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Chapter 47 – Homegrown Flowers Don’t Smell as Sweet as Wild Ones

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“Wild flowers, my a*s,” Du Changcheng slapped him back into place. “Did you climb over the wall at midnight for late-night snacks because the food outside smelled better, too?”

“That wasn’t the reason,” Fat Tangyuan raised his pudgy face seriously. “The second round of food service comes faster at the shop.”

“Xiao Zhan told me that next season’s team uniforms will be made in standard sizes—no more custom tailoring. If you can’t even fit into the largest size,” Du Changcheng stared at his player with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “then you can pack up and go home to fish for a living.”

Fat Tangyuan squeezed out two crocodile tears and clung to his Smurf brother, sobbing dramatically.

Tired of watching his antics, Du Changcheng started recounting some of the blunders from when he had just retired and transitioned to a coaching role more than a decade ago. He wasn’t trying to make any pointed remarks—he just figured that the quiet kid beside him might enjoy some stories from the old days.

It was his first year as an assistant coach when he encountered a truly gifted player. Back then, Xinghai hadn’t yet split from Silver Emperor. He could still remember how that kid looked among the youth trainees—so dazzling, so full of talent. And yet, on the day of the second team’s final selection, the boy vanished without a trace.

At the time, esports in the country was still in its infancy. Even an established team like Silver Emperor could barely stay afloat with help from its original sponsors. Later, when he joined the newly established Xinghai branch, he came across a few promising rookies, but none who could compare to that boy from back then.

Then came Xiao Zhan. His talent and reflexes were top-tier. But since he was the founder’s grandson, no one really took his interest in esports seriously. Who would’ve thought he’d not only stick it out, but single-handedly carry an unknown team like Xinghai into the upper echelons of domestic competition when they were going through a generational transition? He himself became one of the most influential players in the league’s history.

Yang Sa listened quietly beside him. He understood what the coach was hinting at, but he couldn’t respond. He had things he needed to do—things that must be done. Until he finished them, he couldn’t make any promises to anyone.

“Coach,” he said softly, “tell me more about your early days as an assistant.”

And just like that, their conversation lasted all the way back to the base.

Having finally coaxed LAP to the club, Du Changcheng wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. He pulled a few of them into a match against his team. He had only ever seen Yang Sa in broadcast matches, and those missed too many of the details.

Maybe because Shao Zhan wasn’t around, Yang Sa paused for just a second before agreeing with a smile. The rest of the LAP members also expressed interest in sparring.

Only Fat Tangyuan looked reluctant, clutching his Smurf brother tightly: “I wanna be on the same team as my brother.”

“Whatever.” Du Changcheng didn’t bother arguing and stepped through the team’s gate, holding his hip like an old man.

By the time they made it to the main training room, the second team had already set up the computers under manager Qin Chuan’s instruction.

Du Changcheng casually pointed at one of the promising assault players and told him to stay and join the match—much to the kid’s delight. He was so excited he nearly broke into a backflip on the spot.

Unable to persuade any teammates, Fat Tangyuan rubbed his belly and waddled up to the coach.
“Lao Du, can I start a livestream?” He’d fallen short on his streaming hours this month, and if he didn’t make it up, he’d be in trouble with the platform.

“Go ahead, go ahead,” Du Changcheng replied with a face full of disdain, arms crossed. “Just don’t film any nonsense.”

He figured he might as well record the match too—it’d be useful to review later with Xiao Zhan.

With his pudgy hands, Fat Tangyuan grabbed Little Blue’s shoulders and pushed him down into his own seat. He thoughtfully adjusted the carrot pillow and the lumbar cushion for him, then tiptoed over to Captain Shao Zhan’s chair, his heavy figure moving in exaggerated tiptoe steps like a swan.

Leaning down, he stared greedily at the sleek, customized black keyboard. “This bast*rd… I’ve been dying to try out his little wif—”

Just as his chubby hand was about to touch the keyboard, Du Changcheng smacked him away with a punch. Then he tapped the gaming chair and called out, “Xiao Sa, you sit here.”

Fat Tangyuan clutched his chest dramatically, as if heartbroken. “Coach, what gives?”

“You and your bronze-tier skills don’t deserve that top-tier setup.”

Fuming, Fat Tangyuan plopped himself down in Jiang Ranan’s seat, muttering under his breath, “Favoritism… stinky butt…”

Du Changcheng: …

Everyone got busy with their setups, treating the coach’s arrangement like no big deal. Yang Sa pulled out a chair and sat down, habitually reaching for his gear bag. But the moment his fingers touched the zipper, he stopped, quickly glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, then gently rested his fingers on the keyboard.

The matte texture registered instantly through his fingertips and straight into his thoughts. Just for a second, Yang Sa gathered his focus, memorized the keyboard’s settings, then reconfigured them to his own preferences. After that, he hopped into the weapon testing range to get used to the keyboard and mouse.

A new player from the second team had been placed in Zhuang Bai’s spot—Du Changcheng’s way of testing Yang Sa’s experience in leading a team.

Two of Xinghai’s other players teamed up with LAP’s “black and white twins” to form a temporary squad. The darker-skinned one, in-game name Little White, stood up and fist-bumped Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai.
“Let’s do this, brothers.”

After sitting down, he secretly pointed at Yang Sa. “I’ve been crushed by that guy too many times. Today, I have to—”

“—Redeem my honor,” added his pale-skinned partner, who went by Little Black and had recently become quite good with idioms.

“I feel you,” Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan exchanged a glance.

At that moment, they both thought of a certain man’s silhouette and silently encouraged themselves—they had to prove something today.

What they didn’t know was that Fat Tangyuan had already started his livestream, capturing all their little schemes in full clarity. Finally, the camera panned to Du Changcheng, who stood nearby with a mug of goji berry tea, too nervous to sit down and instead doing a half-squat like a martial artist.

In the first two rounds, Yang Sa didn’t rush for glory. Instead, he chose his drop points cautiously based on the flight path, focusing on getting a feel for the team’s dynamics—especially how the newbie played.

Unfortunately, Little Black and Little White from his own team were playing like maniacs, chasing him around the map. On the other side, Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan seemed to have unlocked some hidden potential and were furiously pounding on Fat Tangyuan and his Smurf brother.

“No way,” Fat Tangyuan stared helplessly as his screen turned grey. He turned his head and cursed,

“Are you guys rabid dogs or what? You’ve been chasing your Grandpa Fat this whole time. Is this fun for you? Huh? Is it?!”

“Yes,” Jiang Ranan responded with a grin, landing a headshot on the rookie’s health bar. “Super fun.”

Grumbling, Fat Tangyuan turned back to his stream and addressed the viewers: “Team spirit? Team love? All fake. See that? There’s no such thing in Xinghai. Between teammates, it’s nothing but coldness, cruelty, and heartless betrayal…”

Du Changcheng shot his chatterbox player a glare, full of disdain.

He tried to endure it, but finally couldn’t take it anymore and muttered under his breath: “Fatty, OBSERVE your teammates.”

“Coach,” Fat Tangyuan argued, “wasn’t I doing that this whole time? Sure, my mouth’s running, but I haven’t slacked on my duties one bit— Oh! Nine o’clock!”

Before Fat Tangyuan could finish, Yang Sa made a clean flick shot and took out the flanking enemy.

[LAP-Killer used VSS to knock down SOUTH]

[LAP-Killer used VSS to eliminate SOUTH]

The kill feed popped up on screen. Yang Sa swiftly dove into the river and used the shadows under the suspension bridge for cover.

Only Little Blue was left alive on the team and was driving toward Yang Sa’s location. Yang Sa had already secured a strategic spot near the shrinking zone, ready to take down the black-and-white duo from his former team—and maybe save his last teammate too.

[LAP-Blue was knocked down by PineappleGuaGua using AUG]

“Don’t bother, it’s useless.”

Little Blue took off his headset and scratched his cheekbone. A small patch of his face had chipped paint, revealing dark brown skin underneath.

Yang Sa remained expressionless. With just himself and his rifle, he took down both black-and-white teammates and even cracked Jiang Ranan’s level-three helmet.

“So fierce, so fierce!” Jiang Ranan exclaimed while healing behind cover with Zhuang Bai’s help. “He’s way too fierce—but this playstyle feels… familiar?”

As the observer, Fat Tangyuan’s sausage-shaped lips twitched. He glanced at the person who had just logged out and clutched his chest dramatically.

“Why does it feel like the captain never left…” he muttered in his heart.

“That damned old bastard—haunting me like a ghost. It’s like he’s still everywhere in the air.”

The receptionist wasn’t aware of the situation, but one thing was clear—everyone in Silver Emperor harbored unprecedented hostility toward Yang Sa and the others.

“LAP went to Xinghai!”

Silver Emperor’s team manager burst into the room holding his phone.

“Xiao Zhan, come quick—look at this…”

He’d run so fast he banged into the corner of a table, but the older manager didn’t even notice the pain—he was too focused on holding up his phone high.

LAP had been stirring things up in the esports scene these past few months, so he instinctively assumed they had gone to Xinghai to cause trouble. He was eager to pull Xinghai onto their side and opened the stream without hesitation.

Shao Zhan scanned the seating arrangement in the video and immediately grasped what was going on.
Not only had LAP not initiated this, but Du Changcheng had likely taken this opportunity to feel out LAP’s strength—or more precisely, to gauge Yang Sa’s skill level.

Shao Zhan pushed his chair back and stood. Before leaving, he politely addressed the people in the office: “I’m the captain of Xinghai’s first team, top of the league leaderboard, heir of Xinghai’s parent company, and the successor of BaiZhan Group.”

He straightened his collar, eyes sharp and commanding.

“I’m afraid that not only this room, but no one in the entire Silver Emperor team is qualified to call me Xiao Zhan.”

With that, he offered a courteous bow and turned to leave.

The owner of Silver Emperor and the team manager stared at each other, speechless.

No one dared mention the rest of the day’s agenda, not until a call came in from the hotel kitchen about menu adjustments. Only then did the boss snap out of his daze and turn to glare at the blundering manager.

The seasoned manager, now trembling slightly, tried to salvage things with a bit of scheming: “Boss, do you think Xinghai and LAP might be… well, more than just friendly?”

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Chapter 46 – Sleep Well?

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The man who received that silent warning merely scoffed and shook his head nonchalantly, quickening his pace to catch up with the person in front.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Yang Sa instinctively wanted to sidestep—but realized that doing so would make it all too obvious. So, he kept walking at a steady pace.

