“Not quite—the stuff hasn’t been moved over yet,” Yun Qi said. “Does it have to be today?”
“Of course,” the man replied. “You’re off the Trial Trainee list now. You’ll be staying here from here on out. You want to keep bouncing between two places?”
Yun Qi hesitated, then ventured, “Could I get a couple more days?”
Liu Ying chimed in. “Something the matter?”
“I’ve got some personal stuff to wrap up first,” Yun Qi explained. “Mind if I hold off on moving for now? It won’t cause any issues.”
Liu Ying knew when to back off and didn’t press. “Sure, no big rush. Peak’s just a couple flights of stairs away anyway—but you’ll need to give them a heads-up upstairs.”
“Got it,” Yun Qi said.
That evening, Yun Qi got in touch with someone. He called Chen Wen to run the situation by him. Chen Wen oversaw the Trial Trainees on the Third Floor, but Yun Qi found him easier to talk to than most, so he’d gone straight to him. Chen Wen agreed without a second thought—no suspicions, no hassle. He told Yun Qi to handle it however he saw fit; it was a small thing.
Yun Qi crashed in his old room that night.
The next morning, he arrived at A Block bright and early, before any of the Starting Members had stirred.
He didn’t have fingerprint access yet, so he waited by the door. When Chang Shu came to open up, he spotted Yun Qi and let out a startled, “You’re here this early?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Yun Qi said.
Chang Shu held the door. “Come on in. Nobody else is up yet. We don’t usually get everyone together until around ten.”
Back at SK, there’d been no fixed training schedule—just rack up your hours and you were good. Early bird or night owl, it didn’t matter, as long as you got it done. Yun Qi preferred practicing during the day, though, so this was his usual wake-up time.
He and Liu Ying had mapped the place out yesterday, so he could’ve headed to the Training Room on his own. But he was the new guy—which seat was fair game? Better to ask and avoid stepping on toes. With only Chang Shu around, Yun Qi requested, “Mind showing me to the Training Room?”
Chang Shu glanced back at him, piecing together the rookie’s concerns after a moment’s thought. He tilted his head. “This way.”
The Training Room was spacious, with workstations spaced well apart and plenty of room in between for people to move around. Each desk had a computer setup plus a personal shelf stocked with whatever the player was into—anime figurines here, odd curios there, even a deck of playing cards. Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Chang Shu gestured to a section. “This area’s free. Pick whichever spot you like. The cleaning lady wipes down the desks and machines every day—spotless. Top-of-the-line configs too, better than the Trial Trainee gear. Better than maxed out, really. Fire it up and see for yourself. If it doesn’t suit you, we keep spares in the storage room next door. You know how to swap?”
“No need,” Yun Qi said. “I trust the Starting Members’ picks.” If everyone else could make it work, so could he. That keyboard under his fingers was already top-shelf—the kind you saw all over the Pro League. No reason to swap it out.
Chang Shu nodded. “That’s the rundown, anyway. Liu Ying already showed you the rest. People’ll start trickling in soon—ask them if you’ve got questions.”
Yun Qi nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
Chang Shu walked out.
Yun Qi stared at the other computers for a moment. Some of them hadn’t been shut down, their lights still glowing faintly, with soft cushions tossed onto the chairs. He scanned row after row, but it was hard to tell which one belonged to Yu Jin.
Around nine-thirty, the team members trickled in one by one. They’d all seen him the day before, so no one batted an eye at Yun Qi’s presence. The three substitutes took seats around him and across from him. He’d heard there were six subs in total—two of them junglers with completely different playstyles and hero pools. Liu Ying had been studied inside out, so they’d assigned a pair of sub junglers to handle different matchups. One of them was Yi Yang, whose hot temper had led to a rocky “three in, three out” history that made him unstable.
The others barely reacted to Yun Qi’s arrival. As the newbie, he knew he ought to strike up some conversation, but the KRO guys didn’t seem to need or want that. Everyone filed in, fired up their own stations, and got to grinding without much chatter.
Yun Qi didn’t butt in. Sure, he was the rookie, but ever since switching to top lane, his trial trainee scores had been top-notch. He carried a bit of pride on that account. He didn’t need anyone buttering him up, and he wasn’t about to waste energy schmoozing. Strength was king—results would speak for themselves. No need for all the extra fluff.
Besides, SK had wrung him dry. He was exhausted.
Yun Qi buckled down and focused on his own practice. It wasn’t until eleven that everyone was accounted for. By the time Jiu Ke finally showed up, it was practically lunchtime. Liu Ying eyed him. “Grinding till now? You planning an all-nighter tonight?”
“Might as well,” Jiu Ke said. “Couldn’t drag myself out of bed this morning. My sleep schedule’s all messed up these past couple days—feels awful.”
“Want to hit the hospital?”
“When’s Captain Yu getting back? I’ll ask him for a day off.”
“Probably not till four this afternoon. You could just ask Old Lu.”
Jiu Ke slumped into his seat and rubbed his temples. “Nah, forget it. I’ll tough out one more day.”
He booted up his computer but didn’t dive straight into training. After sitting there for a bit, he noticed the extra body in the room. He studied the guy’s profile and frowned. “You’re here?”
Liu Ying followed his gaze and grinned. “Officially on the team now—your new competition. Trial trainee number one. Better watch your seat.”
