“Private talk?” The guy’s interest was piqued. His eyes lingered on the tip of Yun Qi’s nose, completely oblivious to the scheming glint flickering in his own gaze. “This spot’s private enough already. How much more private do you need?”
He was playing his hand openly now, cornering Yun Qi right here in the lobby. Did he figure the bosses wouldn’t bat an eye even if they caught wind of it? Yun Qi had zero interest in trading barbs or flirtations with him here—ending up in another mess like the one at SK was the last thing he wanted.
“At the very least, somewhere with fewer people,” Yun Qi negotiated. “When you chase after someone, do you always make this much of a spectacle?”
Chasing after a guy like him so brazenly—the higher-ups might turn a blind eye to players’ off-hours antics, but this level of impatience seemed a step too far.
“I’m your fan,” the guy said, a fanatic edge creeping into his voice. “Can’t I like you?”
His words didn’t hold a drop of logic, but then again, his whole aim was to rattle Yun Qi. Why expect reason from that? He tuned out whatever Yun Qi said, lost in his own head.
“Sure,” Yun Qi replied without pushing back. “I’m sorry for cursing you out. And thanks for still liking me this much.”
The guy let out a chuckle. He took a moment to appraise Yun Qi, puzzlement furrowing his brow. “You’re awfully cool under pressure. Aren’t you and Qingmo an item? How are you not freaking out no matter what I pull? Or are you just that much of a flirt, loving it when guys come running after you?”
Slapping that label on him out of nowhere, as if Yun Qi were the desperate one hunting for a hookup right here in the open. Yun Qi was utterly blameless, yet these types had no shame—they’d dump the blame squarely on him. Come tomorrow, if it all blew up, the guy could spin it to the bosses like Yun Qi had lured him in. Yun Qi knew the playbook all too well for people like this.
Just like Lang Xian. Identical to the core.
“Qingmo and I are done,” Yun Qi said, his tone measured and unhurried. “As my fan, you didn’t know that? Now that it’s over with him, why can’t I go looking for someone else? Am I supposed to stay chaste for him for life?”
The other man tilted his head, a flicker of genuine doubt in his eyes.
“You claim to be my fan. What’s your name?” Yun Qi asked, sounding almost curious.
No answer.
Cautious one, wasn’t he?
Fine. Yun Qi dropped it.
“You won’t even budge to somewhere more secluded like I asked. So what’s your game plan? This place is a revolving door—people streaming in and out. The elevator’s about to spit out a few more any second. If they catch us like this, what then? Is that what you want—getting spotted?”
“I’m not scared,” he declared firmly.
Yet he wouldn’t even cough up his name.
“But I am,” Yun Qi said. He pressed his arm against the wall, striking a pose of total surrender. “If you need to throw punches to blow off steam, I’ll take it. Just not with an audience. If you’re man enough to cut me loose, step aside before anyone clocks us.”
“I never said I’d let you go.”
“I know.” Yun Qi flicked his eyes toward the elevator in warning. “But people are coming down. Beat me, chase me, whatever—you’ll have to wait till they clear out.”
The guy glanced up. The elevator numbers were ticking down toward the lobby. Conflict twisted his features. He whipped back to Yun Qi, fists clenching with barely restrained urge.
Yun Qi couldn’t be sure if he’d actually swing. He didn’t even recall cursing the guy out, let alone how bad it got or how deep the grudge ran.
It was all a bluff. A bet on the guy’s next move.
“Ding—”
Just before the doors slid open, the guy made his call. He shoved Yun Qi away in a hurry. He wasn’t Lang Xian. This wasn’t SK, where he could throw his weight around unchecked. The lobby was monitored, regulated turf. Would he stake his career on a public stunt?
No chance.
Smart enough, at least.
The folks who stepped out were the exact crew Yun Qi had five-stacked with earlier. They clocked the lobby tension right away—one furrowed his brow, sensing trouble. Spotting Yun Qi and the guy hovering too close, he asked, “You still here?”
Yun Qi seized the opening. He shot the guy a look and strode forward. “Heading out now.”
Seeing Yun Qi make a break for it, the guy lunged in panic and clamped onto his arm. The group’s eyes turned sharp and suspicious on the pair. Right there under their stares, Yun Qi wrenched free and said coolly, “Sorry, I don’t know you.”
Those words ignited the guy’s temper like a fuse.
Yun Qi had slipped the trap.