Suddenly, a slightly hesitant voice murmured beside his ear—

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Yang Sa’s throat tightened. He turned and forced a stiff smile at the man now half a step behind him.
“It was… not bad.”

“Not bad?” Shao Zhan gave a couple of dry laughs. “Well, not bad is good.”

Following behind like he had radar antennas on his head, Qin Chuan got full-body goosebumps from hearing that awkward exchange.

Aren’t you the captain? Always so fierce when barking orders—what, suddenly you’ve turned into a shy mute with social anxiety?

He was tempted to take out his phone and record this painfully awkward moment to use later in an argument, but after fumbling with it in his pocket for a while, he chickened out.

After several rounds of stiff small talk, Yang Sa had to summon every ounce of restraint just to maintain a polite facade. Thank goodness they were walking on a public street—if this were in-game, he’d have already picked up an S12K and blasted him on the spot.

Shao Zhan was just about to ask whether he preferred shao mai or guo tie, when suddenly Fat Tangyuan burst out of the shop like a monkey, gripping the door handle and shouting: “Hey! Captain, could you hurry up? You guys are slower than the old man who just had hemorrhoid surgery!”

Said old man, fighting through the ripping pain, reached out and twisted Fat Fat’s ear, dragging the loudmouth over and smacking his thick lips for good measure.

Yang Sa used the opportunity to quietly speed up and join the others, who had been admiring the street views. Shao Zhan, watching Qin Chuan catch up to him, muttered with a shrug, “Double training for Fat Fat tonight.”

Just freed from the coach’s iron grip, Fat Tangyuan let out a massive sneeze. Little Blue, ever attentive, handed him a tissue with eyes full of sympathy.

“I’m fine,” Fat Tangyuan said while blowing his nose. “This meal’s on you, remember? We agreed.”

Little Blue patted his chest, silently telling him to rest easy.

Fat Tangyuan’s blubbery body trembled with emotion as he wiped away tears: “Good brother dei, for life!”

Those touching tears quickly transformed into rivers of drool.

A bustling crowd of people packed the large round table on the second floor.

Fat Tangyuan, practiced at this, pulled his not-blood-but-better-than-blood brother Little Blue to a low-key corner—close enough to the coach to not seem evasive, but far enough not to draw attention.

Yang Sa had been pulled into the seat to Coach Du Changcheng’s left and was quietly chatting with him.

Jiang Ranan, meanwhile, gestured animatedly as he introduced the many varieties of Chinese breakfast to the curious foreign guests.

Even Zhuang Bai, who was supposed to be attending to the coach, was holding up the menu and adding details.

Seeing this, Shao Zhan subtly adjusted Qin Chuan’s position from behind, then slid effortlessly into the empty seat next to the coach, completely at ease.

Annoyed, Qin Chuan shuffled over to Fat Tangyuan. “Fatty, scooch over.”

But the other waved a chubby hand dismissively. “Get lost, no room.”

Qin Chuan’s eyes gleamed. “Captain said you’ve got extra training tonight.”

Fat Tangyuan jolted upright like a carp flipping out of water and scooted over on the bench, pulling Qin Chuan in with him. “Tell me everything.”

Having been fuming all morning, Qin Chuan finally got his wish and sat down. Sandwiched between two giant heads, he was basking in their flattery and kept stealing glances at the group a few seats away.

Yang Sa didn’t eat much. He preferred light flavors, and the dishes that made their way to his side were just right. He answered Coach Du Changcheng’s questions politely.

On the other side, Shao Zhan—stationed right at the food pass—used the serving chopsticks to skillfully portion out the dishes.

Tangyuan crunched loudly on a fried dumpling, poking around in the top steamer basket with his chopsticks. “Weird, where’s my veggie shao mai?”

Coach Du cleared his throat, annoyed by how rude his players were being. He held back his irritation because of the guest, but when he looked down again, he noticed a crab soup dumpling had mysteriously appeared on his plate.

“Uh,” he licked his chapped lips, “Coach just had surgery…”

“Seafood’s inflammatory, you can’t eat it,” Shao Zhan said, smoothly shifting the soup dumpling to the plate beside him. He also replaced the now-cold veggie shao mai in front of the coach, all in one fluid, practiced motion.

Du Changcheng, holding the cold shao mai between three fingers, sighed with a hint of wisdom. “Xiao Zhan… the coach’s life matters too, you know.”

“Pardon?” Shao Zhan was in the middle of placing a steaming shrimp dumpling next to the coach, casually swapping out the cold bamboo shoot ribs and molten custard bun onto the coach’s plate.

Squatting slightly on the edge of the chair like a martial artist, Coach Du glanced around at the children he’d helped raise, then closed his eyes in defeat. “All these brats… what a waste.”

“Coach, what illness do you have?” Yang Sa asked while sipping soup from a dumpling. The warm broth spread through him, making him feel cozy inside.

Coach Du, touched by the concern, slumped dramatically onto the table. “It’s nothing serious… I just couldn’t rest easy, had to come check on them…”

“You haven’t even been discharged yet?” Yang Sa put down his chopsticks, concerned, and patted him gently on the back. “Which hospital? I’ll come visit if I get time.”

“It’s really nothing, just a little issue,” Coach Du said with a warm smile. “First People’s Hospital.”

“Aren’t you usually at the Second Hospital?” Fat Tangyuan asked, chewing on a fresh durian pastry, leaving flaky crumbs all over the table.

“You don’t even know which hospital I’m in, and you never once thought of coming to see me.” Du Changcheng furrowed his brows, his whole expression contorted with frustration.

“I put all my effort into training,” Fat Tangyuan said, stuffing the remaining durian pastry onto Little Blue’s plate and licking the oil off his fingers. “Besides, weren’t you the one who told us not to come?”

“And you really didn’t come just because I said so?” Du Changcheng was so furious his beard nearly bristled. He pointed at the fat all over him. “I told you to lose weight too, didn’t see you listening to that!”

Fat Tangyuan, with his massive body, ducked behind the steamed bun baskets and, greasy hands and all, summoned his voice assistant. “Hey Siri, search: Can hemorrhoid surgery trigger menopause…”

A heavy silence fell over the table—an unnatural one. Only Fat Tangyuan, oblivious to the mood, continued searching enthusiastically: “Hey Siri, look up causes of early menopause…”

After breakfast, Du Changcheng was already scheming how to drag the LAP team back to the base. But before he could speak, Yang Sa offered, “Coach, want me to take you back to the hospital?”

Du Changcheng waved it off with an awkward chuckle. “I still want to drop by the base. Let’s head back together.”

Since he declined, Yang Sa didn’t insist, just lamented, “That’s a shame. I watched LAP’s challenge match—I was really hoping to see them face Xinghai live.”

“We already did,” Yang Sa said softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We lost.” He was referring to the Silver Emperor Cup finals.

“That’s not the same.” Du Changcheng’s eyes landed on the top of Yang Sa’s head, though it felt like he was looking through him—at a moment long gone. “Seeing you always reminds me of an old friend. There’s still a keyboard he used at the base.”

“What old friend?” Yang Sa blurted out, then realized he’d sounded too eager and quickly toned it down, helping Du Changcheng to his feet.

At that moment, Shao Zhan—who had been replying to messages on his phone—looked over. He leaned in next to Du Changcheng and said, “The Silver Emperor team boss wants to talk about the Mid-Autumn charity match.”

Du Changcheng gave a snort. “Skipping over the coach and the manager to go straight to the captain—these guys are getting bolder by the day.” Still, despite the grumbling, he let Shao Zhan go. After all, Shao Zhan wasn’t just a player—the whole team was under his name. Technically speaking, he was the one doing the hiring.

“Go quickly and come back quickly,” Du Changcheng reminded him. “And don’t forget to bring me two packs of adult diapers on your way back.”

Shao Zhan tucked his phone into his pocket, told the others to take good care of the coach, nodded politely to the LAP members, and flagged down a taxi to leave.

The Silver Emperor team base was in the western district, just a couple of blocks from the old team headquarters. A new park had been built there, thanks to government policies and market support.

In recent years, the coastal region’s economy had soared, and the western district was no longer the shining star it once was. Only the old buildings, heavy with time, stood quietly—silent storytellers of former glory.

As Shao Zhan stepped out of the taxi, a cacophony of barking dogs assaulted his ears. He frowned almost imperceptibly.

The manager of Silver Emperor was already waiting at the gate, greeting him with enthusiastic warmth.

Behind the iron gate, two large black dogs—descendants of the Newfoundland dogs once raised by the team owner in his youth—stood barking. They were among the few remaining legacies of the old club.

Shao Zhan’s steps faltered for a moment.

Thirteen years ago, still a teenager, he had once followed his father to visit a friend’s training base and was bitten by a dog even taller than he was.

The memory remained vivid. But after only the briefest pause, he straightened his gaze and walked into the base without so much as a side glance.

…

Back at the breakfast table, Du Changcheng had tested the waters, but when the person in question declined without a hint of emotion, he gave up hope of bringing him back to the team.

After watching Shao Zhan leave, Yang Sa didn’t let go of the coach’s arm and offered, “Let me walk you back to the team base.”

Du Changcheng gripped the arm supporting him. “Let’s walk back together.”

Three years ago, Du Changcheng had tried to recruit the boy into his ranks, but Yang Sa had disappeared without a word. Now that he had returned to the country and was still a free agent, Du Changcheng had his eye on him again—but he was wary of appearing too eager and scaring him off.

He didn’t bring up the sudden disappearance back then, nor the dramatic waves stirred by Yang Sa’s high-profile return. Instead, he began talking about the old days when he himself was still a player.

“You snuck out to play games?” Yang Sa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But weren’t the club’s computers way better?”

It was Fat Tangyuan’s first time hearing this story too, but he still put on the air of a seasoned elder, waving his pudgy hand with mock wisdom: “Ah, you just don’t get it. The flowers at home never smell as sweet as the ones in the wild…”

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Chapter 45 – Wrong Room

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Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai covered their eyes, too embarrassed to admit that the ridiculous mess on the ground was one of their own teammates.

Shao Zhan stood a little farther away, completely uninterested in the fat man’s meltdown. If it weren’t for the guests being present, he would’ve already kicked that idiot out of the base.

Yang Sa, as always, stood quietly alone—calm and cold, keeping his distance from everyone.

The members of LAP were used to his personality. One in white and one in black stood with arms crossed, watching their own Blue Fatty with a shake of the head—once, then twice.

