LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 68


Chapter 68 – This Has Nothing to Do With You.


Yin Sijue was the first to notice something strange about the people around him.

Ji Wei, who had been enjoying his meal, froze when he glanced up at the TV. Following his gaze, Yin Sijue saw that the person featured in the news report had the surname Ji.

The photo appeared to be from a meeting. The man sat at the center of the table, a microphone before him, clearly holding a high position.

Yin Sijue instantly realized who it was and turned to tell Ji Wei to look away—but he was too late. The conversation between the passersby behind them had already pierced the boy’s ears like a sharp sword.

He pulled Ji Wei into his arms, sighed in heartache, and gently squeezed the boy’s slightly trembling hand.

Da Shu noticed something was wrong and set down his bowl and chopsticks.

“What’s wrong with Unique?”

Everyone at the table looked at Ji Wei in confusion, concern clouding their faces.

Finally, Ji Wei composed himself, rose from Yin Sijue’s embrace, exhaled slowly, and looked at the others.

“Sorry, I…”

He choked on his words. They stuck in his throat, leaving him painfully suffocated.

What? That my dad was probably going to jail, and that all my food, clothes, and expenses might have come from unknown sources?

What would my teammates think of me?

“Let’s go back after we finish eating,” Yin Sijue interrupted softly, glancing at Xu Shaoqiu.

“Okay, okay…” Xu Shaoqiu nodded, glanced at Ji Wei—whose face was pale and uneasy—and said to everyone, “Let’s head back first.”

The car was completely silent on the way back to the base. The air seemed drained from the cabin, a sharp contrast to the lively atmosphere of the restaurant just moments ago.

Ji Wei sat anxiously in the back seat, unease and guilt crawling over him like a swarm of ants.

He knew his teammates were worried about him. What was supposed to be a pleasant dinner had ended in awkward silence.

Yin Sijue patted his back gently, the way one would soothe a baby, and whispered near his ear, “It’s okay. If you don’t want to talk, then don’t. Brother Qiu and the others won’t ask any more questions.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

Ji Wei leaned his head against Yin Sijue’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The touch on his back was soothing, and his heartbeat gradually steadied.

Yes—this wasn’t three years ago. He was no longer isolated and helpless.

Half an hour later, the group arrived back at the base and pushed open the door.

From the living room, Ji Wei called out to his coach and teammates.

“Brother Qiu, can everyone wait until after training?”

“I have something to tell you.”

Opening that old wound was difficult for Ji Wei, but fortunately, Yin Sijue was by his side this time.

When Ji Wei grew anxious and struggled to organize his thoughts, Yin Sijue helped him, relaying his words bit by bit—just as he had done three years ago, when Ji Wei, unable to use the microphone, relied on him to communicate with his teammates.

Ji Wei spent ten minutes briefly recounting the past fifteen years of his life and his parents’ current situation.

“It’s already made the news, so it must have caused a huge stir. I didn’t dare check the details, but my brother told me my mom was taken away for investigation.”

Ji Wei’s eyes dimmed. He avoided their gazes, lowering his head. “That’s basically what happened.”

Silence filled the air. A car passed outside, and the sound of its tires rolling over fine sand was amplified in the quiet living room.

Xu Shaoqiu opened his mouth, but only a faint sound came out. Although he had already guessed the general situation, he hadn’t expected the truth to be so much more complicated than he imagined.

Several team members remained silent. The family conflicts they’d experienced growing up were trivial by comparison. Although their parents had once disapproved of gaming, none of their families had ever objected since they’d become professional players.

The silence dragged on until the air felt heavy. Ji Wei closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling violently.

“If you all mind this, I—”

“What do you mean, mind?” Da Shu asked reflexively, still trying to process what he’d just heard.

Ji Wei lowered his head even further. “They mind me… because my parents are that kind of people.”

Da Shu sat up straight in shock. “How could that be? Why would you think that?”

Mi Li struggled to digest his words, the shock in his eyes fading into surprise and then softening. “None of this has anything to do with you.”

Das Shu said, “We just… didn’t realize you’d been through this before. I originally thought you were just going to school when you didn’t show up for the tryout.”

“Excuse me…” Xu Shaoqiu—besides Yin Sijue, the person who knew the most about Ji Wei’s past—truly couldn’t understand Ji Wei’s worries.

“Are you planning to apply for a civil service position after you retire?”

“Huh?” Ji Wei’s swirling thoughts were interrupted, and he stared blankly. “No.”

Xu Shaoqiu waved his hand dismissively. “Then that’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. Whatever your parents did has nothing to do with you.”

The hand hanging at Ji Wei’s side was suddenly grasped. He turned to Yin Sijue, who gave him a knowing look. “You’ll see.”

Ji Wei exhaled slowly and squeezed his hand back, feeling the heavy weight in his chest finally settle.

He rested his head on Yin Sijue’s shoulder, swallowing the bitterness in his throat, realizing at last that there was no one behind him anymore.

Trying to lighten the mood, Da Shu blurted out, “When you looked like that halfway through dinner, I thought my brother was cheating on me. Hahaha—ha, ha…”

Before he could finish, Yin Sijue’s cold gaze shot over, startling him into silence. Da Shu immediately made a zipper gesture and shut his mouth.

“You did the right thing telling us about this,” Xu Shaoqiu said, looking at Ji Wei. “If others found out about the connection, it could stir up public opinion and hurt you.”

“I can make a statement on behalf of the club right now—AVG will protect its players no matter what. You don’t have to worry.”

Ji Wei shook his head. “I’m not worried about what others think.”

The living room fell silent again. Everyone understood what he meant.

From the beginning, this boy had only cared about the opinions of the AVG members he considered family and friends—because his closest relatives were long gone.

“Oh no,” Da Shu muttered, his usual optimism fading into a choked laugh. “Why worry so much? I’m heading to Korea soon. I should be thinking about winning the championship.”

“Brother Qiu, don’t overthink it. Who’d ever link that kind of news to esports players anyway? There’s no way there’ll be any backlash.”

Da Shu didn’t even realize that his careless remark had just set a huge precedent.

The next day, the AVG team boarded the plane to Korea.

Before takeoff, Ji Wei’s phone unexpectedly lit up with several messages—from his former boss, whose contact had been buried in his list for years.

Maoyu TV CEO Zhou: [Unique, are you there?]

Maoyu TV CEO Zhou: [[/link] How come the person in this news report looks like the same name you used when you joined us?]

Maoyu TV CEO Zhou: [[Seduction][Seduction] Please get back to me. You don’t want this to go viral, do you?]

Before Ji Wei could reply, the flight attendant came by, reminding passengers to put away their phones and switch to airplane mode.

Ji Wei stared at the messages for two seconds, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

He exchanged a glance with Yin Sijue beside him. Once the plane had stabilized, he handed the phone across the aisle to Xu Shaoqiu.

If it’s not something I can handle myself, then I should ask an adult for help.

Xu Shaoqiu, sitting next to me, had originally planned to sleep through the entire flight to Korea. Half asleep, he saw a phone being handed to him. After a brief moment of focus, he immediately jolted awake and sat up in anger.

“Holy crap, is this guy an idiot?”

The first-class cabin was filled with AVG team members and accompanying staff. They all turned to look at him, heads poking out over their seats.

Da Shu asked, “What’s wrong, Brother Qiu?”

Yin Sijue, seated beside Ji Wei, had already seen the messages. His expression turned cold. “What’s he trying to do, contacting you at a time like this?”

Ji Wei glanced at his teammates anxiously. “Actually… last week, someone from their team reached out to ask if I was willing to terminate my contract with Aurora and return to Maoyu Live. They said they’d help pay the penalty and even offer some concessions when I signed the new contract.”

“There’s no way I’d go, so I didn’t reply. Later, other people from Maoyu contacted me too, but I turned them all down.”

Da Shu furrowed his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose furiously. “No way, aren’t they too shameless? If they can’t have it, they’ll just destroy it?”

Mi Li wrinkled her nose. “Don’t use disgusting metaphors. I’m going to puke.”

Xu Shaoqiu closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “I said this before—Aurora TV wants to acquire them, but Maoyu’s management is unanimously opposed. Their stock price has been plummeting recently, so they’re probably trying to sign Unique back to stabilize their team morale.”

Da Shu clicked his tongue. “How pathetic. There’s more than one top streamer on Aurora who used to work for Maoyu. Why target you?”

Xu Shaoqiu looked at Ji Wei. “You wrote your parents’ names when you signed the contract with Maoyu TV, didn’t you?”

“Mm…” Ji Wei murmured like a child caught doing something wrong. “They said if you’re underage, you won’t get approved otherwise.”

“So they’re just speculating now, right?” Mi Li said from the back row. “They only saw that the names are the same, but there’s no concrete evidence proving a father-son relationship.”

“Yeah, but it still feels like a ticking time bomb.” Xu Shaoqiu massaged his temple. “The World Championship is about to start, and these people aren’t even afraid of karma—using this to mess with a player’s head.”

“We need to resolve this quickly…”

As soon as the plane landed, Ji Wei immediately switched off airplane mode and checked his messages.

As expected, Mr. Zhou was using this as a threat to force Ji Wei to terminate his contract with Aurora. The difference this time was that he didn’t even intend to pay the penalty himself—he brazenly demanded that Ji Wei pay out of pocket and sign a five-year contract with Maoyu.

Xu Shaoqiu was truly speechless. “Does he really think he can pull something like this just because of a name? It’s illegal for a company to disclose an employee’s personal information.”

Lao Ma unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up, and began helping everyone unload their bags. Hearing this, he said, “Even if this became a civil case, the result would just be a few monetary penalties. They probably think they can earn more by signing Unique back.”

“He’s a real top star,” Da Shu said cheerfully. “He’s only streamed on Jiguang a few times, and he’s already ranked among the top for receiving the most gifts. All from wealthy women, too.”

“No matter how high he climbs, he’s still mine. I barely make anything, and yet I’m the one being used as someone else’s cash cow?” Xu Shaoqiu snorted coldly and snatched Ji Wei’s phone away. “Don’t look at your phone today. I’ll deal with this idiot. You and Solve are sharing one.”

Yin Sijue, who was helping Ji Wei unbuckle his seatbelt, raised an eyebrow and said, “Is that so? Then there’s no need to open his room—he can just sleep here.”

“No… no!” Ji Wei, still somewhat rational, refused firmly.

Yin Sijue said with a teasing smile, “It’s not safe to sleep alone without your phone, baby.”

Ji Wei: “…”

“What the hell are you thinking?” Xu Shaoqiu shoved Ji Wei’s phone into his pocket and pointed at Yin Sijue. “I’m just keeping it for a day. I’ll return it when this is over! Don’t try to take advantage of me.”

“Oh, so that means he can sleep in my room tonight,” Yin Sijue replied knowingly.

“…I’ll check on him at midnight,” Xu Shaoqiu muttered, clearly conflicted.

“Whatever. If you’ve got the nerve to knock on the door, go ahead.”

Ji Wei stared blankly at the two of them bickering, then suddenly burst out laughing.

“Let’s go. Stop fooling around.” He blushed as he took Yin Sijue’s hand. Knowing the man was trying to cheer him up, his earlier uneasiness slowly faded away.

Suppressing his shyness, he added to Xu Shaoqiu,

“It really is inconvenient without a phone… so, I’ll sleep with Solve tonight.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 67


Chapter 67 – Don’t Listen


Ji Wei had forgotten the moment he hung up the phone.

When he put it down, a cold sweat had already broken out across his back.

He couldn’t describe the feeling — it was as if a hole had been torn open in his chest, and all his emotions had drained away, leaving only confusion.

He remembered his father’s words at the dinner table — how the money for all those private tutoring classes had come from his father’s frugal savings, and how the lamb had been expensive and shouldn’t be wasted.

When exactly had things gone wrong?

Ji Wei couldn’t figure it out. His thoughts were a tangled mess he couldn’t sort through.

He unlocked his phone to distract himself, but the words on the screen blurred together like scribbles — impossible to read.

His chaotic, empty gaze landed on the “S” pinned at the top of his WeChat list. He stared at it for a long time, until his eyes ached, and then closed them.

A moment later, Ji Wei sat up and reached for his slippers.

At this hour, the base wasn’t exactly quiet. No one had gone to sleep yet, and faint light spilled through the cracks beneath each door.

Yin Sijue’s room was right next door, close enough to reach with just a few steps.

Ji Wei tiptoed over and pushed the door open. As Yin Sijue had said before going to bed, it wasn’t locked; a gentle push was enough to let him in.

The bed was empty — the room’s occupant was showering in the bathroom. Ji Wei tiptoed in, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the quilt over himself.

Under the airtight blankets, Yin Sijue’s scent surrounded him. It was the lemony fragrance of the shower gel — the same scent he had smelled just half an hour ago in Yin Sijue’s arms.

Even though Ji Wei told himself that this was a little perverse, he couldn’t help but bury his face in the pillow and take a quiet sniff.

His erratic heartbeat finally slowed, and a long-lost sense of peace settled over him.

When Yin Sijue came out of the bathroom, rubbing the back of his neck with a towel, he noticed a lump on the bed — one that was faintly wriggling, with a few pink toes peeking out from under the quilt.

He walked over, amused, and rolled Ji Wei up in the blanket like a rice ball before pulling him into his arms.

Then, starting from the top, he began unwrapping the bundle, as if unwrapping a sticky rice dumpling. Within seconds, the quilt fell away to reveal a red-faced Ji Wei.

“Why are you here?” Yin Sijue asked, smoothing down Ji Wei’s tangled hair.

Ji Wei nestled into his embrace, his cat-like hands pawing lightly at Yin Sijue’s chest, nibbling at his collar.

After a moment, he began to recount what Ji Lin had said on the phone — everything, including his past interactions with his parents over the years.

It was hard for Ji Wei to talk about these things, even to Yin Sijue. His voice grew smaller and smaller as he spoke, sometimes breaking off mid-sentence when the words caught in his throat. Yin Sijue simply listened in silence.

“Actually, I’ve never felt hatred toward them. It’s more like confusion,” Ji Wei said slowly.

“I couldn’t understand why they treated me like that before, and I still can’t understand why they did those bad things.”

“And my… brother, he’s so young. What will he do in the future…”

Yin Sijue gently brushed the corner of his eye, his fingertips sliding down to reveal a tall, delicate nose and soft, full lips.

Ji Wei had an innocent yet fragile face, yet he was stronger and braver than anyone else.

An indescribable ache welled up inside Yin Sijue, and he said hoarsely, “Don’t dwell on it.”

“You couldn’t choose your birth, Weiwei. Whatever their fate is, it has nothing to do with you.”

Yin Sijue’s voice was soft, but every word pierced Ji Wei’s heart.

“No one will abandon you anymore. You’ve escaped all that.”

Ji Wei’s vision blurred; he couldn’t see Yin Sijue’s face clearly, but he could feel his gentle, steady gaze.

This is good, he thought.

When he first received the call, he’d been overwhelmed by guilt.

Growing up in a suffocating environment, Ji Wei’s instinct when faced with something bad was always to reflect on himself first, rather than blame others.

But this time, he’d learned. He came to Yin Sijue first, and Yin Sijue told him that none of it had anything to do with him.

Ji Wei wrapped his arms around Yin Sijue’s neck and hugged him tightly, as if trying to melt into him.

“Go to sleep.” Yin Sijue lay down on the bed, Ji Wei still clinging to him, and reached out to gently stroke his back.

“Do you want me to turn down the air conditioner?”

“No.” Ji Wei loosened the blanket wrapped around him and handed it to Yin Sijue. “You wrapped me too tightly just now. It’s hot.”

“Okay.” Yin Sijue covered them both with the blanket, locking Ji Wei in his arms with both hands and feet.

“Go to sleep, baby. Good night.”

The next day.

Xu Shaoqiu gathered everyone and briefly explained the arrangements for their trip abroad. The PGC was set to begin in five days, and they wouldn’t be waiting to travel with the other teams. Since one of their players was attending Worlds for the first time, they decided to go two days early to help him adjust.

He arrived with their visas ready. “This PGC, like every other year, will feature 32 teams divided into three phases: the group stage, the knockout rounds, and the finals.”

Since Ji Wei had never seen the tournament before, Xu Shaoqiu elaborated:

“Just like the regular season, the 32 teams will first be split into two groups and play three rounds of round-robin matches. The top eight teams from each group will advance to the winner’s bracket, followed by the knockout rounds. The final sixteen teams will move on to the finals.”

Xu Shaoqiu said evenly, “Our goal is simple: first place in the group stage, first place in the knockout rounds, and finally, the championship. Any questions?”

Ji Wei: “…”

Da Shu raised his hand weakly. “What happens if we don’t win the championship?”

Xu Shaoqiu smiled wickedly. “I don’t care. SOP fans check in on our official Weibo every day, saying that the six teams from our region who advanced are a bunch of losers who’ll be exposed at Worlds.”

He shot Da Shu a murderous look. “It won’t be me who gets scolded then.”

Da Shu: “…Got it.”

Xu Shaoqiu cleared his throat lightly and said seriously, “The hotels will be arranged by the organizers. They shouldn’t be bad — everyone will have their own room.”

His gaze fell on two particular members. “Cohabitation is prohibited during the competition. Keep it within bounds, understood?”

Yin Sijue sneered. “You talk as if we sleep together every day.”

God knows he’d finally gotten a boyfriend just last night.

Da Shu stammered, “Actually… I saw Unique coming out of your room this morning.”

Xu Shaoqiu pointed at them triumphantly, as if catching someone by the pigtail. “And you said you don’t sleep together every day!”

Ji Wei wished he could crawl into a hole. “Last night…”

I never run into Da Shu when I leave my room any other day, but of course he had to see me this morning. Just my luck!

“Alright, I’m too lazy to pursue it.” Xu Shaoqiu ignored Ji Wei’s aggrieved expression. He was only joking anyway — he trusted his captain’s ability to handle things properly.

“It’s fine. Just stay up an hour later for the next couple of days to adjust to the Korean time difference. Make sure you stay sharp at night. Go to training.”

The day before flying to Korea, the AVG team went to a famous local coconut chicken restaurant for dinner.

According to Da Shu, this was a team tradition before every tournament — to “eat chicken” in real life for good luck and hope for a “chicken dinner” in the game.

