Chapter 12 – The Heart That Hung in Suspense Has Finally Died
A drop of cold sweat trickled down Ji Wei’s temple. He stared wide-eyed, replaying the situation in his mind for a long time, unable to figure out what was going on.
Did he run into a ghost today? Was he playing a horror game?
He finally understood how those people he’d killed before must have felt.
Xing Zi, who was with him, also faltered. “Where did this guy come from?”
Ji Wei carefully pinpointed the direction of the voice and shouted anxiously: “It’s at the back door. Be careful not to get hit by the grenade—”
Boom!
[xiaohao1] used a fragmentation grenade to knock down [xiaohao2].
There was no time to call out their location. The sudden grenade still killed Xing Zi.
The throw was precise, the timing perfect—almost as if the person knew exactly where they were.
Ji Wei froze when he saw the kill announcement.
Who is [xiaohao1]?
Xu Shaoqiu had assigned them trial accounts. Ji Wei got [xiaohao0], while Xing Zi, Xuanfeng, and Lin Tao were given [xiaohao2], [xiaohao3], and [xiaohao4].
At the time, Xuan Feng had joked that there wasn’t a [1] among the AVG trialists this year.
Without dwelling on it, Ji Wei grabbed his gun and engaged the men downstairs, carefully tracking their positions through faint sounds.
The apartment building was a maze. Ji Wei darted around the upper floors, trying to bait them in and take them out. But the men weren’t fooled. They just kept laying mines outside, trying to trap him inside.
Then came the sound of a car.
Lin Tao swallowed nervously. “Unique, there’s a car coming! More than one of them. I’m stuck and can’t get to you.”
“It’s okay.”
Alone, Ji Wei was left playing cat and mouse with the grenadier.
Boom! Another explosion rocked the floor near him.
Does this guy have infinite grenades? How can he be carrying so many?
After losing half his health, Ji Wei realized he couldn’t stay holed up any longer. He needed to stay mobile.
He faked a jump out the window, then hugged the wall, hoping the enemy would be tricked into thinking he had leapt outside.
Footsteps approached—the opponent seemed to have taken the bait.
Ji Wei spun back for a counterattack. But just then, a grenade exploded right where he stood.
[xiaohao1] used a fragmentation grenade to knock down [xiaohao0].
The enemy had predicted his window trick and lobbed a grenade exactly at his landing point.
Ji Wei realized bitterly that he had basically flipped right into the blast himself.
…
Not only had he failed to outsmart the enemy, but he was blown up in the process. Frustration boiled inside him, and shame followed close behind. He couldn’t help feeling like a complete fool.
The game character was slowly bleeding out. Footsteps echoed through Ji Wei’s headset, coming up the stairs—the enemy was on their way.
Ji Wei said weakly to his two remaining teammates, “It’s too late. Don’t bother saving me.”
Lin Tao replied, “Ah… actually, we’ve been pinned down here. We never moved at all.”
Ji Wei: “…Okay.”
And just like that, he died.
What a shame. He had no idea how the enemy had found him both times. He’d have to ask the coach for the replay later—if it had even been recorded.
His thoughts were a tangled mess, but Ji Wei still refused to give up. He dragged his character into a tiny corner, praying he wouldn’t be noticed in his final moments.
It was pointless. Before long, a pair of long legs stopped right in front of him.
The enemy didn’t finish him off immediately. Instead, they crouched down, watching him bleed.
Just as Ji Wei was about to question their moral compass, a crackling sound came through his headset.
A clear, cold, magnetic voice spoke: “Next time you’re guarding the tower, remember not to turn on all microphones.”
Then the enemy stood up and killed him.
…
Silence. A deathly silence filled Ji Wei’s mind.
All the game sounds in his headset seemed to fade into the distance.
If he’d had internet access right then, Ji Wei would’ve jumped onto a certain forum without hesitation to ask:
What if someone accidentally chirps like a cricket in-game and forgets to turn off all their microphones?
Follow-up: What if the person chirping happens to be nearby and presumably heard everything?
When that familiar voice rang out, Ji Wei’s mind went blank. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.
Then came the crushing wave of embarrassment and shame.
He didn’t even want to remember what he and his teammates had just said.
Thanks for the invite. The microphones were turned on in the afternoon. The person killed himself with embarrassment at night.
As a game streamer, Ji Wei had seen plenty of socially awkward livestreams where people forgot to mute their mics. Some were genuine; others were obviously staged.
But he had never expected something like that to happen to him.
At last, his panicked heart settled. For a moment, he had thought it was some kind of supernatural event. But no—he’d just forgotten to turn off all his mics. Haha, nothing serious… right? No way!
That afternoon, while playing a solo four-player match, an enemy had mistaken him for a cheater and started an argument. The enemy grew agitated, and Ji Wei, bored of the drama, turned on his mic to explain. Unexpectedly, he never turned it back off.
No wonder those sparring partners knew he was upstairs. Solve had probably slipped in while they were fighting; his footsteps mixed with the gunfire, so nobody noticed for a moment.
But Solve was incredibly patient, holding his fire for so long. He must have been waiting for Tree and the others to gather, hoping to catch them all at once. Seeing them absorbed in chatter and easy to pick off, he resorted to a grenade to blow them up.
