trouble on his own. After a moment’s thought, Yueqiu relented. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Truth is, I don’t have a direct line to them either.”

Yun Qi’s disappointment had just started to sink in when Yueqiu continued, “But there is one person who can get you in front of them right away.”

Yueqiu tilted his head toward the living room, where a figure sat. Lang Xian was smoking a cigarette, his eyes fixed steadily on them.

Yun Qi caught the hint at once.

Yueqiu gave his shoulder a squeeze, the grip carrying some unspoken warning.

Everyone knew what Lang Xian wanted from him. Yun Qi, right in the thick of it, understood all too well what he’d be walking into.

But his mind was made up. He was leaving, no matter what.

Yun Qi tucked a strand of slightly long hair behind his ear.

He met Lang Xian’s gaze and thought to himself: Even if it’s a trap waiting ahead, this time I’ll leap right in without a second thought.