Everyone had been so busy during the summer season that they hadn’t had time for it, so this time they finally revived the tradition.

“Then why coconut chicken instead of KFC, kiln-baked chicken, or roast chicken?” Ji Wei asked seriously in the car.

Xu Shaoqiu glanced at the rearview mirror guiltily. “There are… many theories. Coconut chicken is a more complete form of chicken, and the pot used to boil it is similar to the frying pan in the game—”

“Because Brother Qiu loves coconut chicken,” Da Shu interrupted.

Ji Wei: “…Okay.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was seated around a round table in the restaurant, watching the chicken boil in the pot.

Xu Shaoqiu ordered three whole chickens, several hot pot side dishes, and a large bowl of clay pot rice. The rice crust was golden and crispy, and the aroma was so rich it made everyone’s mouth water.

Yin Sijue picked up a small plate of condiments and asked Ji Wei, “Do you want some sand ginger?”

Ji Wei: “Yes.”

“What about minced garlic, green onions, cilantro, and chili peppers?”

Ji Wei clasped his hands together and said, “I don’t want minced garlic, but everything else is fine. Please give me plenty of chili peppers.”

Da Shu handed over his dipping saucer and said in a strangled voice, “Brother Solve, please give me plenty of cilantro.”

Yin Sijue was so disgusted that his hands trembled, and he nearly spilled the sauce on the floor. “Go away. Get it yourself.”

Everyone ate happily amid laughter.

Xu Shaoqiu placed a chicken leg in Ji Wei’s bowl. “This is your first time at Worlds. If you’re unsure about anything, ask Solve. Don’t be too nervous.”

He looked around the table. “Besides SOP, the teams we need to watch out for this time include DT — they like to ambush SOP in scrims — and SNS from the European region. You’ve already faced the other strong teams during the Summer Split. Just play with a calm mind.”

“We’re definitely not nervous. It’s not our first time,” Da Shu said, glancing at Ji Wei. “If Unique’s nervous, just ask Brother Qiu for Solve’s room card. You won’t be nervous sleeping with your boyfriend.”

Ji Wei’s half-bitten chicken leg froze mid-bite, stuck in his mouth.

For once, Yin Sijue looked favorably upon his teammate and nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Xu Shaoqiu: “There’s no way I’m giving it to you.”

Amid the chatter, the food on the table was quickly devoured. Ji Wei patted his now full stomach as the steam from the hot pot swirled around them.

To avoid running into fans, Xu Shaoqiu had chosen a late hour. The restaurant was nearly deserted, with only a television hanging in the atrium replaying that morning’s news — the low hum of the broadcast blending with the faint clatter of dishes.

Ji Wei glanced up at the screen.

That single glance stole his breath.

On the screen, the host of the Legal Channel was delivering a short news report with a solemn expression. A photo of a man appeared beside him — stark, unmistakable.

It was the same man who had sat at the coffee table when Ji Wei opened the door three years ago.

Behind their table, two waiters were nearing the end of their shift. With nothing to do, they leaned against the wall, watching the news.

The two of them whispered to each other:

Waiter A: “The government’s doing the right thing arresting people like this. Officials should just do their jobs honestly and stop touching the people’s money.”

Waiter B: “Exactly. You think kids from families like that don’t live off other people’s backs?”

Their voices were low, but Ji Wei heard every word.

The conversation between the two kept replaying in his mind.

He sat there motionless, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

His face was deathly pale — he couldn’t breathe in or out, his ears buzzed, and everything said afterward failed to reach him.

Suddenly, the hand resting by his side was grasped, and a gentle force pulled his head onto a shoulder.
Yin Sijue leaned close to his ear and whispered softly,

“Don’t listen, Ji Wei. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t listen.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 66


Chapter 66 – She Likes You Too, Baby.


Yin Sijue only saw his mother’s messages and missed call after getting off the treadmill.

Mom: [I brought a few students to the riverside to sketch. It’s very close to you.]

Mom: [I left the students with your dad. I stopped by to see you. It’s been a while.]

Mom: [I got lost.]

Mom: [(Missed call)]

Mom: [You’re so unreliable. Luckily, there’s a cute boy showing me the way.]

Yin Sijue laughed, turned off his running watch, draped a towel around his neck, and went downstairs to open the door.

The moment he did, he saw his mother standing at the entrance to the base, holding an umbrella. Beside her stood Ji Wei, his fingers gripping a large plastic bag so tightly that his fingertips had turned white and the bag was nearly deformed.

Yin Sijue raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Mom, is that the guy you met?”

Mother Yin folded her umbrella and said, “What are you doing? You didn’t reply to my messages. Luckily, Xiao Ji showed me the way.”

Xiao Ji? Yin Sijue raised an eyebrow at the name. “We were just working out. You two already know each other?”

“Yes.” Mother Yin walked in, changed her shoes with practiced familiarity, and sat down on the sofa. “It’s really hot outside. Are you the only two here at the base?”

“The others haven’t gotten up yet.” Yin Sijue glanced at the bag in Ji Wei’s hand. “Did you carry that for Auntie?”

“Yeah…” Ji Wei, holding a bag full of lively shrimp, stood awkwardly between mother and son—no matter how you looked at him, he seemed out of place.

“I’ll take that to Auntie. You two can chat!”

Mother Yin watched the direction Ji Wei had hurried off in, and a thought formed in her mind. Smiling, she asked, “Is that the boyfriend you told me about last time?”

Yin Sijue raised an eyebrow. “How did you guess?”

“Very cute,” Mother Yin teased. “He looks exactly like the type my son would like.”

Yin Sijue chuckled and nodded in agreement.

He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. “I’m going to take a shower first. I’ll be down in a bit. He might get a little nervous being alone with you—don’t bully him.”

Mother Yin laughed. “Go on, I’m not a cannibal.”

After handing the fresh produce to Auntie, Ji Wei paced back and forth in the kitchen for a long time before finally daring to go to the living room.

He brought out a cup of freshly filled hot water.

“Auntie, please sit down and have some water.”

He looked around but couldn’t find Yin Sijue anywhere. Left alone with Mother Yin in the spacious living room, he suddenly felt small and uneasy.

“Thank you, Xiao Ji.” Mother Yin took the cup, set it on the coffee table, and smiled. “Are you looking for Sijue? He went upstairs to take a shower.”

“Oh, okay…”

Ji Wei kept his expression calm, but inside he was a bundle of nerves. “Auntie, is there anything you’d like to eat? I can get it for you.”

“No, I just stopped by.” Mother Yin watched his stiff movements and suppressed a laugh. “Manager Xu said you’re going to Korea for a competition in a few days. I figured we won’t see each other for a while, so I took the chance to visit.”

“Don’t be so tense. Come, sit down.” She waved him over with a gentle smile.

Although Mother Yin was a teacher, she didn’t give off an awe-inspiring air. Instead, she exuded a strong sense of warmth and friendliness. Ji Wei sat obediently beside her, his apprehension gradually dissipating under her gentle smile.

“I heard you’re usually very busy with training. Did my visit disturb you?”

Ji Wei shook his head. “No, we usually start training at 2 p.m., and it’s not time yet.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Mother Yin’s eyes widened slightly. “So young?”

“Yin Sijue, that bastard…”

“What?” Ji Wei didn’t catch it and turned to look at her.

“No, no,” Mother Yin quickly covered her mouth. “I was just wondering why my son’s been in the shower for so long.”

Ji Wei glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since Yin Sijue went upstairs.

Click—

The sound of a bedroom door opening came from upstairs, but the person coming down wasn’t Yin Sijue, as Ji Wei had expected.

Xu Shaoqiu, having finished his work, spotted someone sitting in the living room. He exclaimed in surprise and quickened his pace. “Why are you here?”

Mother Yin stood up. “I happened to be nearby, so I dropped by. Long time no see.”

“Has Sijue been causing you any trouble lately?”

“Of course not. The team can’t do without him.” Xu Shaoqiu smiled. “It’s lunchtime, too. Would you like to stay for a meal? I’ll have Auntie make some extra.”

“No, I’m out with my students. I just came to take a look and will be leaving soon.”

The midday sun hung high in the sky, and the aroma of food gradually drifted from the kitchen. Ji Wei kept glancing upstairs for a long time before finally seeing Yin Sijue come down, fresh from his shower.

Also emerging was another familiar face—Da Shu, who had just woken up.

Da Shu noticed Yin Sijue’s half-dried hair and yawned. “You’re up so early again?”

He rolled his eyes, stretched, and went downstairs. “What’s wrong with you two? You train until the end of the day, but you’re up so early. You’re curling—”

“Oh… oh…” Da Shu froze when he saw the woman in the living room, smiling warmly, and behind her, Ji Wei, whose soul looked like it had left his body. “Auntie, have you been sitting here this whole time?”

Ji Wei: “…”

Mother Yin: “Yes. Xiao Cheng, long time no see.”

Da Shu: “…Long time no see, Auntie.”

He didn’t dare meet Ji Wei’s dagger-like gaze from behind him, and after a moment of despair, he fled to the kitchen for shelter.

Seeing that his boyfriend looked half out of his wits, Yin Sijue smiled as he walked down the stairs and squeezed Ji Wei’s hand reassuringly—only for Ji Wei to pull away.

Ji Wei glared at him, his eyes clearly saying: ‘Your mother’s still here—be mindful of the impact!’

Mother Yin noticed their little exchange and chuckled but didn’t call them out. “Alright, I’ve seen enough. I still have things to do, so I’ll head back first. Sijue, see me off.”

That signaled a private conversation. Ji Wei bit his lower lip and watched them leave.

The temperature outside was still scorching. Yin Sijue paused in the hallway without opening the door. “How about I call you a car first? I’ll let the security guard know so he can drive in.”

Mother Yin nodded. “That’s fine.”

She looked her son up and down, then sighed. “Ji is only eighteen, and you’re really ruthless.”

Yin Sijue raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known him since I was seventeen. It’s already honest enough to only start dating him now, isn’t it?”

Mother Yin: “…”

She gave him a look of disbelief. “How did I end up giving birth to a son like you?” She pressed her fingers to her forehead and sighed. “He seems quite well-behaved. You’ve bullied him a lot, haven’t you?”

“Not really.”

“How could I not know what kind of person you are?” Mother Yin shot him a glance. Her son had always looked composed, but in reality, he was full of mischief.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask—what do Xiao Ji’s parents do?”

Yin Sijue paused for a moment, then said, “His family situation is complicated. He’s no longer in contact with them. Don’t bring it up with him again.”

“How could that be…” Mother Yin said in surprise. “He’s so young.”

The car soon arrived. Before leaving, Mother Yin, still looking dazed, pulled Yin Sijue aside and reminded him, “You have to treat him well.”

“Your father hasn’t met him yet. If Xiao Ji has nowhere to go during the New Year, bring him home.”

Yin Sijue smiled. “Okay.”

When Yin Sijue returned from the door, Ji Wei nervously pulled him aside.

“What happened? Did Auntie find out about us? Da Shu spoke so fast I didn’t have time to stop him.”

Yin Sijue looked at him with amusement. “My mom noticed the moment she walked in.”

“Huh?” Ji Wei was stunned.

“That Weibo incident was a big deal, so I told her about our relationship.”

“I know that. I was right there when they called.” Ji Wei asked anxiously, “But how did Auntie know you were dating… me?”

Yin Sijue replied lazily, “She guessed. She said she thought I’d like you the moment she saw you.”

Ji Wei was so shocked that he couldn’t close his mouth for a long time. “…So what did she say?”

“She told me to be nice to you.” Yin Sijue reached out, supporting Ji Wei’s chin to gently close his mouth. “She also told me to take you home.”

Yin Sijue gazed into Ji Wei’s bright eyes, his fingertips brushing over Ji Wei’s fair cheeks, leaving behind a quiet warmth.

“She knows I like you very much, so she likes you too, baby.”

“I…” Ji Wei was speechless, his heart surging with emotion.

He blinked twice, and after a long pause, murmured, “Your mother is so kind.”

Loving your child—and then loving everything connected to them—makes you cherish everything they love.

How wonderful.

Yin Sijue smiled and smoothed down Ji Wei’s sleep-tousled hair. “Well, I’ll be your mother in the future.”

Mother Yin arrived and left just as quickly, as if today’s visit were nothing more than a small incident. The team members soon returned to their scheduled training.

But for some reason, Ji Wei couldn’t help thinking about her from time to time.

He had never seen such a gentle and tolerant mother figure before, let alone experienced it himself.

It was late at night when training ended. Yin Sijue walked Ji Wei to the door and gently kissed him on the brow.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

“What…” Ji Wei looked at him blankly, confused as to why his boyfriend had suddenly made such an invitation.

Yin Sijue lowered his gaze and said softly, “I just thought you weren’t as talkative as usual while we were gaming today.”

Ji Wei stared at him in surprise, speechless. He hadn’t expected such a small change in his mood to be noticed.

“I—I just…” Ji Wei stammered, not knowing how to explain.

“Are you missing Mom?”

His little thought was exposed, and his nose burned with the threat of tears. He nodded slightly.

“Hm…”

A warm embrace enveloped him. Ji Wei buried his head in Yin Sijue’s chest, breathing in the faint scent of his shower gel.

He had thought he had forgotten everything about his recent encounter with his mother in Taipei.

But Ji Wei realized that some things simply couldn’t be let go.

After lingering in Yin Sijue’s arms for a while, Ji Wei looked up and said softly, “I’d better sleep alone tonight. I don’t want to bother you.”

Some emotions needed to be digested alone, and he didn’t want to bring his heaviness to Yin Sijue.

Yin Sijue stroked his hair. “It’s okay. I’ll leave the door unlocked. You can come find me anytime.”

“Don’t be sad. I’ll be sad too,” he said, looking at Ji Wei gently.

Ji Wei felt a warmth rise in his throat. “Okay.”

After returning to his room, Ji Wei lay down on the bed, burying his face in the pillow for a moment.

A strong feeling of suffocation gripped him, and at the last second, he rolled over, gasping for air as he stared up at the ceiling.

The night was windless, and unlike usual, there were no cicadas chirping. The window seemed like a vast black hole, the silence almost unbearable.

Mother Yin’s smiling face lingered in his mind. Sometimes Ji Wei remembered the woman holding an umbrella for him at noon; other times, he recalled his own mother and his so-called biological brother—meeting him on the street like strangers.

Ji Wei stared blankly into space.

His boyfriend truly had wonderful parents.

And yet…

He tossed and turned in bed a few times, then picked up his phone and sent a message to Ji Lin.

Weiwei Dounan: [Brother, are you asleep?]

Ji Wei leaned sideways as he typed.

Weiwei Dounan: [I ran into my mother in Taipei a few days ago.]

The phone buzzed. The person on the other end had just seen the message and immediately called.

Ji Lin’s tone was anxious, and he fired off questions one after another. “You ran into Auntie? When? Why didn’t you tell me? She didn’t say anything mean, did she?”

Ji Wei replied softly, “It wasn’t a big deal. We didn’t say much.”

“So… was she alone when you saw her?”

Ji Wei hesitated, sensing something. “No. Do you know something?”

There was a long silence on the other end before Ji Lin finally spoke. “My mom told me they had another child not long after you disappeared.”

“…”

Ji Wei’s heartbeat stuttered. He blinked slowly. “Is that so.”

“No wonder I saw that kid the other day. He was pretty young,” Ji Lin said with a strained laugh. “I thought my mom was cheating on my dad.”

The two fell silent. The air was so still that Ji Wei could hear Ji Lin’s breathing through the receiver.

After a pause, Ji Lin spoke again. “Actually… there’s something else about your parents. I just heard about it these past couple of days, and I’ve been debating whether to tell you.”

“But I’m afraid that if I don’t, it’ll be worse if you hear it from someone else.”

Ji Wei instinctively tightened his grip on the phone. “What is it?”

“Uncle Ji seems to have run into some trouble at work, and Auntie might be implicated. She sent your brother to Grandma’s house overnight.”

“I don’t know the details, but I heard Uncle Ji was taken away by the Disciplinary Committee during a meeting two days ago.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 65


Chapter 65 – Next Time, Wear It Just For Me.


“You want to change your jump point?”

Xu Shaoqiu was a little surprised but quickly understood what Yin Sijue meant.

In PUBG professional competitions, each team’s jump point is usually fixed. Every team picks the area on the map they know best as their home base. This information is made public through match replays and becomes a crucial reference for team commanders when gathering intel during a game.

However, there are times when a team temporarily changes its jump point. After all, there are only so many places to land on a map. If a contest point can’t be secured, or if the flight path is too far, it’s normal to adjust the landing spot.

Even so, deciding to change the jump point before the map’s flight route is revealed is quite rare.

Da Shu rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Is there going to be a fight? At least four teams have to be dropping at the airport. Oh my! Things are heating up!”

“Are you familiar with the airport?” Yin Sijue turned to Ji Wei, a teasing smile in his eyes.

“…Familiar.” Ji Wei suspected this guy was just making small talk and rubbed his nose in irritation.

The second game he and Yin Sijue had ever played—three years ago—was at the airport. Back then, he had painstakingly sniped for ages before finally reaching this so-called “Great Buddha,” only for Yin Sijue to deliberately tell him to jump out of the airport at the start—and even mock his skills afterward!

Seeing Ji Wei’s face puffed up like a steamed bun, Yin Sijue chuckled and pinched his cheek affectionately, understanding exactly what he was thinking.

“I really didn’t know who you were back then,” he said. “I just wanted to land at the airport to test you. Now that you’ve proven yourself, I’ve got no complaints—right?”

“But you still didn’t accept my friend request that day!”

The memory came flooding back like a tidal wave, and Ji Wei was so annoyed that he made his in-game character punch Yin Sijue in the face.

The countdown for takeoff began, and Dashu cut in with mock exasperation. “Next time you two flirt, can you at least mute your mics?”

Mi Li added dryly, “One more.”

“No more flirting,” Yin Sijue said, glancing at the flight path and marking the airport as their landing point. “Get ready for a fight. Whoever dies first treats everyone to lunch tomorrow.”

As the plane reached its closest distance, all four pressed the jump button at the same time, diving straight toward the airport at full speed.

Ji Wei adjusted his camera view and looked around—there was a dense crowd in the sky, far more than he usually saw in a match.

“Why are there so many people?” Da Shu gasped. “There have to be more than four teams! Where did they all come from?”

