Chen Xia and the others held their breath, not daring to make a sound. Lang Xian opened his mouth to say more when Xue Yan slipped back in. He roared at the doorway, “Get him back here!”
Xue Yan murmured, “He’s already in the car.”
Lang Xian flushed crimson from neck to eyes, his face twisted in a rage that terrified everyone. He lunged for the door to settle the score, but Xue Yan grabbed his wrist and whispered into the deathly quiet training room, “Eidis came to pick him up.”
Lang Xian’s face fell like he’d just eaten a mouthful of dirt.
The others exchanged doubtful glances, brows furrowed, convinced they’d misheard.
Jiu Shuang ventured carefully, “Brother Yan, who did you say…?”
~~~
The Continental’s tires crunched slowly over the pavement.
The Grand Finals were over for the year, the related events wrapped up. All that remained was a Challenge Tournament for the Losers’ Bracket—low buzz, barely on the netizens’ radar. It was basically an internal ranking match for the pro teams, coming up soon. But it had nothing to do with Yun Qi anymore.
Everything about SK was behind him now. The moment he stepped into this car and saw that man, his future was anyone’s guess—up to fate.
Yu Jin was waiting at the intersection. When Yun Qi arrived, he carried just one suitcase. Yu Jin stood by the car, smoking, joined by one of Yun Qi’s former teammates: SK’s Shooter, Xue Yan, there to see him off.
Yu Jin said nothing, his eyes fixed on Yun Qi the whole time. Even as Yun Qi approached, that piercing gaze didn’t waver.
Yun Qi shifted awkwardly. “Will it fit?”
He nodded at the somewhat hefty suitcase.
Yu Jin didn’t reply. He simply took the bag, stowed it in the trunk, and headed for the car.
Yun Qi’s question hung in the air unanswered, but he held no grudge. After all, back when they’d broken up, his own cutting words had been far harsher than any silence.
Yun Qi circled to the back, his hand brushing the door, when Yu Jin swung it open. “You treating me like your chauffeur?”
Yun Qi started to explain, but Yu Jin cut in: “Sit up front.”
Yun Qi doubled back to the passenger side.
He buckled in, and Yu Jin hunched over his phone. The car was pin-drop silent. Yun Qi had no idea what to say. Their history was anything but ordinary, and now, sharing this confined space, even their breaths felt cautious.
Truth be told, he hadn’t expected Yu Jin to show up personally—figured he’d send someone to handle it. He owed him thanks this time, but the words stuck in his throat.
Yun Qi stayed mute. Better safe than sorry. His legs pressed tightly together, hands clutching his phone flat on his lap like he’d gone mute.
He could lord it over anyone else in life, but with Yu Jin? Only guilt and a debt that grew heavier by the day.
Along with an illness—and feelings—that time had only deepened.
After the car pulled away, Yun Qi tried to banish the stray thoughts from his mind and focus. But sharing space with Yu Jin made those intimate, cloying memories surge uncontrollably. Their shared past was green and fervent, innocent yet wicked—countless days and nights where no one else existed in their eyes. The moment they crossed paths, hands would clasp, lips would meet, bodies would tangle, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them in a haze of delirium and folly.
In the heavy silence, Yun Qi’s phone buzzed to life. He checked the screen: Yueqiu. Guessing the reason, he let it ring for a moment.
It kept going, the caller clearly insistent. Yun Qi stopped stalling and picked up. Yueqiu’s voice came through in a rush of panic.
“Take that post down right now! This is about to blow up big time!”
Evidently, everyone knew.
Yun Qi offered no excuses, his tone low and firm. “I spent all night writing it. It’s not coming down.”
“Yun Qi! Are you out of your mind?! You trying to destroy Lang Xian? That video’s gonna stir up massive backlash—hell, it could tank his whole career!”
“Really?” Yun Qi brushed it off. “Doesn’t he have huge backing? Didn’t he brag that the entire Pro Scene is his personal network? How’s that gonna ruin him?”
