Yun Qi leaned against the doorframe, completely baffled. “Didn’t you say it was already better?”
“It’s better, but you’re still not letting me drink,” Yu Jin said. He had already unwound the bandage and lifted his hand toward the man at the door. “Come on, Healer.”
Yun Qi’s grip tightened on the door. He slowly stepped inside.
~~~
The rest day flew by, and the grueling training schedule kicked back into high gear.
The closer they got to the Grand Tournament, the more intensely Lao Xun kept watch. He was up early, parked in Yu Jin’s usual seat, fist propped under his chin as he pored over the latest training data, lost in thought.
Everyone was in top form lately. The Training Room was unusually hushed, filled only with the rapid clatter of keyboards.
The fiercest competition was for Jiu Ke’s spot. His original substitutes were already formidable, and now Yun Qi had thrown his hat in the ring, piling on the pressure. Jiu Ke barely had time to grab a sip of water anymore. He ground through match after match and even roped in a few National Server buddies for private scrims, desperately hunting for his weaknesses.
Yun Qi was midway through a game when a message pinged his account. He glanced at it—Jiu Ke.
【Done yet?】
【Got time? Let’s run a couple more.】
Yun Qi typed back.
【Five minutes.】
【Waiting.】
Yun Qi zeroed in on his match. He was handling things with increasing ease, carrying himself like a full-fledged team member. Once it wrapped, he hopped into Jiu Ke’s room, and the two of them quietly dove into solos.
Jiu Ke was already a top-tier Top Laner, and he’d sized up Yun Qi’s skills and style—no more underestimating. But it didn’t help. Yun Qi was a nightmare to face. Every matchup left Jiu Ke feeling like he wasn’t up against the mild-mannered kid standing there.
Yun Qi’s looks were pure deception. Off the rift, he was the picture of obedience—polite, measured words, dropping “bro” left and right to disarm anyone. In-game? A different beast: ruthless aggression, razor-sharp mechanics, game sense miles ahead. He turned forgotten picks into meta dominators.
“Tch.” First solo down the drain.
Jiu Ke queued the second with a troubled frown. Right then, it hit him—he was past his prime. He tried telling himself a couple years back, maybe a tie. But even rewinding three? Nah. The kid was just better.
Yu Jin was the undisputed Jungle prodigy. Jiu Ke’s solo record was spotless outside a rare Foreign Server clash or two. Sure, Yun Qi had raw talent, but he’d spent two years glued to Support. Jiu Ke had been honing his Side Lane game non-stop. No way talent bridged that gap so fast.
Lost.
Lost again.
Jiu Ke rested his chin in his hand, staring at the post-game screen. No movement from him, so Yun Qi messaged.
【Keep going?】
【Yeah, but gimme a replay review first. Half hour?】
【Cool, won’t queue.】
【Mm.】
Jiu Ke dove into the replay, dissecting every moment to close the gap.
Once he wrapped with Jiu Ke, Yun Qi stayed busy. Lao Xun called him over soon enough. Yun Qi slid his keyboard aside and approached, giving the screen a nod.
It displayed a full rundown of training matches.
Lao Xun’s admiration was plain. “You’re solid. Those National Server bouts? No disasters, killer stats. Peak Points are team-high—even beat Liu Ying’s.”
“Couldn’t test other queues much. Stuck to Peak mostly,” Yun Qi said.
Lao Xun nodded. “Legit impressive. Keep this pace through the week, and next leaderboard drop puts you top three easy.”
Peak Points capped at 3000—no more gains after. National Ranking needed 2700 minimum, plus Challenge Tournament bonuses on Fridays. Yun Qi’s 3-0 run made his profile gleam: not a single loss in sight. For a second, Lao Xun could’ve sworn it was Yu Jin’s account.
“National Leaderboard heroes?” Lao Xun asked.
“Most of ’em,” Yun Qi replied. “Haven’t checked exact, but ten-plus for sure.”
Lao Xun rubbed his chin. “You… man, you’re a steal. Captain Yu’s thirty mil was money well spent.”
“What about me?”
Yun Qi glanced back. Yu Jin had just walked in, their eyes meeting. Yun Qi’s gaze lingered on him, catching the ink-blue jacket.
He turned away.
Yu Jin came up behind Lao Xun, who waved him over to take a look. “I knew you had a sharp eye, Captain Yu. He’s really doing you proud. I thought you’d thrown those thirty million down the drain, but look at this record—I could’ve sworn I was staring at your account.”
Yu Jin grabbed the mouse and glanced at the screen. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Lao Xun tapped the monitor with his finger. “He’s crushing it. At this rate, Jiu Ke’s in real danger.”
Jiu Ke, lounging nearby, leaned back in his chair when he overheard. “I heard that. Talking smack about me again?”
Lao Xun flashed him a smile. “Not at all. Just worried about you.”
Jiu Ke knew Yun Qi’s skill level all too well, so Lao Xun’s shock at the stats came as no surprise. He’d browsed Yun Qi’s profile himself during downtime, and it was impressive—from the win rates to his National Rankings on every hero. All top-tier.