He turned back with an innocent smile for the group, then fell in step with them as they left.
The guy didn’t give chase.
He knew it—pursuing now would blow it wide open, straight to a report.
Damn. He really should’ve dragged him somewhere private instead of zoning out on that face.
Once they were gone, his buddies circled in, half-laughing, half-groaning. “Yo, what the hell was that?”
“Why didn’t you make a move just now? Were you planning to let him walk away? What was the point of us cornering him today if not to help you vent?”
The guy couldn’t explain what had been going through his head in that moment. He’d come downstairs specifically to start trouble, so how had he ended up chatting with Yun Qi in the lobby? Annoyed for a moment, he added, “Doesn’t matter anyway. He’s only been here a few days and doesn’t have anyone close around him yet.”
“But he’ll definitely be watching out for you now,” his friend warned. “It won’t be easy to catch him alone next time.”
The guy’s face darkened, his expression shifting as he seemed to mull something over.
Yun Qi stuck with the main group as they pulled away from those people. When others asked about his connection to them—they hadn’t seemed friendly at all, and everyone had picked up on the weird vibe—he brushed it off with a “nothing to worry about” and headed back to his room.
The moment he stepped inside, he locked the door tight.
Today’s run-in had been completely out of left field.
He’d never dreamed he’d bump into a fan he’d clashed with online here. Did trial trainees even have time to watch his streams? Were they into them? The thought had never crossed his mind. Back during his own youth training days, he’d had one singular focus: claw his way up. He hadn’t paid attention to anyone else, much less had time to watch streams.
Yun Qi leaned back against the door.
This stroke of bad luck felt like the universe playing a cruel joke on him, but at least it wasn’t SK. He wouldn’t have to worry about lightning striking twice.
This bunch still had some reservations, at least. They were still scared of consequences.
Yun Qi pulled out his phone and found that cat avatar. He hesitated for a second, silently rereading the drafted message a few times before hitting send.
Naturally, no reply came.
Yun Qi wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t stare at his phone but went about his routine as if nothing had happened, heading to the bathroom to wash up.
The next day, he trained as usual. He didn’t spot those guys on the third floor; they must not have been on this level.
His username was on the lobby leaderboard. Yun Qi gave it a quick glance. Not many names were ahead of him. His peak points weren’t the highest, but he’d rocketed up the ranks faster than anyone, and his current score was enough to start challenging.
Yun Qi didn’t hang around long. He pondered when to make his move as he returned to his station.
He and Chen Wen were on the same wavelength. It wasn’t long before Chen Wen swung by to let him know: “You’re cleared for PK matches.”
A ripple of murmurs went through the training room. Heads turned toward Yun Qi. Chen Wen ignored the fuss and pressed on. “When do you want to schedule it? Tomorrow? Next week?”
Yun Qi had already checked the leaderboard, so the news didn’t catch him off guard. “Why not today?”
Chen Wen blinked in surprise. “Today? You sure you don’t want more prep time?”
“No need. Today’s fine.” He had zero interest in wasting time. The sooner, the better. Even this setup chafed—holed up in separate buildings, barely able to cross paths.
Chen Wen mulled it over. “Alright. I’ll run it by the folks upstairs. Sit tight for my update.”
Yun Qi nodded along with the plan. The second Chen Wen walked off, his seatmates started razzing him. “No way, you’re jumping in already?”
“You’ve been here what, a few days? And you’re PK-ready?”
“Bro, what’s your peak score?”
His desk was mobbed in seconds. Strength ruled here. Sure, Yun Qi had some online drama floating around that people recognized, but no one gave a damn about his personal life. His results blew their minds, and they swarmed to grill him on his battle records.
Yun Qi let them crowd in and peek at his account while they peppered him with questions. He hadn’t made a ton of friends back in youth training, but plenty had respected his skill and buzzed about his scores—that’s how he’d caught Li Meng’s eye so fast.
“How long you been grinding to stack that many points? All wins? Zero losses?”
“Lemme check.”
The battle record panel was a sea of victories that left eyes wide. Even the standout trial trainees couldn’t game the system forever; everyone dropped a match eventually. How had this guy stayed perfect all the way to 2600?
News of Yun Qi spread like wildfire. Trainees from the other rooms piled in to gawk. Before long, Chen Wen was back, motioning for Yun Qi to head upstairs with him.
“Brother Wen, he going straight to the fourth floor?” someone piped up.
