His tone carried the weight of a command, not a negotiation with Yun Qi.
It had been so long since Yun Qi had touched top lane that those words stirred something deep inside him. He fell silent for a long moment, staring at the computer wallpaper overflowing with girlish charm, his fingertips curling tightly against his thigh.
“Me?” Yun Qi hesitated. The breath above his head was soft and even, but his heart pounded wildly.
“Who else?” Yu Jin’s voice was magnetic, cutting straight through him. “Check your gear. Tomorrow’s a workday—log in and start practicing the moment you boot up.”
Yun Qi opened his mouth to respond, but Yu Jin had already stepped away from behind him, lifting his fingers from the mouse and heading for the door.
Yun Qi stared blankly at the screen. The anime wallpaper of girlish Sakura loomed large in his vision. He lifted a hand and unconsciously brushed his fingers over the mouse, the keyboard, the monitor. Glancing sideways, he noticed the neighboring computer—its background matched his own exactly. Same taste? Or was there more to it?
Yun Qi brimmed with questions about this training room.
By the time he gathered his wits, Yu Jin was gone. A sudden thought struck him, and he hurried out after him. Fortunately, Yu Jin hadn’t left yet. Yun Qi spotted him standing there talking with Chen Wen and came to a slow halt.
Yu Jin noticed him chasing after and turned, Chen Wen twisting his head to stare as well. “What is it?”
Yun Qi shifted awkwardly. “My suitcase…”
Yu Jin asked, “What do you need from it right now?”
Yun Qi shook his head. He wasn’t planning to rest anyway—he just worried about leaving it in the car indefinitely.
Yu Jin said, “I’m heading out later. I’ll drop it off for you tonight.”
Yun Qi nearly blurted out, Then what about me? But that sounded far too clingy. He was here to train, not lounge on vacation. Sooner or later, he’d have to face everyone on his own. In the end, he just murmured, “Oh… okay.”
Yu Jin studied him, his gaze intense and unreadable.
Chen Wen chimed in, “That settles it, then. I’m wrapping up here—you go handle your business. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Yun Qi stood there awkwardly, like a total newcomer to the scene. His hands clasped together in front of him, eyes fixed on the floor, unsure where to look. He resembled a lost lamb, the sort who wouldn’t push back no matter what you asked of him. Yu Jin couldn’t help wondering what his reputation had been like on his old esports team. This vulnerable? He seemed far too easy to take advantage of.
After a lingering look, Yu Jin turned and strode away.
Yun Qi watched him step into the elevator.
Chen Wen approached with his trademark professional smile, hands spread in a casual shrug. “So… you’ve met the team already. Not everyone’s around today since it’s your first day. How about I have someone give you the grand tour to get you oriented? Sound good?”
Yun Qi wasn’t used to all this coddling—it left him uneasy. “Yeah, sure. Whatever works.”
Chen Wen called out to a young guy from the training room. “Little Ji, show our new guy around. Help him get the lay of the land.”
Little Ji looked about Yun Qi’s age, probably another player. Yun Qi offered a smile, and Little Ji returned it with real enthusiasm—likely thanks to his easygoing nature that made Brother Wen tap him for the job.
Little Ji walked over. “You got it, Brother Wen.”
Chen Wen waved them off toward Yun Qi. “Have at it.”
Yun Qi nodded. As a newbie, diving straight into training didn’t make sense—he needed to get a feel for the place first.
Little Ji paused, thinking aloud. “Hmm… where to start? You done checking out this area?”
Yun Qi replied, “I just peeked into the training room.”
Little Ji nodded and led him on a loop nearby. “Alright, let’s kick off from here.”
Yun Qi trailed after him.
The third floor housed training rooms of all shapes and sizes, each decked out in wildly different styles. Most were straightforward, but the one they’d just left stood out in garish pink, clashing hard with the lobby. Little Ji explained that players from two rooms had wagered their decor on a match—the losers had to paint their walls hot pink and swap their wallpapers to match. No surprise which side had folded.
“We do stuff like that all the time here—friendly matches with stakes on anything you dare to bet. The bosses upstairs don’t care; they won’t shut down the fun. Strength rules everything around here. If you’ve got the skills, you’re top dog. Forget pink walls—if Brother Wen gave the word and you’re badass enough, he’d fetch your coffee for three months straight.”
Little Ji pointed as they went. “These rooms are the mixed ones—everybody jams in together. New picks for the esports team start here. Once you’re solid, they sort you into position-specific rooms, then it’s solo queues. Rack up wins, and you climb to the fourth floor. Keep winning, hit the fifth for scrims against the third team, second team, substitutes—and finally, the starting roster. Clear?”
Yun Qi nodded. These were all familiar steps to him—ones he’d climbed before. It was just that breaking out here was a touch harder than during his youth training stint at SK, and the selection process was even more grueling.
Little Ji led him to the door of a training room and explained in a professional tone, “Only five people train in this room—they’re the strongest players across the five positions on the third floor. They’re about to head upstairs for a match. Win, and they advance; lose, and they drop down. Regardless of which training room you’re in, everyone gets just three months. Fail to climb the ranks in that time, and you’re cut—no talent for pro gaming, so no sense forcing it.”
