That evening in the dining hall, Lao Xun sat with Yu Jin, deep in discussion. Yun Qi had eaten a big lunch and wasn’t hungry yet, so he wrapped up dinner quickly.
In the corridor, he ran into Yu Jin, who was leaning against the wall as if waiting for him. Yun Qi walked over, jacket in hand.
Yu Jin glanced at the garment. “No wonder Rong Rong spotted it. They’re practically identical.”
The styles matched down to the last detail, differing only in color. Yu Jin could tell how similar they were without Yun Qi even trying his on.
Yun Qi tightened his grip on the jacket. “I really bought it because I liked how it looked.”
Yu Jin studied him, laying out his case methodically. “If it was just because you liked it, why hide it from me when you bought it yesterday? Why sneak around wearing it today, scared I’d see?”
Yun Qi did have his own little motives, ones he wasn’t ready for Yu Jin to uncover. The two of them were separated by the thinnest veil now—pierce it, and that was that—but he still lacked the courage.
“Call it the team uniform or whatever you want; it’s your words, my interpretation.” Yu Jin shifted gears. “We can pick up Tata the day after tomorrow. Head out early, back early.”
Yun Qi asked, “Are your parents back already?”
“They’ll be here in a day or two.”
“I’m free anytime. Just let me know when you’re going.”
Yu Jin eyed him for a moment. “Not scared of them anymore?”
Yun Qi replied awkwardly, “…Not scared.”
He said the words, but a flicker of apprehension lingered inside. Still, Yu Jin was such a good guy—his parents had to be decent too, right? That was how he talked himself down, the tension easing.
“My parents are good people,” Yu Jin reassured him. “Don’t act too cowed when you meet them. Be yourself around me all you want, but elders appreciate poise and confidence, boys or girls alike. No need to worry—they don’t bite. Besides, it’s just picking up a cat.”
Right, just picking up a cat. So why did it feel like meeting the in-laws? Yun Qi wondered. Was he overthinking it? There was nothing scary here; it was perfectly normal.
With that settled in his mind, Yun Qi stopped psyching himself out. His gaze drifted to the bandage on Yu Jin’s hand. “Need a change today?”
Yu Jin straightened, clearly waiting for the question. He tilted his head toward the room. “Come in.”
They stepped inside.
Yu Jin’s room featured a long table and sofa by the floor-to-ceiling windows. A water glass, phone, and spotless ashtray sat on the table—he clearly hadn’t smoked today. He’d quit drinking and smoking, taking Yun Qi’s nagging to heart. The sight of that clean ashtray warmed Yun Qi’s chest.
Yu Jin leaned against the sofa while they stood behind it. Yun Qi unwound the bandage, revealing the healing wound. His thumb brushed the scar, sending a fresh pang through him. He glanced up at Yu Jin. “Don’t ever do that again.”
He’d never realized Yu Jin could be so harsh on himself. No excuse in the world could sway Yun Qi on that.
“You’ve warned me plenty, and I’ve promised plenty,” Yu Jin replied. He knew it had truly rattled him and regretted it deeply. “What’ll it take to put your mind at ease? A solemn vow?”
Yun Qi brushed off the quip. No more bandage was needed. He glanced outside at the weather. “No sense keeping it wrapped. Letting it breathe should speed the healing.”
Yu Jin shrugged. “Whatever works.”
Yun Qi peeled the bandage away.
Right then, a knock sounded at the door. Looking up, they saw Jiu Ke standing there. Yu Jin’s room was farther in, and they hadn’t bothered closing the door, figuring they’d be out soon.
Jiu Ke noticed their actions but didn’t think much of it. He simply asked Yu Jin if he had time right now.
“Come in and talk,” Yu Jin said to Jiu Ke.
Yun Qi tossed the removed gauze into the trash bin and said to Yu Jin, “Then I’ll head out first.”
Yu Jin nodded.
Yun Qi brushed past Jiu Ke with a nod of acknowledgment.
Jiu Ke glanced back at him and spotted the freshly removed gauze in the bin. Turning back with concern, he asked, “Is your hand okay now?”
“It’s fine.” Yu Jin flexed his palm and gestured to Jiu Ke. “Have a seat and let’s talk.”
As Jiu Ke walked in, he said, “It’s about some advice for the grand tournament…”
Yun Qi closed the door for them.
He returned to his own room, draped his jacket over a chair, and sank onto the sofa, lost in thought.
He had no idea what Jiu Ke wanted with Yu Jin, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. Whenever Yun Qi closed his eyes, Yu Jin’s face filled his mind. He felt like he was going mad. Truth be told, he didn’t dislike the ambiguity at all—it was just that flirting with Yu Jin hurt even more than confessing outright. He couldn’t handle so much as a single glance from Yu Jin. He was terrified that one careless moment would push him over the edge. Did Yu Jin even realize the depth of his passion?
Yun Qi mulled over the timing, searching for the right moment to confess to Yu Jin. The trouble with Ziwu was behind them now, but Ziwu’s warning still echoed in his ears. Yun Qi didn’t dare upset the current balance. He didn’t believe his feelings would burden Yu Jin in any way, but a confession was no small matter. And their relationship was so tangled—it couldn’t be boiled down to a simple yes or no.
Beyond being his ex-boyfriend, Yu Jin was now his teammate and captain, their fates intertwined through victory and defeat alike. They had to tread carefully, and baring his heart required the perfect opportunity.