Worried that Yang Sa might feel awkward about the “wrong room” situation, Shao Zhan deliberately didn’t speak to him, only stealing a few glances at the silent figure from the corner of his eye.

All of this didn’t go unnoticed by Qin Chuan, who was leaning against a pine tree, the needles jabbing into his back. His head throbbed with pain. As he silently prayed for that old bastard not to stir up any trouble, he heard Shao Zhan inviting LAP’s guests to breakfast—even though it was nearly noon.

He had already gotten the full story from Jiang Ranan earlier that morning. Bringing the LAP members back to the base had been a last resort. But was it really unavoidable? They’d dumped drunken teammates at nearby hotels plenty of times before.

Fine. Maybe it was for the sake of international relations—they couldn’t just leave foreign guests passed out in the street. But did the entire team need to be dragged back too? As for someone’s little scheme… Qin Chuan couldn’t even be bothered to guess at it anymore.

Tch. Disgusting.

He already felt something was off when he caught the two of them napping on the sofa last night. This morning’s events had only made his soul half-fly out of his body.

A perfectly good team manager, now reduced to a housekeeper dealing with this nonsense every day.

Thankfully, Yang Sa was still sane. He politely declined the invitation, then left with the white-and-black duo, carrying the dazed Blue Fatty with them.

That’s more like it. The two teams weren’t even close enough to sit at the same table for a meal. If he’d been there last night, he would’ve risked life and limb before ever bringing those people back.

He was irritated, but appearances still had to be maintained. With a fake host’s smile plastered on his face, he led the Xinghai team in seeing the LAP members off.

But as they walked, something still felt off.

The more he thought about his own thoughts, the more he felt like… he was acting like a jealous housewife trying to chase out the mistress.

He silently cursed Shao Zhan’s entire ancestral line—twice—and nearly ground his molars to dust.

With a tangle of emotions churning inside him, Qin Chuan kept walking, fully aware that a whole mess of vibes were floating in the air around the team.

Fat Tangyuan and Blue Fatty were like soulmates—constantly clinging to each other, practically glued together. It was downright nauseating how they acted, gazing at each other with syrupy eyes, just one step away from kissing.

Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan, with dark circles under their eyes from lack of sleep, were the only two remotely normal people left in the team. Or so he thought.

Then he paused—why had he left himself out of the “normal” category?

He clutched his chest and looked up at Shao Zhan. Good. Not a flicker of doubt, just pure, unfiltered rage boiling off him.

He silently congratulated himself for standing firm as a straight man and maintaining his professional integrity as team manager.

The LAP team was about what he expected—though he hadn’t guessed that the goofy Little Blue would be part of the same ridiculous squad as Fat Tangyuan. Now, with some of the polish worn off, he looked even dumber.

Little White, as usual, was completely absorbed in his idiom word game, as if the chaos around him didn’t exist. But when it came to matters involving the LAP members, he hadn’t missed a single detail—a surprisingly meticulous and observant guy.

As for Little Black… forget it. He was just too dark. You couldn’t see anything clearly at all.

Qin Chuan touched his own increasingly chubby cheeks and sighed. Yep—black was definitely the best camouflage. He was probably too fair and too good-looking, which is why his emotions were always so easy to read.

After walking a while, they spotted two old men playing chess at the entrance. It was Coach Du Changcheng and Uncle Zhou, the gatekeeper.

Most of the team members had gotten up late, since their main training and activity hours ran from the afternoon till the early hours of the morning.

But Du Changcheng, who slept less now that he was older, often came to play chess with Uncle Zhou to pass the time.

Their chess skills? Well, somewhere around below-average among hobbyists. But of course, they had more enthusiasm than talent, often playing from early morning until the younger folks woke up.

Today’s scene, however, seemed a little off. After all, it was common knowledge that Du Changcheng had recently undergone hemorrhoid surgery—there was no way he could sit down.

Qin Chuan squinted his slightly puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. As expected, his instincts were spot on: Du Changcheng wasn’t sitting at all—just holding a sitting pose. His rear hovered above the chair, and his legs, visibly strained, were trembling from the effort.

Something’s wrong, Qin Chuan thought. If Du Changcheng had rushed back, it definitely wasn’t for nothing. No… it couldn’t be… His eyes darted across the group, searching for clues.

Du Changcheng also looked up from his game at the entrance and, recognizing someone, held a chess piece midair with surprise on his face. “Xiao Sa?”

Yang Sa didn’t know how likely it was for someone who hadn’t seen him in three years—and only spent a few days with him total—to recognize him at a glance.

But with Coach Du Changcheng’s elder-like affectionate gaze locked on him, it didn’t seem like he was going to get away easily.

Sure enough, Du Changcheng immediately started scolding Shao Zhan for being a terrible host—letting guests travel all the way here without even offering them a meal, sending them off with empty stomachs, lacking even the most basic manners.

Shao Zhan bowed his head respectfully. A rare sight: him looking obedient.

“Alright, enough standing around. You all listen to me—we’re going to eat,” Du Changcheng said, knees clamped together, his voice full of vigor.

“Coach, I…” Yang Sa tried to object.

“I know, I know,” Du Changcheng cut him off, giving the boy’s slender back a hearty slap. “We’ll talk over breakfast.”

“Listen to the coach, listen to the coach!” Fat Tangyuan waddled forward, belly-first, waving his stubby arms as he called out to the group. “Let’s go to that breakfast place on County Back Street—the crab soup dumplings there are amazing!”

Team manager Qin Chuan leaned in close and whispered into Fat Tangyuan’s chubby ear, “Fatty, the coach just had surgery—he can’t eat seafood.”

Yang Sa supported Du Changcheng by the arm, his bright eyes scanning him with concern. “Coach, you’re sick?”

“Don’t listen to those little brats making things up,” Du Changcheng replied awkwardly, shaking his head as he slowly shuffled forward with Yang Sa’s help. As they passed the entrance, he called back, “Lao Zhou, come along!”

Uncle Zhou tried to decline, but Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai didn’t give him a choice and practically carried him off.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Fat Tangyuan rolled his eyes at Qin Chuan, “you’re such a buzzkill. So what if the coach can’t eat crab soup dumplings—he can still eat steamed buns, right? Shouldn’t we let our guests from afar enjoy themselves properly?” He turned and called out to his not-so-biological-but-still-brother Little Blue, and the two chubby balls bounced ahead like conjoined twins.

“This way, this way, this waaay…” At the entrance of the breakfast shop, Fat Tangyuan greeted everyone like a host, waving them forward.

“Hurry up, hurry up—Ranan, you got a tail back there or what?” Hugging and hopping alongside him was Little Blue, legs kicking, mumbling something in gibberish Mandarin that somehow came out sounding like alien language.

“This is…” Fat Tangyuan tapped open the built-in translation app on his phone. “Arabic?”

As his pupils quaked in disbelief, Little Blue next to him lifted his face in a shy smile. “This meal’s on me.”

Fat Tangyuan dragged him through the entrance, pointed at the menu above the counter, and summoned all his energy from his dantian: “Boss, stir-fry a book.”

Zhuang Bai helped steady the coach, while Jiang Ranan enthusiastically introduced the local culture of Jiangling to Little White and Little Black. They all made plans to visit the Bund together.

Yang Sa walked behind them with his hands in his pockets, listening quietly. The sights they mentioned felt both familiar and strangely distant. It had only been three years, yet walking these wide streets now felt like a lifetime ago.

As usual, Shao Zhan brought up the rear of the group. His attention was drawn by the swallows nesting near a store’s surveillance camera, but his peripheral vision kept drifting toward the middle-back of the group.

A pointed gaze shattered the peaceful moment.

Shao Zhan turned his head and caught Qin Chuan’s eyes practically welded to him—blatantly suspicious, clearly disapproving.

This guy wears his whole thought process on his face, Shao Zhan sighed inwardly.

And he’s the team manager? He might as well tattoo “Don’t even think about flirting” on his forehead.

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Chapter 44 – Your Whole Family Are Backup Plans

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“AAAAHHHHHH… mmph!”

Annoyed by the early morning racket, Jiang Ranan stormed in with a dark face and stuffed youtiao and sweet bean buns into the two gaping mouths.

The two chubby guys puffed up their cheeks and began chewing noisily, chomp chomp chomp.

After finishing, they wiped their oily mouths and were just about to start shouting again—

Only for Shao Zhan to cut in coldly: “Yell one more time and I’ll throw both of you in the tr*sh.”

When the chubby one tried to act up again, Shao Zhan narrowed his eyes. “Try me.”

The blue fatty trembled and slowly crawled off Tangyuan with a pitiful expression. “How… how did I end up here?”

“Oh, now you’re the victim, huh?” Tangyuan patted his squishy chest, glaring at the human-shaped blue imprint on his T-shirt, and wailed dramatically,

“I’ve guarded my precious flower for twenty years—and you just picked it like it was nothing! And now you’re upset?!”

Shao Zhan, rubbing his throbbing temples, smacked his own team’s fatty on the head. “You’re awake—quit performing.”

The pouty fatty muttered insults under his breath.

Good-natured Jiang Ranan took hold of his pudgy little fist and patiently explained what happened last night.

“No way. Absolutely not.” A fully awake Tangyuan denied everything, his player energy returning full force.

Blue Fatty chimed in too, wagging a chipped-painted finger. “That. Is. Not. Possible.”

“Let’s go.” Shao Zhan flicked his own chubby team member on the forehead.

“Go where?” the fatty grumbled.

“To relive your tragedy from last night,” Shao Zhan growled through clenched teeth—though in truth, he was just taking them all to breakfast. He couldn’t just leave their out-of-town guest alone, stuck in bed thinking too hard.

In the hallway, the cleaning auntie was tidying up the mess they made earlier.

The group strolled along, chatting and laughing, until—

Creak.

The middle door in the hallway swung open.

Yang Sa stepped out, fully dressed and as cold-faced as ever.

In an instant, all the Xinghai members exchanged looks—they got it.

Qin Chuan’s face turned beet red. He suddenly felt a few gazes land on him—some of them carried a faint trace of… pity?

LAP’s two not-completely-hungover teammates also noticed that Yang Sa was coming out of a different room than the one he’d gone into the night before. They weren’t sure exactly what had happened, but something was definitely off.

Tangyuan sobered up on the spot. He threw an arm around the still-confused little Blue Guy and declared with a grin, “Come on! Big Brother Fatty’s treating you to breakfast!”