Yin Sijue frowned, scanning the players around them. “Two PKL teams and UGC, plus us—there shouldn’t be this many.”

Mi Li: “Did the other teams also change their jump points?”

Yin Sijue: “Not sure. Da Shu, watch the kill feed. We’ll grab the point first. The SOP guys don’t know we’re landing at the airport yet, so we can take them out while we’ve still got the element of surprise.”

Ji Wei pressed W to keep accelerating. At maximum descent speed, he hit the parachute button and rolled as he landed on the roof of Building C.

“Two players have landed on the main building,” someone reported.

The person next to him landed a second later, but in that split second, Ji Wei had already picked up the shotgun on the ground and blasted the disoriented enemy three times.

[AVG_Unique] used the S1897 to knock out [DT_Ninja]

[AVG_Unique] used the S1897 to knock out [DT_Bro]

“The announcement’s been updated.” Ji Wei reloaded and finished off the enemy. “SOP, please note—we’ve changed our jump point.”

Da Shu, perched on the elevated platform, reported, “Two down in the tower, two more below Unique, one at the police station, and one at K Building. A bunch of them fled to Port N after landing. No idea why.”

Yin Sijue didn’t pick up a gun right after landing. Instead, he punched a poorly positioned DT member to death, then grabbed a UMP9 at the police station.

“The two in the main building should be SOP’s men. Unique, hold on—I’m heading over.”

Ji Wei listened closely to the footsteps downstairs. “Can’t wait! They’re jumping out the window! Trying to escape!”

A sound of someone vaulting out a second-floor window echoed nearby. SOP, having seen the elimination feed in the top-right corner, realized AVG had switched to the airport—and immediately chose to run.

Mi Li traded shots with an enemy using her pistol. “That annoying guy in Building K’s trying to run too. How ridiculous.”

Da Shu jumped off the overpass in a hurry. “Why would I run? I haven’t even made a move yet! What’s the point?”

The enemy who leapt from Building C’s window was unlucky enough to run straight into Yin Sijue. He shot and killed him mid-air before the man even touched the ground.

[AVG_Solve] used the UMP9 to kill [SOP_Shot]

[AVG_Solve] used the UMP9 to kill [SOP_Shot]

Yin Sijue said coolly, “That’s right, SOP. I killed their second-in-command. Usually, the captain dies right after him.”

Ji Wei ran to the edge of the rooftop. “The other one ran the other way—this route… he’s going for the car!”

He quickly picked up the AKM he’d just looted and fired a burst of bullets, blowing out all the jeep’s tires.

The vehicle was wrecked, and SOP Captain Cheng, who had been trying to drive away, stopped in despair.

Da Shu exclaimed, “Running away just like that? How cowardly!”

Mi Li said, “Unique, Solve—someone from Building K is heading your way.”

After destroying the tires on the rooftop, Ji Wei didn’t let the runners escape. He aimed down and shot a SOP member who was trying to regroup with his teammates, landing a clean headshot. The man dropped before he could even reach the door.

[AVG_Unique] used the AKM to knock down [SOP_Zone]

“Two more!” Ji Wei called out.

Meanwhile, Mi Li had found a Vector in Building K. She positioned herself facing the tower, and when she heard footsteps, she dodged aside and fired a precise hip shot, downing the man who was about to leave the tower to support his team.

[AVG_Milly] used the Vector to kill [SOP_Flanker]

Da Shu cheered, “Hey, that Flanker’s the one who tried to wear you out with a sniper yesterday! Mili finally got her revenge!”

As the last SOP member mounted a bicycle and tried to flee, Yin Sijue spotted him from Building C and fired a burst. The first shot broke his armor, and the third hit him right in the head.

[AVG_Solve] used the UMP9 to kill [SOP_Hunter]

[Team Wiped]

With that, the four-man AVG squad successfully secured the airport—less than five minutes into the second match.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Da Shu shouted, turning on all his microphones and yelling in broken foreign language, “Shift! Shift! Shift!”

Ji Wei froze for three seconds. “That’s shit…”

Da Shu blinked. “Holy crap? Did I mess it up? That’s awkward. Should I… uh, corpse-whip instead?”

Ji Wei led him to the SOP captain’s body. “Don’t do something even we’d find tasteless. Try something else—I’ll teach you.”

“Didn’t you just learn that girl group dance routine yesterday? Do it right here.”

“Right!” Da Shu said excitedly. “You get me!!”

The next second, he switched emotes and started dancing seductively on Zone’s corpse.

“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me! This move even comes with its own music—it sounds great!”

Ji Wei and Mi Li stood beside him, clicked Follow, and the three of them began gyrating and swaying their hips over Zone’s corpse.

To pull off that set of moves, Da Shu had even switched into the girl group model skin. The sexy dance and hot outfit made for quite the show.

But Mi Li and Ji Wei, standing nearby, both had plain black skins and were shirtless. The sight of two burly men dancing so coquettishly was truly jarring.

Yin Sijue stood by and watched for two seconds, his optic nerves throbbing uncomfortably. He moved his mouse, intending to get out of this chaotic scene.

Ji Wei called out, “Come here.”

Yin Sijue sighed. Controlling his black-skinned character, he clicked the emote to join in, accompanying them through the entire girl group dance on top of the SOP loot box.

“Ahhh… Aren’t they going to be pissed off?”

Da Shu was shaking with laughter, trying hard to stifle it. “This is seriously worth the money. Didn’t the Alliance even ask us to promote this skin? We could just send them this screen recording!”

Mi Li laughed for a long time. “This is more infuriating than a corpse whip…”

Ji Wei grinned. “This dance set is really pretty, but it’s too expensive for me. I’ll just wait for you to draw it again and gift it to me someday.”

Yin Sijue, who had never done anything like this before, cleared his throat awkwardly. “We’re still in the safe zone. That UGC team must’ve changed their jump point—looks like they didn’t go to the airport.”

Da Shu asked, “Then where did all those people I saw earlier go? Did they all run off?”

Mi Li replied, “You guys think this game’s that easy? Why were those four SOP players acting like bots?”

Ji Wei attached the 4x scope he’d just looted and glanced toward Port N. Hearing no enemy movement, he fell silent for a moment.

“SOP didn’t expect us to switch to the airport so suddenly, so their initial landing plan was a mess. Besides, they’re not exactly a top-tier team.”

“Yeah.” Yin Sijue handed Ji Wei two grenades he’d just picked up. “SOP’s strength lies in their mechanics. They rarely take direct fights. The last time they beat UGC, it was probably because DT helped them out—they just took advantage of the two-on-one situation.”

“That DT didn’t deploy his parachute properly and landed later than Unique. Two of them got wiped right away, and the other two ran off. No wonder SOP panicked.”

Da Shu gasped. “Oh my god—then our PG’s plan is what, ‘just jump somewhere else when we meet them’?”

Ji Wei shook his head. “No. Airport circles are rare in competitions. Landing at the airport requires strong control and coordination—it’s not something a team like ours can easily manage.”

“But since both of these training matches had airport circles, it makes me think…”

Mi Li added quietly, “Actually, I have a guess too.”

Yin Sijue sneered. “Nothing to be shy about. So many people landed at the airport at the start, then ran off right after. My guess is they were SOP’s so-called sparring partners. There’s a bug in custom rooms—the circle tends to form where there are more players. They probably got stuck there by accident.”

Da Shu suddenly realized, “Damn! I was wondering—how could we have two scrimmages in the airport zone? That’s too sneaky!”

“We’ve already taken the airport, so we’ll probably stay in the zone the whole time,” Ji Wei said smugly. “Doesn’t this count as planting trees for future generations to enjoy the shade?”

And it turned out to be true. AVG stayed within the safe zone until the very end, truly blessed by fate—and naturally took the win.

Xu Shaoqiu came out of the viewing room beaming. “Wow, you guys played really well!”

Da Shu couldn’t wait to get another SOP kill in the third game. “Where did Rongdu and the others drop again? I forgot!”

“I told you to review, but you didn’t listen. Next game, they’re—”

Ding dong.

An email notification popped up on Xu Shaoqiu’s phone. He frowned and tapped it open.

After reading the message, Xu Shaoqiu chuckled. “Oh, no need to fight Rongdu.”

He turned his phone to show the others. On the screen was a newly received international email:

[The SOP manager stated that changing the jump point at the last minute during a training match was dishonest. Therefore, the third round is canceled.]

The four AVG players: “…”

Da Shu was incredulous. “How can they be so shameless? Does corpse-whipping make them honest now?”

Mi Li opened the official replay and pulled up the dance clip, saving it to her folder. “Whatever. If we’re not playing, then we’re not playing. They’re probably already furious anyway.”

Xu Shaoqiu didn’t seem too bothered by the petty move, but he did warn them, “Don’t leak the video. As much as I’d love to see it go viral, we promised not to reveal any training match footage. We need to keep our word.”

Da Shu grinned. “Don’t worry—we’ll just enjoy it in private.”

No one died first in the final game, which meant no one owed lunch the next day. Still, Ji Wei thoughtfully ordered a big serving of spicy bullfrog for everyone.

When he went to pick up the delivery at the door, he noticed another order with the same address.

“Hello, there’s also a barbecue order for Mr. Yin. Is that yours? If so, I won’t call again.”

Ji Wei took the cooler bag from the delivery guy. “Yeah, I’ll take it in for him. Thanks.”

Back at the base, Da Shu came downstairs and shouted in delight at the sight of all the food.

“Awesome! I just dreamed about eating bullfrog and barbecue last night! Thanks, bao bao mao mao”

Ji Wei laid out the food on the table, looking puzzled. “What’s bao bao mao mao’?”

“It’s the nickname your CP fans gave you two,” Da Shu said, stepping forward to help unpack the boxes. “It means mom and dad—it’s just a cute way of saying it.”

Ji Wei flushed slightly. “Why call us that? I can’t even have kids…”

Yin Sijue came down the stairs with his phone in hand. “You got the delivery too? I saw he ordered it.”

“Yeah.” Ji Wei looked up and whispered in Yin Sijue’s ear, “Da Shu said the fans call us mom and dad. Oh my god.”

Yin Sijue curved his lips into a faint smile and looked at him. “Don’t you like it?”

“Not really…” Ji Wei was stunned by the simplicity and bluntness of internet slang. “It just feels a little embarrassing.”

Xu Shaoqiu and Mi Li hadn’t arrived yet, but Da Shu didn’t bother waiting. He opened the bag, grabbed a skewer of pork belly, and started chewing. “Have you been keeping up with the gossip on Maoyu TV lately?”

Gossip about his former employer? Ji Wei perked up, interested. “What’s the news?”

“They’ve been catching a lot of heat lately. Remember Wolf—the one they promoted—who ended up in jail? The platform got sued too. Seeing your good streaming numbers, they tried to copy your style by pushing a few old-school streamers, but none of them came close. Their traffic tanked, and several of their top streamers are terminating their contracts and bailing.”

“I heard about that too.” Xu Shaoqiu and Mi Li walked in, each carrying a few drinks. “A lot of advertisers have stopped working with them. There’s even a rumor in the industry that Aurora TV might be acquiring them.”

“Wow.” Mi Li said flatly, taking a bite of her food. “Serves them right. I was furious when I found out they secretly hired trolls to attack me.”

Xu Shaoqiu nodded. “Exactly. I could’ve sued them for defamation, but I was too kind to bother. Seems karma’s doing the job for me.”

Ji Wei nodded and took a sip of Coke in silent sympathy for his former company’s downfall.

“By the way,” Xu Shaoqiu turned to Ji Wei, “your merch sales have been outstanding—especially the Solve line. After you revealed your nickname at the All-Star Game, sales doubled. The club’s decided to raise your revenue share by one percent.”

Ji Wei looked at him in surprise. “I thought that ‘Lao Liu’ uniform looked awful—people actually like it that much?”

“What are you talking about?” Xu Shaoqiu laughed, pulling out his phone. He opened a page of buyer posts and handed it to Ji Wei. “Of course they’re not just buying the ‘Lao Liu’ uniform.”

Ji Wei took the phone, puzzled. The screen was full of photos of fans holding plush dolls at different scenic spots.

He had to admit—the fans’ photography skills were truly impressive. The composition and filters put the official promotional shots to shame. Some had photos of blue skies and white clouds, others of delicious foods or famous landmarks. Ji Wei felt as if he were traveling around the world with them.

But that’s not the point…

The point is—why are all the dolls wearing women’s clothing?

Ji Wei stretched out his trembling fingers and scrolled through the image gallery, his face reddening at a visible speed.

Sailor suits, maid outfits, Lolita skirts…

Every possible dress style in existence seemed to invade Ji Wei’s mind all at once.

Yin Sijue, watching beside him, was also under siege.

“Where do you even buy clothes like these? Are they included as gifts?” Yin Sijue tilted his head, studying the photos. “Why does mine only have the Lao Liu outfit?”

“How could it be included as a gift?” Xu Shaoqiu snatched the phone back. “We’re already selling them cheap at forty yuan each. There’s no way we could give away extra clothes.”

“These must be fan-made. I’ve seen people organizing group buys on the super chat. The quantities are really limited—once they sell out, that’s it.”

Yin Sijue blinked, then sighed in regret. “Alright.”

Ji Wei: ?

He thought the topic was over.

But a few days later, Ji Wei suddenly spotted a strange object hanging from Yin Sijue’s gadget bag.

It was strange because it looked familiar—but not that familiar.

As if trying to draw attention on purpose, Yin Sijue carried his gadget bag up and down the stairs indoors, until Ji Wei finally caught him.

Dragging him into his room, Ji Wei’s face flushed bright red.

“…What are you wearing that for!”

Hanging from the bag was none other than Ji Wei’s doll—dressed in a cat-ear outfit. A pale yellow lace tutu, a cat-ear headband, and a little tail on the back. Dangling from a man’s gadget bag, it looked absurdly out of place against Yin Sijue’s cool, unapproachable face.

Yin Sijue fiddled with the cat ears, a faint smile on his lips. “Does it look good? I just got it, but I’m not great at taking pictures, so I figured I’d show you the real thing.”

Ji Wei stiffened, his neck locked in place. “…Didn’t Brother Qiu say those outfits were sold out?”

“Yeah.” Yin Sijue carefully tucked the doll into the side of his bag like a prized possession. “I messaged the blogger directly. She agreed to sell it to me right away. She even wanted to send me something else, but I only wanted this set.”

Ji Wei: ?!

“Which account did you use to private message her?”

Yin Sijue gave him a look that said, “I only have one account.”

How could Ji Wei possibly argue with that? He closed his eyes, nearly fainting.

No more browsing the super chat or reading his “wife’s” posts tonight—there would probably be plenty of adult content waiting there.

Yin Sijue saw his flushed face, smiled, rubbed his thumb over Ji Wei’s lips, and leaned down to kiss him.

The World Championship was approaching, and they had been swamped with training these past few days. It had been ages since they’d had any real time alone together.

Ji Wei was already a little flustered from the cat-eared doll incident, and the sudden kiss made his head spin. He had to pause just to catch his breath.

Yin Sijue lowered his gaze to Ji Wei’s reddened cheeks and the way his hand clutched tightly at the hem of his shirt.

Even though it felt like they’d been together for a long time, Ji Wei was still incredibly shy—he would stay embarrassed for a long while after just a single kiss.

His lips were soft and full, turning a deeper red after only a few kisses, making him look especially vulnerable.

Yin Sijue, catching his breath, lowered his head again and kissed Ji Wei, his words murmuring against those damp, rosy lips.

“If you don’t want me to wear this doll,” he whispered, “then wear it yourself next time.”

Ji Wei didn’t know when “next time” would be, and he didn’t dare ask.

Both of them had woken up early that morning. The housekeeper, who had just returned from vacation, was surprised to see them both in the living room at such an hour.

“Up so early? I’ll make you breakfast.”

Yin Sijue gently pushed Ji Wei toward the couch. “You stay here. I’m going to the gym for a bit. We’ll eat afterward.”

He was so disciplined. Ji Wei turned to look at him. “How long are you training today?”

Yin Sijue replied, “No high-intensity workouts before the competition. Just a thirty-minute jog. You want to come?”

“Haha, no.” Ji Wei smiled and waved. “I can’t even last five minutes jogging. Bye.”

Today, Auntie made small wontons with chili oil and a sprinkle of dried shrimp—fresh and fragrant. Ji Wei could devour ten in a single bite.

“It’s so delicious, Auntie!” He gave the woman, busy in the kitchen, a big thumbs-up. “I’ve been craving this ever since you went on vacation.”

“It’s good, isn’t it? I’ll make more next time,” she replied with a smile.

Ji Wei ate his breakfast with great satisfaction. His phone was sitting right beside him, impossible to ignore, so he opened Weibo and checked the super topic.

The JueWei CP super topic was already buzzing early in the morning—because of a chat screenshot with over 5,000 retweets.

[@Work Hard to Make Money and Feed the Child: Family! Solve himself came to me to order baby clothes! It’s really him! Screen recording as proof! [Video]]

“I knew it.” Ji Wei pouted and clicked the video, which turned out to be a private message from Yin Sijue.

@AVG_Solve: [Hello, is the ‘Kitten Mimi’ doll costume on your homepage still available? I saw it’s sold out, but I really like it and can offer a higher price. Please let me know the amount. Thank you.]

Ji Wei: “…”

That’s enough.

He shamelessly opened the comments section, covering his eyes with one hand and peeking at the screen through his fingers.

[The woc progress bar scrolled three times, and it was actually me]

[The leopard cat is playing really big…]

[I’m dying of laughter. How much do I like it?]

[Solve is so honest, he didn’t even create a second account.]

[There are so many outfits on his homepage, but he chose this one. How much does he love cat ears?]

[Maybe Madam is considering making an adult version in a unique size? Sell it to this man at a high price, he’ll definitely buy it.]

[So the question is, what is a unique size?]

[Send a private message to Solve. He’ll definitely know, after all, he’s already wearing cat ears.]

[@JueWei, Number One in the World Madam is hungry, I want to eat some cat ears. I want the kind with the tail, you know.]

Pop!

Ji Wei slammed his phone against the table and took a deep breath.

What size? What kind of tail? Even Madam couldn’t understand! He couldn’t possibly give birth to a child with such impure thoughts!

