Yun Qi was stunned for an instant.
He froze in his chair, not daring to move, and slowly lifted his eyelids to look at the other man. Yu Jin’s fingertip brushed away the tear on his cheek, then he pulled over a chair from nearby and sat down directly in front of Yun Qi.
“Why are they giving you trouble?” Yu Jin asked, like a judge launching an interrogation. Yun Qi still hadn’t recovered from that earlier gesture, his eyes glistening as he gazed at the man, lips pressed tightly into a thin line.
Yu Jin gripped the chair and adjusted its angle so it faced him squarely. “If you don’t explain the situation clearly, do you want me to hear about it from someone else?”
He seemed unusually impatient now—nothing like the Yu Jin from before. Or had Yun Qi’s own mindset changed? Yu Jin’s presence felt aggressively intimidating, even though he hadn’t said anything harsh.
Yun Qi glanced at him, then quickly lowered his eyes again, staring at the ring glinting silver under the lights. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “During my stream… I cursed him out.”
Yu Jin pressed, “You curse people?”
In his mind, Yun Qi wasn’t the type to spew profanity. Even when angry, he never said anything vicious—his upbringing held him back. He could be a bit arrogant, sure, but he never uttered words that made others uncomfortable.
Yun Qi’s breathing grew unsteady as he explained, “He said I cursed him out. I don’t remember it.”
“Then do you remember why?”
Yun Qi gritted his teeth. “He kept sending stuff to harass me.” Though he hadn’t heard the specifics from the guy, Yun Qi only ever snapped back in situations like that. Plenty of his stream viewers lacked manners; he didn’t bother arguing with them, but conflicts were bound to arise sometimes.
Yun Qi’s words were vague, but Yu Jin understood what he meant. His gaze deepened as he stared at Yun Qi, then after a moment, he said reassuringly, “This is a training facility. They won’t allow anything that disrupts training—not like your old team. From now on, you can report incidents like this straight to Chen Wen or any of the higher-ups. They’ll handle it, and if they don’t, someone above them will. Got it?”
But Yun Qi latched onto something else entirely, stubbornly fixated. “You… don’t want me bothering you, do you?”
Yu Jin’s brows furrowed. He glanced at Yun Qi’s neck. “I got here in time today, but I can’t guarantee I’ll always show up at the perfect moment. Are you willing to bet your safety on it?”
Yun Qi insisted stubbornly, “I trust you.”
Such a light, airy phrase, yet it made Yu Jin’s expression turn complicated.
He trusted him? Willing to gamble his safety? Just on a casual “I trust you,” he’d go all in?
What was he supposed to say to that?
Yun Qi slowly lowered his hand. His neck was red, marked by rough handling. Yu Jin had been about to remind him of something, but suddenly he didn’t want to say anything at all. Instead, he comforted him. “Their superiors know about this now. Some of them will face penalties, so you don’t have to worry about them harassing you again.”
Yu Jin sat with his legs spread wide in a relaxed, dominant posture—one hand locking Yun Qi’s chair in place, the other resting on his own thigh. He leaned forward slightly, exuding an aggressive intensity. When Yun Qi straightened up, their knees brushed accidentally. At such close range, physical contact was inevitable, and in the deathly quiet training room, even the slightest friction could unsettle the heart.
Yun Qi’s breath hitched. He tried to pull back in a panic, but his chair was pinned, so he could only tuck in his knees to create a sliver of distance. His voice trembled as he said, “…Got it.”
Yu Jin looked him up and down, then suddenly raised his hand and reached out. Yun Qi flinched like a startled rabbit, clapping a hand over his chest. Yu Jin paused for a second but pressed on firmly anyway, gripping Yun Qi’s chin and turning his face to the side to inspect the red mark. “Does it hurt?”
It had been a while now; the pain had long faded.
But Yun Qi played it up pitifully. “…It hurts.”
Yu Jin’s fingertip traced gently over the mark, the touch so soft it sent heat surging from Yun Qi’s soles upward, igniting a fire. A flicker of something passed through his downcast eyes. He lightly grasped Yu Jin’s wrist and lifted his damp, reddened eyes to make a melodramatic request. “Can you take me to the hospital?”
He wasn’t injured at all—no sensation left. Yu Jin had arrived in time; there wasn’t even broken skin or bleeding. He had no real need for a hospital.
But he made the troublesome request anyway.