The rest of the group tacitly agreed to pretend they hadn’t seen anything, diving right back into their conversation with renewed enthusiasm.

Only one person looked out of place—Little Blue, swept along by the crowd, reached out to his brother with a desperate signal: “Sa… save me… Sa…”

The cleaning auntie straightened up, saw the kid who’d just come out, paused for a second, and pointed behind Yang Sa. “That’s… Xiao Zhan’s room.”

Silence fell instantly.

Shao Zhan: Thanks, Auntie. Really.

There goes this month’s bonus.

Fat Tangyuan and Jiang Ranan began frantically winking and gesturing, their faces tense. But the older cleaning lady didn’t catch on at all. Still mopping away, she asked casually, “So you two slept together last night?”

Her tone couldn’t have been more natural—like a mom asking about her kid having a sleepover.

Shao Zhan cleared his throat. “Yesterday…” He glanced around at the team, then locked eyes with their manager, Qin Chuan.

“I slept with Qin Chuan last night.”

Pure-hearted Jiang Ranan was reading a message from Du Changcheng on his phone: “Captain, Coach said he’s been trying to call you all morning and you’re not picking up. He wants you to answer your phone.”

“Oh… I probably left my phone in Qin Chuan’s room,” Shao Zhan said, unfazed. “I’ll go grab it now—”

At that exact moment, Yang Sa, who had just pulled a phone from his pocket—the same one he’d casually grabbed from the nightstand—froze in place like he’d been turned to stone.

Jiang Ranan, caught awkwardly in the middle, moved like a robot as he took the phone and handed it to Shao Zhan: “Captain… the phone you left in Qin Chuan’s room…”

“…is a backup.”

As Shao Zhan spouted blatant nonsense in the hallway, Qin Chuan could feel the pitying gazes aimed at him growing deeper and more heartfelt.

Before he could respond, Shao Zhan casually pointed at Fat Tangyuan’s round face and said to the LAP captain, “We’re on our way to check out the scene of this guy’s crime. Wanna come?”

Fat Tangyuan stared at Shao Zhan’s sharp profile. “…Are you the devil?”

The entire group, each with their own inner drama, made their way downstairs in a chaotic march.

Only then, breathless and lightheaded from rage, did Qin Chuan finally snap back to reality. He jumped up and shouted after them, “Shao Zhan, you sneaky LYB¹! You’re the backup! Your whole family are backup plans!!”

…

In front of the base’s entrance, scattered feathers lay messily around the landscaping.

Under the evergreen cypress trees, a small patch of turf had been dug up, revealing a palm-sized pit in the soil. In the middle of the soft earth, three cigarette butts—clearly squashed and twisted—were awkwardly stuck into the ground like makeshift incense.

Fat Tangyuan crouched down and picked up the piece of sod that had been pried loose. It felt oddly familiar—the shape, the texture.

A breeze blew past, lifting the brown chicken feathers into the air in a slow flutter. As they danced in front of his eyes, memories suddenly came rushing back, and an unknown wave of emotion welled up in Tangyuan’s chest.

At the same time, Little Blue, still haunted by fragments of last night’s chaos, called out with feeling, “Fatty…”

Fat Tangyuan immediately yanked him into a hug, clutching his not-blood-related-but-closer-than-a-brother comrade. “Good brother… I—I—I almost forgot you after just one nap…”

“Good brother…” Little Blue echoed hoarsely, his voice full of tragic camaraderie.

The parrot that usually strutted around the base like it owned the place caught sight of them coming down and instantly scrambled off, feathers flying. It was now hiding in a bush at the other end of the garden, scared stiff by their dramatic wailing. As it sprinted wildly away, it dropped an egg with a splat right on the lush green grass.

Fat Tangyuan pointed at the stumbling, flapping figure in the distance. “That’s our other sworn brother.”

“My chicken brother…” Little Blue burst into tears again, though no one knew where he was even getting the tears from.

Wiping his face, Fat Tangyuan solemnly introduced: “That thing’s the base’s mascot. With the kind of energy this place has, even a hen gets forced to crow like a rooster…”

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Note :

1. “LYB” is internet slang in Chinese (“老阴比”), short for someone who’s extremely scheming or sly. It’s untranslatable literally but works as “sneaky bastard” or “slimy schemer” in tone. ↩︎

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Chapter 43 – Awo awo awo… awo awo awo ah awo…

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If his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him—or if he wasn’t hallucinating—then Shao Zhan was fairly certain that before Yang Sa fell back into sleep, he licked his lips.

Shao Zhan’s mind felt like it had been struck by lightning.

In his daze, it was as if he heard three words tumble from Yang Sa’s lips—

“I’m sorry.”

Was it meant for him?

Or for someone in the dream?

Compared to the one who had fallen back asleep, Shao Zhan was anything but calm.

Everything came so gently, so suddenly—just like that drizzly midsummer night three years ago.

Shao Zhan tried to steady his breathing and reached for the phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the time: 3:45. With a flick of his thumb, he switched it to silent mode.

How was he supposed to sleep after this?

He gazed at the faint light creeping in through the window and gently pressed a hand to his pounding chest, holding on to the hope that, beyond the heavy veil of night, dawn would eventually come.

…

Once the initial panic had passed, Shao Zhan quietly watched the sleeping face beside him. He consciously slowed his breathing, doing his best not to disturb the other person.

But reality often doesn’t go according to plan. There’s nothing you can do when your household includes a chicken that’s been scared half the night and still insists on crowing—your chances of a peaceful morning are basically zero.

“Awo awo awo… awo awo awo ah awo…”

There had never been a day where Shao Zhan wanted to pluck that d*mn parrot and stew it more than now.

He wanted to jump out of bed and carry out his evil plan on the spot—but he was also reluctant to leave this sweet moment by his pillow.

Accompanying the crowing were hurried, frantic footsteps. Shao Zhan could practically picture Uncle Zhou chasing the chicken around, coaxing it like it was his own son.

Propping up his slightly stiff neck with one hand, he basked in this small, perfect moment. Then suddenly, a gurgle gurgle sound came from under the blanket.

Shao Zhan instinctively reached to cover his stomach—only to realize the sound wasn’t coming from him.

Amused in the soft morning light, Shao Zhan let out a silent laugh. As if in protest, the head beside him rubbed against the pillow a few times, the hair sticking up with static like a tiny porcupine.

He kept still, maintaining the same position as he listened to a string of relentless gurgle gurgle gurgle sounds in the air.

“This guy…” Shao Zhan couldn’t help thinking to himself, “…is he raising a cat in his stomach or something?”

After chuckling to himself for a while, he carefully climbed out of bed, moving as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the person still dreaming.

As much as he wanted to stay longer, he didn’t want this to turn into something awkward—he didn’t want the other person to bolt in embarrassment in the middle of the night. So he reined in his curiosity, even though deep down, he’d long been hoping for a day like this.

There was also another concern—he didn’t want anyone to see Yang Sa walking out of his room. He didn’t know exactly what the other man was planning, but he had a gut feeling this detour wouldn’t help.

Like a cat walking on velvet paws, he silently slipped out of the room. Just as he was carefully closing the door behind him—

BOOM!

A thunderous crash exploded behind him.

Qin Chuan, who had come to the kitchen for some brown sugar water to ease his stomach pain, stood frozen, red-eyed and hollow like a zombie. He looked down at the limited-edition astronaut mug he’d just knocked over and the red dates rolling away beside it.

Then he lunged for Shao Zhan’s neck like a corpse risen from the grave: “You heartless bast*rd! I stayed up all night worrying about your d*mn business, nearly turned into a dried-up corpse—and you’re in there playing house with your little secret lover?! Are you trying to kill me?! Huh?! Just say it—do you want me dead?! Say it! Do you—ugh… ugh… sob sob sob sob… sob sob sob sob sob…”

Shao Zhan, feeling guilty, was startled by the sudden outburst. He didn’t take the attempted choking seriously at all—instead, he hooked one arm around the hysterical person and quickly slapped a hand over his mouth.

Trying to calm the distressed Qin Chuan, Shao Zhan leaned in to whisper an explanation in his ear. Unfortunately, Qin Chuan—already sick and extra sensitive—panicked even more. Flushed and flailing, he cursed furiously, “Bast*rd! Don’t come any closer, you old pervert!”

And then—

Bang! Bang! Two dull thuds rang out.

Just as the third bang hit, the two of them turned their heads to see Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai enthusiastically introducing an iconic Chinese health drink—douzhi (fermented mung bean juice)—to an early-rising foreign guest.

Startled by what they saw, the pair dropped their cups in unison. From their perspective, it looked like Shao Zhan was crouching low, sweet-talking an angry little lover.

Seeing Qin Chuan’s furious (or flustered?) red face, even the worldly little foreigner couldn’t hide his shock. His douzhi hit the floor with a splat, and he gave a big thumbs up, genuinely impressed: “Your team… really knows how to play.”

Shao Zhan’s face darkened instantly. “It’s not what you think.”

Qin Chuan also waved his hands frantically. “My taste is not that low, okay?!”

“Then how do you explain the two of you,” Jiang Ranan pointed at them, “hugging like that?”

Shao Zhan and Qin Chuan instantly separated, as if electrocuted. Especially Qin Chuan—he raised his hand in a dramatic orchid gesture and began frantically brushing off his fuzzy bear-print pajamas like he’d touched something dirty.

Trying to ease the awkward tension, Jiang Ranan stiffly shifted topics, mechanically recommending youtiao and sweet bean buns to the guest.

Shao Zhan wanted to ask the foreigner if he knew what Yang Sa liked to eat for breakfast, but he didn’t want to come off as too obvious. While he was still figuring out how to phrase it, a blood-curdling scream tore through the base—

“AAAAAAHHHH… AAAAAHHHHHHH! SOMEONE HELP! EMERGENCY! SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAS HAPPENED! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH—”

Everyone followed the sound and rushed into Tangyuan’s room, only to see the chubby guy lying flat on the bed, screaming with his front teeth practically rattling loose.

He was staring in horror at someone clinging to his waist.

Disturbed by the yelling, the blue-fat blob slowly woke up—only to find himself face-to-face, at dangerously close range, with the yellow-fat blob beneath him.

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Chapter 42 – Just Today

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Along the path beside the greenbelt, a dark figure staggered past, struggling with heavy items.

Shao Zhan quickly stepped forward, squinting to make out the person. “Uncle Zhou?” he said as he reached out to take the load from the old man.