Just as he was raging with impotence, footsteps sounded behind him. Auntie emerged from the kitchen, holding the phone nervously, a look of uneasiness on her face.

“Hey, Xiao Wei, the food I just ordered seems to be at the gate of the complex. The security guard won’t let it in, but I’m stewing soup and can’t leave…”

“It’s okay, Auntie.” Ji Wei immediately understood, standing up and saying, “I’ll get it for you.”

Auntie felt embarrassed and rubbed her hands awkwardly on her apron. “Sorry to bother you, Xiao Wei. I was worried about burning the pot. I didn’t expect them to deliver it so quickly…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m full, too.” Ji Wei patted his stomach, smiled at Auntie, picked up his phone, and left.

After living here for so long, Ji Wei had successfully mastered the route from the complex gate to the base, and he quickly found Auntie’s order in the security office.

Auntie had ordered live seafood, including lively shrimp and crabs, and planned to make them salt-baked seafood for dinner.

Halfway through, a shrimp nearly jumped out, forcing Ji Wei to hold the bag by the mouth with both hands and carry it back.

Suddenly, someone called out from behind him.

“Hello, are you a resident here?”

Ji Wei turned around and saw a woman with a refined demeanor. Her hair was tied back in a simple bun, and she was carrying a discreet canvas bag. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, with a quiet elegance.

The woman smiled gently. “I don’t live here. I came here to look for my son, but I’ve been away for a while and got a little lost. I couldn’t get through to him.”

Hearing this, Ji Wei felt a sense of fate, a shared loss of direction.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and the temperature was a bit high. Ji Wei led the woman to a shady spot on the side of the road, and as they walked, he asked, “Where does your son live? I’m not sure. I get lost here often, too, and I’m only familiar with my own neighborhood.”

The woman smiled. “In Building 101, Zone B. Do you know how to get there?”

Ji Wei was stunned, his mouth hanging open for a long time.

Building 101 in Zone B? Wasn’t that the AVG base?

“I live in B101 too. I can take you there.”

The woman looked a little surprised. “What a coincidence—you live there as well?”

She followed the young man’s pace, noticing a light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead under the sun. She took a parasol out of her bag and opened it gently.

Ji Wei turned his head and saw sunlight spilling over the canvas bag in the woman’s hand, the logo of a well-known local university faintly visible on it.

The woman smiled at him and said, “Then do you happen to know my son? His name is Yin Sijue.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 64


Chapter 64 – Malicious Targeting


In the blink of an eye, the match entered its third stage.

AVG advanced southward, encountering KKC and NS. Although they successfully defeated both teams, neither was weak by any means. Unfortunately, Da Shu fell during a duel with NS.

Mi Li glanced once more at Da Shu’s box and quipped, “We opened the champagne at halftime, and this is what we get.”

Da Shu retorted, “Nonsense! I was just unlucky to get swept. Would you have survived without me taking the hits?”

“Alright,” Yin Sijue interrupted. “Da Shu, go OB. It’s going to be hard for us to get through this.”

As expected, the safe zone spawned at the southern airport. Their next opponent was SOP, who had spent twenty minutes at the center of the circle—fully equipped and in perfect condition.

“We need to cross the bridge.” Yin Sijue handed the driver’s seat to Ji Wei. “MKBK will probably arrive soon. We’re not at full strength, so let’s stay off to the side, block the view, and wait for them to pass.”

This time, AVG only had two jeeps, one of which was damaged when a tree was destroyed. Now, with three people crammed into one vehicle, trying to cross the bridge in this situation could easily get someone swept off.

The third stage was especially crucial. With any fewer players now, their chances of winning would be slim.

Soon, two coupes approached from behind at full speed, heading straight for the bridge. It was MKBK—fully staffed and in good condition.

Their two cars made a direct charge, engaging SOP head-on.

But the outcome was disastrous. Across the bridge, not only was SOP waiting, but another Korean team, DT, also opened fire on the vehicles crossing. Within moments, MKBK was completely wiped out.

After observing the battle, Yin Sijue marked a point on the map. “SOP is across the bridge. Second mark—DT setting up their guns.”

He studied the surrounding terrain and said gravely, “This circle might get blocked.”

Ji Wei frowned. “I remember a Korean team’s jump point was the Zodiac, right? They’ll have to cross the bridge too. That should at least weaken the enemy a bit.”

“How do you know they haven’t already crossed?” Da Shu asked, puzzled.

“We drove by and got shot,” Ji Wei said sincerely, his tone more painful than mocking. “You were already dead by then. Didn’t you notice from the OB view?”

Da Shu, who tended to get distracted while spectating, felt guilty. “…I noticed long ago—I just didn’t say anything!”

Yin Sijue warned, “Watch out. The Zodiac team’s crossed the bridge.”

This Korean team only had one car, but they were fully staffed with four players. That should at least reduce some of SOP’s combat power—or at the very least, cut down on their supplies.

After all, there’s a big difference between having mines and not having them in a bridge-blocking battle.

Everyone fully expected them to inflict heavy damage on the SOP team across the bridge, but the result was completely unexpected — the team hadn’t been hit by a single bullet since they drove onto it.

The two Korean teams on the opposite side seemed blind, not firing a single shot, allowing the others to cross safely.

As the car’s last tire left the bridge, the team’s voice chat stayed silent for a full five seconds, leaving everyone speechless with disgust.

Mi Li sneered, “What excuse do you think they’ll come up with later?”

Da Shu speculated, “Reloading? Maybe they were out of form and didn’t see? They just can’t admit they only kill players from other regions.”

“It’s time to close the circle,” Ji Wei sighed, then asked Yin Sijue, “Should we move out?”

There was no other option. The nearest exit was across the bridge. Even if a full-strength team waited for them, they had no choice but to push forward.

Yin Sijue seemed to have already anticipated the outcome. He remained calm and said, “Drive behind the bunker first. Let’s see if we can take a few down.”

“Okay.” Ji Wei took the driver’s seat and steadily steered the car toward the bunker on the bridge. The SOP bullets suddenly came to life, raining down like a torrential downpour.

“The car’s down to half health.” The three of them jumped out behind the bunker. Ji Wei reported their situation and downed an energy drink.

Da Shu said wistfully, “There are only six teams left. We should be the only one from PCL.”

Yin Sijue took position and started giving orders: “Mi Li, get behind the crate. Ji Wei, clear the mines to the right of the car. Don’t throw the smokes yet — wait until they’re down.”

A barrage of bullets poured down on them. Enemies seemed to be everywhere. Mi Li struggled to reach the bunker but was unfortunately knocked down mid-run.

“I’ll get you.” Ji Wei threw a smoke grenade and rushed to revive her. The two sides exchanged fire again. “Bang, bang, bang!”

[AVG_Solve] used an AKM assault rifle to knock down [SOP_Flanker].

Yin Sijue called out, “One down! I’m low on health — can someone get me?”

Ji Wei tried to finish the enemy off but got knocked down himself after exposing his position.

“This won’t work.”

Yin Sijue frowned and opened his backpack. “It’s not worth it. We’ve been fighting nonstop — we can’t match their ammo or meds, and the circle’s closing in.”

Mi Li tossed her last smoke grenade to save Ji Wei and said desperately, “I’m out of items…”

There wasn’t much cover on the overpass. The three of them huddled behind a small barrier, unable to move. Any attempt to peek or reposition was met with ruthless suppression.

The distinctive crack of a sniper rifle echoed, and bullets kicked up gravel at their feet. Mi Li was shot down again by the SOP sniper from afar.

Watching his teammate collapse once more, Ji Wei turned toward the direction of the gunfire, stunned for a few seconds, his expression darkening.

“Mi Li, he hit your leg.”

Dazed, Mi Li didn’t react at first. “What?”

Ji Wei marked the sniper’s location on the map and explained to Mi Li, “From that position, he could’ve hit your head. And he was holding an AWM — he could’ve killed you with one shot. We wouldn’t have had a chance to save you.”

“He deliberately only hit your legs.”

“They’re trying to wear us down — waiting for us to go in for rescues one by one, knock us down again, and repeat…”

Watching from the sidelines, Da Shu felt nauseous. “Is this necessary? Isn’t the point of a training match to spar with each other? Why resort to such malicious targeting? What grudge do they have against us?”

Yin Sijue frowned. “Calm down. Ji Wei, revive Mi Li, then grab your gun. They threw a smoke.”

“They’re coming,” Da Shu warned, hearing footsteps approaching.

Mi Li was just a sliver of health away from being revived, but Ji Wei didn’t have time to ready his weapon. Yin Sijue was pinned down behind cover by three SOP players.

[SOP_Zone] used a Vector submachine gun to defeat [AVG_Solve].

Da Shu was baffled. “What do you mean? Weren’t you planning to wear us down? Why are you charging now?”

He soon understood why.

After defeating Solve, the remaining SOP members didn’t bother to revive their teammate. Instead, they focused their fire on the already weakened Ji Wei and Mi Li. Ji Wei fought back and managed to take one down, but he couldn’t withstand the overwhelming firepower. Both he and Mi Li were killed.

[SOP_Hunter] used a UZI submachine gun to defeat [AVG_Milly].

[AVG_Unique] used an M416 assault rifle to defeat [SOP_Hunter].

[SOP_Zone] used an AKM assault rifle to kill [AVG_Unique].

With Ji Wei’s character falling to the ground, all AVG members were eliminated — the last PCL team on the field was out.

However, the story didn’t end there.

Instead of reviving their own fallen teammate, the SOP members did something that made everyone sick to their stomachs.

They drew their pistols, walked up to Ji Wei’s body, and fired several rounds at close range.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The crisp gunshots pierced through the headsets, and Ji Wei’s character’s body jerked violently under the impact.

A shrill, mocking laugh — followed by a few words in Korean — came from the other end of the mic. Ji Wei didn’t understand.

“Fuck!” Da Shu’s face went pale. He slammed his hand on the table with a loud thud, making the mouse bounce twice.

“Are they insane? They’re corpse-whipping now?”

Mi Li muttered a few curses of her own, staring at the screen with a dark expression.

“Can this be reported? That’s disgusting!” Da Shu asked.

Yin Sijue’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Private training matches can’t be reported. Whether they’ll face a penalty in an official match depends on the situation. Usually, the referee just gives a warning.”

Yin Sijue’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. “These private practice matches can’t be reported. Whether a penalty is issued in a formal match depends on the circumstances. Usually, the referee just gives a warning.”

He turned to look at Ji Wei and saw that the boy hadn’t said a word — just stared calmly and intently at the screen.

Da Shu also noticed his unusually quiet teammate. Too anxious to even take off his headset, he quickly tried to comfort him. “Unique, don’t let it get to you. They’re just a bunch of jerks who happened to win this time! Brother Qiu will definitely scold them to death.”

“No…” Ji Wei blinked at the screen. His expression wasn’t angry or resentful as Da Shu had expected — instead, there was a trace of surprise.

After a few seconds, he said slowly, “I just realized today that in-game characters keep their eyes open when they’re being whipped. It’s kind of scary.”

Da Shu: “…”

Mi Li: “?”

Yin Sijue was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. He glanced at Ji Wei’s gentle profile and couldn’t help but reach out to rub his boyfriend’s head.

Feeling the warmth on his hair, Ji Wei turned to smile at Yin Sijue. “Aren’t you going to watch the rest of the game? Let’s just wait for the next round.”

The sound of a door opening came from behind them.

“Just quit the game. Don’t waste time watching those idiots.”

Xu Shaoqiu walked out of the viewing room, gritting his teeth. He tried to suppress his anger as he said, “They’re just acting out on their own. Nothing worth watching.”

Da Shu crossed his arms. “Why bother getting angry? This won’t hurt us. Their reputation’s going to take the hit. I doubt the other two teams didn’t see them whipping him to death.”

Mi Li took off her headphones and sighed. “Honestly, when I saw the first safe zone spawn at the airport, I figured SOP was going to get stuck. It’s fine. Treating us like clowns is a bit much, though. Let’s just finish this one and move on.”

Xu Shaoqiu’s neck flushed red with anger. “The key is, they didn’t even fight the KOOKs who landed at the Zodiac! They had their guns out, ready to go — must’ve been shocked when they realized they made it across alive!”

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Xu Shaoqiu checked the message. “Yeah, Kelly got whipped too. Youyou says he’s crying in front of his computer right now.”

Da Shu blinked. “Huh? That guy’s always acting tough — and now he’s crying?”

Corpse-whipping was an extremely insulting act in the game — even worse than punching. The corpse splattered blood with every gunshot. No one liked seeing their in-game character treated like that.

“Stop talking!” Xu Shaoqiu snapped, glaring at Da Shu. “These idiots are clearly targeting the two newcomers. Youyou said UGC got assaulted right after landing at the airport — and it wasn’t even just one team! What’s worse, those teams weren’t fighting anyone else from their own region. Only PCL teams. What the hell is that supposed to be?”

Ji Wei frowned. “Wouldn’t that count as a violation in an official competition?”

“Yes,” Xu Shaoqiu replied, turning his head to explain. “It’s explicitly forbidden by the officials to throw matches like that — in serious cases, it can even result in penalty points. But I didn’t expect them to pull this kind of stunt during a practice match.”

He looked at Ji Wei with concern. “Unique, are you okay? The one who shot you just now was SOP’s captain, Zone — the same guy who refused to shake Da Shu’s hand before. Petty as hell. Don’t take it to heart.”

“I’m fine, Brother Qiu. I don’t care,” Ji Wei said calmly, shaking his head without a trace of gloom.

“Let me put it this way, Brother Qui” Da Shu adjusted an imaginary pair of glasses. “There’s only one truth — as long as the one getting corpse-whipped isn’t Solve, our Unique wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

Ji Wei: “…”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Ji Wei thought for a moment — if the one being whipped had been Yin Sijue instead, he definitely wouldn’t have been able to stay calm.

“Really?” Yin Sijue leaned closer, amusement flickering in his eyes. His voice dropped low, his breath brushing Ji Wei’s ear. “Then I’d better play seriously next round. Wouldn’t want to make our Unique angry.”

Ji Wei felt his face heat up under that teasing, magnetic voice and instinctively turned his head away. “O-of course we have to play seriously next round. Getting corpse-whipped is… is way too humiliating.”

“That’s enough, you two. I’m going to get an eye infection just watching this.”

Ever since realizing that the “pig” had actually managed to snatch his “cabbage,” Xu Shaoqiu hadn’t been able to look at Yin Sijue without irritation. “Hurry up and get back to your room and get ready — those Korean players are done.”

The four of them entered a new custom room. It was still the Erangel map. Da Shu crossed one leg over the other, waiting for the match to start.

“Brother, what’s the plan this round? Are we getting revenge or not?”

Yin Sijue propped his chin on his hand, his gaze icy as it locked onto the IDs of the players who had just shot Ji Wei. Unhurriedly, he said, “Of course we’re getting revenge. We’re changing our drop point — no more Georgopol.”

“We’re landing at SOP’s home turf — the military base.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 63


Chapter 63 – The Self-Cultivation of Lao Liu


The next day, Ji Wei woke up earlier than usual and decided to do a livestream for the first time in ages.

Last night, as planned, he’d happily devoured a big bowl of Juewei rice, and his sleep quality reached its peak — deep and dreamless.

After waking up, Ji Wei casually flipped through his private messages and found that the fans’ cries of “Please go live!” could probably circle the island twice, with several familiar names among them.

A husband should always pay special attention to his wife’s needs.

At 2 p.m., the weed-covered [Wei Ta Nai] livestream room suddenly went live without warning.

Almost the moment the screen appeared, comments poured in. Fans who had been obsessed with gossip these past few days flooded in at once.

[“Ahhhhh! What is this! A surprise stream!”]

[“Great timing! I just sent you a DM and you went live!”]

[“I heard WEI God will be streaming here from now on? He just downloaded the app and he’s already live!”]

[“Congrats, baby, on winning the All-Star Championship!”]

“Hello everyone, long time no see.”

In front of the camera, Ji Wei’s bright deer-like eyes sparkled. When he spoke, the tip of a small fang peeked out.

[“So this is what WEI looks like! Without photos or a mic before, I thought he was some middle-aged guy. Didn’t expect him to be this young!”]

[“Hahaha, so why didn’t you use a mic back then?”]

“I didn’t use the mic because I was going through my voice change — my voice was awful at the time.”

There were so many comments that Ji Wei could only catch one or two at a time. He said with some difficulty, “Everyone, please just call me Unique from now on. There are too many nicknames, and they’re making me dizzy.”

[“Voice change?! Oh right, he was only 14 back then!”]

[“Ranked number one at 14… what a genius!”]

[“Too many nicknames, huh? Who told you to have so many smurf accounts at that age!”]

[“I want to see a duo stream! The kids haven’t eaten in ages!”]

[“Where’s your husband? Where’s your husband? Where’s your husband?”]

“My old—” Ji Wei froze for a second, his neck stiffening. “Old man my ass! Don’t talk nonsense!”

Seeing that the comments were getting too wild, he added, his ears turning red, “He’s got a practice match tonight. He’s in a meeting with the coach.”

[“He admitted it!”]

[“He admitted it!!”]

[“How could I possibly deserve such good food? sob sob sob“]

[“What are we streaming today, baby?”]

[“Nonsense! He’s even got his old username back — they’re definitely doing great!”]

[“Dry weather.”]

“What are you all saying? Today’s our long-lost regular segment,” Ji Wei said, blinking playfully.
Seeing that the comments didn’t seem very excited, he raised his hand and started clapping for himself.

“Clap clap clap!”

“Finally, after a thousand calls—the Legendary Hiding-and-Surviving Tutorial!”

[“??”]

[“Exactly zero people called for it.”]

[“Suspect the streamer is just entertaining himself.”]

[“Did I enter the wrong stream? Is this really WEI God’s room?”]

[“You didn’t, sweetie—this is WEI God: Mutant Rat King Edition.“]

[“Why is everyone against it? I actually want to see a tutorial match! He hasn’t streamed in ages.”]

[“You killed twenty people solo in the All-Star match, and now you’re back to hiding? Afraid we’ll steal your skills?”]

Pretending not to see the comments, Ji Wei hummed a little tune while selecting the map and queueing up.

“Let’s start with Erangel today. Many people think Sanhok is the rat’s paradise, but I actually think Erangel fits that title better.”

The game began, and players spawned on the starting island.

