Chapter 42 Part 2

Ziwu just loved his captain fiercely. He loved his esports team, loved their shared goals. He was the picture of a professional player, and he didn’t want anyone disrupting the team’s harmony and stability. He was generous enough to want to help Yu Jin scale even greater heights. Everyone knew that if Yu Jin hadn’t paused his career, he would have become a world-shaking legend in Peak mode back then. Even now, he commanded global attention—but he could be even fiercer, even more ruthless, becoming an indelible beacon of faith in the hearts of players everywhere.

The one who caused him to vanish at his Peak was Yun Qi himself. Ziwu wasn’t wrong. He had let Yu Jin down terribly, impacting every aspect of his life and career. Yun Qi had never denied it. But what about him? Wasn’t he suffering too? Didn’t he have his own hardships?

Yun Qi lifted his gaze, his bright eyes meeting Ziwu’s accusatory look head-on, frank and unyielding. “You’re right. I don’t understand love. I’m selfish. Dumping him—that’s all true. But if you were in my shoes, you might not have done any better. When your mother’s life hangs by a thread, I hope you’ll still throw everything away to embrace the one you love. When your mother holds a knife to her own wrist, forcing you to end it with him, forcing you down some so-called ‘bright path,’ I hope you’ll ignore her life and stay with him anyway. Then I’d admire your love—and call you heartless.”

Ziwu’s expression flickered.

“I’ve heard everything you’ve said today, and I’ll think it over seriously,” Yun Qi said. “After all, you’re not entirely wrong.”

The unfamiliar faces of Zhou Yu and Zhou Shan swam into view before him. Yun Qi clenched his fists. “I won’t stand in the way of him starting something with anyone, and I won’t influence his choices. If he really gets together with someone, I’ll be a proper ex—dead to his world. I let him down, and I don’t want him hating me even more.”

This time, when Yun Qi finished and turned to leave, Ziwu didn’t stop him. He seemed lost in thought.

A few steps out, Yun Qi paused again. Without looking back, he made a promise: “I didn’t join KRO just for him. I’m a pro player too, with dreams of my own to chase. Believe it or not, my goals don’t conflict with yours.”

“No more chit-chat.”

Yun Qi crunched through the leaves and brush, then onto the gravel path, vanishing into the night.

Ziwu watched that slender back as it retreated, his expression like one immersed in moonlight—poignant and beautiful, yet tinged with a flicker of passion.

When Yun Qi returned, the people in the hall hadn’t dispersed yet.

He cast a hurried glance around before heading upstairs from the other side. But as he slipped through the door, he couldn’t avoid being spotted. Yun Qi looked utterly lost, not even bothering with a pretense of composure as he carried the cat upstairs.

The hall was thick with cigarette smoke. Yu Jin sat amid the group, and he caught sight of Yun Qi’s figure—and the loneliness hanging over him. He stubbed out his cigarette and rose from the sofa.

“Hey, bro?” Yi Yang watched him stand. “Where you off to?”

The others stared intently at Yu Jin, but he climbed the stairs without looking back. “Keep playing your games.”

Yi Yang pursed his lips and turned back to chat with the others. Laughter rang out hearty and bright, filling the villa with a warm, lively buzz.

Yu Jin reached the upstairs hallway and paused outside the door. It was quiet inside. He hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked.

He knew Yun Qi was in there.

For a while, there was no response, and Yun Qi didn’t open up. Yu Jin didn’t knock again. Instead, he waited patiently, head bowed. He wore a simple white short-sleeved shirt and gray casual pants that hung perfectly on his tall, well-built frame. Even such a basic outfit looked effortlessly stylish on him. He stood there with one hand tucked into his pants pocket, gazing at the sliver of light leaking from the door crack.

After a short wait, faint rustling sounds came from behind the door. Then it swung open, revealing a face that couldn’t hide its low spirits.