Jiu Ke sighed. “His competition isn’t even domestic anymore. Lyra should be a good match for him.”
Rong Rong’s ears perked up at the name. “You mean the guy from Sweden?”
Jiu Ke nodded.
“Holy shit, the World #1 Top Laner.” Rong Rong shook his head. “I can’t even dream of that.”
Sweden had produced three positional world champions: mid laner, support, and fighter. The top shooter was Korean, and the top jungler was Yu Jin. Those world champs hailed from teams across different countries, fueling fierce rivalries and endless drama.
Yun Qi was well aware of Sweden’s number-one top laner’s reputation. Truth be told, he itched for a matchup right now to see who came out on top—his ambitions had grown that bold, team game or not.
“Hey, Captain Yu, that jacket looks sharp,” Rong Rong said, his eyes quick to spot it was new. “When’d you buy it?”
Yu Jin sidestepped the question. “Does it look good?”
Rong Rong nodded vigorously. “Fucking awesome.”
“A certain someone gave it to me,” Yu Jin said.
A certain someone… Yun Qi felt a pang of guilt and bit his lip.
Rong Rong probed cautiously. “A fan?”
“Nope,” Yu Jin replied.
He didn’t elaborate, just shot a glance at Yun Qi.
Rong Rong’s face lit up as a thought struck him. “It looks familiar… Oh yeah, Milk Cap was wearing the same style this morning, right? But in orange and white.”
Yu Jin turned to look.
Yun Qi’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing that Lao Xun was fine now, he quickly averted his gaze from Yu Jin and slipped back to his own seat.
Moments later, he noticed Yu Jin had sat down too—right across from him.
“Who’s free right now? Let’s queue up,” Yu Jin announced.
His words sparked chaos. Yi Yang, who had just returned, didn’t even bother drying his hands and thrust them into the air, still dripping wet. “Bro! Bro! Pick me! I’ll play!”
Rong Rong lit up with surprise. “You’re playing today?”
Yu Jin shrugged. “I qualify for the Grand Tournament too, don’t I?”
Rong Rong grinned. “Sure, but your hand isn’t healed yet.”
Yi Yang jumped to his feet. “Bro, duo with me! Logging in now!”
Yun Qi had known since yesterday that Yu Jin would start practicing with the team this week, so the announcement itself didn’t catch him off guard. What he hadn’t expected was everyone scrambling to play with him. The other teams were one thing, but his own teammates turning into fans? He watched Yi Yang bounce with excitement, Rong Rong vying for a spot, even Liu Ying in the mix. Yun Qi held himself back.
Then, the man across from him suddenly stood, locked eyes with him, and asked, “You in?”
In that moment, Yun Qi felt like a fan singled out by a superstar—equal parts envy and jealousy from the others. He didn’t need to look to know their glares could kill.
Yu Jin was inviting him so blatantly, with zero subtlety. Wasn’t he worried people would notice? A newbie who hadn’t even been teammates long—no matter how likable—shouldn’t leapfrog everyone else.
Mindful of the stares, Yun Qi feigned reluctance. “I just started a game…”
Lucky for him, his seat was empty beside him, or someone would’ve immediately called out his obvious lie.
His fingers flew to hit the queue button, praying for a fast match before anyone could check his screen.
“Next game, then.” Yu Jin sat back down. “Yi Yang.”
Yi Yang whooped. “You got it! Creating the room now! Finally getting that sweet duo with my bro!”
Rong Rong made a last-ditch plea. “Captain Yu, does our trio friendship have to be this cramped?”
“Not cramped at all,” Yu Jin said. “Just warming up this one—been a while since I played. We’ll group up next.”
“OK!”
By then, Yun Qi’s match had begun. He loaded into champion select.
Just when he thought his racing heart could finally settle, a WeChat notification popped up.
【You gave me a jacket, and bought one to match?】
Yun Qi abandoned hero selection entirely, his heart leaping to his throat. With trembling fingers, he hammered out a reply.
【It looked good, so I bought it】
Then, unnecessarily, he tacked on two more words.
【Team uniform】
The skeptical response came back almost immediately.
【Why didn’t you send them to anyone else? Just me?】
【What do you even call team uniforms for two people?】
Yun Qi had completely forgotten about picking a hero. He didn’t even dare glance at the next message, but that damn WeChat notification shoved Yu Jin’s words right under his nose, forcing him to read them.
The nearby WeChat chat interface displayed a few more words.
【Clothes for two people have their own special name.】
At that moment, the system automatically locked in Fist Lion for Yun Qi. Since he hadn’t selected a hero in time, all his focus was on puzzling over Yu Jin’s last sentence.
He fired off a reply that carried zero conviction.
【……Not couple’s outfits】
The instant he hit send, regret hit him like a truck—as if the opponent had merely tapped a basic attack, yet somehow scared his ultimate right out of him.
He pursed his lips and stiffly tacked on an explanation.
【Anyway, it’s not】