“Quit being spiteful! Look, he did plenty of shitty things to you. Get revenge, hold a grudge—fine. But this? This is brutal. You’re torching his life forever.”
Yun Qi let out a scoff. “Brother Qiu, did it ever cross your minds that if he’d succeeded even once, my life would’ve been torched forever?”
Dead silence on the line.
“You watched him do all that to me and looked the other way. I don’t blame you—you’re not family, no duty to pull me from the fire. But now that I’m holding him accountable, suddenly you’re all alarmed? Why not play dumb this time? You and Brother Yan keep urging me not to take it this far, but he hasn’t been grinding me down for just a day or two. I didn’t make anything up—he did it all. So why can’t he handle the consequences?”
Yueqiu drew a deep breath. “Yun Qi, I get it—you want a clean break, settle every old score and grudge. But he’s got powerful people above him. Even for your own good, don’t push it this far. Brother Li and the rest won’t let it slide. Going public against SK like this… it’ll trash your reputation too…”
“What reputation?” Yun Qi laughed bitterly. The words hung there, silencing Yueqiu for a long stretch. He knew he’d stepped in it.
“If that’s all, I’m hanging up,” Yun Qi said gravely. “Goodbye.”
He ended the call, shoved the phone aside, and stared out the window in silence.
Up front, Yu Jin said nothing to pierce the mood, just drove. Yun Qi just stewed. They exchanged barely a word the whole ride.
Before long, they reached their destination.
The Continental glided into a gated villa community, and Yun Qi found himself awestruck. He’d known KRO’s boss was loaded, but this? From the entrance gate, it unfolded like a private manor. Two grand houses stood within, divided by a sparkling fountain. Identical in design and breathtakingly elegant, they flanked the drive. The car veered toward the left one and pulled up at the entrance.
Yu Jin hopped out first. Yun Qi followed close behind. He’d scoured the net for KRO base pics and figured pro players’ digs were all about the same. Top domestic esports teams lived like this? Yun Qi felt like he was floating on air. The lavish surroundings melted away his brooding funk from the trip, though a thread of wariness lingered as he approached the hall doors.
Yu Jin scanned his fingerprint at the entrance. Glancing back, he saw Yun Qi frozen and asked, hands in his pockets, “What’re you doing?”
Yun Qi nodded toward the car. “My bags…”
Yu Jin shrugged. “Leave ’em for now. Come on in—time to meet the team.”
Yun Qi fell into step behind him.
The first-floor hall gleamed spotless, not a speck of dust anywhere. The matte gray flooring stretched his shadow long across the space. Sparsely furnished—a few single sofas and a low table off to one side, a vase of fresh flowers on the Front Desk counter, abstract art prints on the walls, and a bank of elevator doors straight ahead.
Front Desk sat empty. Yu Jin hit the call button for an elevator, then turned to Yun Qi. “They’re off today. I’ll take you up. Spend the day getting the lay of the land. Real work starts Monday.”
Yun Qi nodded meekly. “…Got it.”
The elevator whisked them to the Third Floor.
The doors slid open, and they nearly collided with a young guy standing there. He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting company, then mumbled timidly, “Bro.”
Yu Jin ignored him. The young man didn’t seem to care. He’d been about to head downstairs but now trailed after them toward the center of the third floor.
This entire floor appeared to be training rooms. Those so-called geniuses were huddled together in heated matches—intense offline scrims and internal team spars—with shouts rising and falling all around. It was a sea of guys. As Yun Qi listened, a subtle tension began to stir in his chest.
He had come up through the youth training program himself, competing in similar camps. The facilities hadn’t been anywhere near this nice, but the electric buzz of competition yanked him right back to that summer, surrounded by a crowd of experts. They were friends, sure, but also rivals vying for spots on the starting roster.
