Chapter 43 Part 2

He added Yuan Lele’s trial trainee account and carried him through two matches.

Yun Qi’s station was empty, so they had Yuan Lele sit there first.

Truth be told, a single day—or even just a handful of games—was usually enough to size up a trial trainee’s skill level. Requiring two full days was probably just to avoid overlooking any hidden potential, to give the newbies extra opportunities to shine rather than writing them off after two or three lousy performances. Yun Qi, for one, had pegged Yuan Lele’s level after just a couple of rounds.

Yuan Lele lost every single game they played together without winning so much as once. Panic gnawed at him inside. If he couldn’t even take down a non-starting roster player, what hope did he have against Jiu Ke? The guy must be on another level entirely. That realization shattered Yuan Lele’s confidence, leaving him more withdrawn and dejected with every match.

When Jiu Ke returned and learned a trial trainee had arrived—and that he’d been placed next to Yun Qi—he called out, “Come over here. Play me.”

Chang Shu reminded him, “The manager wants Milk Cap to handle him.”

Jiu Ke just waved him over. “Come on.”

The newbie didn’t dare refuse. He glanced at Yun Qi, who gave a nod of approval, and then hurried over.

Even against Jiu Ke, Yuan Lele lost, but at least he managed some fightback this time. He couldn’t make sense of it. After three straight games, Jiu Ke said, “You can head back now.”

Chang Shu cut in. “Can’t do that. Lao Xun said two days.”

Jiu Ke frowned. “New policy?”

Chang Shu shook his head. “No idea. Just stick with him.”

Yuan Lele stood there, mortified.

Jiu Ke paid no mind to the kid’s feelings. He’d crushed so many trial trainees over the years that his patience had long worn thin. He used to fake some encouragement for their sake, but those days were gone. Precious few ever proved worthy of fighting alongside him as teammates; sending the rest packing had become routine.

“Captain Yu signed off on this?” Jiu Ke asked.

Chang Shu replied, “He probably doesn’t even know yet. Two days won’t hurt.”

With that, Chang Shu turned to Yuan Lele. “Did they tell you where to bunk upstairs?”

Yuan Lele answered, “Still next door.”

“That works,” Chang Shu said. “Grab a seat somewhere.”

Yuan Lele had just wrapped up when the trial trainee at Yi Yang’s station finished as well.

“You’re not quite there,” Yi Yang told him. “Your reactions are solid, but you’ve got some sloppy operations. Go over what I told you earlier, and we’ll run it back tomorrow.”

The guy murmured his agreement.

Jiu Ke watched Yi Yang’s gentle handling of the newbie and felt a twinge of envy—even he couldn’t match that. He wondered if Yi Yang had gone soft, but then Chang Shu explained, “Lao Xun laid down the law. Dropping Captain Yu’s name was enough to keep him in line.”

Jiu Ke snorted. “Little punks. All the same.”

Around four in the afternoon, Yun Qi got a text from Li Meng asking to meet up and talk. Yun Qi knew it was about the account issue—Li Meng must have heard from Xue Yan. He wasn’t surprised by the invitation.

Yun Qi suggested they wait until training ended and chat over the phone at six. Li Meng messaged back that he still hoped Yun Qi could come in person; it wasn’t just about that one thing.

Li Meng had always been a smooth operator. Back in the day, he’d laid a trap for Yun Qi, but he’d had no choice—orders from above. During Yun Qi’s two years at SK, Li Meng hadn’t made life too miserable for him. At private gatherings, he’d even run interference, deflecting the higher-ups’ jabs with a well-timed word or two. Yun Qi had been grateful at the time, even if he’d hated the man too.

Those days were behind them now. Yun Qi’s life had settled into a good rhythm, his career back on the path he’d always wanted. The old grudges had faded, leaving Li Meng as little more than a former colleague.

If Li Meng insisted on meeting face-to-face—claiming some things were too tricky to discuss over the phone—Yun Qi figured why not. He was curious what advice his old boss had to offer.

Training wrapped up that day, and Yun Qi immediately powered down his computer.

Yuan Lele, figuring Yun Qi had a chill vibe, trailed after him once the session ended.

“Bro, do I really have to stay here?” Yuan Lele’s expression lacked confidence—a perfectly normal reaction. He had thought he was on the verge of joining a top esports team, only to crash out after just two practice games. Now he simply wanted to head back and explore other options.

Yun Qi said, “The manager told you to stay, so stay. It’s only two days. You can keep practicing tomorrow, right?”

Yuan Lele looked utterly dejected. “Practice what? I can’t even beat you or Jiu Ke. I know I’m not making it this time.”

Yun Qi hadn’t held back much in those two games against him. Ever since Yu Jin had told him this place didn’t require tiptoeing around everyone’s feelings and social niceties, he saw no point in hiding his strength or coddling anyone’s ego. Better to make the gap to a formal team spot clear upfront—saved time if they got knocked out later.

“But it’s so weird,” Yuan Lele said with a frown. “Jiu Ke’s a formal member, right? Then why did facing him feel less intense than facing you, bro? I didn’t beat him either, but it just seemed like…”

“Because Jiu Ke can’t beat him.”