Yun Qi had been a youth trainee himself, so he understood it all perfectly. The bar seemed higher here than at other esports teams, but he had no questions. Every team ran things differently, and he’d known going in that cracking the starting roster for KRO would be tough.
“You don’t have a trial card yet, do you?” Little Ji asked.
Yun Qi shook his head. “No. What’s that?”
Little Ji ducked into a training room and tapped a small box next to one of the computers. A silver card was slotted into it. “This right here. You should get yours tomorrow. Once you do, plug it in here every day you train. The card controls access to each machine and automatically logs your data—session time, games played, points earned. The lobby screen shows the points leaderboard. Rack up enough, and you qualify for group stage matches.”
Yun Qi absorbed every detail, listening closely.
“No rush on that—take your time; you’ll pick it up quick,” Little Ji said. He led Yun Qi back to the lobby and pointed at a display screen. “That’s the points leaderboard. Top of the peak points right now is Weng Yanwen—we call him Wenyanwen. Brother Wen’s the best top laner on the third floor at the moment. You’re support, right?”
Yun Qi didn’t reply immediately.
Little Ji spoke up fast. “Relax then—you won’t be competing directly with him. No rivalry there, so come and go as you please.”
Or maybe not…
Yun Qi trailed Little Ji upstairs next. The third floor and above housed mid-tier and elite players—they weren’t cleared for it yet. Even the elevator only got them as far as the lobby doors, which they couldn’t access. Yun Qi just peeked inside briefly before Little Ji ushered him back down.
They reached the dormitory area. Rookies roomed two per unit, six rooms to a suite, all laid out the same. Little Ji showed Yun Qi to his assigned space. “You’ll probably get settled in one of these tonight. Everything’s stocked—bedding, toothbrush, toothpaste, the works. Dorms are basic like this; cleaning staff handles upkeep, so no fretting over slobs for roommates.”
Yun Qi still felt a twinge of reluctance. He was a neat freak who rarely shared space, yet here he was, facing a room with a total stranger…
He wondered if he’d manage.
“No luggage?” Little Ji asked. “You bring everything?”
Yun Qi nodded. “Yeah, still in the car.”
“Better grab it soon. Evenings get crowded once everyone’s back.”
Yun Qi nodded again. The new setup left him off-balance. The structure, the selection gauntlet, the training intensity—it all felt far more cutthroat than any youth training camp he’d known.
Bzzz—
Little Ji’s phone vibrated.
“Hang on,” he told Yun Qi, stepping aside to answer. He spent a moment explaining his whereabouts to the caller.
Yun Qi passed the time sizing up the room. It was fine—the desk and sofa spotless. A few cigarette butts filled the ashtray. Most guys smoked; it didn’t faze him. Truth be told, he kind of liked the scent. In his hazy teenage years, cigarette smoke had clung to him more than anything else.
That nicotine tang brought comfort. He’d been so guarded back then, navigating high-stakes pressure and relentless pursuits from others. Only perched on his lap, curled in his arms, breathing in that heavy tobacco haze, had he ever felt truly free and loose.
Over time, the smell became habit, then craving. On nights when his nerves frayed to the breaking point, he’d light one and just sniff. He’d tried dragging on it once or twice, but the coughing fits killed that quick.
The scent had never repelled him, though.
A killer fragrance burned into his youth.
Little Ji returned shortly after.
He slipped his phone away and told Yun Qi, “Hit me up with any other questions. Ease in slow—no need to master it all day one. Couple days here, and it’ll feel like home.”
No need to rush and master every detail of the new environment all in one day.
Seeing that he had no questions, Little Ji said, “Then let’s head back to the training room.”
“Hold on,” Yun Qi suddenly called out to him, hesitating before asking, “I want to know… where does he live?”
Little Ji frowned. “Who?”
Yun Qi lowered his voice. “Eidis.”
“Oh,” Little Ji replied, explaining, “E God? He definitely doesn’t live here. You must’ve seen that other building when you came in, right? All the Starting Roster members live there—Liu Ying, Ziwu, and the rest.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah,” Little Ji sighed. “Their place is awesome. Just a few guys living there, and the view and setup are top-notch.”
“This place is already pretty nice.”
“It is nice, but A Block feels more like home. The environment here is great, but it’s a bit like an office—lots of people around. Anyway, it’s nothing compared to where E God and the others stay. That’s Boss Xu’s way of doing things: the stronger you are, the better the perks. Those Starting Roster guys probably pull in insane salaries—enough to start their own esports teams, from what I hear.”
“Really?” Top pros in the scene made bank, but only if they racked up championships to boost their value. Yu Jin’s market value was in a league of its own, though Yun Qi wasn’t as sure about the rest of KRO.
“Of course it’s real,” Little Ji said, getting oddly excited. “Liu Ying’s already bought a few places in Shanghai. E God’s situation? Don’t even get me started. Our big boss has deep pockets and a big background—he’s never stingy with the Starting Roster. But for us? That’s another story…”
Yun Qi shook his head. “Nah, this setup is already better than a lot of esports team bases out there.”