Just then, a burly man with a beard emerged from one of the training rooms. Dressed in casual clothes, his arms were thick and powerful, the build of someone who hit the gym religiously. He grinned as he ambled over toward Yun Qi and whistled at them. “Quick work.”
Yu Jin turned to Yun Qi. “Chen Wen will handle all your training from here on out.”
Yun Qi offered a polite nod. “Brother Wen.”
Chen Wen extended a hand for a shake, his face splitting into an overly friendly smile as he eyed Yun Qi. “You’re even more polished in person than in the videos.”
They shook quickly and exchanged greetings. Chen Wen must have already received Yun Qi’s file, so he didn’t pry into the reason for his arrival. Instead, he asked, “Where’s your luggage?”
Yu Jin replied, “Downstairs. Get him settled first, then we’ll grab it.”
“If you’ve given the say-so, who am I to argue?” Chen Wen clapped his hands, and a group of guys filed out. They’d clearly gotten the heads-up beforehand. They startled at the sight of Yu Jin, then shot puzzled looks at the stranger beside him. Chen Wen stepped forward with introductions. “No big deal—just wanted everyone to get a look at our new teammate. This is…”
He turned to Yun Qi. “How should I address you?”
The courtesy caught Yun Qi off guard. “Yun Qi.”
He left out any mention of his old esports team.
Chen Wen nodded. “Yun Qi, our newest addition. Look after him, everyone.”
The group clapped halfheartedly.
Yun Qi scanned their faces and saw right through the perfunctory enthusiasm. Some of them knew his backstory—their eyes gave it away, lacking any real warmth. He wasn’t about to waste energy on it. Back in the youth training camp, no one had paid any mind to incoming youth trainees like him. They figured you’d be gone in a couple of days anyway.
Eliminated.
“Alright,” Yu Jin cut in. “Back to training. Show’s over.”
Chen Wen waved them off, and the group finally scattered, glancing back every few steps.
Chen Wen led Yun Qi into a training room and pointed out a seat. “The kid who sat here got cut a couple days ago. Gear’s been in constant use—no issues. That’s your spot starting tomorrow.”
Yun Qi ran his fingers over the keyboard, which was decked out in pink cartoon stickers. The mouse felt buttery smooth under his touch. The whole desk setup screamed a player with a real girly streak—totally at odds with the rest of the place, and he had no clue why a bunch of dudes would go for it.
“I’ve reviewed your profile. Support main, right? The guys on either side of you play support too. Team stuff or training questions—hit me up, or them if I’m not around…”
“Brother Wen!” someone called from outside.
Chen Wen’s rundown halted. He leaned out for a look and called back, “Busy here—one sec.”
But Yu Jin told him, “Go handle it.”
Chen Wen blinked. “Huh?”
Yu Jin shot him a glance over his shoulder, and Chen Wen got the message, heading out.
Everyone in the training room craned their necks, eyeing the newcomer Yun Qi and their idol Yu Jin.
They grinned and waved at Yu Jin. “Bro.”
Yu Jin brushed off the overtures, tilting his head toward Yun Qi. “Take a seat.”
Still on high alert, Yun Qi sank into the chair. Yu Jin powered up the computer and stood behind him, inspecting the setup as he asked, “You want to play support?”
His voice drifted down from above. Yun Qi itched to glance back but held off. Yu Jin’s arm brushed past his side to rest on the mouse.
The hand was ridiculously attractive.
That ring still gleamed on it, drawing Yun Qi’s eye like a thorn.
He forced himself to focus and answered the question straight. “I’ve been playing support all year…”
“I asked if you want to,” Yu Jin said. “Put another way—how good do you think your support play is?”
Unsure if it was a dig, Yun Qi murmured, “You think it’s bad?”
“You think that’s good? Hm?” Yu Jin asked him. “Compared to your top laner, can your support even hold a candle to him?”
Yun Qi’s heart pounded. He turned his head and asked, “What… do you mean?”
“Play top laner.” Yu Jin’s voice was decisive and brooking no argument. “Starting today.”