“There are lots of defensible building types in Erangel’s rural areas. If you want to rank up by hiding, you should prioritize these spots.”

As he spoke, Ji Wei dropped markers across different regions on the map.

“Later, just pick a suitable one based on the flight path.”

The plane took off—this round’s path ran vertically from the Military Base to Zharki, a rather off-center route.

“Lots of people will definitely drop at Georgo and Pochinki, so we’ll avoid those and fly to the right side of the map.”

Having decided on his destination, Ji Wei zoomed in on the map and placed a bright yellow marker in full view of the audience.

“I’m telling you guys, this spot is really good!” His eyes gleamed with excitement as he glided through the air.

“Hardly anyone knows about it. Normally, I wouldn’t share it with others, but after today’s stream, I bet tons of people will start dropping here—so cherish it while you can.”

[“Hahaha, relax—no one’s fighting you for it, okay?”]

[“That spot’s so remote, it’ll never be in the safe zone. What’ll you do when the circle closes in?”]

[“Barely any houses there. Baby, if you even find one rifle, I’ll admit defeat.”]

“This place usually spawns a vehicle, and it’s not like I’m hiding till the end anyway. As long as I survive the early game, it’s fine.” Ji Wei glanced at the comments, trying to reason patiently:

“What rifle? You’re already playing a camper—why would you still want a good gun? Don’t be so greedy, okay?”

Halfway through the flight, Ji Wei suddenly remembered to rotate his view and check for nearby enemies.

As luck would have it, a dark figure appeared just ahead on the right—flying in the same direction, at the same altitude.

“What the—?!” Ji Wei exclaimed in alarm. “Someone actually dropped here?!”

[“Hardly anyone knows about it.”]

[“Normally, I wouldn’t share it with others.”]

Ji Wei tried to comfort himself, mumbling, “It’s fine, probably just a bot. Even though the guy’s got a dark-skinned character, I’m in a squad queue—no real player would jump somewhere this remote alone.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the black-skinned character in front began to plummet. Upon reaching a certain height, the player rotated his body 90 degrees, using his parachute to increase his descent speed — a full body length faster than the one behind him: the streamer himself.

Damn.

This was definitely not a bot.

Ji Wei’s internal alarm bells went off. Without hesitation, he rotated his camera and changed his flight direction.

“…Now, this is Lao Liu’s first lesson. You have to be flexible. If you see a real player dropping with you, don’t hesitate — just leave immediately.”

The chat was already exploding with laughter.

[“No way, does your face hurt?”]

[“Go home, kid, just go home.”]

[“The streamer looks like he’s about to fall apart.”]

[“Can someone bring back the guy who soloed four pros yesterday?”]

Ji Wei got too caught up reading the comments and was a second too late opening his parachute, landing across the street instead. He had no choice but to control his character and start running.

As he ran, the sound of gunfire rang out behind him.

If any of the pro players who were killed by Unique the day before yesterday saw this, they’d probably cry.

How could someone so good look this desperate to stay alive?

Ji Wei zigzagged to dodge bullets and finally reached a safe spot. The enemy, apparently unwilling to waste their freshly looted ammo, stopped shooting.

He turned toward the residential area with a heartbroken expression. “My happy home… gone, just like that.”

Spotting a car spawn across the street only made him feel worse. Such a perfect location, and he’d lost it.

He reopened the map but couldn’t find a decent spot nearby. Looking back at the residential area with visible reluctance, a thought flashed in his mind.

“Have you guys ever seen the movie Parasite?”

[“?”]

[“What are you planning to do?”]

The next second, his in-game character crouched behind a tree, quietly watching. When the enemy walked toward the residential area, Ji Wei sprinted forward and dove into the car across the street.

[“You dare to steal his car?!”]

[“It’s not stealing, right??”]

After getting in, Ji Wei pressed the switch view button and moved to the back seat.

The car windows were tinted black, and his character’s outfit was black too, blending him completely into the shadows. From the outside, no one could tell there was someone sitting inside.

“Oh my!” Ji Wei rubbed his hands together excitedly and said to the viewers, “That guy must think I’ve run away. Once he finishes looting and drives off, I’ll just sit here and eat and drink his food!”

[“Can this game really be played like this?”]

[“What if he changes cars halfway?”]

[“Wait, won’t he get discovered like this?”]

Turns out… no, he really wouldn’t.

After looting the houses, the black-skinned player got into the car — the very same car Ji Wei was hiding in — and drove off toward the next loot spot.

[“Damn, who needs eyesight anyway?”]

[“If you don’t need your eyes, you can donate them to someone who does.”]

[“Black brother: Why do I feel like there’s a ghost following me…?”]

[“He’s literally driving for you. So tragic!”]

The car arrived at the next housing area. The driver got out, while the streamer stayed crouched in the back seat.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind him.

Someone was coming! Ji Wei sat up straight, adrenaline rushing. His excitement at watching the chaos unfold reached its peak.

“The fight’s about to start! This is so exciting, I love it!”

[“The streamer’s gone completely insane.”]

[“Stop laughing, baby, I’m actually scared. What if he finds you? You don’t even have a gun!”]

[“Wait, is he going to steal the car?!”]

“He probably won’t notice me,” Ji Wei said lazily, still sitting in the car.

“Lesson two, Lao Liu: you need strong mental fortitude. The key is stability.”

[“Driver: One wrong move and I’m done for.”]

[“With that kind of mental fortitude, just join the PCL already. Remember Unique’s rule: stay calm!”]

On screen, the new enemy didn’t steal the car but instead headed straight for the houses.

Ji Wei commented, “He probably wants to clear the area first before taking the car. Bold strategy.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunfire erupted in a fierce exchange. When the dust settled, the newcomer was dead.

“Our driver is amazing!” Ji Wei was completely immersed, watching the fight as if it were front-row entertainment.

“We’re closing in on the circle. This guy doesn’t seem to be leaving… Is he planning to camp in this housing area? That’s fine by me. We’ll just sit tight and wait.”

[“We’re still a few hundred meters from the zone! You don’t even have meds—are you seriously not panicking?”]

[“Hurry up and drive away!”]

“Come on, please! They were kind enough to give us a ride here—how can you just drive off now?”

Ji Wei lifted his hands off the keyboard, resting his chin in his palm as he chatted with the viewers.

“At this distance, we should still have enough time to reach the circle.”

However, five minutes later, the other player still showed no sign of moving.

As the blue light of the poison zone swept over, Ji Wei’s expression gradually turned serious.

He muttered, “Why isn’t he leaving yet? Does this guy have a ton of meds or something? If we don’t get out of this circle soon, the next one’s going to hit hard.”

Two minutes later, the poison had already covered their area, and a countdown appeared on the screen. If they didn’t reach the safe zone before time ran out, they’d die.

Just as Ji Wei was about to shamelessly take the car and drive off—

—the black-skinned player slowly walked over.

He got into the driver’s seat, still completely unaware that someone was sitting in the back.

The safe zone shrank again, adding a few hundred more meters to the distance.

[“I have a bad feeling you’re not gonna make it.”]

[“He must’ve just fallen asleep in the house—why are you driving now?”]

[“Brother, your energy bar is almost empty!”]

On-screen, Ji Wei’s character’s energy bar was already half depleted. They were still 500 meters from the safe zone, the car speeding at full throttle.

300 meters.

200 meters.

At just 100 meters from safety, the car suddenly slowed down. The driver switched to the passenger seat and started taking painkillers.

“Oh my god!” Ji Wei shouted, pinching the bridge of his nose hard. “Why can’t you drive inside first and then take your meds? It’s literally a few meters away!”

[“Hahahahahahaha—just tell us what you’re gonna do!”]

[“You’re talking out loud on the mic, you’re gonna scare him to death!”]

Ji Wei’s character’s health bar was dropping rapidly, nearly empty—

Then, the car suddenly started moving again.

But the driver… was no longer the black player.

Ji Wei couldn’t think of any other solution, so he gritted his teeth, switched to the driver’s seat, and slammed the accelerator to get the car into the safe zone.

The comments started flooding in like crazy.

[“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”]

[“How could you do this! Evil Unico!”]

[“Passenger seat, half-medicated: Why is the car driving itself?!”]

[“This is scarier than turning on all mics! You’ve gone too far!”]

[“Please, someone ask how much psychological trauma the black player has endured.”]

[“Even Satan would bow down to you!”]

“What can I do?” Ji Wei blushed and muttered softly, “If I don’t drive in, I’ll die. I don’t want to lose points.”

On-screen, the black man in the passenger seat was so terrified by the car suddenly moving on its own that he accidentally pressed the exit button—falling to his death just outside the safe zone.

“Ah… this.”

Ji Wei looked at the loot box lying outside and said a bit awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to hit him. I thought we could make it together.”

[“Stop talking, okay? You’ve already scared him enough.”]

[“With no death replays or alternate perspectives, that poor guy will never know why his car started driving on its own that afternoon.”]

[“He probably saw someone in the driver’s seat at the last second and panicked, so he pressed the button.”]

[“Truly—a miracle.”]

Ji Wei drove all the way into the safe zone, looted a box on the ground, restored his health to full, then found a good spot to lie down and wait for the next unlucky soul.

“Oh, I do feel a little sorry for him,” he said, looking gloomy—but there wasn’t the slightest trace of guilt in his bright eyes.

[“Too late.”]

[“Don’t pretend.”]

[“What’s the difference between this and crocodile tears?”]

[“Black brother, life’s tough. I drove you all the way here, almost made it to the end, only to get scared to death by you.”]

[“I cried, did you?”]

“I didn’t cry.” Seeing the tone of the barrage, Ji Wei straightened up and said seriously,

“Lesson three from Lao Liu: never feel guilty about the players who fall by your hand, and never think there’s anything shameful about trickery.”

He raised his chin and puffed out his chest. “After all, in this game, surviving to the end is victory.”

“That’s right.”

A familiar voice came from behind him. Ji Wei turned around amid the barrage’s screams.

“You guys done already?”

“Yeah.” Yin Sijue reached out to ruffle his hair. “Duo queue?”

“Okay, okay—just let me finish this round first.”

The next moment, the viewers watched as the host—who had been hiding for over half an hour—stood up without hesitation and launched two grenades forward.

Flustered footsteps echoed from all directions. Ji Wei raised his rifle and fired a burst of shots, wiping out the last full squad in the final round and securing the Chicken Dinner.

[“Okay, okay, I’m a fan of Dual Personality too.”]

[“Are you that eager for your husband to show up, KDL?”]

[“Promise me you won’t hide with Sol this time, okay?”]

“No more hiding, no more hiding.” Ji Wei exited the game and invited Yin Sijue to join the team. “We’ve got a practice match tonight. Let’s drop at G Port to warm up. That’s all for today’s Lao Liu tutorial.”

[“Alright, now it’s a couple’s duo match.”]

[“Nice! Finally, we’ll see some real action—it was worth the wait.”]

[“Pretending to be reluctant to leave the tutorial game.”]

“What did you just teach?” Yin Sijue asked with interest.

“Um… nothing much. Something went wrong, and I didn’t get to cover all the key points I prepared,” Ji Wei said sheepishly. “I’ll save it for next time.”

“Then I’ll attend class next time,” Yin Sijue said lazily. “I want to sit in the front row.”

Ji Wei: “…Okay.”

[“What do you mean by front row? Of course you want the teacher sitting on your lap while teaching.”]

[“JueWei fans are living so peacefully happy…”]

Both players used high-level accounts for this match, playing as a two-man team in a four-player lobby. Most of the players they were matched with were top-tier, giving the viewers the thrill of a fierce, high-level battle.

At 4 p.m., Ji Wei exited the PUBG results page and waved goodbye to the viewers.

“I’m off to practice four-man squads with my teammates. That’s it for today’s stream. As for next time… I’m not sure when that’ll be.”

Seeing the comments start to wail, Ji Wei added, “Let’s try to do one more stream before Worlds. Bye, everyone!”

“Stream’s over?” Xu Shaoqiu came downstairs and glanced at Ji Wei’s laptop. “Alright, let’s talk about tonight’s practice match.”

Da Shu and Mi Li had just finished their own games and joined them.

“Starts at seven—three rounds total. The first two are on Erangel, the third on Miramar. Both are classic maps.” Xu Shaoqiu placed his laptop on the living room sofa. “At 6:50, the other team will send over the room number and password. I’ve already set up the VPN, so I’ll just log in early.”

Da Shu said, “Are we really playing on the Korean server? Why not compromise with the Singapore one or something? This feels like walking straight into a Hongmen Banquet.”

Yin Sijue leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment before saying, “Actually, if nothing unexpected happens, it probably will happen. They’re not so kind as to help us with training.”

“Yes.” Xu Shaoqiu nodded. “Solve and I discussed it this afternoon. The fact that they approached us first this time is probably because both the PCL champion and runner-up teams that qualified this season are new lineups. Each has two newly joined players. Kelly managed to dig up a few clips from the secondary league, but Unique is a complete blank slate. On one hand, they’re worried we might have some kind of secret weapon and want to test our strength. On the other hand, they just want to mess with us a little before the tournament.”

Mi Li said carelessly, “Whatever. If we lose because of lag, so be it. I’ve already had enough of those old match replays anyway. Might as well face them head-on.”

Yin Sijue turned to Ji Wei with a teasing smile. “What do you think, Secret Weapon? Feeling nervous?”

“…No,” Ji Wei said helplessly. “If they really want to test our strength, why choose a server that favors them? Even if they win, it’s not that convincing.”

“At the very least, it boosts their morale,” Xu Shaoqiu explained. “Haven’t you noticed that SOP’s players have pretty fragile mentalities? When they lose, they don’t even shake hands. None of the other major PKL clubs act like that.”

Xu Shaoqiu looked at Ji Wei with a fatherly expression. “Your mindset before a big tournament can really affect the outcome. Maybe they’re targeting you this time, so don’t let it get to you, okay?”

Before Ji Wei could respond, Da Shu cut in. “You don’t have to worry. His husband got knifed mid-match once, and he still stayed calm. Honestly, he’s got some natural talent for this.”

Ji Wei: “…He wasn’t my husband back then.”

“Ohhh—!”

Xu Shaoqiu’s voice suddenly joined in, as if he’d just had an epiphany. He finally realized he’d been misunderstanding something all along.

“So Solve is the husband!”

Even Yin Sijue looked stunned this time. He stared at their supposedly smart coach like he’d seen a ghost. “Who else would it be?”

Xu Shaoqiu: “…”

He couldn’t say it—doing so might destroy team harmony.

“Almost time, right?” After finishing another two hours of squad practice, Da Shu exited the results screen and checked the team’s stats. “Aside from that one cursed zone match, we basically won every round. My hands are on fire today—pretty sure I’m gonna carry the scrim.”

Mi Li scoffed. “You only got one MVP and you’re bragging already.”

Da Shu: “One MVP is still an MVP! You frag-hungry assaulters don’t get to talk!”

“Don’t start celebrating halfway through the match,” Yin Sijue said, moving his fingers as he logged out of the Asia server and switched to the Korean one. “It’s almost time. Turn on your VPNs and get ready to enter the room.”

At 6:50, Xu Shaoqiu sent over the password. The four of them joined that night’s scrim right on time.

Twelve teams from both divisions were already in place. Including the sparring partners provided by SOP, there were a total of eighty players in the entire practice match.

Before the game began, Xu Shaoqiu added a reminder: “Uh… don’t take it too seriously, okay? It’s just a scrim. Remember to keep your real tactics under wraps.”

“Relax,” Da Shu snapped his fingers. “We’ll just treat it like a Diamond-tier match!”

However, even Diamond matches have their own kind of pain.

Five minutes later, the four AVG players sat in silence as they stared at the map—an 800-meter trek to reach the safe zone.

The first match was on the island map. The flight path stretched horizontally from the military base to City S, miles away from AVG’s usual drop point, G Port. They had no choice but to land, find a car, and drive.

“Sigh,” Da Shu grumbled as he drove. “And it starts like this right off the bat.”

Mi Li muttered, “The center of the circle is still at SOP’s airport drop point… If we could draw our own zones in custom rooms, I’d swear they rigged this one.”

“Let’s move out in five minutes,” Yin Sijue said, frowning at the map. “We’ll head in early this time. The circle’s too far south—it won’t be easy to fight from here.”

Just as he finished speaking, the kill feed updated: the entire UGC squad had been wiped out.

The team fell silent for two seconds.

Da Shu sighed. “They must’ve collided mid-drop and lost the roll. But UGC always changes drop points at Worlds. They probably just wanted to try something new this time.”

Mi Li: “Yeah, well, they tried—and died.”

Ji Wei, who had searched all of G Port without finding a single good rifle, complained in frustration, “UGC’s supposed to be veteran players. How did they get wiped so fast? Is SOP really that strong?”

Yin Sijue thought for a moment. “It’s a bit strange, but anything can happen in a hot drop. Weren’t three of you wiped last time, too?”

Da Shu and Mi Li: “???”

Yin Sijue opened the map, recalling each team’s usual drop points. “We’ll push south. On the island map, Korean teams usually drop on the south side, and the PCL teams stick to the north. The first team we’ll likely encounter is KKC, then maybe NS.”

Da Shu groaned. “So it’s another internal fight? Great. After that, we still have to cross the bridge? Sounds hopeless already.”

Mi Li asked, “Can we drive across the water like Unique did last time?”

“No.” Before Yin Sijue could respond, Ji Wei immediately shot it down. “Last time, there was only one UGC team at the base. That won’t be the case this time. There’ll be several teams crossing the bridge before us, and if we take the river route, we’ll just get surrounded.”

“Alright, alright.” Da Shu started reloading and furiously clicked his left mouse button, the rapid “kak-kak” of a pro player filling the mic. Then he slid past Ji Wei’s character, punching and sprinting dramatically. “I’m ready!”

“…?”

A wave of realization hit Ji Wei like a mountain. She spoke with difficulty. “You… watched my livestream?”

Da Shu raised his voice in mock affection. “Yes, sweetheart. Lao Ma, your husband, and I all watched it together~”

Ji Wei: “…”

Yin Sijue, discarding the useless attachments from his inventory, said casually, “He said later he couldn’t believe even the worst players would fall for that.”

Then he stood up in-game and added, “Let’s move. Time to get inside the circle.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 62


Chapter 62 – Go Home


For Xu Shaoqiu, as long as he wasn’t calling anyone, it was mostly nothing serious.