Yun Qi stood in the doorway. When he saw who it was, he lowered his eyes. “Why are you here?”

The noise from downstairs drifted up—men’s boisterous laughter spilling through the open door.

Yu Jin looked at him. “Where were you?”

Yun Qi let go of the door and stepped aside to let him in, then walked back to the table and picked up the bandage there. “I just wandered around the KRO Base a bit. Didn’t go anywhere else.”

Yu Jin’s gaze dropped to the cat by the door and the motions of Yun Qi’s hands. He frowned. “Did Tata scratch you?”

Yun Qi shook his head. “No, I accidentally scraped myself outside earlier.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Yu Jin’s shadow loomed over him. Yu Jin lifted Yun Qi’s hand, peeled off the freshly applied bandage, and stared at the thin, elongated blood mark. “And you call this a scrape?”

Yun Qi curled his fingers, his expression flickering evasively as he pulled his hand back and reapplied the bandage. He turned away. “It’s nothing. Doesn’t hurt at all.”

Yu Jin scooped up the cat from the foot of the bed by the scruff of its neck, strode to the door, and tossed it out. Yun Qi opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late. Yu Jin had already slammed the door shut. “Get rid of it tomorrow.”

Yun Qi panicked. “Send it where?”

Yu Jin’s face was grim. “Anywhere. It’s getting too wild.”

When Yun Qi heard that Yu Jin meant to exile Tata, he grew a little frantic. “Then I won’t get to see it anymore.”

“See it for what?” Yu Jin snapped. “All it does is cause trouble around the base. Now it’s going after you. Give it a couple more days, and it’ll be swiping at my face next.”

Yun Qi tried to explain. “No, it’s just that I hugged it too hard earlier and hurt it, so it…”

“Why did you hurt it?”

Yun Qi froze. Yu Jin always zeroed in on the key point and dragged the real issue out into the open. Yun Qi avoided his gaze, walked to the bed, and turned his back to him. “It was an accident.”

Yu Jin followed right behind him. “You spoil that thing rotten. How do you accidentally hurt it?”

The voice at his back pierced like a needle, shredding the flimsy mask of his lie. Yun Qi forced himself to stay calm, but the next instant, Yu Jin had spun him around by the shoulders. He faced him squarely before he could steady himself. Then an irresistible force pressed down on his left shoulder and shoved. Yun Qi stumbled backward and collapsed onto the bed behind him.

The soft mattress bounced his slight frame up twice. Yun Qi braced his hands at his sides and sat up straight on the bed.

Yu Jin loomed over him, that clearly veined hand resting against his thigh. The ring on it caught Yun Qi’s eye and tugged at his heart.

“Answer my questions directly,” Yu Jin said. “Don’t try to play games with me.”

What kind of excuse was that? Could it even convince Yun Qi himself?

Yu Jin carried an air of authority on ordinary days, but when he was angry, his presence turned downright intimidating. Yun Qi’s gaze fixed on Yu Jin’s waist, then drifted lower without thinking. The casual pants did little to hide the impressive bulge, and heat rushed to Yun Qi’s ears. He ducked his head. “Grab a chair and sit down.”

Yu Jin looked puzzled.

Seeing no movement, Yun Qi reached out and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Sit. I’ll tell you.”

From Yu Jin’s perspective, Yun Qi tilted his head back to speak with him. That deceptively captivating face could spark his irritation in an instant or soothe it just as quickly. It wasn’t that Yu Jin was capricious; Yun Qi’s features simply carried an overwhelming persuasiveness. They could set all of Yu Jin’s nerves on edge or plunge him into sudden calm.

Yu Jin dragged over a nearby chair and positioned it in front of Yun Qi before sitting down at his request.

Yun Qi caught the faint scent of tobacco on him. “You’ve been smoking.”

“Yeah,” Yu Jin replied.

Yun Qi struck up a conversation. “How many?”

“Two,” Yu Jin said.

“Try to cut back,” Yun Qi advised.

