Chapter 33 – Sudden Change
Ding—
S: [Still scrolling on Weibo?]
Seeing the message, Ji Wei, who was lying in bed, shuddered and rolled over, landing face-first on the sheets.
After a moment, he picked up his phone, rubbing his face as he typed:
Weiwei Dounan: [How did you know?!]
S: [(Picture)]
Ji Wei tapped on it. The other party had sent a screenshot of his Weibo profile. The highlighted post was one he had just liked five minutes earlier:
AVG_Unique’s Weibo like: [@Solve一生推: #SolveBullying# Wolf slapped Wolf, and Maoyu TV even pulled out the “Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms.” For the sake of money, you’re even messing with the players’ mentality during the selection process. If Solve could really bully the team, would Milly, with his explosive temper, tolerate it? Would Tree still be grinning like a fool every day? Would Horse still be willing to coach the team? I never thought I’d live to see someone believe this nonsense.]
“Damn!” Ji Wei dropped his phone in shock. He’d completely forgotten to switch to his secondary account before browsing Weibo!
He was about to unlike the post when a new comment popped up beneath it:
@Solve一生推 replied to @AVG_Unique: [Six God, you agree with me too, right? Sorry I forgot to tag you—I’ll edit it right away.]
Then, right after that, another comment appeared: [If Solve could really bully someone on the team, would Unique have liked this post?]
Ji Wei: …
He was just about to switch to WeChat to reply when his phone started ringing.
The caller ID flashed: S.
Ji Wei nervously pressed the speakerphone button, a faint trace of anticipation welling up inside him.
Was Yin Sijue calling so late to remind him to go to bed? To say goodnight? Or maybe even to offer some pre-match counseling?
The line connected, and steady breathing filtered through the speaker. The faint tapping of a screen accompanied Yin Sijue’s relaxed, lazy voice.
“Since you’re still awake, I’ll walk you through Taige’s mistakes in that last game,” Yin Sijue said. “The coach is in a meeting with the operations team right now and probably forgot. I sent you the video on WeChat.”
Ji Wei: .
When he didn’t respond right away, the other side asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Ji Wei clicked the link and said, “I opened it.”
It turned out to be just a minor positioning issue, but Yin Sijue spent nearly an hour explaining it to him, even pulling up old stream recordings for comparison. Only then did Ji Wei realize he’d made the same mistake multiple times before.
“I’ll head downstairs and try it out now.” After hearing Yin Sijue’s advice, Ji Wei couldn’t resist climbing out of bed, heading to the training room, and powering on the computer.
“Yeah.” The voice on the other end sounded pleased. “Practice a bit, but no later than two. Even though the match is in the evening, we’ll be at the venue in the afternoon for the interview—don’t forget.”
As if remembering something, he added casually:
“Good night.”
…
At two in the morning, Ji Wei, having finally found his rhythm, shut down the computer and—right on schedule—went to sleep.
After washing his face, he noticed that the skin along his neck and ears was still red.
Not understanding why saying goodnight was so embarrassing, Ji Wei gave himself a mocking smile in the mirror.
When he pushed open the door, the lights in the training room—which he had just switched off—suddenly flickered back on.
Ban was standing at the cafeteria entrance with a water cup in hand. “Unique, you’re still up?”
Ji Wei brushed the droplets from his face and rubbed his fingers together. “Yeah, I just finished practice.”
Ban set the cup aside, worry flickering in his eyes. “Practicing this late… are you nervous? People online are always like that—praising you when you win, tearing you down when you lose. Just yesterday, plenty of people were praising you.”
Ji Wei hadn’t played well in today’s match against Taige, and many online discussions had latched onto it—among them, not a few of Wolf’s fans.
“Don’t pay them any mind. I already flamed them back with my smurf account. We’ll all be at the match tomorrow. Jerry even made a support sign for you. If we run into those people again, we’ll fight back.” Ban swung his fist for emphasis.
Ji Wei couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t. You’ll get suspended before even setting foot on stage.”
Then he met Ban’s eyes and said seriously, “Thank you.”
Because of friends like these, he thought less and less about the past. Those painful, struggling years seemed to be slowly fading away.
When he returned to his room, Ji Wei opened AVG Club’s latest Weibo post—a statement that Xu Shaoqiu had rushed out overnight.
@AVG Club: [Solemn Statement Regarding Recent False Remarks]
[Recently, certain streamers have spread false allegations about our club’s players, such as “bullying” and “oppressing teammates,” on public platforms. This constitutes defamation. Our club strongly condemns such behavior! We have always upheld a team culture of unity and respect, and we resolutely safeguard the lawful rights and interests of our players. These rumors have seriously damaged the reputation of both our club and our players. We demand an immediate end to the spread of false information and reserve the right to pursue legal action.
In addition, regarding the PUBG Asia server’s number-one account (ID: WEI) mentioned in recent disputes: after verification, we confirm that the account’s original owner submitted a youth training résumé to our club three years ago. While some information was incomplete, the owner’s registered social media accounts and place of origin do not match those of the streamers in question. We have reason to suspect the account ownership changed during this period, and we will pursue this matter thoroughly.]
Ji Wei was stunned after reading it. So that’s even possible?
