Chapter 45 Part 3

The wind from the balcony lifted Ziwu’s hair, revealing a face so exquisitely handsome it seemed carved by the gods themselves. His features were strikingly vibrant—a rare sensuality among men. Even the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple or a single stray lock of hair exuded an effortless, seductive charm in every gesture.

Everyone loved a handsome face, and Ziwu had been popular for years. He had legions of female fans, and plenty of male ones too. With his top-tier skills and looks, he was the most followed player in KRO after Yu Jin.

He brushed past Lao Xun.

Lao Xun, returning from the balcony, caught sight of him with a glance. He instinctively glanced back over his shoulder before meeting Ziwu’s eyes. As they passed shoulder to shoulder, Lao Xun gave Ziwu’s arm a meaningful squeeze.

Ziwu paused for a beat.

Lao Xun headed downstairs.

Ziwu stood lost in thought for a moment before stepping forward onto the balcony. There, he spotted a figure crouched in the corner.

A damp towel lay on the floor in front of Yu Jin. In his hand, he clutched a dagger, stabbing it into the towel over and over in a relentless rhythm. It might have looked like he was in a good mood, but Ziwu knew better—he was growing impatient.

Ziwu’s heart tightened. He stood there letting the wind ruffle his hair for a bit before calling out softly, “…Bro.”

Yu Jin was just a year older than Ziwu, but that single year felt like an uncrossable chasm. This man before him was the dream of everyone in the esports circle—a genius born amid decades of suppression for China’s esports teams. No one in the industry questioned the weight of his achievements. Domestically or abroad, not a soul doubted his skill. He had no technical detractors, no pro player ever spoke ill of him. He was a once-in-a-generation phenomenon no one could catch.

Ziwu had clashed with plenty of people, resented more than a few, but for the man in front of him, his admiration ran bone-deep.

He revered him for raising the Five-Star Red Flag on international stages, for pulling countless esports hopefuls back from the abyss and showing them a path forward.

No one could deny the legendary accomplishments of the renowned Eidis.

Yu Jin heard the “Bro” and gripped his little knife tighter. “Why so timid?”

Ziwu sensed something was off, but he was no fool. He cut straight to the chase. “Bro, you looking for me?”

Yu Jin replied, “Yeah.”

He looked up, his gaze settling on Ziwu’s striking features. “Come here. I’ve got something to show you.”

Puzzled, Ziwu approached, eyeing Yu Jin suspiciously.

Then he watched as Yu Jin laid the dagger flat. It was a military blade called the Night Eagle Flat Blade, a birthday gift from big boss Xu Muzhe. Word was it cost a fortune. Yu Jin had always been into knives and such, and Boss Xu had nailed the gift perfectly. Back then, he’d asked around about Yu Jin’s interests, and it was Ziwu who’d tipped him off that Brother Jin liked blades.

Most men were suckers for things like that, especially a finely crafted knife with a razor-sharp edge on one side and irregular serrations on the other, giving it a unique, savage beauty. Yu Jin was no exception; he had a thing for them. Ziwu hadn’t been there when Xu Muzhe gave it to him, but he’d seen it plenty of times since.

Ziwu had no idea what Yu Jin was getting at—until the next moment, when his actions sent a jolt of terror through him.

Yu Jin held the knife flat between both hands. Ziwu figured he was just showing off its beauty. But then Yu Jin lifted his hand and gripped the blade itself. Crimson blood welled up instantly from his palm. Ziwu felt like he’d been struck by lightning. “Bro!”

He lunged to grab it, but Yu Jin only clamped down harder. Ziwu’s face drained of color. His heart pounding in panic, he roared, “Brother Jin, have you lost your mind?!”

“Like it?” Yu Jin didn’t let up. Blood trickled from his palm, dripping onto the damp towel below.

So that’s what the towel was for.

Ziwu’s face was ashen, but he didn’t dare move. The more he struggled, the deeper the blade would bite.

“For an esports player, their hands are the most vital asset,” Yu Jin said. “No matter how sharp your mind, without hands, you can’t play. Right, Ziwu?”

Ziwu realized what was happening. Panic seized him. “Bro, don’t do this—put it down! Your hand… it’ll be ruined…”

“Me, going crazy?” Yu Jin savored Ziwu’s expression. “Am I the crazy one, Ziwu? Would you even get what I’m saying if I didn’t do this?”

Ziwu clenched his fists. His other hand gripped Yu Jin’s arm, feeling the unyielding strength there as blood continued to drip onto the towel. He gritted his teeth. “I get it. I won’t do it again… Let go, Brother Jin.”

He was trembling.

“Why do you want to win the championship? That’s a good thing. But why do you want me to win it too—what gives you the right?” Yu Jin said. “Should I thank you? Thank you for pushing away the person who waited for me for three years, all just to help me climb to the peak? Hmm?”

Ziwu’s strands of hair trembled, and his eyes were a deep crimson. “He… will affect you.”

“Of course he affects me,” Yu Jin declared forcefully. “He ignores me, doesn’t get close to me, doesn’t dare to like me, and even fucking introduces other people to me. It’s like stabbing a knife right into my heart—it hurts just as much as it does right now.”

Ziwu looked at him. Yu Jin’s gaze was so fervent, a kind of fervor that he couldn’t comprehend.

“How much do you know about our situation to dare make decisions on your own? Three years ago, he had no choice but to leave me. Three years ago, he was forced by his mother. Now that his mother is dead, you’re still oppressing him. What reason did you use? To stop me from reaching the peak? To stop the team from reaching the peak? Only something like that could scare him. He’s so foolish, and his guilt toward me weighs so heavily on him—anything can frighten him. Ziwu, you’re impressive. You hit the nail on the head.”