Gazing at the face before him, Yu Jin explained, “It wasn’t much. I don’t usually smoke unless my mood’s really off.”

Yun Qi glanced up at him and asked about the commotion below. “What’s with all the people downstairs? I saw Brother Wen there too. Something going on with the trial trainees?”

Ever since arriving here, Yun Qi hadn’t set foot in the neighboring trial training area. He’d exchanged occasional messages with a few friends from back then, but their contact had faded, leaving him largely in the dark about what was happening next door.

“Two new Ziwei Stars,” Yu Jin said. “One top laner, one shooter. In a couple of days, they’ll send them over here to scrim with you all. If they hold up, they stay. If not, they’re gone.”

“To the second team?”

“Wherever they’re needed,” Yu Jin replied. “Not every esports team is housed in this compound. Headquarters has deep pockets—they’ve got a branch in Shenzhen too.”

“So I won’t be sitting around anymore.”

Yu Jin eyed him. “You sitting around now?”

Yun Qi shook his head. “Not exactly. Seven hours isn’t exhausting, but grinding a hero you’re already proficient with? That’s pure torment.”

It was a phase every professional player endured—drilling a champion until the sight of it made you nauseous. That was the line between pro and amateur.

Yu Jin got it. His gaze drifted to the Band-Aid on Yun Qi’s hand, but he didn’t pursue the topic. Instead, he voiced his own burning question. “Why’d Tata scratch you? You didn’t make that clear.”

Yun Qi’s hand was pale, his fingers slender. The scratch beneath the bandage was vivid and jarring, etched into Yu Jin’s mind even under cover.

“I spoiled it rotten,” Yun Qi said, lifting his hand for a look. His fingers traced the edge of the Band-Aid. “A little firmness, and it lashed out. Guess I can’t indulge it like that anymore.”

Cats were much like people; unchecked pampering only bred arrogance. Yun Qi had learned that the hard way today.

Yu Jin wasn’t entirely convinced. Yun Qi let his hand drop and met his eyes. “Never mind Tata. What I really want to say is, that girl you met today—she seems solid. If you’re into her, don’t sweat me. Whatever happened between us stays buried. You won’t have to worry about me holding it over you.”

Yu Jin’s brows knit visibly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ziwu’s words weren’t without merit, and Yun Qi had taken some of them to heart. He might have put this off if Yu Jin hadn’t come looking, but with him here now—and those words still ringing in his ears—Yun Qi decided it was time for a straight talk.

“That dinner tonight… I shouldn’t have been there. I don’t know if you’re into guys or girls these days, but I won’t breathe a word about us. Not from me, anyway. So, Captain Yu, if you find someone special down the line, I won’t stand in your way. I joined KRO for my own reasons. Don’t get the wrong idea—I’m not here to blackmail you.”

Yu Jin couldn’t afford to be tripped up by emotional baggage anymore. He’d clawed his way back to normalcy after endless struggle, returned from abroad after over two years of therapy that laid bare the severity of his insomnia.

On top of that, he wasn’t some wide-eyed teen any longer. Even if his peak lasted longer than most, he couldn’t keep pushing it. Prime years didn’t come with a calendar; they might stretch on for years or vanish overnight, his edge dulled without warning.

Trial trainees came and went in waves, the rookie pool overflowing. Yun Qi wanted Yu Jin to reclaim the stature he deserved before another legendary jungler rose to steal the spotlight. The world was waiting for their idol’s return. This year’s International Tournament loomed, and KRO couldn’t stumble—not with Yu Jin leading the charge.

Yun Qi had always put himself first, shoving Yu Jin away in moments of weakness only to reel him back when convenient. It was selfish as hell. Why should Yu Jin’s life revolve around his whims? Yu Jin had come back this year to compete for real, pouring everything into the matches ahead. Yun Qi wouldn’t let himself sow doubt or disruption now.

He had to set things straight with Yu Jin.