Wait, Ji Wei suddenly thought — could Yin Sijue have fired because he couldn’t stand hearing other people’s fantasies?
Damn, don’t overthink it. The moment I do, I want to go out and drown myself.
…
AVG’s starting-base training room.
After looting Xuan Feng’s bag with flair, Da Shu struck a theatrical pose with his in-game character.
“The fate circle is awesome! They’re so fat — this wave just took off!”
Mi Li asked, unusually playful, “Will they throw a fit if we fight like this?”
Da Shu: “No, kids these days are tough! Right, Wolf? Hey, are you short on grips? Come take them.”
Wolf: “Thanks.”
Da Shu noticed that his relationship with Wolf had actually improved since the day he caught him dating. Although there’d been some friction in recent games, it hadn’t escalated into a real fight, which pleased him.
After all, he was a few years older; it was only natural to look out for his younger brother. Time to take better care of him from now on.
“By the way,” Da Shu said, remembering, “brother, what did you mean about all the microphones? I thought you were talking about me. I didn’t turn mine on.”
The man on the other side quietly looted and changed his gear, saying nothing.
In truth, Yin Sijue had planned to attack the tower after Xing Zi and Ji Wei finished fighting, so he didn’t need to wait for Da Shu and the others. But just as he was about to ready the grenade, a thin, weak voice — like a pitiful stray cat — called his name.
At first, Yin Sijue assumed the other player had spotted him and was begging for mercy. Later, though, it became clear that wasn’t the case.
Only when the boy mentioned adding a friend did he realize it was the same streamer who’d been playing for points.
Da Shu and the other three arrived later, several buildings away from the incident. They hadn’t heard Ji Wei’s social death quote, and Yin Sijue hadn’t intended to share it.
He stared at Ji Wei’s box for a moment and then ordered, “After looting, be ready to drive off. We probably won’t be around next round.”
…
Twenty minutes later the starting four claimed the Chicken Dinner, as expected.
Xu Shaoqiu had watched the whole match from here. He looked at Yin Sijue with a complicated expression, as if about to say something.
Yin Sijue noticed the gaze and took off his headphones. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
Xu Shaoqiu asked, “Why did you lie there so long and not engage?”
Yin Sijue stayed calm. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the right moment?”
Xu Shaoqiu thought this excuse was flimsy but kept pressing.
“So you’re saying it was Unique who turned on all the microphones?”
He had watched the entire building fight.
Yin Sijue slid his headphones back on and replied calmly, “Yes.”
Xu Shaoqiu: “…” Tell me more!
Adults, after all, learn patience first. Xu Shaoqiu swallowed his questions and instead turned to the others.
“Keep going. The room’s still up. After the match, we’ll invite them over for dinner tonight.”
…
A few hours later, none of the four rookies had managed to win a single game. Their best finish was second place.
Lin Tao wailed, “Oh my god! I’m devastated. Is this sparring partner really that strong, or am I just getting worse?”
Xuan Feng muttered, reviewing the results: “I thought if my streaming career failed, I could at least become a sparring partner… but now it looks like I’m not even qualified for that.”
Xing Zi sighed, “How much do you think this sparring partner makes? He looks like he could go pro.”
Except for Ji Wei, none of them realized he had been playing with the AVG starters. Everyone else thought they were just up against some high-level sparring partner.
Not long after the final match, Xu Shaoqiu came over. “Head to the first team’s base for lunch.”
Lin Tao blinked. “Huh? Why are we eating at Team One’s place? Didn’t Auntie cook?”
Xu Shaoqiu replied, “It’s the last day. I’ll take you to meet the starting lineup. That way this trip won’t be wasted.”
Lin Tao froze. “What?! Eat together? I’m actually going to meet Mi Li?!”
After a few seconds of excitement, he wilted again. “Oh no, I played so badly just now. I’m too embarrassed to face my idol.”
Xu Shaoqiu adjusted imaginary glasses and said solemnly:
“I forgot to mention—I’m raising the intensity of this final tryout so you can experience the dangers of professional competition. This afternoon, you’ll be playing with the AVG starting lineup.”
He patted Lin Tao on the shoulder. “By the way, Millie got the kills in the first, third, and fourth games.”
With that, Xu Shaoqiu strode off toward Team One’s base, leaving the stunned group behind. From behind, his figure looked cool and mysterious—like a famous detective who had just revealed the truth.
The trainees, however, felt like they’d been struck by lightning.
Lin Tao groaned, “Help… is it too late to blame Tornado for that last move?”
Tornado protested, “That’s just mean.”
Xing Zi reassured him, “Don’t worry, we’re all on smurf accounts. They won’t know who’s who.”
Lin Tao clung to Xing Zi. “Wow, you’re right. You’re so good at comforting people.”
Nearby, Ji Wei also let out a quiet sigh of relief.
When he first heard they were going to have dinner with Yin Sijue, he really wanted to bolt out the door.
It turned out there was something even more embarrassing than being overheard gossiping behind someone’s back—having to share a meal with that very person afterward.
It wasn’t until he heard Xing Zi’s reassurance that he finally relaxed. Yin Sijue couldn’t even recognize his face, so most likely he wouldn’t recognize his voice either.
Yes. That had to be it.