Ziwu stared at the blood, choking as he said, “Bro, put the knife down first…”

Yu Jin paid him no mind. It was as if he felt no pain at all, letting the sharp blade slice into his flesh. His voice remained so cold and steady. “You’ve made quite a few decisions for me, but do you even know what I really want? Do you know what would truly affect me? It’s his rejection of me that drives me insane. Championships? I’ve already won one. Don’t force your own craving for championships onto me. I’ve been plenty responsible to all of you—I haven’t let any of you down in the slightest. I brought him into the team precisely so we could win the championship. I’ve gone that far already, so what more do you want me to sacrifice?”

Ziwu lowered his head and saw that the blue towel was already soaked red with blood. He spoke urgently, “I know I was wrong. I get it now. I’m sorry, bro—put the knife down. Don’t ruin yourself because of me. It’s not worth it…”

“It’s worth it,” Yu Jin said profoundly. “You’re my teammate. If I can’t keep you in line, that’s on me. As long as the team can stay harmonious, what’s a little blood?”

Ziwu closed his eyes. “Bro, don’t push me anymore…”

“I’m not pushing you, Ziwu. Don’t you like going crazy?” Yu Jin tightened his grip on the knife again, and the glaring blood dripped down drop by drop. “I’ll keep up with you.”

Ziwu raised his hand. He didn’t dare touch Yu Jin anymore. His usual carefree attitude was completely gone now. He stared at the knife, his nerves stretched to the breaking point. “Bro, let go. I know I was wrong. I get it. KRO still has the International Tournament to play—we can’t do it without you… I won’t meddle anymore. Let go, Brother Jin. If your hand gets ruined, I’ll never forgive myself for the rest of my life. Don’t let me get flamed across the entire internet. Don’t let the esports industry blacklist me.”

There was such earnestness in Ziwu’s eyes. They had their differences—one was in the thick of it, the other just an observer. Of course they had different ideas and perspectives. But Yu Jin was the master of his own emotions; Ziwu had no right to make choices for him. Today, he only hoped Ziwu would understand that one point.

Yu Jin’s lips began to turn pale.

Ziwu’s heart twisted in panic. “I really get it now. I promise you—Qi… Yun Qi—I won’t meddle in things between Yun Qi and you anymore. I won’t say anything reckless. I swear it to you!”

Yu Jin stared at Ziwu like that for a long time, seemingly trying to discern whether he was just brushing him off or truly repentant. Moments later, Yu Jin finally spoke again. “You’re the most rational person in KRO, and in Lao Xun’s heart and mine, you’re the best candidate for the next captain. I could step back into a supporting role at any time. Ziwu, let this be a lesson for you starting today. For the good of the team, you can worry about your teammates, but don’t cross the line. Rationality is good, but cold detachment is something else—that won’t make your teammates get along. Team spirit isn’t some superficial thing. It means we truly unite from the bottom of our hearts, without wronging anyone, without oppressing anyone, without using those petty little tricks you think are so clever to fake some surface-level peace. That’s not team spirit. This is the future of five people. All five of us have to pursue it with everything we’ve got.”

Ziwu lowered his head.

“Don’t you understand why Yi Yang came and went three times? Don’t you understand why I kicked him out the moment he cursed at you?”

Ziwu nodded. “I understand. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Yu Jin’s gaze burned like a torch. “Don’t fucking just pay lip service. Gentlemen judge by actions, not intentions. Lao Xun and I will be watching you. It’ll all depend on what you do from here on out.”

Ziwu nodded frantically at him. “Watch me.”

Yu Jin’s hand relaxed a little.

When he finally set the knife down, his palm was a sticky, gruesome mess. Ziwu glanced around in a panic, scrambling to get up and find something to bandage Yu Jin with, but in that instant, Yu Jin grabbed his wrist.

Ziwu turned back. Yu Jin’s one arm had gone completely numb. He clutched Ziwu with his other hand, his expression complicated as he said, “I like him.”

Ziwu’s fingertips curled inward, as if he had just heard the most mundane words spill from the lips of someone perched atop a pedestal.

“I wish he’d treat me like this forever. I wish he’d throw himself into my arms. You think I don’t know anything?” Yu Jin lifted his head. “I know everything, but I’m not calling him out on it. I want to watch him slink closer, thinking he’s so clever. I savor every one of his little schemes. Hell, I could’ve bought him outright from SK ages ago—boyfriend or no boyfriend back then—but thank God I held off. I want him to beg me. I want that same guy from three years ago, the one who never looked back, to call me Brother Jin.”

Ziwu had always considered himself the mad one, but in that moment, the blazing intensity in Yu Jin’s eyes struck him as true insanity. Perhaps he really had underestimated his captain’s feelings for Yun Qi. Perhaps he should dig into what had happened between them three years ago before trying to intervene.

“Fuck, that hurts.” Yu Jin stared at his blood-smeared palm, the crimson so vivid it was horrifying, the pain throbbing all the way to his heart.

“…I’ll go get the doctor.”

“No.” Yu Jin halted Ziwu’s steps. “Call him.”

Ziwu turned, bewildered, his gaze fixed on that alarming silhouette.

Yun Qi’s words echoed relentlessly in Yu Jin’s mind: behave yourself.

Behave himself?

Like hell.

“He’ll die inside seeing me like this,” Yu Jin said, rolling up the bloodstained towel. Droplets spattered onto the balcony floor. His lips had gone white, but his voice rang with defiant vigor. “Let’s see him try not talking to me now. Let’s see him hold back from worrying. Let’s see him keep up that stupid distance. Not after this…”

Pain lanced through Yu Jin so fiercely he could hardly stay on his feet, but he grinned like a conqueror, full of swagger and spite, and declared:

“Bet he won’t even kiss it better.”