“Xiao Zhan, why aren’t you resting?” Uncle Zhou moved aside, protesting, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

Shao Zhan took the bucket from his hands and carried it to the doorway. A long-handled brush was leaning against the automatic sliding door.

It looked like the place had already been rinsed twice. Shao Zhan poured the bucket of water onto the dark pavement and grabbed the brush beside it.

“Xiao Zhan, you don’t need to be doing this,” Uncle Zhou said, having just locked up the troublemaking parrot in the security office. When he saw Shao Zhan scrubbing the ground, he rushed to find someone else for the job.

“You definitely don’t need to either. I already said, once Fatty wakes up, he should clean it up himself,” Shao Zhan replied, not stopping what he was doing.

“Little Fatty didn’t do it on purpose,” Uncle Zhou said, rubbing his hands. “Besides, you guys are competitors—how can you be doing this kind of thing?”

“Don’t spoil him. Once they leave the club, they’ll turn into helpless babies.”

Uncle Zhou chuckled. He had no family of his own and truly treated the kids at the training base like his own grandchildren. Just an old night watchman without relatives, he considered it a blessing earned over lifetimes that the kids liked talking to him and called him Uncle.

“Also, you shouldn’t be sleeping here anymore,” Shao Zhan said, pointing at the security booth. “Our new security system is fully upgraded. At night, just go sleep in the dorms—there’s someone monitoring the surveillance room.”

“How could I dare? This is night watch work—I’m doing my job.” Uncle Zhou patted off the dust he got while carrying the bucket. “The pay here isn’t low, either. The old pals I used to work with are all super envious.”

Hearing that, Shao Zhan didn’t argue further. “Sorry for the trouble tonight. I’ll make sure Fatty apologizes to you later.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Uncle Zhou waved it off. “Forget the kid—I’m totally fine. Just got startled by the parrot, that’s all.”

As if it had heard its name, the parrot on the counter jumped up and tapped its beak against the window glass.

“Alright then, we’ll have him apologize to the parrot too,” Shao Zhan said, tapping his knuckle on the glass in response. As if it had backup now, the parrot spread its claws and began running around inside the room with a clack-clack sound.

Uncle Zhou sat down on the steps and lit a cigarette, tilting his head away to avoid blowing smoke in Shao Zhan’s direction. “Hey… that good-looking young man—is he the same one you were looking for a few years back?”

Back when Uncle Zhou had just started, the security guard on duty had taken leave. Not yet familiar with the modern equipment, Uncle Zhou stayed up all night with him going through surveillance footage.

“You still remember that?” Shao Zhan nodded. “It was him.”

He set the brush down against the wall and sat on the steps as well. For some reason, he repeated himself, “It was him.”

After that, neither of them spoke. Only when Uncle Zhou was about to finish his cigarette did he stub it out and ask, “So that young man… how long is he staying this time?”

Shao Zhan lifted his chin, replying in his usual calm tone, “Just today.”

Soft footsteps echoed up the staircase in the middle of the night.

Yang Sa was still just as he’d been before he left—half-reclining on the sofa, fast asleep, unaware that someone had come and gone again.

In his ears, the words Uncle Zhou had said as he walked away with the brush lingered: “That’s a good young man. That kid… he carries sorrow in his heart…”

Three years ago, they had missed their chance.

He didn’t know if this time, there would be an opportunity to hear the kind of stories one can’t share with outsiders—what’s hidden deep in someone’s heart.

Shao Zhan didn’t dare stay longer. Under the cover of night, he quietly returned to his room.

He didn’t fall into a deep sleep. Lying on his side, he listened to the night’s sounds.

Not long after, soft, uneven footsteps came from the stairwell—light, but with the clumsy boldness unique to someone still half-asleep.

Pretending to be asleep, he calculated the stride.

The sound of a door opening next door never came.

Instead, the footsteps stopped right at his door.

Shao Zhan stared in alarm as the door was pushed open.

A figure backlit by the hallway lights slowly stepped inside…

…

That night, it wasn’t just people getting startled.

Even the club’s pet chicken was scared half to death.

It hadn’t crowed in a while, but for some reason—some crossed wire in its brain, perhaps—it suddenly opened its beak and let out a call: “Awk… awk.”

The sound was clear but still unsteady—like a young rooster learning how to crow for the first time.

Woken by the hoarse noise, Yang Sa tossed off the blanket and sat up from the sofa. The alcohol still in his system left his mind foggy.

Relying on vague fragments of memory, he stumbled to the dark-colored door and pushed it open.

Still half-asleep, Shao Zhan frowned and sat up, glaring at the clumsy intruder.

Fat Tangyuan had stumbled into his room at night in a daze before, and each time, he’d been kicked out by a swift boot to the rear.

He was just about to explode again—

When suddenly, he realized the backlit figure was shockingly thin.

Narrow eyelids half-closed, lips tightly pressed together, hair that usually had a bit of flair now clung to pale cheeks, making his skin look even whiter than usual.

When he saw the other person stumble and bump into the corner of the bed, Shao Zhan—who had propped himself up on his elbow—quickly lay back down. A barely audible curse floated through the air.

Yang Sa, wincing from the pain, scrunched the skin on his nose, then turned over and collapsed onto the bed, grabbing the blanket and wrapping himself up tightly.

Feeling the mattress beside him dip slightly, Shao Zhan parted his lips and let out a silent smile.

As if sensing his good mood, the person next to him shifted like a small animal, burrowing slightly and exhaling a long, contented breath through his nose.

Moments later, the peaceful breathing suddenly caught. Across from him, a pair of eyelids lifted just slightly. In the dim light, a pair of pale glass-colored eyes gleamed with a moist, watery sheen.

Shao Zhan’s heart thundered. He was just about to explain that he meant no harm when a soft laugh escaped those thin lips. Yang Sa’s expression was full of gentle tenderness as he murmured a self-deprecating question:

“Is this a dream?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, then reached out and lightly tapped Shao Zhan’s forehead with a fingertip. The cool touch slowly trailed down the bridge of his nose, paused briefly at his philtrum, hovered a moment over the curve of his lips, and finally rested long at his chin.

Shao Zhan lowered his gaze and didn’t dare move a muscle, afraid any motion would wake the dream-talking person. The only giveaway to his nerves was the movement of his throat as he swallowed.

Yang Sa’s fingers seemed to sense the subtle emotion in the air. His lips curled gradually into a smile, and after a small tilt of his head, he suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

In that instant, the boundary between dream and reality blurred. Their lips met—light as a dragonfly skimming water, yet somehow deeper than that.

In over twenty years of life, Shao Zhan had never imagined a moment like this.

No—he had never dared to imagine it.

Three years ago, when the other person left without a word, he had prepared himself for a lifetime of separation.

He never thought there would be a moment like this—something so dreamlike it felt unreal.

The person he had long dreamed of was right in front of him. He wanted to respond—but didn’t dare to.

Just as he hesitated, Yang Sa tilted his head and fell against the pillow beside his temple, murmuring, “This dream… smells so good…”

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Chapter 41 – Not Someone to Mess With

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Late at night, another sleepless figure slipped on a jacket and quietly stepped out of his room.

As Shao Zhan passed by Yang Sa’s door, he noticed it was slightly ajar. He reached out, intending to pull it shut for him, but hesitated at the handle. Then, awkwardly retracting his hand, he stuffed it back into his pocket and continued walking.

The sight of a figure sleeping in the lounge area gave him a solid scare—he thought some youth trainee had snuck upstairs for midnight snacks. He was just about to scold them back to bed when Yang Sa’s sleeping face entered his view, completely unguarded.

His semi-long black hair made his already pale skin glow softly. Half his face was tucked into the shadows, stripped of its usual sharp coldness and aloofness from the day. In its place was a lazy tranquility only deep sleep could bring.

Shao Zhan opened a side cabinet drawer and pulled out a strawberry-printed blanket—Fat Tangyuan’s treasured secret stash—and gently draped it over Yang Sa.

In that moment, an overwhelming drowsiness suddenly swept through him. Almost like he was possessed, Shao Zhan sat down on the other side of the couch.

By the time he realized what he was doing, Yang Sa’s head had already started to tilt, little by little, until it came to rest on his shoulder.

Qin Chuan, who had gotten up for the bathroom with a stomachache, nearly screamed when he was scared half to death by the “ghost” in the tea room. Just as he was about to wake everyone to come ghost-hunting, Shao Zhan waved at him with a familiar gesture, stopping him in his tracks.

The scream caught in Qin Chuan’s throat, his face flushing red as he pointed frantically at the two heads leaning together on the sofa.

Silently mouthing “What is going on?”, his expression went full over-the-top—so much so it rivaled the wild facial contortions of Masato Sakai in Legal High. Every frame was meme-worthy.

“Oh my god—what. is. going. on?” Qin Chuan, dressed in teddy bear pajamas, threw an exaggerated silent tantrum, waving his hands wildly to vent his inner chaos.

Shao Zhan just shrugged, signaling he had no idea either. That only made Qin Chuan’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he spun in place—unclear whether he was trying to gather his scattered limbs or his sanity.

Shao Zhan finally stopped teasing. He carefully eased Yang Sa’s head off his shoulder and replaced it with a throw pillow. After confirming he hadn’t disturbed him, he circled around from the back of the sofa and approached the fuming Qin Chuan, guiding him to the stairwell.

There, he briefly explained what had happened with the LAP team.

“This is outrageous! I’m the team manager—you bring someone back and I’m the last to know?” Qin Chuan puffed up, hopping in place twice. “Unbelievable…”

The tall Shao Zhan reached out and placed a hand on Qin Chuan’s head. The 170-something cm Qin Chuan looked like a furious little winter melon getting choked by fate. He flailed his arms and legs angrily, smacking at destiny.

“H-he-he—he’s not someone you mess with,” Qin Chuan stammered. “He vanished for no reason three years ago, and now suddenly reappears, stirring up chaos in the league. And you—you’re getting cozy with him?”

Shao Zhan looked down at him and calmly asked, “So what you’re saying is… I am someone you can mess with?”

Qin Chuan swallowed hard, punching the air between them with his fists. “You bast*rd—are you trying to piss me to death?!”

Shao Zhan sighed and ignored the short arms that couldn’t reach him anyway. He patted Qin Chuan’s head with his palm. “There’s already enough going on with the team. As for me and him—you don’t need to get involved.”