The thirty-plus messages Ji Wei received were nothing but complaints from middle-aged men.

[Resolved! The Eight O’Clock Club’s official blog will release a clarification announcement (PS: I know you’re competing, but I still want to let you know)]

[Fuck, why did you cancel your account? Aren’t you going to play anymore, huh?]

[Huh? Just quit your account!!!]

[Fuck, it seems to be working pretty well, but all the evidence I’ve been gathering seems useless now.]

[Unique, go for it!!!]

Ji Wei slept until noon and dazedly glanced at his messages. His WeChat was full of friends expressing shock at the news that he was WEI. He tried to get up to call Xu Shaoqiu back, but found himself completely limp, unable to straighten his back.

His back and legs ached, especially the soft flesh at the base of his legs; it was both painful and itchy. He pushed himself up to examine it and discovered not only red marks from rubbing but also several unfamiliar tooth marks.

Ji Wei: “…”

Seeing Yin Sijue still asleep, Ji Wei was so angry he wanted to kick him.

He moved to act, but before his heel could land, he was grabbed. Yin Sijue gripped his slender ankle and slowly opened his eyes; his vision was now clear.

“You woke up a while ago?” Yin Sijue asked. Ji Wei grew even more furious and slammed himself into the pillow with a dull thud, like cotton colliding.

Yin Sijue’s eyes curved in laughter. Ji Wei’s recent temper wasn’t annoying at all; it was rather endearing.

He pulled Ji Wei out of the pillow like a carrot, kissed him on the cheek, and asked, “Are you feeling any discomfort?”

“Nothing!”

“You make me feel so great when you say that.”

“…Get lost.”

After making him blush, Yin Sijue touched his cheek soothingly. “We’ll go out and get some ointment later.”

Ji Wei said sullenly, “Let’s call Brother Qiu first. He tried to contact me last night, but I didn’t answer.”

“Okay.” Yin Sijue took the phone and called.

The call was answered quickly. “Finally—you know who’s calling? Where’s my Unique?”

Yin Sijue’s voice was weary. “How did he become yours?”

Xu Shaoqiu said calmly, “Ever since he exposed his fake username at the All-Star Game last night, Unique’s personal super topic ranking has surpassed yours. Now he’s my darling—my pension insurance for the rest of my life! If Ji Wei returns from Taipei City with even a hair missing, I’ll definitely come after you.”

Yin Sijue smiled indifferently and glanced at Ji Wei beside him. The boy lay on his side, looking at him, his cheek pressed into the pillow. A single hair had just fallen onto the white pillowcase.

He reattached the hair to Ji Wei’s bewildered face and continued on the other end of the phone, “Are we going back tomorrow?”

“Yes, that’s what I wanted to tell you—about coming back,” Xu Shaoqiu said sternly. “You have to be back tomorrow afternoon at the latest. We have scrimmages tonight.”

Yin Sijue frowned. “What’s so urgent about scrimmages? We have to catch a flight in the afternoon and play at night. Can’t it be postponed to the day after tomorrow?”

Xu Shaoqiu replied in a steady voice, “It’s part of the SOP arrangement.”

“The six PKL teams that qualified for the World Championship are here, and they’ve also arranged matches with the six teams that advanced from the PCL.”

Yin Sijue paused. “Whose servers are we using? Have all the other teams agreed?”

Different servers in different regions come with varying latency. Although clubs now use dedicated accelerators, internet speeds are still unpredictable. In a high-intensity game like PUBG, even a delay of two or three seconds can easily cost a team its advantage.

“Everyone agreed. After all, we’ve never had the chance to scrimmage with such a complete lineup before.” Xu Shaoqiu glanced at the email. “We’re playing on the Korean server. They’ll send out room codes and even provide sparring partners.”

Yin Sijue was about to speak when Xu Shaoqiu continued, “I know you’re concerned. Playing on the Korean server does put us in a relatively passive position. But after today’s discussions, all the managers agreed this is a rare opportunity. Losing doesn’t matter. The point is to test the waters. Youyou specifically asked them not to share the results of these scrimmages, and they agreed.”

Yin Sijue was silent for a moment, then said, “Aren’t you worried your teammates will lose their heads if they lose?”

“Who’ll lose their heads? Those guys are all seasoned veterans. As for Unique, he wasn’t nervous even in his first playoff appearance. Have you ever seen him lose his composure?”

Yes, he did last night in bed.

Of course, Yin Sijue couldn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Alright, we’ll head back early tomorrow.”

After hanging up, Yin Sijue hugged Ji Wei—who had been eavesdropping nearby—and buried his head in his neck, taking a deep breath.

Goosebumps quickly rose behind Ji Wei’s ears. He tilted his head slightly and asked, “Can we really schedule scrimmages with Korean teams?”

“We’ve never done it before.” Yin Sijue raised his head and blinked slowly. “It’s a rare opportunity indeed. It’s your first Worlds, and this can be a good warm-up.”

“Then we still have one day.” Ji Wei climbed out of bed and faced Yin Sijue. “Where do you want to go? I’ll be your guide!”

One hour later.

The two, neatly dressed, stood at the gate of Ji Wei’s high school, blending seamlessly into the throng of students.

“No, but seriously, why are you coming to my school when you don’t want to visit all the scenic spots in Taipei?” Ji Wei asked, puzzled.

Yin Sijue: “I want to see where my boyfriend grew up. Is that okay?”

“…not that it’s impossible.”

Although it was summer vacation, Ji Wei’s former high school still offered remedial classes for pre-senior students, making it easy for the two of them to slip inside.

It had rained the previous night, and the air was filled with a crisp, damp freshness. The breeze carried the faint smell of earth, along with a slight fishy odor.

They strolled through the campus, feeling as if they had truly grown up together.

Ji Wei pointed at the low wall by the school’s back door. “I used to climb over here all the time to play games with you.”

“It’s so hard to climb! If it were even an inch higher, I wouldn’t have been able to get out. Back then…”

As he walked closer, Ji Wei’s voice trailed off.

After all these years, the top of the wall had been covered with sharp shards of glass. It was impossible for anyone to climb over now.

“…” Ji Wei’s eyes dimmed, and he pulled Yin Sijue a little farther away.

Someone wrapped a warm hand around his own, kneading it soothingly. Yin Sijue looked down at him and sighed with heartache.

“If only I had met you sooner.”

“What are you saying?” Ji Wei looked up in shock. “I was only fourteen when I met you. How much earlier do you want?”

“…Not that kind of meeting you.” Yin Sijue coughed softly. “I mean, I wish I had been by your side sooner.”

That way, perhaps you wouldn’t have suffered so much.

At least you wouldn’t be walking around this campus now, unable to find a single memory of yourself.

“Let’s go.” Yin Sijue tugged at his hand. “There’s nothing much to see.”

Ji Wei was a little surprised. “That’s it? There’s a Wall of Fame over there with photos of famous alumni. Our school even had a Nobel Prize winner. Don’t you want to take a look?”

“Is Ji Wei one of those famous alumni?”

Ji Wei blinked, caught off guard. “Of course not. What are you talking about?”

“That’s rather unrefined. I won’t look at it.” Yin Sijue led him away. “I don’t think that Wall of Fame has much value.”

As they left the school, a light, steady rain began to fall again.

Yin Sijue bought an umbrella at a nearby supermarket and picked up some ointment for Ji Wei to apply. The rain was heavy when they stepped out, so they huddled under the eaves for shelter.

A drop of water slid off the eaves and splashed onto the ground. Ji Wei glanced back at the familiar alley, thinking of the puppy he had never seen again.

He let out a soft breath and looked at the person beside him. “When we retire, let’s get a Bichon Frise together, okay?”

“Okay.” Yin Sijue didn’t ask why. Instead, he lowered his head and asked softly, “Are you unhappy? It’s my fault for asking you to bring me here.”

Ji Wei leaned against his sturdy arm and shook his head slightly. “No.”

When the rain eased, Yin Sijue opened the umbrella and prepared to take him back.

He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and suggested, “How about we change our flight back to Hai City today? There’s nothing else to do—”

“Ji Wei?”

A surprised female voice echoed from behind them, making Ji Wei’s breath hitch, his heart nearly stopping.

This trip to Taipei, he had run into so many old acquaintances.

He sighed, pursed his lips, and turned to face the people behind him. The past replayed before his eyes like a slideshow.

“Long time no see, Mom.”

At the sound of that call, Yin Sijue’s pupils shrank. He instinctively stepped in front of Ji Wei, shielding him, frowning as he stared at the woman whose features bore a striking resemblance to Ji Wei.

Ji’s mother wore exquisite makeup, and a pair of clear glasses framed her face, reflecting a chilling gaze.

She hadn’t come alone.

A little boy trailed after her, struggling under the weight of a large backpack far too heavy for his age.

The child tugged at the woman’s trouser leg, looked up, and asked innocently, “Are you calling me, Mom? Who is this brother?”

Ji Wei’s heart sank. He glanced at the backpack on the boy’s shoulders. It was the kindergarten’s standard issue, with a name tag clearly printed:

[Sunflower Little Class Ji Wei]

“You…”

The absurdity of the scene nearly knocked Ji Wei off his feet. He gasped and asked in disbelief, “What do you mean by that?”

For an instant, Mother Ji’s expression faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. Behind her glasses, her eyes were as cold as they had been three years ago. She lifted her chin and said evenly, “As you can see.”

She scanned Ji Wei from head to toe with a razor-sharp gaze and demanded coldly, “If you escaped, why did you come back? Are you not doing well?”

“Don’t worry about that. He’s doing well now.” Yin Sijue’s voice was frosty. He stepped forward, blocking Ji Wei’s way, his glare fierce as he said in a deep voice:

“He just won the national championship, and he’ll win the world championship soon. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Mother Ji’s eyes flickered briefly, but she quickly regained her cold demeanor and glared back at Yin Sijue.

“Who are you?” she asked, her gaze dropping to their clasped hands. Her brow furrowed in disgust. “Did you lead him astray? He refused to attend high school, insisted on playing games, and even ran away from home!”

She turned her sharp gaze back to Ji Wei, her voice laced with disdain. “So what if you won a championship? How many years can you keep it up? If you had studied properly and graduated, your father could have found you a good job—enough to provide for you for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t need it.” Ji Wei couldn’t even be bothered to argue. “I’m only back to compete. I won’t be staying long—I’ll be leaving soon.”

He stopped himself there. He couldn’t bear to say more in front of the child. Suppressing his anger, he added, “No matter what your reasons, never pin your expectations on others—especially on children. They are always innocent.”

“Mom?” The boy patted Ji’s mother’s leg in confusion. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing.” Ji’s mother didn’t even glance at him. “Stand still, and wear your backpack properly.”

Ji Wei felt that hearing this kind of talk too often was enough to give him PTSD. He let out a heavy sigh, pulled Yin Sijue along, and flagged down a taxi on the spot.

Before getting in the car, he thought he saw his mother raise her hand, as if to stop him.

But in the end, she didn’t say anything.

What answered her was the sharp, crisp sound of a door slamming shut.

The car carrying Ji Wei sped off through the rain.

It was only halfway through the ride that Ji Wei slowly began to recover from the shock and absurdity of it all.

He turned seriously to Yin Sijue and asked, “Would you say this is like her scrapping her main account and starting over with a smurf?”

After saying that, he paused for two seconds, then couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “And she didn’t even bother changing the name.”

Yin Sijue had been observing his state closely. Seeing that Ji Wei wasn’t on the verge of losing control, he finally felt reassured. He answered seriously, “You are one of a kind.”

Raindrops slid down the taxi window, their streaks reflected in the shifting light and shadow on Ji Wei’s face, almost as if he were shedding tears.

But Ji Wei wasn’t crying. He only let out a faint sigh and said to the person beside him, “Let’s reschedule. Let’s go back today.”

The last flight to Hai City was at seven o’clock. Since there was nothing to do at the hotel, the two of them arrived at the airport at six to wait for boarding.

Yin Sijue had expected Ji Wei to be more downcast than usual today. Unexpectedly, he spent the whole ride grinning at his phone and furiously taking screenshots.

“What are you looking at?”

Ji Wei laughed so hard he honked like a goose, then handed his phone to Yin Sijue. “I haven’t properly checked Weibo since yesterday. Everyone’s hilarious.”

On the screen was a congratulatory post automatically sent by the platform after Ji Wei had won the All-Star championship.

[@AVG_Unique: Congratulations to me for winning the PCL Division Championship at the Aurora TV PUBG All-Star Game! Click to view the highlights [/link]]

The top comment was still from that king of memes, @OnlyHisMom.

[OnlyHisMom: In my past life, I was the #1 PUBG Asia server god—peerless skills, beauty at my side. But in the end, I was betrayed by sinister villains, left unknown, playing like a rat for life. Fortunately, heaven had mercy and gave me another chance. Reborn into Team AVG, this time I’ll reclaim everything that’s rightfully mine with my own hands! (Search Aurora TV 166888 to see how I take it all back)]

“‘Beauty at my side’? Is he talking about you? Hahahaha!” Ji Wei laughed until tears formed in his eyes. “I never used to get these rebirth memes, but now I realize they’re so funny. Next time I’ll have to read a few of those novels.”

Yin Sijue couldn’t help but smile as well, the corners of his lips curving upward. He scrolled further down from that comment, where Ji Wei’s fans and Jue’s fans were busy checking in and leaving comments.

[Wei, do you know how I’ve been living since last night? You don’t.]

[I’m manually unblocking all the WEI fans from my blacklist, one by one. Who understands how embarrassing this is for me?]

[Do you think I didn’t block all of you Unique fans yesterday?]

[Alright, stop fighting. We’re all family now. We need to love each other.]

[Funny, the “family members” above didn’t sound like this yesterday when they said my family tree only had one page.]

[Is anyone going to manage this chaos? Where’s Unique? She dropped a bomb and disappeared! She didn’t even post an acceptance speech on Weibo after winning the championship.]

[He’s probably busy with her husband. Not online right now. They’d better be doing what I’m thinking.]

[They’d better be.]

[They must be.]

Ji Wei, staring at that outrageous comment, silently admitted: That was true.

Yin Sijue seemed to be scrutinizing every post. Not satisfied with just the comments, he clicked into the reposts. To his surprise, the top repost came from @JueWei, Number One in the World—even the official AVG account ranked below her.

Ever since Mrs. Juewei’s prediction had come true, she’d risen to fame, becoming a well-known CP fangirl blogger, and everyone happily reposted her content.

[@JueWei, Number One in the World: New fans can check my pinned compilation, which covers the whole journey of these two, from their first meeting until now~ // @AVG_Unique: Congratulations on winning…]

Seeing that username, Ji Wei was reminded of what had happened last night. A blush crept up his ears, and he stole a glance at Yin Sijue.

Then he saw Yin Sijue casually click on the pinned post on her profile.

Ji Wei: “…What are you doing?”

Thankfully, I added her as an invisible user!

Yin Sijue replied matter-of-factly, “Don’t you want to see how we met?”

At the top was a collection of links titled “The Journey of Delicious Flavors,” arranged neatly in order from top to bottom:

  • First Encounter: Live Broadcast Room (stream)
  • Meeting: Base Room (stream)
  • Getting to Know: Computer Desk (stream)
  • Love: Championship Night, Hotel Floor-to-Ceiling Window (stream)

The following content, from the biggest stadium moments down to the tiniest details of every position, was laid out in painstaking, crystal-clear detail.

Ji Wei’s face went utterly blank, as if a downpour had washed him clean of all expression, erased by these blunt and audacious words.

What the hell!? What is this??

After reading all this, Ji Wei almost forgot the word “play.”

“You can organize Weibo posts like this?” Yin Sijue seemed to have discovered something new. With great satisfaction, he tapped Save in the top right corner of the post.

Ji Wei stared at him speechlessly. “Do you know whose account you’re using right now?”

Yin Sijue replied with a half-smile. “It’s fine. You’ll see it anyway, won’t you?”

Ji Wei: …

A notification suddenly popped up: New Weibo +1. The blogger had just updated a post a few minutes ago—it was yet another screenshot.

Ji Wei was practically traumatized by this blogger’s endless screenshots.

[@JueWei, Number One in the World: [Picture] Who’s visiting me incognito? So hard to guess.]

Ji Wei: ==!

The comments were also starting to get a little snarky:

[So hard to guess.]

[We, the Wei Army, have always been upright! We never hide when we eat! Even passing dogs would say it’s delicious, so why would we sneak around? @AVG_Unique I’m talking about you. Why didn’t you give her a like before leaving? How rude!]

Yin Sijue turned to him. “How about I give her a like before we leave?”

Ji Wei took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Easy for you to say. Let me remind you—this is my Weibo. You won’t be the one socially devastated.”

Yin Sijue pretended to pull out his phone. “Then I’ll just use my own Weibo.”

Ji Wei glared at him resentfully. When he saw Yin Sijue actually about to click, Ji Wei panicked and grabbed his hand. “…Don’t click.”

“I’ll tell you when I see something worth liking.”

It was impossible to stop him with words; Ji Wei was only stalling for time. He had already made plans for tonight: take a taxi back to base as soon as he got off the plane, enjoy a hot shower, then collapse into bed to savor the food he’d been craving the past two days.

But he had completely forgotten about his good teammates, who had only just learned of his alternate identity yesterday.

By the time he returned to base, it was almost eleven o’clock. Dusty and exhausted, Ji Wei dragged his suitcase through the door—only to find the members of both AVG teams sitting in a row on the living room sofa.

Like owls, they all turned to stare at him the moment the door opened.

The scene was so eerie that goosebumps broke out all over his body.

“…What are you doing?”

Everyone stayed silent, their eyes locked on him.

After staring at each other for five minutes, Da Shu couldn’t hold it in anymore and spoke first: “I hate you.”

What kind of dramatic statement was that? Ji Wei asked, “What do you hate me for?”

“I hate you for pretending to be a pig that eats the tiger! I hate you for acting so powerful every day!”

“How could I?”

Like a commoner pleading guilty before a magistrate, Da Shu tearfully enumerated Ji Wei’s crimes: “When I first saw you and my brother so perfectly matched, I wondered if I wasn’t cooperating well with my teammates. It turns out you two aren’t brothers from a past life, but old friends in this one!”