Yun Qi and Yuan Lele whipped around. The voice had come from behind them, where Ziwu stood, strolling over at a leisurely pace.

Yuan Lele shuffled a step to the side.

Ziwu wasn’t thrilled by Yun Qi’s muted reaction. “What, don’t wanna see me?”

Yun Qi ignored him and turned to Yuan Lele. “Go back and rest. Come find me tomorrow—I’ll run some games with you.”

Every trial trainee knew Ziwu’s reputation. This was Yuan Lele’s first time meeting him offline, and from such close range. He hadn’t expected the guy to be so tall—or orders of magnitude more handsome than his online photos. Yuan Lele felt an inexplicable twinge of nerves. “Then I’ll head out first, bro,” he said to Yun Qi.

He scurried off.

Not forgetting to nod at Ziwu on his way out—though the other man didn’t acknowledge it. Mortified, Yuan Lele picked up his pace to a full jog.

People sat in the lobby as Yun Qi headed out from the training room. Ziwu trailed after him, hands jammed in his pockets, murmuring low, “Haven’t seen Brother Jin all day. You miss him?”

Yun Qi brushed it off. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

Pan Feng, lounging in the lobby, gave Yun Qi a wave. Yun Qi nodded back. Pan Feng’s gaze drifted to the man shadowing him, puzzlement plain on his face.

Ziwu was long used to the cold shoulder and rolled with it effortlessly. “Suddenly feel like I’m the homewrecker third wheel here.”

Yun Qi didn’t dignify that with a response. He reached the door.

“Where to?” Ziwu asked.

Yun Qi didn’t spare him a glance. “What’s it to you?”

Ziwu had thrown that exact line at him the other night. Yun Qi’s retort carried layers of subtext. Ziwu mulled it over, then chuckled. “Still sore about it? Just a few days before the Grand Tournament, and you can’t stop shooting sparks at Brother Jin?”

Yun Qi halted and turned to face him. “I’ve been on my best behavior. Do me a favor and dial it back too. I’m the type who folds easy—next second, I might cave.”

“Give it a shot?” Ziwu replied. “With how Brother Jin’s been treating you these past couple days, even glued to his side, you’d have a tough time, yeah?”

Yu Jin hadn’t so much as spoken to Yun Qi since that night—not a single word. Yu Jin had voiced his disappointment, and Yun Qi shared it, aimed squarely at himself. How did you fix a habit of crumbling so easily? He buckled under outside pressure every time. Deep down, he was mad for Yu Jin, yet he played at distance and indifference. He didn’t even know the right move anymore.

They’d said they could cut loose after the Grand Tournament—but would Yu Jin just show up then because Yun Qi wanted him to? Give it a month, and the spark might fizzle out. Things had gotten more intimate between them privately since he’d arrived here, a closeness no one else shared. Radio silence now made sense; it wouldn’t raise eyebrows. But holding out a full month? Yun Qi found it dull. Daunting.

Every encounter with Yu Jin left him itching to close the gap, chat him up—even take a scolding if that’s what it came to. But their hard-won calm? Did he really want to torch it? Just bottle up the urge until after the tournament. One month. Couldn’t he manage that?

He could.

Yun Qi wanted to show Ziwu he could do it—for Yu Jin’s peace of mind, for his focus. No distractions before the Grand Tournament. Personal stuff could wait, simmer on the back burner. Shouldn’t be that hard.

Yet for all his self-pep-talk, Yun Qi was only human. The resentment lingered. He hated his own fickleness, hated Ziwu’s meddling, hated how their breakup years back hadn’t been clean—no chance now for a bold, aboveboard pursuit.

Hell, even confessing his feelings would draw side-eye over motives.

“I’m doing everything I can,” Yun Qi said, planted by the door. “Don’t push it. I’ve got stuff to handle—no time to play along.”

“Going out?” Ziwu reached out to block him.

“Can’t I?” Yun Qi eyed the hand stretched across his path.

“The forecast says rain’s coming. Got a car?”

“I’ll call a ride.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Yun Qi froze for a moment, his gaze drifting to the smoky blue tips of Ziwu’s hair shimmering in the sunlight. “What?”

Ziwu’s hair looked striking when worn loose, those curved smoky blue ends draping against his neck in a short-in-front, long-in-back style that carried no hint of softness—likely thanks to the hard edges of his face, its sharp lines and prominent cheekbones marking him as one of the elite in raw physical appeal.

“I’ve got a car. A sports car,” Ziwu said. “You in or not?”

Yun Qi shoved his hand aside. “No.”

He started toward the door, but after two steps, Ziwu grabbed his wrist and hauled him toward the garage.

“What the hell are you doing?” Yun Qi recoiled from the touch, even if it was just his wrist being gripped. “Let go…”

“Quit hollering,” Ziwu said, dragging him along. “I’m offering you a ride and you’re pissed about it?”

“You don’t even know where I’m headed.”

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Ziwu shot back over his shoulder. “Call it making it up to you, you poor little thing.”

He marched Yun Qi straight into the garage.

Ziwu hit the key fob, and a red supercar chirped to life. They reached the vehicle, and the instant Ziwu released his grip, Yun Qi bolted. Ziwu swore under his breath, yanked him back, and slammed him against the car door. “What’s your problem, running off?”