But when would that opportunity come?
Yun Qi considered their training schedule. If he confessed to Yu Jin now, would it seem contrived? Would Yu Jin think it was just a ploy to secure a spot on the starting roster? The major tournament roster was due out any day now. Yu Jin and the managers had already reviewed the training data; the results should drop within the next couple of days.
The more Yun Qi dwelled on it, the more restless he grew. He shoved the thought aside for the moment and turned his focus to the grand tournament. No use agonizing over what-ifs.
With that resolve, he headed into the bathroom for a shower.
Perhaps because the past few days had been too peaceful, and the heavens couldn’t tolerate his fleeting comfort, the very next morning—as soon as Yun Qi came downstairs—Lao Xun pulled him aside.
“Come here.” Lao Xun’s tone was deadly serious.
Yun Qi walked over, a knot of unease tightening in his gut. His instincts had been spot-on. Lao Xun asked, “Have you checked your phone?”
Yun Qi glanced at it. “Did I miss a message or something?”
“I mean online.”
Yun Qi caught on immediately. “Something about me?”
Years of experience told Yun Qi exactly what Lao Xun meant—and he wasn’t wrong. Lao Xun confirmed it: “You’ve been doxxed. Last night at midnight, of all times. I was already asleep when I found out.”
Yun Qi pulled out his phone, his heart plummeting into the abyss.
Lao Xun fell silent.
Yun Qi searched his own name. A quick tap of “Qiluo” pulled up the latest scandal right away. The video showed two blurred figures—men—entwined intimately on a bed. His name blazed in the title, and the description laid it out plainly: this was him, supposedly, fooling around behind closed doors.
Lao Xun chose his words carefully. “No idea who posted it, but it’s blown up huge.”
Yun Qi didn’t need Lao Xun to spell it out. He opened the comments section, his finger hovering rigidly above the screen. The video had racked up over a million likes. Content like this was designed to go viral, faces blurred or not. It wasn’t definitive proof, but the netizens didn’t care—they tore into him with wild abandon.
“It’s Lang Xian,” Yun Qi said, certain beyond doubt.
Lao Xun frowned. “Lang Xian? Your old captain?”
“Yeah.” Yun Qi thought back to his run-in with Li Meng and Lang Xian a few days earlier. Lang Xian had all but telegraphed his next move. Yun Qi had wondered at the radio silence, figuring maybe Lang Xian lacked hard evidence. Instead, he’d unleashed this bombshell.
“Then the guys in the video…”
Lao Xun’s voice held a note of caution. He didn’t know Yun Qi well, had no real sense of his character. From the blurred physique alone, it did resemble Yun Qi.
“It’s not me,” Yun Qi said firmly. “I didn’t.” Even so, a twinge of guilt crept in. The comments referenced his Intimacy Starvation Syndrome—another tidbit Lang Xian must have leaked. On that front, Yun Qi couldn’t deny it outright.
Lao Xun tsked. “This is messy. It’s targeted right at you. Want me to set up a call with your old team? Grand tournament’s right around the corner—this could tank your rep.”
Yun Qi seethed with hatred and fury inside. Lang Xian had slandered him at this critical moment, but one thing was certain: “He won’t let me get away with it.”
Lao Xun’s gaze grew complicated. “Just what grudge do you two have?”
Grudge? It was an irreconcilable one.
Seeing Yun Qi’s silence, Lao Xun knew this was going to be tricky. As the two of them racked their brains, Yu Jin showed up.
“Come here.” Yu Jin stood in the doorway of the Training Room and beckoned to Yun Qi.
Yun Qi froze for a moment. Yu Jin’s fierce glare sent a chill racing through him several times over. He walked over silently, and Yu Jin led him outside.
Yun Qi wanted to explain himself, but Yu Jin hadn’t asked a single question. Instead, he kept heading toward the garage. Perplexed and increasingly uneasy, Yun Qi asked anxiously, “Where are we going?”
Yu Jin brought him to the car and shoved the door open. “Get in,” he commanded.
Yun Qi hesitated, staring at the car door. He didn’t dare refuse Yu Jin. After a moment’s thought, he climbed inside.
Yu Jin got in right behind him.
As he buckled his seatbelt, Yun Qi stole a glance at him. “That stuff online… it’s not true.”
Yu Jin replied, “I didn’t ask.”
In other words, there was no need for explanations or answers.
But Yun Qi was terrified of a misunderstanding. Anyone else could get the wrong idea about him, but not Yu Jin. He pressed on. “It’s true. We’ve always just had a marketing relationship. That wasn’t me—absolutely not. The build might look similar, but I know it was Lang Xian with someone else.”
Yu Jin turned to look at him.
Yun Qi opened his mouth to say more, but Yu Jin’s gaze silenced him.
Gripping the steering wheel, Yu Jin asked, “Did you have a nightmare last night?”
Stunned, Yun Qi replied, “No.”
“I slept terribly yesterday,” Yu Jin said. “Probably because I haven’t gone to bed this early in ages. Started getting insomnia.”
“Insomnia,” Yun Qi echoed softly. “Then… what do we do?”
He wanted to ask about medication or remedies. Was this some old condition flaring up? Yun Qi couldn’t be sure, and the thought filled him with dread.
“Nothing,” Yu Jin said. He started the car and drove out of the base, ignoring the question.
Once they were outside, Yu Jin still didn’t say where they were headed.