Just to spend a little more time with him.
Yun Qi’s expression was wounded and innocent, playing the part of the perfect pitiful victim. Anyone seeing his vulnerable look would find it impossible to refuse. He was too disarming, that face seeming born innocent.
Yu Jin stared for a moment, asked nothing, and simply said, “Let’s go.”
Yun Qi hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. Before he could react, Yu Jin had already stood up and pushed his chair back in. The training room was brightly lit as Yu Jin walked to the door and switched off the light. He glanced back to see Yun Qi still seated and tilted his head in indication. Only then did Yun Qi hurriedly rise and follow him out.
The elevator was still in use—some dedicated players hadn’t finished their training sessions yet. They could have taken the stairs, but that meant circling around to the back door, so they didn’t bother wasting the time.
The elevator doors opened on the third floor, revealing two players from upstairs who had been chatting and laughing. The moment they spotted Yu Jin, their smiles vanished. They looked stunned, shuffled aside to make room, and chorused in unison, “…Bro.”
Not everyone at the KRO Base was younger than Yu Jin, but that “Bro” had nothing to do with age. It was a nod to his stature and prowess in the esports circle. Regardless of prior interactions, anyone who crossed paths with him offered that respectful greeting out of courtesy.
Yu Jin said little, merely nodding in acknowledgment. Once inside the elevator with Yun Qi, he fell silent.
The two others shrank into the corner, glancing between Yu Jin and Yun Qi, clearly puzzled by the pairing. The elevator soon reached the ground floor, mercifully cutting the awkward tension short.
Yu Jin and Yun Qi exited the building. He turned to Yun Qi and said, “Wait here a sec.”
Yun Qi stood in place as Yu Jin ducked into A Block. He emerged moments later with a key in one hand and an extra jacket in the other.
Yu Jin wasn’t wearing the jacket himself. As he approached, he simply handed it over to Yun Qi without a word of explanation, dropping it into his hands to deal with as he pleased.
Yun Qi took it and followed Yu Jin to the car.
Once seated, Yu Jin slotted his phone into the dashboard mount and reversed out of the spot. It was the same Continental that had picked Yun Qi up before. Yun Qi clutched the jacket in the passenger seat, saying nothing.
A faint, fresh fragrance lingered in the cabin—nothing Yun Qi could place. He didn’t spot any air freshener anywhere. Before long, the scent had seeped into his clothes. As they pulled away from the base, Yun Qi finally voiced the question weighing on him. “What have you been up to these past couple of days?”
Truth be told, Yun Qi knew little of Yu Jin’s current life. His daily routine was a complete unknown. Fame had transformed everything, and Yun Qi hadn’t been part of that world since.
Rather than answer directly, Yu Jin tossed the question back. “That interested in my life?”
He wanted to tell if Yun Qi was just filling the silence or genuinely curious. If it was the former, there was no need for a straight reply.
Yun Qi rubbed his nose and stared at the road ahead. “Your car smells like perfume…”
Yu Jin arched a brow. “Hm?”
Yun Qi mumbled, “The kind girls wear.”
Yu Jin shot him a glance. Yun Qi had pulled the jacket up to hide his neck, leaving only his delicate face exposed.
A long silence followed. Just when Yun Qi assumed there’d be no explanation, Yu Jin’s lazy drawl broke it. “Yeah, dinner with a female exec.”
“Today?”
“Noon.”
“Oh.” Yun Qi figured that tracked. A guy of his stature probably had business meals stacked up.
His gaze drifted to Yu Jin’s hands. Before long, the cafeteria rumor bubbled up again, and he couldn’t hold back. “Are you injured?”
Yu Jin eyed him, the look saying plainly, You’re the one headed to the hospital.
Yun Qi clarified. “I heard… you went overseas to recover.” He’d wrestled with whether to ask—what did it have to do with him, after all? Prying might come off as having an agenda. But he couldn’t let it go. He needed the truth straight from Yu Jin, not secondhand gossip.
“Nope,” Yu Jin replied flatly. “What injury?”
He hadn’t been in esports long, and after clinching the championship, he’d largely vanished from the spotlight. Injuries seemed unlikely—probably just media speculation.
Yun Qi let out a quiet breath of relief. “Good to hear.”
The last thing he wanted was for Yu Jin to be hurt. He already carried enough guilt; no need to pile on more.