Why was it so exaggerated? Ji Wei quickly clarified, “No old feelings!”

Ban added quietly, “Didn’t you say Solve was your idol? Turns out you were just role-playing.”

Ji Wei had no choice but to admit he had fabricated the idol story. The truth was, he had joined the team for Yin Sijue. Even if he had a hundred mouths, he still wouldn’t have dared to reveal that they’d known each other three years ago.

Yin Sijue asked with great interest, “What else? What did he say?”

Everyone began exposing one another’s secrets.

Ban: “He said he likes Solve the most.”

Dragon: “I wanted to add you as a friend but couldn’t. I was so sad.”

Jerry: “I was secretly angry when I saw you getting beaten to death during the game.”

Ban, fanning the flames: “During the regular season, I almost cried watching you get dragged down by Wolf.”

Ji Wei’s private image was stripped bare, leaving him feeling like a spectacle. “…Stop talking.”

Ban pointed at Jerry’s foot. “WEI God needs to compensate us for emotional damages. Jerry was so shocked when he saw you switch accounts during the game that he stubbed his little toe. The team doctor’s preliminary diagnosis is a sprain.”

Ji Wei: …Are you here to scam me?

Xu Shaoqiu had seen enough from the sidelines and came over to shoo them away. “Alright, alright, they just got off the plane. Let them rest.”

Although Jerry had sprained his toe, he seemed to be walking just fine. Before leaving, he pulled Ji Wei aside and whispered, “Actually, I saw your gameplay videos on Tieba a long time ago.”

“I’m so happy you’re WEI God. I really am.”

Ji Wei looked into his sincere eyes, warmth spreading through his chest. He quietly stuffed Jerry with a bag of Taipei specialties he’d bought at the airport and said with a smile, “I’m so happy to be your teammate.”

Jerry: “Yeah! Good luck at Worlds. I’ll be waiting for your good news!”

After sending off the chattering teammates, Ji Wei carried his luggage back to his room and stood by the window in a daze for a while.

The night outside resembled a smudged ink painting. A light breeze rustled the leaves, deepening the silence. Ji Wei could almost hear his own steady heartbeat.

His phone screen lit up—a goodnight message from Yin Sijue.

After replying, Ji Wei’s thoughts wandered back to seeing his mother that day. Old memories suddenly surged, and her cold words stung even more than they had three years ago. But now, between him and that pain stood Yin Sijue, his broad shoulders like an unshakable wall.

The endless rain in the northern city had already stopped by the time they landed in Hai City. On this clear night with a bright moon and sparse stars, Ji Wei could no longer catch that damp, earthy scent that lingered after the rain.


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 61


Chapter 61 – Quarrel


Although he knew it was just a rant, Yin Sijue’s heart still sank when he heard the word hate. It felt like a thousand-pound boulder pressing down on him, making it almost impossible to breathe.

He knelt on one knee in front of Ji Wei’s sofa, his hand gently resting on the boy’s knee. Looking up at Ji Wei’s pink eyelids, he whispered soothingly: “I’m sorry, Weiwei.”

He paused for two seconds. “I kept it from you because I was worried you’d take the blame for other people’s mistakes. I didn’t want you to feel guilty about this mess. Because I…”

Yin Sijue rubbed Ji Wei’s knee with his fingertips, feeling the slight tremor in his palm. He sighed softly, defeated.

“It would hurt.”

Ji Wei’s heart froze, and he almost burst into tears. His eyes turned red as he bit down on his lower lip. He tried to hold back his emotions, but his words still came out between sobs.

“You’re heartbroken—but shouldn’t I be?”

“If you had told me earlier, I could have posted a clarification on Weibo. I could have verified my identity online. Even if my account couldn’t be recovered, even if they still didn’t believe me, at least I could have shared some of the anger. Anything would have been better than finding out at the last minute.”

“I hate seeing the messages only after my phone was taken away. I hate hearing people scolding you in the background. I hate feeling powerless.”

He paused for a long moment before breaking down. “I hate you…”

Ji Wei kept crying. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes like beads from a broken string, falling one by one onto Yin Sijue’s arm, each drop piercing his heart.

“I know.” Yin Sijue’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice trembled as if he were choking back tears. He sat on the sofa and pulled Ji Wei into his arms, pressing his head against his chest. His voice was hoarse and low. “I’m sorry.”

Ji Wei hated his own tears. Why did he always cry so easily? It felt like showing weakness.

“What should I do? I don’t want to cry. I can’t help it.”

Yin Sijue pressed a gentle kiss to Ji Wei’s hair. His heart felt as though it had been pierced by countless poisoned needles, the pain spreading densely and endlessly. Ji Wei’s crying tore him apart.

It turns out that liking someone too much really can hurt your heart.

He waited quietly as Ji Wei vented his emotions. Only when his lapel was soaked and Ji Wei’s trembling finally subsided did he realize he had calmed down.

Worried that he’d become dehydrated from crying, Yin Sijue asked softly, “Do you want some water? I’ll get it for you.”

Ji Wei shook his head, his strength drained by his emotions. He leaned weakly against Yin Sijue’s shoulder, hiding his tear-swollen eyes, and said in a sulky voice:

“Don’t treat me like a weakling, Yin Sijue. I’m not a child who needs protecting.”

“I can protect you, too.”

Yin Sijue held Ji Wei’s thin shoulders and drew him up from his embrace. His love for him reached its peak.

“Yes. You’ve always protected me.”

In the game—and even more so outside of it.

Every stage of his life had been made more complete because he met Ji Wei.

He touched the boy’s swollen eyelids with his fingertips and said with concern, “You’re puffy. I’ll get you some ice.”

Yin Sijue stood up and went to the bathroom for a towel. After just a few steps, he realized the person who should have been resting on the sofa was following close behind, clinging to him shyly.

He had cried too much and now felt embarrassed. Yin Sijue understood everything. Smiling faintly, he allowed Ji Wei to trail after him like a little tail.

After preparing the ice towel, Yin Sijue brought the boy back to the sofa. He cupped Ji Wei’s face and gently tilted it upward, as if handling precious, fragile porcelain.

The towel covered Ji Wei’s eyes, and the cool touch made him sigh in relief. The soreness around his eyes gradually eased.

He sat cross-legged on the sofa, facing Yin Sijue. As the towel grew warm, someone flipped it over for him without needing to be asked, and the cycle continued.

For a while, they remained in this quiet rhythm—yet something felt off.

With his vision blocked, Ji Wei’s other senses sharpened, amplifying every detail. He could feel Yin Sijue’s warm gaze, hear his heavier breathing, and sense the pounding of a heartbeat.

Was it his own—or Yin Sijue’s? He couldn’t tell. The rhythms tangled together, inseparable.

Gulp. Ji Wei swallowed uncontrollably.

Yin Sijue’s eyes darkened as he stared at him in silence. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” Ji Wei hesitated, then asked uneasily, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“What?” The air between them seemed to thicken like gel. Yin Sijue wasn’t even sure what he had just said. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ji Wei.

To stop the towel from slipping off, Ji Wei tilted his head back, propping his slender white arms on the sofa. His red lips parted slightly, like a kitten silently asking for a kiss.

Yin Sijue’s lashes lowered, his gaze lingering on those soft lips. Finally, unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed him.

Caught off guard, Ji Wei’s eyes flew open, but all he saw was white. The towel stayed firmly in place, pressed down by Yin Sijue’s hand.

Ji Wei’s chin was caught, his lips first pecked and then crushed beneath a stronger kiss. He couldn’t escape—he could only let Yin Sijue’s forceful lips steal every breath away.

For some reason, this kiss was fiercer than usual. Ji Wei felt a sharp sting at the tip of his tongue and instinctively tried to retreat. But his head was seized at once, forcing him deeper into an even more suffocating embrace.

He couldn’t see—nothing at all.

The intimate sounds of lips mingling and the gasps slipping from Yin Sijue’s throat echoed in Ji Wei’s ears. Details he had never noticed during their usual kisses now magnified endlessly in his mind.

Ji Wei’s breathing grew more rapid, his senses going numb. He had no room left to think of anything else—only to press closer and closer.

Deprived of both sight and breath, his body began to tremble slightly.

It felt strange, unbearable, and yet inexplicably thrilling.

Mid-kiss, Yin Sijue realized something was wrong.

Worried his boyfriend might be suffocating after crying for so long, he released him after a few moments. But unexpectedly, Ji Wei leaned forward again, whining softly for another kiss.

Shifting positions, he went from sitting cross-legged to kneeling, grabbing a pillow from the sofa and sliding it beneath himself, trying to hide his reaction.

This wasn’t the usual Ji Wei.

Yin Sijue narrowed his eyes, lost in thought. A sudden idea surfaced.

The thought made him smile faintly. He loosened his hold and gripped Ji Wei’s shoulders to stop him from moving. His other hand slipped under the pillow as he leaned close and whispered in his ear:

“Weiwei… those articles you read on Weibo…”

Ji Wei’s body stiffened instantly.

Yin Sijue’s lips curved in satisfaction—his guess was right.

His hands moved even more boldly beneath the pillow, quick and precise, as if typing on a keyboard. His voice dropped lower, tinged with a smile:

“That blogger asked in the comments which one you liked best.”

“You liked the blindfolded one the most, didn’t you, Weiwei?”

Tears spilled from beneath the towel. Ji Wei nearly burst from shame, sobbing even harder than during their earlier argument.

Yin Sijue’s hands didn’t stop, teasing him until he was on the brink of collapse.

The hardest secret to confess—dragged out by the person he loved most.

“You, you…” Ji Wei hiccupped through his tears. “Do you think I… I’m…”

“Yes,” his voice trembled, “…a pervert.”

Ji Wei let out muffled sobs, his body quivering.

And then—light.

At the last moment, Yin Sijue lifted the towel from Ji Wei’s face.

He wanted to see him—see exactly what state he was in now.

The moment he opened his eyes, it felt like a lifetime had passed. Ji Wei saw Yin Sijue’s lowered eyelashes, his gaze fixed on him as if he wanted to devour him whole.

Ji Wei’s face flushed with shame, a tear clinging to his lashes. He felt completely powerless, yet still forced himself to look away.

“Not perverted at all, Weiwei.”

Yin Sijue kissed away the tears at the corners of his eyes and murmured softly, “I like it.”

Still embarrassed, Ji Wei didn’t want to talk. His ears burned red as he lowered his head and bumped it against Yin Sijue’s chest.

Then he noticed—his boyfriend seemed to have a rather urgent problem that needed attention.

“You…”

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll wash the towel while I’m there.” Yin Sijue pulled away the tear-soaked white cloth.

But just as he stood up, Ji Wei grabbed his hand.

“No… don’t go,” he muttered nervously.

He seemed timid—someone who once felt too shy to even add a contact on WeChat—yet his words now were bolder than anyone else’s.

Yin Sijue pressed his hand and refused. “No.”

Rejected, Ji Wei immediately grew annoyed. “You can’t?”

Yin Sijue didn’t want to argue. He brushed his fingers through Ji Wei’s messy hair, smoothing it gently. “You’re not prepared. You’ll get hurt.”

“Don’t we have wine and a hotel?”

“That’s not enough.” Yin Sijue sighed. “You can’t treat it so casually, baby.”

“But…” Ji Wei had already been carried away by the moment. He didn’t want his boyfriend to run off to the bathroom every time. “Is there another way?”

A thought suddenly struck him. After a brief, silent struggle, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes—and knelt down.

Before he could do anything further, he was swept up.

Yin Sijue’s voice carried a hint of laughter as he gripped Ji Wei’s waist. “What are you thinking?”

Ji Wei said nothing, only stared at him stubbornly. His face was flushed, tears streaking his temples. Anyone looking at him could easily imagine what had just taken place.

Yin Sijue’s eyes darkened, his breathing grew heavier, and his grip on the boy’s waist tightened.

“You really want to help me?”

“…Hmm.”

Yin Sijue studied him for a moment, then reached toward the bedside. He retrieved the silk eye mask provided by the hotel and slipped it onto Ji Wei’s head.

The rustle of clothing brushed against Ji Wei’s ears, and before his eyes stretched only darkness. His skin prickled at the air, then grew feverishly hot.

The mask was a vivid, fiery red, cutting across his face and turning him into an image of stark innocence and dangerous allure. His smooth jawline flowed into the pale curve of his neck.

Yin Sijue leaned close to Ji Wei’s ear and commanded in a low voice:

“Take it off.”

“Pull it up.”

After washing up and returning to bed, Yin Sijue gently touched the faint red mark beneath Ji Wei’s eye.

“Are you feeling uncomfortable after hiding for so long?”

“No.” Ji Wei rubbed at his sore waist, then shyly pressed himself against Yin Sijue’s chest. “The reviewer won’t let me say.”

His breath hitched slightly, remembering the force with which Yin Sijue had gripped his thigh. He hadn’t actually done anything, yet the reviewer had already marked it yellow.

He leaned back in his boyfriend’s arms for a while. Even though the author had revised the scene five times, Ji Wei still mustered the last of his energy to check Weibo. After confirming that most of the negative public opinion had disappeared, he tossed his phone aside, rolled back toward Yin Sijue, and clung to him like an octopus.

“Go to sleep, go to sleep. Brother Qiu seems to have sent me more than thirty messages. We’ll reply tomorrow.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 60


Chapter 60 – My CP Didn’t End in BE!


[WEI] used the UZI submachine gun to defeat [NS_Sun].

[AVG_Solve] used the M24 sniper rifle to defeat [NS_Moon].

There were still twenty-eight teams left. The livestream wasn’t focused on AVG; the commentators had just finished watching the other players’ exciting matches when they were distracted by the kill announcement on the right side of the screen.

[“Huh? Did Solve just use a sniper rifle?”]

[“Tears of Time. The last time he used a sniper rifle in a tournament was two years ago at PGC.”]

[“This makes me want to relive that famous sniper-rifle scene.”]

[“Search the 12998 livestream for a player’s perspective. He’s setting up a rifle for Unique.”]

[“Setting up a rifle? My goodness. Some guys even forget their guns to please their wives.”]

[“Swapping positions publicly in the game and covering your ID — that can be a PUBG couples’ scandal.”]

From the commentary booth, Rex watched speechlessly as his good friend diligently played second fiddle: helping with gunning, managing health, and intentionally giving the final blow to Unique, which caused Ji Wei to lead the game by a huge margin.

He said sourly, “I’ve known Solve for over four years. When we were duo-queuing, I asked him to help with gunning, but he ignored me and just rushed out to get my kill.”

Yamy’s expression instantly betrayed understanding. “That guy must be… different from—um—right?”

[“Okay, host, I know what you’re saying.”]

[“Brother, so cute—he typed his wife on the public screen.”]

In the first match, AVG won without a doubt. On the personal stats panel, [WEI]‘s final kill count was twenty: over ten ahead of second-place Solve.

Even after the mid-roll commercials, the discussion on the comment board continued non-stop.

[“This is terrifying…”]

[“You only see this kind of craziness in casual matches. Getting ten kills in a single match in a major tournament is impressive.”]

[“Before, I thought this team’s strength was Unique’s ability to hold down Solve. Now, it seems uncertain who will hold down whom.”]

[“Wei was once known for being a lancer. It was only when he and SJUE played in a four-person squad that they actually teamed up for a lance fight. They’re both amazing.”]

[“Who would have guessed? I came to watch a game, but I was drawn to these two pro players. They’re so handsome—every bit as good as celebrities.”]

During the intermission, the organizers found Ji Wei drinking coffee in the lounge.

A staff member gave a flattering smile. “Unique, can I discuss something with you?”

Ji Wei was on the sofa, scrolling through Weibo. Seeing the reversal in public opinion, he had already calmed down and asked, dazedly, “What’s it?”

“It’s just… we invited a few idols to the All-Star Game this time, and their appearance fees are quite high. Can you kill them later in the next game? Otherwise the fans will probably protest, and we’ll be at a disadvantage.”

“Ah!” Ji Wei suddenly remembered that there were more than just professional players on the field. He smiled apologetically at the staff. “I won’t fight them for a while, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, thank you!”

After the staff left, Yin Sijue—who had been neglected for quite some time—tugged at Ji Wei’s sleeve. “Pay attention to me, Weiwei. Why are you ignoring me after the match?”

Oh my god, Weiwei. Not wanting to break his composure, Ji Wei tilted his neck sharply to the side and angrily imitated Yin Sijue’s words: “I’ll settle the score with you when we get back tonight!”

The second game was set on the desert map. After experiencing the terror of being dominated by Wei, the players decided to scatter and avoid clustering in crowded areas.

But some people, once they unleash their firepower, are like a flood—impossible to stop.

Ji Wei landed, picked up a gun, and immediately drove a pickup truck around the map, killing anyone they came across. Within a short time, he and Yin Sijue had eliminated half the enemies on the field.

Of course, he didn’t forget the staff’s instructions and let the celebrity guests invited by the organizers go.

He had already checked: the celebrities invited this time were all newbies with little gaming experience. It was easy to distinguish the movements of new players from those of pros. Ji Wei, seeing the “bots” wandering around, simply drove past them.

The commentary booth erupted in laughter at the sight of him casually ignoring the newcomers.

[“Wow, wow, wow, someone’s playing with me!”]

[“Thank you, WEI, for sparing my brother! Help! How could an all-around ace play like this?”]

[“He even worked around the network lag. I thought the organizers had added bots.”]

[“I didn’t dare laugh at others. This is exactly how I play games.”]

When the match reached the third round, the few remaining players gathered in a residential area, intending to tacitly target the AVG squad. However, Ji Wei—completely unhinged—strapped a C4 bomb to his pickup truck and drove straight into the area, blowing everyone up.

Naturally, Ji Wei and Yin Sijue perished along with the others in the explosion. In the end, the two idols invited by the organizers inexplicably won the game.

[“?? I’m so impressed they could win like this!”]

[“This level of chaos is rare!”]

[“Those two were just scavenging in the jungle when they suddenly won the match!”]

[“Oh my god, my brother is completely stunned! Help!”]

The idols’ unlikely victory propelled the All-Star Game to the top of the trending searches, boosting the already soaring popularity of the livestream.

By the third match, on the Rainforest map, all the players had learned a valuable survival trick from the previous round: Unique doesn’t kill newbies—only pro players.