Hearing that, Qin Chuan flapped his short arms like a parrot. “How can I not get involved?! You’re my money tree!”

“Do you have to be so blunt?” The real-life money tree Shao Zhan retracted his hand and let Qin Chuan explode in front of him.

Qin Chuan was great in every way—skilled at his job, upright in character, unshaken in the face of serious matters. As for the small stuff… he was like a fluffed-up chicken, chirping non-stop.

Before heading downstairs, Shao Zhan kindly reminded him why he got up in the first place.

Qin Chuan had originally planned to go to the bathroom, but after that whole exchange, he focused his breath into his core and tried to sense it. “Sh*t, I got so mad I don’t even need to go anymore.” Gripping the stair rail, he chased after Shao Zhan’s retreating figure. “Where are you going?”

“Out for some air,” Shao Zhan said, waving a hand without turning around.

“Yeah, go on—why not blow yourself away while you’re at it,” Qin Chuan grumbled, angrily stomping back toward his room in his fuzzy bear paw slippers.

As he passed the sofa and caught sight of the sleeping figure, his doll-like face scrunched up in frustration. “That bast*rd… rotten old beast. Never acts like a human. Why is my life so d*mn hard…”

---

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Chapter 40 – Stuff Them in the Trunk?

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Afterwards, the LAP team members watched in shock as, under Shao Zhan’s command, Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan dragged Fat Tangyuan and Little Blue by their necks and ankles. With the help of a taxi driver, they were trying to cram the two into the back seat.

Normally, stuffing a drunk Tangyuan into the back seat involved three steps:

1. Open the car door.
2. Toss the person in.
3. Close the door.

It was a bit of a struggle, but at least manageable. But now, with the two of them hugging each other, the difficulty had multiplied several times over.

Sweating from the effort, Shao Zhan stood with his hands on his hips and called to the driver—

“Pop the trunk. We’ll shove them in there.”

In the dark, the taxi driver looked horrified. “Hey… I’m a legit cab, not some shady operation.”

After finally managing to push the human dumplings into the car, Shao Zhan leaned on the roof and politely asked the LAP members for their opinion. It was a ten-minute drive to the base—should they all go together for now, or just package up the Smurfs and deliver them tomorrow?

Little Black and Little White raised their hands, saying they couldn’t leave their brothers stranded in an unfamiliar place. Frustrated, Yang Sa had no choice but to hop into another cab they’d flagged down from across the street.

Naturally, getting them in was hard—getting them out was even harder.

Zhuang Bai, White, and Black pulled from one end, while Shao Zhan and Jiang Ranan pushed from the other. After a long struggle with no progress, an exasperated Shao Zhan kicked Tangyuan’s pudgy back, and the others finally managed to drag them out.

The taxi driver, shocked by the whole ordeal, hit the gas and sped off into the night.

Uncle Zhou, the gatekeeper, jogged over and stared at the two collapsed figures on the ground. “What happened to them?”

“Nothing serious. They’re just overheated,” Shao Zhan said. “Let them cool off on the ground for a bit.”

“They’ll catch a cold like that,” Uncle Zhou said, concern etched on his face as he started to help them up, wrapped in his coat. But Shao Zhan stopped him.

“You go rest, Uncle. I’ll call a few youth trainees to carry them in later.”

Maybe it was all the bumping around, but drunk Tangyuan squinted his eyes open and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth as he stared at the Xinghai team’s emblem at the entrance. “We made it to the base?”

The next second, his chubby hands grabbed Little Blue’s shoulders and began shaking him like crazy. “Brother, wake up! I’m giving you a grand tour of my house!”

Little Blue opened his eyes in a daze. “Uurgh…”

Shao Zhan swallowed his rising anger and led the LAP members into the base. Since Fat Tangyuan was awake now and they were at their own doorstep, there probably wouldn’t be any more trouble. Once he sobered up tomorrow, Shao Zhan would just make him mop the floors as punishment.

As for Little Blue, the teammates who came with him seemed like they didn’t really want to take him back anymore.

Before Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan could go help, Fat Tangyuan was already dragging his rainbow-colored friend, staggering side to side as he charged toward the base like an under-evolved gorilla.

The moment they stepped through the base gates, everyone froze, stunned by the scene before them.

The earlier commotion had awakened the base’s only pet—a myna bird that had always believed itself to be a rooster. It was now flapping around the base in a panic.

Meanwhile, the drunken duo of Fat Tangyuan and Little Blue were leaping around like lunatics, chasing the terrified bird into a frenzy. Red-brown feathers flew everywhere as chaos erupted…

The poor, outnumbered bird was no match for four drunken hands.

Worried Uncle Zhou would be heartbroken, Shao Zhan rushed in to rescue the myna, which the old man treated like family. But no one expected that the drunken fat guy had somehow found superhuman strength—he had the bird locked tightly under him like his life depended on it.

No one dared to use brute force for fear of hurting the bird. Uncle Zhou was clearly distressed, but he couldn’t scold a drunk kid too harshly. All he could do was crouch nearby, gently coaxing the bird he’d raised by hand since it was a chick.

“There, there, don’t be scared. Your chubby big brother doesn’t mean any harm.”

To be fair, Fat Tangyuan truly didn’t mean any harm. He was just wasted and in full-on drunk madness mode, trying to make the bird his sworn brother.

On the other side, Little Blue couldn’t tell the difference between bird and person anymore. Slurring his words, he shouted that they had to “swear brotherhood to the heavens,” and somehow managed to pull a cigarette from Yang Sa’s pocket with nimble fingers.

That fired up Fat Tangyuan even more. With three cigarettes pinched between his fingers, his eyes full of drunken passion, he clutched the motionless bird tightly under his arm and suddenly bellowed:
“Let heaven and earth bear witness—today, the three of us… shall become sworn… sworn… sworn brothers!”

Little Blue sat up with a dramatic kip-up, held down the heads of both Fat Tangyuan and the bird, and shouted in a clumsy northeastern accent: “First… first bow to heaven and earth! Second… second bow to, to, to…”

“To parents,” Little Black chimed in helpfully, standing in a perfect T-pose with his hands clasped solemnly in front of him. When everyone stared at him in shock, he explained calmly, “There’s no reasoning with drunk people. Logic doesn’t apply.”

And he was right—until the whole ceremony was completed, no one was getting any peace.

So when Little Blue shouted, “Thir… third… husband and wife…”, Little White fearlessly stepped forward and declared, “Spouses bow to each other.”

The rest of the group wore expressions of grim determination. Zhuang Bai and Jiang Ranan stepped up and, bracing themselves, added, “Escort to the bridal chamber…”

The poor, helpless myna bird, teary-eyed and with feathers half-yanked out, was repeatedly forced to bow by the neck like a scrawny, molting chicken.

Shao Zhan, who hadn’t said a word until now, had a vein bulging on his forehead. He finally couldn’t take it anymore and gave the chubby drunk a solid kick. “Enough! If you’ve messed around enough, go to bed.”

The fat one yelped in pain and clutched his backside, while the traumatized bird flapped its wings and flew straight into Uncle Zhou’s arms for comfort.

After all that commotion and a well-deserved kick, Fat Tangyuan sobered up halfway—but not completely. Still holding his butt, he wobbled to his feet, wrapped an arm around his blue buddy, and went off to sleep. No one could persuade him otherwise.

The others didn’t bother trying anymore either, afraid the madness might rub off on them.

Still, with the fat guy dragging someone off to sleep, it saved them some trouble. The entire third floor was already full. Several rooms had been converted for Team One into a gym, a home theater, and a study—though no one really used them. Coach Lao Du mostly used the space as his personal training room.

There were two empty rooms on the third floor reserved for backup players. They were currently unoccupied, with fresh sheets on the beds—perfect for housing guests.

There was also one more room, kept for Lao Du’s six-year-old son. The kid was adorable—soft-skinned and charming—and whenever he didn’t have classes during the holidays, he always found ways to sneak into the base to hang out with the big brothers.

Shao Zhan was especially fond of the kid. Since Coach Du spent most of his time rooted in the team and rarely got to be with his family, Shao Zhan had simply allocated the room for the boy to stay in when he visited. The kid was thrilled and had filled the room with all sorts of toys. It just happened to be available now. Shao Zhan made a mental note to apologize to little Du next time he came.

Little Black and Little White were guided by Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai to the two spare rooms for alternates. Shao Zhan personally led Yang Sa to the children’s room, which had Transformers posters on the walls and cabinets full of model planes and toy cannons.

“The coach’s son stays here sometimes. The linens are freshly changed, and this is the cleanest room—our housekeeper keeps it spotless,” he explained.

After making arrangements, Shao Zhan returned to his own room and lay down without even changing clothes. Only then did he realize he’d forgotten to say something.

Staring at the soft white light fixture on the ceiling, Shao Zhan softly whispered: “Good night.”

Yang Sa pulled his gaze away from the ceiling and rolled over in bed, locking eyes with a figurine of Zoro from One Piece, swords slung over his shoulders.

“What are you looking at…” he muttered.

Suddenly, he felt something poking him from underneath. Reaching down, he fished out a clear, rubbery bouncy ball from under the sheets. Inside it was a tiny orange-yellow dinosaur, flailing its limbs in a dramatic pose.

Way past the age of playing with bouncy balls, Yang Sa casually tossed it away.

The round little ball bounced twice across the floor, rolled along a floorboard gap toward the door, wobbled a bit, then finally came to a stop.

At the time, Yang Sa had no idea that this careless little gesture would soon cause him a world of trouble.

Normally, Yang Sa had a strict diet. Food, to him, was nothing more than fuel—no likes or dislikes involved. Or rather, he didn’t have the energy to think about what he liked.

But the night before, with two back-to-back gatherings and a genuinely warm and cheerful atmosphere, he’d ended up eating a bit more than usual.

In the middle of the night, he got up in the dark to use the bathroom. The door creaked loudly when he opened it, but he paid it no mind.

On his way back, he discovered the true power of the bouncy ball.

No matter how hard he pushed, the door refused to budge—like a stone beast guarding a temple. He crouched down, peering through the thin sliver of light under the door, and saw the now-flattened orange dinosaur wedged right in the gap, mocking him from a distance with silent, gleeful contempt.

He gave the door another couple of shoves. All he got in return was the grating sound of the rubber ball being crushed between the door and the floor—no movement at all.

Technically, he could have forced it open with brute strength. But he was just a guest here. Getting the door stuck like this was embarrassing enough; breaking it down in the middle of the night was just not something he could bring himself to do.