It had rained steadily for days.
Yun Qi hadn’t ventured out much since joining the new esports team.
This marked his first trip as a KRO youth trainee, even if the destination wasn’t exactly a leisure spot.
Flowers bloomed vibrantly along the route, and the roadside greenery thrived. With no direct sun, the air carried a chill. He tugged the jacket closer around himself.
After arriving at the hospital, Yu Jin parked the car, registered, and they joined the line. Hospitals never took a break—long queues stretched out every day, no matter the time. The windows were always mobbed with people. Yu Jin had patience for it, but Yun Qi hesitated.
Staring at the crowd, Yun Qi thought Yu Jin shouldn’t be wasting his time here with him. Had he really dragged a man busy with business deals into this pointless wait just to spend a little more time together? That made him not just selfish, but downright wicked. Mustering his courage, he stepped forward, tugged lightly at Yu Jin’s sleeve, and whispered, “I’m fine now. Let’s skip it.”
Yu Jin didn’t budge, his gaze as cold and indifferent as ever. He lowered his head and said meaningfully, “If you want to see the doctor, we’ll see one.”
Yun Qi looked up in a fluster, not quite grasping what he meant.
Had he seen through his pathetic ploy?
No way… If he had, he wouldn’t have come along.
Yun Qi edged closer to him. The people behind them shifted restlessly, all impatient. He repeated, “I’m really okay. Let’s go back.”
But Yu Jin grabbed his arm, yanked him forward, and wedged him between himself and the person ahead. Without room for argument, he dropped the words: “Wait quietly.”
Yun Qi’s guilty conscience had trapped him here, and facing this endless line only made it worse.
Finally, they reached the window, got their number, and found the right department. Yu Jin pushed him inside. Yun Qi approached the doctor hesitantly. The previous patient had just left. Sitting down, he faced the doctor’s questions without knowing how to respond, his hand instinctively clutching his neck.
Yu Jin pulled his hand away.
“He was choked,” he answered for him.
The doctor tilted his head and glanced at Yun Qi’s neck. There were no marks left now—nothing visible to the naked eye. “No broken skin?”
Yun Qi replied guiltily, “No.”
The doctor stood, leaned in for a closer look, and gently pressed a hand to the spot. The doctor’s breath made Yun Qi squirm like he was on pins and needles, his guilt peaking. He blurted out, “It hurt a lot earlier, but now I can’t feel anything…”
The doctor examined it and said, “No broken skin means no big deal. No external injury, no need for meds. You’re fine.”
Yun Qi glanced up at Yu Jin.
Supporting the back of his chair, Yu Jin asked, “No other checks needed?”
The doctor looked up, eyeing Yun Qi impatiently, clearly puzzled why a guy would come to the hospital for something like this. “It’s nothing serious. I’ve checked. Even if it was squeezed hard, as long as he didn’t pass out, and there’s no broken skin or bleeding, it’s fine. Making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Yun Qi stood up, mortified.
Yu Jin glanced down at his neck—it looked completely normal now. Yun Qi said again, “Let’s go. Head back.”
Yu Jin left the room but kept walking down the corridor deeper inside.
Yun Qi followed, calling after him, “Aren’t we going back?”
“We’re already here. If we don’t check thoroughly, you’ll say I’m not taking responsibility for you.” Yu Jin glanced back. “No more throwing tantrums over this in the future. Let’s do a full workup—check everything under the sun. Then you’ll see how dutiful your buyer is.”
Yun Qi was dragged through a battery of tests, even getting X-rays despite the technician saying it wasn’t necessary. Yu Jin insisted. By the time they finished all the unnecessary scans, half an hour had passed.
By the hospital flowerbeds, Yun Qi sat waiting for Yu Jin. After a while, Yu Jin returned, carrying a bag stuffed with specialty medicines for every ailment imaginable. Through the white plastic, Yun Qi even spotted some red flower oil. He looked up. “What’d you get all this for?”
Yu Jin tied the bag shut and shoved it into Yun Qi’s arms.
Without a word, he pinched Yun Qi’s cheek. “Gonna give me attitude again?”
Yun Qi realized he was still hung up on that earlier moment.
Feeling guilty, he swatted Yu Jin’s hand away and muttered a defense. “…I didn’t give you attitude.”
Yu Jin released him and stood there in front of Yun Qi.