He had forgotten that the form he submitted back then also listed his place of origin—and that account number. He had assumed AVG staff had already blacklisted him.
Although he no longer had any real hope of reclaiming the account, the club’s persistence still gave him a small measure of comfort.
Soon after, the official account reposted a lawyer’s letter. Xu Shaoqiu hadn’t been seen since returning from the venue—working nonstop, making sure everything was ready before the finals, doing everything he could to provide solid support for the team.
All Ji Wei and the others had to do now was win the final match.
…
One o’clock in the afternoon.
When they got in the car and set off, Ji Wei still had half a roujiamo in his hand.
He asked blankly, “Doesn’t the competition start in the evening? Why are we going so early?”
Yin Sijue had mentioned last night that they’d go early, but he hadn’t expected this early.
Xu Shaoqiu replied, “You need makeup for the finals, and there are interviews and pre-game trash talk. We have to head out early.”
“Oh…” Ji Wei nodded in understanding, lowered his head, and took another bite of the steamed bun.
A hand reached toward him, bony and slender fingers wrapped around a bottle of milk.
“Eat it with this.”
“Okay.” Ji Wei, ignoring Da Shu’s horrified expression in the front seat, naturally took the milk from Yin Sijue.
Da Shu glared at him. “Brother, you’re giving milk to someone else? Where’s mine?”
Yin Sijue pulled a bottle of Ice Dew from the car’s cooler and tossed it to him.
Da Shu: “…”
Up front, Mi Li was playing Candy Crush. Without looking up, he asked casually, “Brother Qiu, is the second team coming today too?”
“Yes. Jerry asked me for tickets, and Lao Ma will be coming with them.” Xu Shaoqiu suddenly remembered something and turned to Ji Wei.
“Unique, you made a mistake in yesterday’s game, and I forgot to go over it with you. I’ll review it with you in the locker room later.”
Ji Wei shoved the rest of the food in his hand into his mouth and swallowed before speaking.
“No need, coach. The captain already talked to me yesterday. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Da Shu shot Yin Sijue a puzzled look.
“When did you say that? I didn’t hear you mention it during training last night.”
Yin Sijue said calmly, “We talked after training.”
“He was already back at the second team base after training. What did you even say?” Da Shu pressed.
Yin Sijue glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “He told me over the phone. That not allowed?”
Da Shu: ?
Da Shu, who had known Yin Sijue since youth training, thought carefully about his career and realized the captain had never once called him.
Xu Shaoqiu teased, “When did you two get so close?”
Yin Sijue glanced at Ji Wei. The boy was twiddling his fingers, eyes darting away, looking both flustered and steady—like someone caught in a car for committing some minor crime.
He clearly had no intention of answering.
So Yin Sijue smiled, turned his gaze away, and teased Xu Shaoqiu instead. “What, you’re not happy about our good relationship? If you were more like Wolf, you’d be more obedient.”
Xu Shaoqiu: “Alright, enough. Stop talking.”
Today’s weather was gloomy. By noon, not a trace of sunlight could be seen. A light, steady rain fell outside, and the low gray sky pressed down. The competition venue was shrouded in a hazy mist, like a blurred ink painting.
To avoid a repeat of yesterday, Xu Shaoqiu drove to the back entrance of the venue and was the first to get out.
“The road’s a bit slippery—be careful.”
Da Shu and Mi Li followed, with Ji Wei and Yin Sijue right behind them.
The moment Ji Wei opened the door, fine raindrops splashed against his face, his breath filled with damp air.
As he stepped out, he caught a flash of silver in his peripheral vision. But when he turned his head, there was nothing there.
Was it just an illusion?
Fearing the rain might worsen later that evening, Yin Sijue lingered in the car to grab two spare umbrellas, making him the last to get out.
Just as he leaned forward and placed one foot on the road—
“Buzz!”
A sudden roar of an engine exploded behind them.
A motorcycle shot out from behind the nanny van. The rider, masked and helmeted, had eyes brimming with naked malice.
In the next instant, the motorcycle skidded, slammed down hard with a sharp crash, and a figure burst violently through the rain—knife in hand—charging straight at Yin Sijue!
Ji Wei, who was walking in front, felt a tremendous force shove him forward.
He staggered two steps from inertia. Da Shu, almost inside the stadium, had already spun around—
“Brother, get out of the way!!!”
His hoarse roar made Ji Wei’s heart lurch to a stop.
Time stretched thin. From behind came the screech of friction—then a muffled groan from Yin Sijue.
A chill shot down Ji Wei’s spine. He whipped around and saw Yin Sijue hunched against the car door, gasping for breath, his right arm torn open and bleeding profusely.
The attacker, clad in a black motorcycle jacket and silver helmet, didn’t hesitate. After slashing Yin Sijue, he yanked his helmet back on, lifted the motorcycle upright, revved the engine, and sped off into the rain.
Ji Wei’s blood ran cold. He froze on the spot.
Through the downpour, he saw Yin Sijue slowly straighten, one hand gripping the car door for support. Blood streamed from his right arm, mixing with the rain. He tried to press his hand against the wound, but it seeped hotly between his fingers.
A sharp sting burned Ji Wei’s eyes.