The two celebrities had to appear on camera since they were invited by the organizers. It was understandable that they weren’t targeted. But who said the pros couldn’t take advantage of this loophole?

So, in this round, everyone tacitly started bot-ing.

Pretending to forget to press the parachute button and falling into the sea was just the basics. Everyone else focused more on showing off their laggy movement, clumsy footwork, and the way they stood motionless while looting.

Yes—just like how Unique taught everyone to act like a PUBG expert on his livestream—now pro players were being forced to bot in an open tournament.

Ji Wei only realized something was off after passing five or six “bots” in a row.

“Did the organizers match me with bots this round?”

Yin Sijue suppressed a laugh. “I think they’re faking it.”

“…….”

Ji Wei backed up the car and started examining each passing player one by one. Sure enough, something wasn’t right.

This one knows how to climb to the rooftop—he’s not a novice. Kill him.

This one fires a light machine gun without reload anxiety—he’s not a novice. Kill him.

This teammate, when attacked, immediately pops a smoke screen instead of recklessly trying to revive—he’s not a novice. Kill him.

Black skin. Kill him.

A battle royale game had turned into a sniper game.

However, in the finals, Ji Wei’s excessive focus on identifying “bots” exposed his position. A single gunshot from the “bot” Kelly finished him off. Ultimately, UGC won the final round.

[“Ahahahahaha—aa…”]

[“Who would’ve thought the organizers invited two popular celebrities, but in the end, all the talk would still be about Unique?”]

[“Everyone’s reactions were hilarious! I’m saving this for the Spring Festival Gala!”]

Thanks to Ji Wei’s incredible performance in the first match, AVG still secured the All-Star championship without a doubt, based on total points.

Streamers descended from above as Yamy guided the two players to center stage, handed the championship trophy to Ji Wei, and said with a smile: “You’re the center of attention today. Let me do a quick interview. Unique lost the last game to Kelly. Do you have anything to say to him?”

Ji Wei tilted his head in thought for a moment before replying, “He’s quite talented at bot-ing. I just hope he doesn’t use it at Worlds.”

Yamy stifled a laugh and turned to Yin Sijue, teasing, “It seems like Unique stole all the limelight today. Is Solve a little disappointed?”

Yin Sijue answered slowly, “Not as disappointed as if Unique ignored me.”

The tens of thousands of spectators immediately erupted into gossipy screams. In front of them, the live black camera spun 360 degrees around the two of them.

Ji Wei looked at Yin Sijue in horror, his hand reaching behind his back to pinch the man’s firm lower waist.

Yin Sijue didn’t even flinch. He simply blinked down at him, smiling softly.

Yamy: “…Okay, I really shouldn’t be on stage anymore—I should be backstage. Last question.”

“Anything you want to say to everyone?”

Without hesitation, Yin Sijue handed the microphone to Ji Wei.

Ji Wei accepted it, not really knowing what to say, and took a deep breath.

The lights blazed in front of him, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation. Unlike the playoffs, the audience here waved Unique-themed banners in clusters of three or four.

This game was just a minor milestone in his life. Ji Wei thought, everything will get better, but most importantly—

“I’m back,” he whispered softly into the mic.

In the truest sense, he had reclaimed what he had once lost. He was back.

For a moment, the arena fell silent. Then, as the words sank in, the audience erupted in thunderous applause. Millions of hands shattered the air with their clapping, and cheers filled every corner of the venue.

The All-Star Game had ended, but the night’s events sparked an unprecedented long-tail effect online.

For JueWei CP fans, the past two days had been a rollercoaster ride.

The couple they were madly shipping suddenly revealed that one of them had a “white moonlight.” The fandom spun it into a “double” meme, twisting the once-sweet love story into a bitter one. People wailed, searching for sweetness among the shards of glass. Hearts shattered. Arguments broke out between their own “Top x White Moonlight” CP factions.

The two JueWei camps fought all night, going viral. The self-proclaimed “scumbag” trended at the very top of the hot search list, while Solve received more criticism in a single day than he had after losing at PGC.

Fans wanted to retaliate, but were forced to admit: it all seemed true. From the faintest clues, Solve had never really forgotten that “white moonlight.”

The sky is falling! My fanbase is doomed!

Soon, countless Weibo users found their accounts blacklisted or deleted. Some tearfully sold off their sold-out Solve & Unique dolls on second-hand platforms at bargain prices.

Everyone treated tonight’s All-Star Game as their final celebration. Afterward, Juewei fans dispersed, going their separate ways. The official fan clubs formally cut ties as well.

No one could have imagined that Ji Wei would reveal his identity during the open tournament—single-handedly pulling the trigger and blasting countless WEI fans. Early Tieba veterans tearfully exclaimed: “This is the god I used to support, the one who came and went without a trace!”

It turned out the master hadn’t quit the game—only the online community. The sniper king had returned!

It turned out the couple didn’t have a body-double meme at all—it was a childhood-sweetheart meme. They’d been the same person all along!

The top three trending searches on Weibo were dominated by related topics:

#Unique WEI# (explosive)

#Aurora TV All-Star Game#

#JueWeicpf The clown is actually me#

Non-gamers who stumbled across the tag clicked in out of confusion and emerged in amazement, unanimously following the “JueWeicp” super topic.

Amidst the chorus of joy and sorrow, a Weibo post by @Jueweitianxiadian’s wife shot to the top of the trending feed.

The post contained a screenshot of something she had hidden two nights ago after being criticized—a speculation that Unique and WEI were actually the same person:

@Jueweitianxiadian: [Please, Heaven, distinguish between loyalty and treachery! [Image]]

The comments on this post had now turned into a flood of self-mockery:

[Apologies for arguing with my wife yesterday QAQ]

[After tonight, I guess I have a spot in the circus.]

[Who would have thought the legendary Gunman and the top-tier Lao Liu were actually the same person?]

[Ji Wei, you’ve deceived your mother so badly.]

[Now I just hope Weiwei never sees the 800-word essay I DMed him cursing out WEI God.]

[Wait—I posted one too, and I can’t delete it now…]

[I’m from Tieba, just made a Weibo account. From now on, I’ll be living on my wife’s page.]

Just like that, a two-day war of words was overturned by Ji Wei in only three matches.

At the center of all this public attention, Ji Wei had already returned to the hotel with Yin Sijue. The moment the door locked, Ji Wei strode straight to his suitcase, stomping his feet heavily on the carpet, his anger plain to see.

They had slept together on the first night in Taipei. The room Xu Shaoqiu had booked for Ji Wei had gone completely unused. Now Ji Wei was silently packing his luggage, preparing to move out.

Yin Sijue, genuinely panicked, quickly pulled the suitcase out of his hands. “Don’t be angry, Weiwei.”

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I was just worried—”

“What are you worried about?” Ji Wei cut him off, collapsing onto the sofa with reddened eyes and clenched fists.

He hadn’t felt so aggrieved at first, but the moment Yin Sijue spoke, the emotions he’d been holding back surged through him like a tidal wave. His chest heaved with anger, and his voice came out low and sharp, every word cutting like a blade.

“Yin Sijue, I hate you being like this.”


LLPBOTM

Lao Liu Pretends to Be Obedient and Tricks Me [E-Sports] – Chapter 59


Chapter 59 – This Time, I’ll be Your Bodyguard.


The official livestream was delayed by about thirty seconds compared to the on-site feed. It was only when Ji Wei started entering his password that the online audience saw him trying to log out of his account.

The comments were flooded with viewers who had been following the gossip on Weibo, eagerly speculating about his intentions.

[“Is Unique angry? Is he not going to play anymore?”]

[“I get it. After all, it’s hard for anyone to accept that their partner has a girlfriend.”]

[“WEI fans scolding Unique is pointless. Instead of fighting like this, they should be blaming the real culprit—Solve.”]

[“Stop arguing. We’re here to watch the game, not your bickering.”]

[“He’s really quitting? Refusing to play on the spot means a ban, right?”]

[“Wait… what does he mean by switching accounts?”]

[“Oh my god, I have a crazy thought, but I don’t know if I should say it…]

The next moment, millions of viewers watched as Ji Wei typed in the name of a legendary, always-trending account: [WEI]. Black dots appeared one by one as he entered the password. Then, with a decisive click, he hit {Log in].

[Login successful.]

In the team information at the upper-right corner of the screen, the teammate ID next to [AVG_Solve] suddenly changed from [AVG_Unique] to [WEI].

The comments section exploded.

[“?????????”]

[“?????? HOLY FUCK”]

[“What does that even mean? I’m completely stunned.”]

[“HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK—Unique is WEI?!]

[“Is this real?”]

[“OMG, this is insane.”]

[“If that’s true… then what’s all the fuss on Weibo and Tieba these past few days about?”]

But of course, not everyone believed it.

[“Is this a shared username? Why does it feel like anyone can log into AVG? I’ll wait and see. Just because someone logs in doesn’t necessarily mean it’s really them. Even Wolf logged in once.”]

The shock didn’t stop with the audience—both the commentators and the host were dumbfounded.

As a regular commentator for the PCL, Yamy had been following the trending searches these past few days. She knew a thing or two about this once-legendary PUBG prodigy.

“What… what does this mean?” she muttered, barely suppressing a curse as she remembered the microphone in her hand.

“Are Unique and WEI the same person?”

The last contestant had just taken their seat, and no one had yet put on their competition headphones. Ji Wei, hearing the host’s words, looked up at the camera and lifted his chin.

Yes. They were the same person.

The boy, having shed his usual gentle and endearing demeanor, gazed calmly at the camera. His eyes were devoid of emotion, yet it was hard not to be unconvinced.

The audience erupted in excitement at that glance, their voices buzzing with discussion and exclamations.

The director urged the pace forward, and the host—reluctant to stall any longer—set the topic aside.
“Well, everyone, please be patient. Our match is about to begin. We’ve just received an announcement that the official livestream is experiencing lag due to excessive online activity. The staff are urgently working on repairs. Please wait.”

“Next, let’s jump into the first match of the PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds All-Stars Tournament, hosted by Aurora TV!”

The plane took off, its route crossing the island from east to west.

Yin Sijue, noticing that her boyfriend hadn’t spoken for a while and unsure of Ji Wei’s mood, asked, “Where should we jump?”

As the captain and in-game commander of AVG, Solve asking others “where to jump” before a match was unheard of. Even in a casual game, this had never happened.

Because Ji Wei had just dropped the King of Waves bombshell, the director’s camera lingered on AVG, and the online audience heard this exchange loud and clear.

[“I’m dying of laughter! Why does Solve sound so humble?”]

[“Why didn’t he react when he saw Unique change his ID? And now he’s asking where to jump?”]

[“Oh my god, did he already know this?”]

Hearing the voice in his headset, Ji Wei paused for a moment. He stayed silent and simply marked a cold yellow dot over the airport’s location.

Got it right. Yin Sijue stared at the yellow dot, lost in thought.

My boyfriend is angry because I kept this afternoon’s trending search from him.

Maybe he isn’t well, Yin Sijue thought. He actually finds that little yellow dot cute, and he even loves Ji Wei’s sulky temper with him.

But no matter how cute it was, when he was angry, he still needed to be appeased.

Yin Sijue followed Ji Wei into the parachute jump, already thinking about how to play this game out.

The platform had only organized this competition for fun. The contestants were indifferent, more interested in stirring up chaos. Most of the confident players chose to jump out at the airport.

During the paragliding phase, the sky was filled with people—like a swarm of dumplings.

Ji Wei dove straight through the air, parachuting rapidly, and landed on the roof of Building C at top speed.

Another commentator, Rex—a well-known streamer from Aurora TV and a close friend of Solve—stood beside Yamy, analyzing the situation with her.

Yamy: “If everyone’s jumping around the airport like this, how bored must the other areas be?”

Rex squinted at the big screen. “It’s so chaotic! I can barely find my ID… Unique landed and picked up a P92 pistol. Ugh—that’s unlucky.”

The next second, Rex watched Ji Wei use that “unlucky” pistol to headshot and kill his former teammate, Kelly.

Kelly was annihilated upon landing, utterly defeated.

“Is this my… fate?” he roared in frustration. “Why didn’t Unique just hide and farm points this time?!”

But as soon as he said it, he remembered Ji Wei’s pre-match comment about how poorly he hid in this game—and how cheerful he had sounded at the time.

“…” Kelly pinched his philtrum, bewildered at how some people could live such extreme lives: either completely timid, or utterly fearless.

Meanwhile, Ji Wei’s elimination of Kelly didn’t stir a single ripple of emotion.

For him, this was only the beginning.

Ji Wei dodged, hurled a grenade, and blasted through four steps as he charged forward.

In truth, he didn’t care who stood in front of him; he attacked the moment he caught sight of a figure. Before the audience could even make sense of the screen, the kill feed had already lit up—Wei had defeated multiple players.

[WEI] used a P92 pistol to defeat [UGC_Kelly]

[WEI] used a P92 pistol to defeat [MKBK_Solo]

[WEI] used a P92 pistol to defeat [KKC_UU]

Two minutes later, Ji Wei had completely wiped the rooftop of Building C. With his pistol finally out of ammo, he scavenged an S12K and stormed the floors below.

Other players were also trading kills, most of them shouting and laughing into their microphones, mocking opponents for their bad luck. Only Ji Wei remained calm, his eyes cold and wordless. His expression seemed to declare:

Death is coming.

Rex stared at the screen for a long moment, realizing that the Unique he was seeing now felt very different from the obedient, compliant boy he had once known.

Inside the game, Ji Wei moved swiftly through Building C with a shotgun, downing each opponent in a single blow. The light and shadows of the screen reflected like crescent moons in his eyes—murderous intent surging, yet at the same time releasing a deep, unspoken frustration.

Who is this? Rex couldn’t suppress the chill that crept up his spine.

“This is…” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Yamy’s voice broke in.

The female commentator swallowed hard, exhaled, and said, “This is [WEI].”

Yes.

This was WEI.

During the Summer Split, Ji Wei had played as a ganker in the fourth position, with Milly and Solve handling most of the main action. He rarely went to the front lines and almost never got into early-game fights. His individual scores for the entire season ranked only in the upper-middle tier among players.

If some had still been skeptical when Ji Wei first switched accounts, his immediate actions quickly silenced all the doubters.

[“Holy crap! This is even more aggressive than his Summer Split performance.”]

[“A longtime WEI fan dropping in here… I knew instantly. This is my idol!”]

[“This is even better than when the Asian server champion got exposed on a livestream.”]

[“The account can be faked, but the gameplay can’t.”]

[“Exactly! Three years ago he loved picking up S12Ks when he rolled!”]

[“It’s been three years… I uninstalled the game. I never thought I’d see WEI’s gunplay again, T-T”]

[“Unique fans, you’ve been flaming WEI on Tieba these past few days, and now you’re telling me they’re the same person?!”]

[“So why are you even bashing Solve? He’s been into the same person all these years…”]

In the game, Yin Sijue followed Ji Wei downstairs, occasionally taking out a few enemies who were firing from the next building.

He watched his boyfriend’s rampage with a trace of fondness in his eyes and asked, “There should be five more on the second floor. Want to go kill them together?”

Of course we should! Ji Wei curled his lips, ignored him, and simply charged toward the second floor.

KK, who was squatting there, was sweating buckets.

Why were there only two of the seven or eight footsteps that came down from the rooftop? What’s Unique doing?

No… I can’t call him Unique anymore. He’s WEI now.

Shit! But what does that have to do with me?! I never even cursed your boyfriend online!

KK shrank into a corner of the room, crouching low, intending to replicate the “old six” technique that Unique himself had once taught on livestream.

Ever since Unique had soloed a Chicken Dinner in the Summer Split, the entire UGC team had been forced by their coach—knife in hand—to watch every single one of Ji Wei’s tutorials.

KK’s crouching angle made it difficult for an enemy to notice him. If he opened fire before Unique spotted him, he’d have a high chance of landing the kill.

Da-da-da! Ji Wei’s footsteps pounded down the stairs.

KK waited in the corner, holding his breath. A burst of gunfire rang out, and two players in the next room went down instantly.

He’s done. He’s coming over.

Footsteps approached. KK braced himself, aiming his gun at the corner wall, every nerve taut with focus.

Someone’s coming! Without hesitation, he pressed the left mouse button and fired—a volley of bullets cascading out—

[WEI] used the UZI submachine gun to knock down [UGC_KK]

“Damn!” KK cursed in frustration. Why is this guy always one step ahead?!

Pre-firing means shooting in anticipation—using experience and instinct to fire without directly seeing the enemy. It’s a decision born from countless hours of gameplay.

Many streamers love spraying at every blind spot they pass, trying to look like masters. But most of the time, those thoughtless pre-fires hit nothing but air, making them look like clowns.

Ji Wei wasn’t like that. From the moment he landed, he’d already counted how many people were in Building C. He remembered exactly how many he’d taken down, and he could hear when they moved. KK was doomed—whether he dodged or not.

After killing KK, Ji Wei turned around and found Yin Sijue’s character kneeling on the ground.

Unable to hold back his frustration, he asked in surprise, “Why did you fall?”

Yin Sijue was silent for a full five seconds before replying, “KK shot me.”

[“Hahahaha bullshit!!”]

[“This is hilarious! Unique just shot him by accident!”]

[“Unique even downed his own husband LMAO”]

[“You don’t dare blame your wife, right? kswl”]

[“Good thing I screenshotted the kill feed, or else KK would’ve taken the blame.”]

[“Who remembers last year’s All-Stars when Trek accidentally grenaded Solve? He ignored Trek for the entire game, hahaha”]

“Oh.” Ji Wei helped Yin Sijue up and silently dropped a medical kit on the ground.

“No, I’ve got a first aid kit. Take it.” Yin Sijue healed, listening closely to the gunfire from other directions as he casually looted a sniper rifle from Kelly’s bag.

Ji Wei noticed the M24 bolt-action rifle slung across his back and froze. “Why are you holding a sniper?”

The last time they’d faced each other had been during an internal AVG scrim, when Yin Sijue had dropped him with a single M24 shot from the rooftop of P City. But Solve hadn’t touched a sniper in a long time during official tournaments.

Yin Sijue’s lips curved slightly as he said softly, “So my boyfriend can fight with peace of mind.”

He marked a spot on the map and vaulted out of the building. “Go ahead and fight! I’ll head to the high platform and cover you.”

“I’ll be your bodyguard this time.”