Chapter 42 – You Treated Me Really Badly Before!
Xu Shaoqiu was already drunk when the DJ suddenly cranked up the volume, startling him awake.
He staggered onto the stage, cursing and yelling at people to keep the noise down.
When he’d booked the venue, he’d thought it was decent, but the one drawback was its poor soundproofing. The last thing he wanted was to get called out for disturbing others right after winning the championship.
Back in his seat, he noticed his phone had already ticked past midnight.
His captain and the new gunner had been gone for nearly an hour, supposedly just to buy honey water.
Xu Shaoqiu frowned and fired off a message to Solve.
[Where are you? Why haven’t you come back yet?]
He waited several minutes with no reply, growing more and more uneasy.
The malicious assault earlier that afternoon still lingered in his mind. Now, he was watching over his teammates like a mother hen guarding her chicks, wishing he could give them a golden shield before letting them step outside.
After slumping on the sofa for a while, he finally decided to go look for them. Two minutes later, as he pushed open the clubhouse door, his 400-degree myopia picked out two figures huddled together in the entranceway.
“What kind of couple is dating here…” he muttered.
Just as the words left his mouth, the two figures suddenly sprang apart.
To be precise, one bounced back into the distance, while the other stayed put.
Xu Shaoqiu blinked, then realized the blurry shapes were none other than his two long-missing teammates.
“What are you two doing?”
“…”
At last, Yin Sijue spoke, steering the conversation away.
“It’s pretty late. Shouldn’t we be heading home?”
“It’s not that late, just past midnight,” Xu Shaoqiu said—then remembered that Solve usually went to bed early.
“If you’re tired, go on ahead. We’ll play a little longer.”
“Alright, I’m leaving,” Yin Sijue said flatly. “Tell them.”
Xu Shaoqiu hadn’t expected him to leave so abruptly. Right then and there, Yin Sijue hailed a car—taking their new teammate with him.
“?” Xu Shaoqiu blinked in confusion, but his alcohol-fogged mind couldn’t hold the thought for long. The question that had briefly surfaced slipped away, and he turned back inside to keep partying.
…
Inside the taxi.
Ji Wei sat in the backseat for a long while before finally recovering from the embarrassment of being caught.
He glanced at the man beside his out of the corner of his eye and noticed he was glued to his phone.
Curious, Ji Wei tilted her head slightly to peek, but Yin Sijue flipped his phone over, completely blocking her view.
Ji Wei: ?
He immediately sat back with a huff, his cheeks puffed in irritation.
“If you don’t want me to look, then fine—I won’t!”
Yin Sijue let out a quiet chuckle, then casually slung an arm around him.
“I’m just teasing you. I’m going through your old livestream replays.”
In an instant, the space between them closed, and Ji Wei caught the faint minty scent clinging to Yin Sijue.
The base’s laundry detergent had always been bought in bulk by Auntie, and Ji Wei had used it before—but this was the first time he’d ever smelled it on someone else.
Normally, he would have been anxious about his embarrassing past being exposed. But at this moment, Ji Wei was numb from head to toe, too drained to care.
Still… was it really normal to be this close right after confessing? And why did Yin Sijue seem so natural about it?
He lifted his eyes toward the man’s profile, catching sight of a faint blush creeping down from Yin Sijue’s ear to his neck before vanishing into his collar.
“Don’t stare,” Yin Sijue murmured, tightening his grip on Ji Wei’s shoulder. “If you keep looking, I’ll really get embarrassed.”
“Oh.” Ji Wei couldn’t help but chuckle softly, then shifted his gaze back to the phone in Yin Sijue’s hand.
Maoyu TV might have done plenty of shady things, but at least it had preserved every livestream replay in full. Scrolling through by date, Yin Sijue quickly found a recording from when Ji Wei was just fifteen.
A small figure, head craned forward with effort, struggling to play the game.
Ji Wei’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected the replay to go back that far.
At the time, he’d still been living with Ji Lin. Frugal as ever, Ji Lin hadn’t bought a gaming chair since his company provided one. The chair in front of the computer was just one dragged from the living room—far shorter than a proper chair for gaming.
Other streamers lounged comfortably in their chairs, playing with ease. Only Ji Wei stretched his arms and neck forward awkwardly, his short stature making things even harder.