Yang Sa thought about just crashing in a friend’s room for the night. He texted them, but no one replied. When they split up earlier to assign rooms, no one expected him to get locked out, so now he couldn’t even tell which rooms belonged to his teammates and which to the Xinghai team. He couldn’t exactly go around knocking on every door like some late-night creep.

He stepped back from the door where that smug rubber dinosaur had trapped him, and his eyes drifted to the room next door.

That was the Xinghai captain’s room. He had known that from the start. Three years ago, he had once…

His hand still seemed to tremble faintly at the memory of pushing open that door. He coughed once, pressing a fist to his lips, trying to steady his racing heart.

He wandered over to the lounge area near the stairs. Next to the warmly lit designer couch, a person-tall shelving unit was packed with green plants. He’d been to teams all over the country and abroad, but none of them had this many potted plants combined.

The most eye-catching part was the full row of vending machines lined up along the wall behind the couch. Snacks, drinks, instant meals—everything you could think of. In the dark, the machines glowed with a sinful, irresistible allure.

And yet, to his speechless astonishment, every single vending machine had a shiny QR code stuck to the top right corner.

This is… way too stingy.

Such a big team, and with any random sponsorship they must be pulling in tens of millions—how could they still charge for a bag of chips?

Sure enough, capitalists are all the same kind of greedy, even if that capitalist is Shao Zhan.

At that thought, the cold figure that had been etched into Yang Sa’s heart for years suddenly felt a little more human, touched by the mundane warmth of everyday life. Unconsciously, he actually smiled.

When he realized he was smiling, he quickly reached up to press the corner of his mouth and wiped the smile away.

Expression going cold again, he circled around the couch and let himself fall back onto it, staring up at the ceiling.

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Chapter 39 – Do You Guys Still Want This Fatty?

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It was unclear whether Little Blue actually understood or was just playing along. Either way, he was happily slurping the juices from the grilled eggplant stuffing, then stretched out his arms and made a massive, bright blue heart gesture.

Back at base, training days were hectic and strict—it was rare to get a night like this to unwind. Shao Zhan pretended not to notice, turning a blind eye to the chaos. Sitting next to the overly theatrical Tangyuan, he sipped his cola slowly and calmly. Every now and then, he’d chime in to remind someone about their dangerously high cholesterol intake and that they really should tone it down.

Over at an angle, Yang Sa sat quietly. He occasionally sampled a veggie skewer, but most of the time he was helping their foreign friends understand the dishes or translating whatever slang Tangyuan had just yelled across the table.

He didn’t like meat, preferred lighter, cleaner flavors.

Shao Zhan, saying nothing, silently memorized everything Yang Sa had eaten that night—every single dish.

The energy at the table showed no signs of slowing down, and with the sheer amount of food, they wouldn’t be finishing anytime soon. Shao Zhan got up to borrow a charging cable from the restaurant, plugging in his phone while dialing Coach Lao Du.

The moment the call connected, Yang Sa, amid the noise and bustle, turned around as if sensing something. He silently watched the figure bent over in the crowd, speaking quietly on the phone.

The faint, cool light landed on those slim, broad shoulders, outlining a striking silhouette.

Yang Sa grabbed a bottle of Coke and poured himself a glass, drinking quietly. This startled Little Black, who was busy skewering meat. “Wait, I thought you don’t drink soda?”

At that moment, Little White, who had been brushing up on idioms at the dinner table, punched him in the stomach. “Shh.”

“Shh what? Why’d you hit me?” Little Black growled, biting his skewer indignantly. “Sa…”

Little White quickly dragged the grumbling black-haired boy back. “I don’t know this one. Help me.”

He shoved his phone in Little Blac’s face—an idiom-matching game on the screen. In an instant, Little Black was drowned in a sea of knowledge.

Meanwhile, Yang Sa remained completely unaware of the commotion between his friends. His attention stayed fixed in one direction.

Shao Zhan, already delicate-featured, had a soft flush blooming on his cheeks from the heat of the grill. Standing next to the burly restaurant owner, he looked even more striking.

At that moment, his side profile as he spoke on the phone resembled a tall, slender bamboo in a dense grove—graceful, upright, and quietly composed.

Responding half-heartedly to Coach Lao Du’s nagging, Shao Zhan’s eyes wandered until they met a gaze reflected faintly in the glass—Yang Sa’s. He looked back, eyes steady, but the watchful gaze had already vanished.

He let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle, rubbed the spot between his brows, and sighed, “Barely in my twenties, and my eyes are already going bad.”

What he didn’t know was that this fleeting, self-mocking smile had already been silently caught and tucked away by someone else’s gaze.

At the table, Tangyuan, now completely unleashed without his “boss” reining him in, had taken his antics to another level. He sneakily asked the restaurant auntie for two pitchers of beer and, like a thief, poured them into already emptied soda cans. Alert and mischievous, he kept watch in all directions, begged the waitress to block the view of his misdeeds, and carefully sipped the overflowing foam from the rim.

Watching him, Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai couldn’t help but shake their heads. Clearly, this guy had absolutely no self-awareness about his weight.

Wearing a floral apron, the part-time waiter fidgeted awkwardly with the nametag on his uniform, clearly unsure of what to do as he stood there.

But honestly, there wasn’t much he could block. Most of Tangyuan’s body was still exposed, leaning out and whispering with his colorfully dressed friends across the table. Anyone could tell at a glance—they were up to no good.

To be fair, if he hadn’t drawn attention by asking someone to cover for him, it wouldn’t have been so obvious.

By the time Shao Zhan returned, Old Tangyuan had already switched to a Turpan accent, with two fake mustaches drawn on his face using charcoal. “Come on, take a look! Authentic Xinjiang lamb skewers! Fresh lamb skewers right here…!”

Shao Zhan approached with an amused look, giving him plenty of space to finish his performance. Finally, he slung one long arm over Tangyuan’s neck and asked in a low voice, “How’s the draft beer?”

The fat on Tangyuan’s cheeks visibly trembled. Cold sweat practically started dripping down his face.

Shao Zhan patted the top of his head and said, “Don’t let it happen again,” before taking a seat beside Jiang Ranan. Just before sitting, he slipped something into the barbecue chef’s pocket.

Tangyuan clutched the small bag of fresh milk with tears streaming down his face. “Captain, I knew you loved me. I’m taking this milk home and putting it on the altar. My family will pass it down for generations…”

Shao Zhan shoved the guy away before he could throw himself into a hug.

“Get lost,” he said, eyes drifting to a quiet corner.

Yang Sa suddenly found the can of Coke next to him incredibly annoying. He grabbed it and took a swig—only to find it was the “drink” Tangyuan had secretly prepared for Litlle Blue.

Caught off guard, he started coughing violently.

Little Blue and the others were too focused on learning Tangyuan’s new party trick—something about “bees buzzing through flower fields”—to notice anything wrong.

Still coughing, Yang Sa felt a warm palm gently press against his back, and a mint-scented tissue was offered to him.

He hesitated for a brief moment, then took it and pressed it to his chin.

After confirming he was okay, Shao Zhan returned to his seat, chatting and laughing with the people around him.

Yang Sa kept the tissue clutched in his palm and turned his head to look at the scenery outside the restaurant door.

But his face flushed uncontrollably—whether it was from the alcohol or something else, he didn’t know.

When someone suggested heading to a second venue, the proposal was almost unanimously shot down. Tangyuan, drowning his sorrows in booze, ended up drinking himself completely under the table.

At 2:30 a.m., distant lights dimmed, and the whole street seemed to have fallen into slumber. Behind them came the sound of the restaurant owner yawning, locking up for the night.

The players of Xinghai and LAP stood silently in the cold night wind, on a nearly deserted street.

They watched as, sprawled on the brick-red pavement, two hopelessly drunk figures—clinging to each other like octopuses—shouted things like “brothers forever” and “never parting,” completely wasted beyond saving.

With a face like thunder, Shao Zhan pointed a trembling finger at the belly-up, snoring Tangyuan.

“This thing. We leave it here. Any objections?”

The Xinghai players, standing in a neat line, all shook their heads in perfect unison. From a distance, they looked like a row of alert meerkats.

When Shao Zhan’s finger moved toward the blue-clad little guy tangled up with Fat Tangyuan, the rest of LAP didn’t hesitate for a second—

“No problem at all.”

“Both hands raised in favor!”

Little White and Little Black added, “If both hands aren’t enough, we can raise our feet too.”

Yang Sa stood a little farther away, smoking a cigarette. He couldn’t even be bothered to glance at the mess on the ground.

“Alright,” Shao Zhan clapped his hands. “Unanimous vote. Let’s go home.”

Their tall silhouettes strolled down the street, the sound of their footsteps overlapping and gradually fading into the distance.

Just a few hours ago, these two teams were at each other’s throats. Now, they’d reached an unprecedented level of agreement.

…

At the small table in a 24-hour convenience store meant for customers to eat at, Jiang Ranan blew on the hot steam rising from his mushroom soup and cautiously glanced at the person next to him.

“Um… Is it really okay to just leave him there like that?”

“What’s the problem?” Zhuang Bai asked, not understanding the concern.

“Well…” Jiang Ranan looked uneasy. “Doesn’t that count as abandonment?”

“Relax,” Shao Zhan peeled a soft-boiled egg and dropped it into his bowl. “Letting tr*sh stay where it belongs—what’s wrong with that?”

“I guess…” Jiang Ranan mumbled as he munched on the egg. “But the ground’s so hard… What if he gets hurt?”

“Don’t worry,” Zhuang Bai reassured him. “With that kind of physique, if anything’s in danger, it’s the people around him.”

“But even if he is a pile of harmless tr*sh,” Jiang Ranan said with a tearful tone, “it still feels wrong to just leave him there…”

Shao Zhan slapped his forehead—he’d left in such a rush that he forgot to sort the garbage.

“And, and,” Jiang Ranan seized on his breakthrough, speaking quickly, “the sanitation worker grandpa is probably starting his shift soon. If he gets scared… that wouldn’t be good!”

Shao Zhan, arms folded, nodded in agreement. “True. No way the sanitation grandpa’s truck is big enough to carry that much tr*sh.”

So, the whole group marched back down the road, seriously debating how that thing should be sorted: dry waste or wet waste? Toss the whole thing, or chop it up first?

Sure enough, when they got back to BBQ Street, the sanitation grandpa was standing in front of two mysterious creatures on the ground, hesitating—unsure whether to call the police or an ambulance.