Yun Qi looked up at his silhouette and found Yu Jin gazing down at him appraisingly. Glancing around, he choked out, “What are you looking at?”
Yu Jin stared and asked, “Chen Wen told me you want to join the Second Team, right?”
Clutching the bag of drugs, Yun Qi said, “He said I could start there—no need to climb the ranks one by one.”
Deep down, that’s what he hoped for—cut the timeline short, skip the ladder of challenges. He didn’t need to grind like that anyway.
“Pretty ambitious,” Yu Jin said after a pause.
Ambitious—it was a compliment, sort of.
Yun Qi asked, “Do you want me to climb the ranks one by one?”
All of Yu Jin’s arrangements were Yun Qi’s own assumptions. He had no idea what Yu Jin really thought. After all these years, he couldn’t fool himself into believing it was all for his own good.
Yu Jin, however, said, “No need. How far you go is your own decision, not mine. If you can jump straight onto the starting roster, I won’t object. The esports team values you for your own abilities—what does that have to do with me?”
So he wasn’t opposed.
It was entirely up to Yun Qi how far he advanced, with no one to interfere. That sentiment was a good one. Yet when he heard Yu Jin say it had nothing to do with him, Yun Qi’s heart still gave a faint tremor.
He clutched the medicine in his arms a little tighter.
“It’s getting late,” Yu Jin said. “Weren’t you just fussing to head back? You can go now.”
He turned and walked toward the garage.
Yun Qi watched Yu Jin’s retreating back. Many years ago, Yu Jin had stared at him just like this—on the night he had shaken Yu Jin off and run away without a backward glance, severing their bond completely. Now, Yun Qi had relied on outside help to revive that connection, but as for what lay ahead, who could say for sure?
Yu Jin had never brought up those old matters, as if he had forgotten them entirely or simply didn’t care. And truthfully, there was nothing pleasant to reminisce about. Yun Qi couldn’t just blurt them out either. So the two of them carried on like nothing had ever happened.
Yun Qi got into the car and returned to the KRO Base.
Yu Jin didn’t get out. He stayed in the driver’s seat and dropped Yun Qi off at the entrance. Seeing that Yu Jin hadn’t even unbuckled his seatbelt, Yun Qi asked, “Aren’t you coming back?”
“I’ve got something else to handle,” Yu Jin replied.
Yun Qi nodded in understanding and pushed open the door to step out. He lingered at the entrance for a moment, and soon the car pulled away right before his eyes. He didn’t press for details—it didn’t feel like any of his business.
Yun Qi wandered back into the base in a daze.
By now it was already half past seven in the evening. He had also brought Yu Jin’s jacket along; he’d forgotten to take it off before getting out of the car.
Yun Qi came back carrying a plastic bag of medicine and bumped into Little Ji in the hallway. Little Ji eyed the items in his hand and asked, “What’s up?”
“Just got back from the hospital,” Yun Qi said.
“You sick or something?” Little Ji asked, concerned.
“It’s nothing. All taken care of.”
Little Ji looked puzzled. “You went to the hospital? We’ve got a doctor right here at the base.”
Yun Qi lifted his head and blinked.
“You didn’t know?” Little Ji said. “There’s a Medical Room on the Sixth Floor.”
Yun Qi shook his head. He hadn’t known.
Little Ji clapped him on the shoulder. “Guess I forgot to mention it.” Yun Qi brushed it off with a “no worries,” they exchanged a few more words, and he headed to his room.
It was only a short walk, but Yun Qi’s heart churned like a stormy sea.
In that brief conversation, he had confirmed something important.
He cradled the plastic bag in his hands. The medicine inside proved this trip hadn’t been for nothing.
His tactics might have been underhanded, but they had paid off.
At the very least, he now knew it wasn’t all one-sided.
Once back in his room, Yun Qi sent Yu Jin a message.
It was short and simple.
Just two words: Thank you.
There was still no reply.
Just like that earlier plea for help—it had gone out into the void without a ripple.
But Yun Qi knew better. Fierce as Yu Jin was, he wouldn’t truly abandon him.
Perhaps Yu Jin still harbored resentment, but wasn’t there a faint trace of their old bond lingering, not yet fully faded?
Yun Qi glanced down at the jacket draped over his shoulders. His fingertips lightly tugged at a button as Yu Jin’s face floated into his mind, setting his heart aflutter.
There has to be, right, brother?