He might have already been climbing the Asian server rankings, but the way he played looked clumsy and exhausting.
Watching his younger self like that, Ji Wei felt a wave of shame. He quickly reached over to cover the phone screen.
“Don’t watch this… Once I made money, I moved out, and I got a proper chair. It wasn’t like this anymore. Just—skip ahead.”
His voice came out soft and whiny, like a kitten scratching at something.
Yin Sijue tapped the favorite button in the upper-right corner, then locked the screen.
“Mm. I won’t watch anymore.”
…
Normally, they would have gone their separate ways once they got back, since they no longer lived in the same place.
But after getting out of the car, Ji Wei still ended up trailing behind him into the base.
Everyone else had been dragged off by Brother Qiu to a celebration banquet, and Auntie had taken the week off. The base was completely empty, the cold moonlight streaming through the living room windows, making the silence feel even deeper.
Yin Sijue entered with his men and turned on the lights.
“Did Brother Qiu say when you’d move in?”
Ji Wei replied, “He said after the playoffs. The empty room is already packed.”
“Hmm.” Yin Sijue crossed his arms, pondering for a moment before asking, “Do you have a lot of stuff?”
Ji Wei blinked, caught off guard. “Not really.”
“Then move in now. I’ll go with you.”
Ji Wei: “…”
I thought I’d be in for a tender evening, but it turned out to be a moving spree.
After making the bed, Ji Wei was exhausted. He collapsed onto the sofa, unwilling to move.
The door was open. Yin Sijue, who had just washed his hands, stood at the entrance and knocked twice, as if trying to mask his feelings.
“Can I come in for a while?”
“…Sure.”
Outside the window, cicadas chirped endlessly. The two of them sat on the sofa in silence, the air between them filled with a faint, unspoken tension.
Ji Wei stared up at the ceiling light and finally asked the question that had lingered in his mind for so long: “Why… don’t you ever ask me about the past?”
If he had already been searching through the livestream replays, why hadn’t he just asked why Ji Wei had left without a word?
Yin Sijue looked at him, recalling the things Xu Xingchen had told him at the hospital.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask.
Why did you jump? Did it hurt? Were there any lasting injuries? How have you been these past few years?
But now, seeing Ji Wei alive and well beside him, knowing how much effort it had taken for him to get here, Yin Sijue couldn’t bring himself to reopen old wounds.
“It’s all in the past. I don’t care.” Yin Sijue slowly exhaled, swallowing the ache in his chest.
“I’ll wait for you to tell me. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.” Ji Wei pressed his lips together, then after a few seconds, spoke softly.
“I didn’t say anything before because I was afraid you’d blame me. It was me who broke the promise, after all—I was the one who asked you to wait.”
“I don’t blame you,” Yin Sijue said hoarsely. “I just wanted to find you.”
“Yeah.” Ji Wei’s nose stung, and after a long pause, he went on.
“Back then… I went without telling my parents. Later, they found out. They deleted all my social media accounts, locked me up, and wouldn’t let me leave. I had no way to contact you.”
He paused. “But I eventually escaped.”
The boy tilted his head with a smug grin, smiling for a brief moment before lowering it again, hiding the fragile emotions in his eyes.
The heavy past was brushed aside as if it had left no scars at all.
Yin Sijue sat in silence for a long time, his heart aching faintly.
Sensing a trace of sadness in the air, Ji Wei was about to lift his head and crack a joke when he was suddenly pulled into a hug.
The embrace was warm. Leaning against Yin Sijue’s shoulder, it felt as if the hospital floor that day had never been so cold.
Secretly wiping away two tears against his shoulder, Ji Wei pressed his face close and whispered softly:
“So, when did you fall in love with me?”
Yin Sijue tightened his hold on him, chuckling.
“Why are you asking all of a sudden?”
He couldn’t pinpoint a single moment. At first, he thought it was only suspicion about Ji Wei’s identity that made him pay more attention to him than anyone else.
Until that day—when he had a high fever, and Ji Wei came with medicine.
The boy had crouched beside him, carefully crushing the pills, his mind and eyes filled with nothing but him.