Upon seeing the unconscious fat guy wearing the same team uniform as the others, the sanitation grandpa quickly handed the person over and ran off in a flash, as if afraid they’d change their minds and give the problem back.

Shao Zhan crouched down, trying to establish some kind of effective communication with the drunken corpse of a man, when Jiang Ranan suddenly felt someone watching him.

To be exact, ever since they left the convenience store, he’d felt an unusual gaze fixed on him.

Still hugging the cup of instant mushroom soup the convenience store clerk had helped prepare, Jiang Ranan turned his head—only to catch Yang Sa staring at him.

That gaze was as cold as always. In the darkness, there was something else flickering within it—something difficult to name, like… resentment?

Jiang Ranan licked his lips and looked himself over. His uniform was fine, and nothing he said or did should’ve been offensive. He did his best to smile politely.

But it was like kicking a steel wall—no response at all.

Yang Sa remained as distant and aloof as ever, keeping up his “do not approach” aura. Only now, his expression seemed even colder than it had been during the day.

Jiang Ranan, who had the worst dynamic vision on the team, squinted through the darkness and studied the situation seriously. He finally realized—the other guy seemed to be staring at what was in his hand.

Ever the honest and well-behaved youngest member of Team Xinghai, Jiang Ranan extended his arm and offered the soft-boiled egg—still marked with teeth imprints—to Yang Sa.

“Want a bite?”

Yang Sa, hearing the innocent-sounding “Want a bite, want a bite, want a bite…” echoing in his ears, felt an overwhelming urge to wipe that pure and naive smile off the boy’s face with his own hands.

To stop himself from actually doing it, he let out a cold snort and turned away.

And so, in the midnight chill, there stood a thoroughly disoriented Jiang Ranan… and a thoroughly disoriented soft-boiled egg…

Meanwhile, Shao Zhan was patting the chubby, squishy face of Tangyuan with growing impatience. “Tangyuan Yuan…” he called, trying to rouse him. His patience was wearing thin. He pinched the philtrum, rubbed the cheeks, squeezed the nose…

As a result, the fat Tangyuan showed no signs of waking up, but hummed twice as if he was very happy, and hugged his good brother tighter.

Little Black took a moment to slap the blue guy’s face twice—also with no results. “What do we do now?” he asked, his dark-skinned face full of gloom, nearly blending into the night.

“No worries. Dealing with drunks…” Shao Zhan patted him on the shoulder and stood up, his tone oddly upbeat, “…we’re professionals at this.”

Then he glanced down at the blue fat lump tangled with Tangyuan and added,

“But… do you guys still want this one?”

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Chapter 38 – Blushing Cheeks Beneath the Rising Fireworks

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Jiang Ranan, startled, jumped up and clamped a hand over Tangyuan’s mouth. He and Zhuang Bai worked together to drag Tangyuan out of the danger zone where his life could very well be at risk.

Only the little Avatar, who was utterly fascinated by Chinese culture, remained behind. He affectionately took Yang Sa and Captain Xinghai’s hands, clasping all three palms together. “Bow to Heaven and Earth—first bow to Heaven and Earth, second bow to the high… high… high…” he chanted, waving to his bros behind him to join in. But his friends, who had slightly better Chinese skills, swiftly knocked him down and carried him off.

Little Blue, dragged off like a sack of potatoes, flailed his four limbs in the air and struggled hard, cluelessly calling out to his distant friend for help: “Sa, save me—save me, Sa…”

Just moments ago, Little Blue had shouted out “Bow to Heaven and Earth!” with such force from his diaphragm that it shocked the entire room.

At the time, Yang Sa had wanted to take off his socks and stuff them in his mouth. Now, he pretended not to hear the cries for help.

As he retracted his hand, he casually said, “Sorry, my friend’s Chinese isn’t very good.” His tone was relaxed, his face carefully composed to look unconcerned.

Still in his team uniform, Shao Zhan withdrew the hand he had just shaken and quietly clenched it into a fist in his pocket. “It’s fine,” he said. “Your friend’s Chinese is… quite good.”

The celebration banquet wrapped up early. Given how the match had gone, no one really had the mood to continue.

The out-of-town teams had to catch flights. After exchanging contact info with the Jiangling team, they left the hotel early.

Team Xinghai stayed until the end. Part of it was out of respect for their brother team; the other part was that chubby Tangyuan and his newly acknowledged bro, Little Blue, had really hit it off. The two round heads were huddled together, chatting non-stop—it looked like they might kiss from a distance.

There was nothing to be done. The LAP team hung around awkwardly nearby, doing four rounds of radio calisthenics out of sheer boredom.

Jiang Ranan, who loved sweets, had tried every single cake. He tugged on Zhuang Bai and muttered, “When’s this gonna end? If I eat any more, I’m gonna throw up.”

As if hearing his thoughts, Tangyuan came strolling over with his arm around his new brother blue’s shoulder, all fired up. “The food here’s cold—let’s go get some barbecue!” he announced. Then he pulled out his phone to comfort Qin Chuan, who’d left early due to a stomachache, telling him to rest well at the base. While he was at it, he even requested leave for the entire team.

Shao Zhan had just finished talking with the Silver Emperor’s team manager. As he walked out of the hotel, he saw Fat Tangyuan hugging his new brother and enthusiastically calling him to get in the car.

Shao Zhan glanced at the people already packed inside. “You know how to count? One more person and it’ll be overloaded.” He tossed out, “I’ll take a cab,” shut the car door, and tapped the window to signal the driver to go.

After all that, he flagged down a taxi, opened the door, and stood there waiting for someone nearby who was still on the phone.

Yang Sa noticed and hung up, strolling over with a shake of his hand, signaling that he had no intention of tagging along for more fun.

Shao Zhan didn’t say much—just nodded slightly and bent down to get into the cab.

Yang Sa turned to leave but was stopped by a voice from behind.

“If your friend gets too drunk, where should I drop him off?”

Turning back, Yang Sa saw Shao Zhan leaning out of the car window. His chestnut-colored eyes gleamed under the streetlight, bright and mischievous.

“Their Chinese,” the man in the car added, sounding a little troubled, “doesn’t seem all that… fluent.”

Who was the one praising their Chinese at the banquet again?

He didn’t look like the type to play dumb—but he clearly was.

Yang Sa couldn’t be bothered to argue. Faced with the choice of giving him the address of the rental villa or going along himself to babysit a few troublesome guys, he picked the latter.

He gave a brief explanation over the phone, then opened the door and got into the front passenger seat.

After giving the address of the barbecue place, Shao Zhan asked while Yang Sa was fastening his seatbelt, “Anyone waiting at home?” He’d overheard Yang Sa on the phone saying he’d be back late.

The fingers pressing down on the buckle instinctively moved to shake their head—but then paused. The person on the phone had been Max, asking them to bring back some late-night snacks. Since the team acquisition was still under wraps, Max hadn’t been showing up at LAP events.

Yang Sa’s movements froze for a second. Then, catching the look in Shao Zhan’s eyes through the rearview mirror, he gave a small nod and replied with quiet certainty.

“Alright,” Shao Zhan leaned back in the seat, letting the cool evening breeze wash over him. Early autumn felt far chillier this year than in the past.

He promised Yang Sa that he’d make sure the LAP crew returned early. After that, he sank into the shadowy stillness of the night, saying nothing more.

In the silent car, only the flashing colors from roadside billboards cast shifting lights inside, flickering rapidly with the car’s speed.

Shao Zhan quietly watched the strands of black hair fluttering beside the headrest, stirred by the wind. He recalled the faint ticklish feeling of those same strands brushing against the crook of his arm—and suddenly, a tightness gripped his chest.

He rolled the window all the way down and gazed up at the vast, endless night sky, his expression dark.

Yang Sa’s fingers remained pressed tightly to the seatbelt buckle, knuckles pale, his emotions carefully reined in.

The taxi slowed to a stop. In the back seat, Shao Zhan watched Yang Sa scan the QR code with practiced ease to pay. He began quietly calculating how much longer Yang Sa would be staying in the country.

As soon as they stepped into the smoke-filled barbecue joint, they were greeted by Tangyuan’s unmistakably loud voice:

“Boss! Fifty chicken wings, fifty ribs, fifty skewers, two plates of beef tendon, two of prime cut, one leg of lamb—just bring whatever sides you think work!”

“Got it!” the boss lady replied, enthusiastically bringing over drinks.

“Two more plates of clams, two of oysters, scallops…”

Now on his home turf, Tangyuan puckered his chubby lips and rattled off the orders like a machine gun. At the end, he held up four fingers and whispered like he was sneaking contraband, “Four pitchers of draft beer.”

Shao Zhan smacked him on the head without mercy. “Beer, my a*s. Drink water. The second I take my eyes off you, you cause chaos.”

Tangyuan wasn’t fazed at all. He hugged his head with a grin, then cheerfully went off to grill meat for his younger bros.

They had ordered a ton, and the kitchen staff couldn’t keep up. So Tangyuan got his hands on some seasoning, pinched up cumin and chili powder and sprinkled it generously over the skewers. The skewers flipped and turned with incredible skill in his plump hands—his technique was truly impressive.

“Not to brag, but this fat bro’s technique is family heirloom stuff,” Tangyuan said, wiping nonexistent sweat from his brow and rolling up his sleeves. “If the team didn’t need me so bad, I’d have opened a BBQ chain overseas by now.”

His showmanship left a bunch of the foreign guys wide-eyed and speechless.

Jiang Ranan, gnawing on a squid tentacle, didn’t hesitate to call him out: “Yeah right. You’re from a seaside town—your family’s been fishing for generations.”

“So what if we fish?” Tangyuan puffed up shamelessly. “Haven’t you read The Old Man and the Sea? That’s a story about battling fate. Who says a fisherman’s son can’t have big dreams? Can’t open a BBQ restaurant?”

“You’re fat, so you’re right, huh? Got it.” Jiang Ranan urged him, “Flip the eggplant already.”

“Small body, picky mouth,” Tangyuan muttered, sprinkling chopped green onions over the eggplant. Then, making a big show of it, he brought the foil tray right over to Little Blue, right in front of Jiang Ranan.

Moved to tears, Little Blue’s big blue eyes filled with two shimmering droplets: “Sweet, you’re the absolute best brother in the whole wide world.”

“Don’t mention it.” Tangyuan puffed out his chest and thumped it with barbecue tongs. “Brother Fat spoils you and you alone.”

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