“Pfft, so what?” Jiu Ke stood up, fished a cigarette from his pocket, and dangled it between his fingers as he sauntered over to the guy deep in practice.
Yun Qi was brushing up on other heroes. There was plenty to do—he’d let so many mechanics rust over the past two years, and there was still room to polish the fine details. Switching here hadn’t made him complacent; he was grinding as hard as he had during trials. Then his chair dipped under some added weight. He glanced back to find Jiu Ke leaning on it from behind. As Yun Qi reached to pause, Jiu Ke lifted his chin. “Finish the game first.”
Yun Qi turned back around, clueless about the guy’s intentions. But hey, if he was suggesting to wrap it up properly—and you couldn’t just bail mid-Peak Match anyway—he’d see it through. He zeroed in and finished strong.
It was a long wait for Jiu Ke. Yun Qi’s match had only been five minutes in when he’d arrived. Peak Matches dragged on, especially at higher ranks—the games got longer and more drawn out. Yun Qi used them to sharpen his skills, sparring against pros for real growth. But with someone waiting, he couldn’t afford to overthink strategies. He steamrolled top lane, then rotated mid and bot. Sixteen minutes in, the game was over.
On the settlement screen, his Peak rating sat at 2765—a damn high score, respectable even among pros.
Yun Qi spun around. Jiu Ke was grinning at his screen. “Not bad at all. Mechanics are sharp, map awareness is ahead of the curve, reactions on point. Trial trainee number one, huh? Deserved.”
Yun Qi still couldn’t read the guy, so he played it humble. “It’s alright—plenty of room to improve. Any pointers, bro?”
Yi Yang was the baby of KRO age-wise, and Jiu Ke was the oldest. The esports scene didn’t mind youth, but once you hit twenty-two, your peak window started closing fast. Precious few managed to defy that and stay dominant.
The “bro” was only right—and it came from the heart.
“Nah,” Jiu Ke said. “Just remember seeing you at the Grand Finals. You were on support then, right?”
“Yeah.”
Jiu Ke didn’t press. “Why the switch to top—that’s your business, won’t pry. But I heard you’re the top trial trainee?”
“For now.”
Jiu Ke clocked the humility. “How long’d it take?”
“Two weeks.”
The nearby subs perked up their ears. Jiu Ke’s eyes flickered. He enunciated carefully. “Two weeks?”
Yun Qi elaborated smoothly. “More like two and a half—twenty-odd days, if you count from my first day all the way to getting the green light.”
Jiu Ke fell silent for a moment, then nodded hesitantly. “Sure, that’s impressive timing for KRO.”
Yun Qi wasn’t sure what he was getting at, so he didn’t agree right away. Instead, he waited for the other man to explain himself.
Jiu Ke said, “It’s nothing. Just keep training hard. In a couple of days, we can have a private scrim.”
With that, he returned to his seat.
Yun Qi noticed that Jiu Ke’s complexion wasn’t great—like he hadn’t slept well, or maybe he was coming down with something.
Back at his station, Jiu Ke never did light the cigarette in his hand. He toyed with it for a bit before queuing up a game.
“Team up?” Liu Ying asked.
Jiu Ke shook his head. “I’ll solo.”
At lunchtime, the chef had the dishes ready and laid them out on the dining hall table one by one. Since Yun Qi was new, no one had told the chef to prepare an extra portion. As everyone headed to the dining hall, Liu Ying suddenly remembered and turned back to Yun Qi with an explanation. “Oh, sorry—I forgot to tell Master to add a serving.”
Yun Qi understood perfectly. “No worries. I’ll grab something back at my place.”
They had their own routines, eating habits included, and as the newcomer, Yun Qi had no intention of disrupting them rashly. Now that he’d officially joined KRO, adding an extra set of chopsticks was only a matter of time. He wasn’t about to get petty over it, second-guessing or nitpicking.
When they returned to the training room that afternoon, Chang Shu set a sandwich on Yun Qi’s desk without a word.
The silent gesture warmed Yun Qi’s heart.
The sandwich was still hot to the touch, fresh from the microwave. Yun Qi opened his mouth to say thanks, but Chang Shu had already walked away. His lips pressed back together. He’d told them he’d eat at his place, but he hadn’t bothered. He didn’t like takeout—his stomach was iffy, so many foods were off-limits, and takeout was always too greasy anyway. He’d just downed a glass of water in his room and waited for them to finish lunch before coming back.
Noon was quiet in the training room, with most people resting. Only one of the substitutes remained, sitting across from Yun Qi. Having overheard his earlier chat with Jiu Ke, the substitute leaned forward and asked, “Dude, you ranked up in two weeks?”
Yun Qi smiled. “Yeah.”
The substitute flashed him a thumbs-up. “That’s badass.”
They didn’t chat much beyond that. Yun Qi wasn’t one to downplay his strengths, and hearing the praise felt good. Still, he reminded himself that everyone else in that room—no matter how long it’d taken them to rank up—was a serious competitor.
He couldn’t afford to slack off.
Yun Qi ate the sandwich, and when the substitute across from him invited him to queue up together, he agreed. All in all, the day was going pretty smoothly.
Around five p.m., as the afternoon training slump hit, someone mentioned that Yu Jin was back.
Yun Qi heard the stir but hadn’t asked about him all day—not where he lived, not what he’d been up to. He only took in whatever news came his way passively, no longer seeking it out like before.
Overnight, it was like they’d become different people.