After learning everything that had happened at the hospital, Yin Sijue’s heart had ached so badly it was hard to breathe. He’d wanted nothing more than to lock Ji Wei in his arms right away, to shield him from ever being hurt again.
Now, feeling the warmth of the body in his arms, he was overjoyed, as if he had finally recovered something long lost.
He had wanted to wait a little longer, wait for the perfect moment. After all, the person in front of him deserved the best confession in the world.
But Ji Wei had spoken first.
How could I not like him? Yin Sijue thought silently. There’s no one in the world more precious than Ji Wei.
But “good boy” Ji Wei was far from satisfied. His voice came out muffled, sulky.
“You treated me so badly before!”
“You didn’t approve my friend request.”
“You were so cold when you bumped into me in qualifying.”
“I accidentally turned on all mics, and you taunted me.”
“I sent you a message, and you just replied, ‘Got it.’”
He listed his complaints one by one, growing more and more aggrieved. His voice was soft but steady, making it obvious he’d been holding a grudge for a long time.
Yin Sijue apologized without hesitation.
“I was wrong.”
“Back then, I thought you—”
Ji Wei broke free and cut him off angrily.
“You thought I was Lao Liu, didn’t you?”
“I am Lao Liu! So what? You’re not allowed to discriminate against someone’s profession, you hear me?”
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Ji Wei was bolder than usual. He pressed his index finger against Yin Sijue’s chest.
“Think about it. Did I win today’s final by cheating?”
“Yes.” Yin Sijue rubbed his head with a smile.
“God Six is unbeatable.”
“…”
The boy still looked furious. Yin Sijue took his slender white hand in a gesture of peace and asked:
“So, why did you become a livestreamer back then?”
If Ji Wei had kept playing in his old hard-core style, Yin Sijue wouldn’t have taken so long to recognize him.
Ji Wei licked his lips.
“I had just lost contact with you, and I was… uncertain. I didn’t want to play my old style anymore, and I didn’t want to be anyone’s role model.”
He lowered his voice.
“Back then, I’d often lose focus during games. Sometimes I’d just lie still for ages, and people would chase me down and call me trash. So, out of spite, I kept playing like that every day.”
“Then I found that kind of play was actually fun… so I stuck with it.”
“Yeah.” Yin Sijue touched his head, pinched the back of his neck, and pushed him forward a little.
“Did you feel bad when people scolded you?”
“No.” Ji Wei shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sad about. Criticism is still just criticism. I don’t have to worry about food or clothing now, so I’m fine.”
He glanced at Yin Sijue, a little embarrassed once he realized how much he had said.
It seemed he’d spoken more tonight than he normally did in a whole day. It had been ages since he’d expressed his thoughts so openly.
But he still hadn’t given the answer he owed. Hooking Yin Sijue’s pinky with his own, Ji Wei blushed and said:
“I didn’t get to say it just now…”
“I—I like you too.”
Yin Sijue lowered his eyes to look at him, a flicker of light passing through them. The next moment, Ji Wei was pulled into a fierce embrace—so tight it felt as if he were being pressed right into his body.
Just then, the sound of a door unlocking came from downstairs. Xu Shaoqiu had returned with his drunken teammates.
The bedroom door was open, and the two of them were wrapped around each other in a way that would have looked startling to anyone passing by.
“Why don’t you go back first?” Ji Wei said sullenly.
“Mm.” Yin Sijue finally let him go, his gaze lingering on the boy’s plump lips before shifting away. He pinched Ji Wei’s chin, tilted his face upward, and bent down—pressing a kiss onto his eyes.
There was quite a commotion downstairs, and Xu Shaoqiu lowered his voice, reminding everyone not to disturb Yin Sijue’s sleep.
Ji Wei could still feel the lingering warmth on his eyes, his heart pounding uncontrollably, blood surging through his veins.
“Let’s go.” After kissing him, Yin Sijue ruffled his hair and closed the door behind Ji Wei.
Just then, Xu Shaoqiu had finished hauling the drunken Jerry back and was leaning against the wall, panting for breath, when he noticed his captain stepping out of one of the empty rooms in the base.
“…Wasn’t no one living in there?” Xu Shaoqiu asked, a little confused.
“There wasn’t before.” Yin Sijue was indeed a bit tired, but in such a good mood that he humored him with a brief reply: “But now there is.”