Chapter 57 – Can I Call You Brother?
What could be more infuriating than being told my CP is over?
That is—so what if it’s over? You’re just a stand-in for my CP.
Only those who’ve truly been fans of the game know how deeply it hurts. When this post went up, even the new fans of Juewei were devastated.
Solve’s alternate profile picture had already sparked heated debate since it didn’t match his usual aloof style. Theories flew around: some said it was just a random change, some claimed it was a calculated move to build a persona and please fans, while others speculated that Solve was actually a middle school boy obsessed with anime who just happened to look too cool on the surface.
Unexpectedly, all these guesses were wrong.
PUBG avatars don’t appear in-game, only on Steam profiles, so everyone overlooked the possibility that Solve had set it for someone else.
And that “someone else” turned out to be his inseparable early teammate—a mysterious figure for whom Solve had diligently acted as a spokesperson. This teammate had stayed mostly invisible: he submitted a resume but skipped tryouts, then disappeared from the public eye, silent for three years.
What shocked everyone most was that when Yin Sijue officially announced his professional player status, he abandoned his old ID and created a new one—Solve.
From these scattered fragments, fans gradually pieced together a new story.
…Yes. Yin Sijue, the health guru who always went to bed early and rose early, actually woke up at noon one day.
He felt so safe with his boyfriend beside him that he unknowingly slept in.
Ji Wei’s head rested on his arm, his cheeks flushed. He was dreaming about something, brows furrowed, lips pouting, looking a little angry.
Yin Sijue reached out and gently smoothed the crease between his brows.
But Ji Wei was sensitive in his sleep, easily disturbed by the smallest movement. The faint tickle on his forehead made him uncomfortable. He groaned, rolled over heavily, and turned his back toward Yin Sijue.
Yin Sijue’s eyes curved at his cuteness. Unwilling to let him go, he stretched out his long arm, pulled him back into his embrace, and rested his palm on Ji Wei’s soft belly. He rubbed it gently, his hand slowly moving downward—
Ji Wei was dreaming of playing with a puppy.
The furry puppy broke free from his grasp and ran ahead. He chased after it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t go any faster. The frustration gnawed at Wei.
After running for a long time, he was exhausted and panting. The puppy vanished, leaving only a strange sensation in its place.
Heat. Numbness. Tingling.
Something stirred below him—unbearable heat, shortness of breath, and an itch that rose from deep within his bones. It spread through his body and slowly transformed into an unspeakable pleasure.
Just before the release came, Ji Wei’s eyes flew open.
The sunlight pouring in was dazzling, blinding—just like the white light that had just exploded in his mind. His eyes widened, his blurred vision clearing bit by bit. His face flushed as he gasped for air. Looking down in disbelief—
“Yin Sijue!!!”
He was furious. Yin Sijue silently withdrew his hand, wiped away the traces with a tissue, and rubbed his boyfriend’s head with the other.
“Good morning.”
“What good morning?!” Ji Wei hurriedly yanked up the waistband of his pants, which had been pulled down to his knees. Ignoring his still-pounding heart, he turned around in shock.
“Didn’t you say last night you wouldn’t do anything before the game?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Yin Sijue pinched his cheek lightly. “You just seemed so full of energy this morning, so I helped you.”
Ji Wei, still shaken, panted softly and lowered his head. “Then you…”
“I don’t need to. You lie down a little longer.” Yin Sijue bent down, kissed the top of his head, then stood up and headed straight for the bathroom.
“You—you—you… don’t take a cold shower!” Ji Wei stammered behind him.
“Got it.”
In the bathroom, Yin Sijue turned on the shower but didn’t step in right away, as if letting the sound of running water cover something else.
Ji Wei didn’t dare to listen. He turned on his phone, muted since last night, and saw eighteen missed calls from Xu Shaoqiu.
“What the hell…” He quickly checked the time of tonight’s game—7:00.
“I was so scared! I thought I overslept and missed the match.” Ji Wei muttered to himself as he called Brother Qiu back.
The call connected instantly. “Is Solve with you?”
Ji Wei glanced at the bathroom. The water still ran. “Showering.”
“…Can’t you two ever say something normal? I’m impressed.”
Xu Shaoqiu didn’t press further about whether they’d spent the night together—he had more urgent matters.
“How long will he take? I’ll wait here. I need to talk to both of you, and I’m too lazy to repeat myself.”
“Uh…” Ji Wei said awkwardly, “Brother Qiu, maybe call back later? He won’t be out anytime soon.”
“How’s that possible? Guys’ showers are usually quick—ten minutes tops. This is urgent, and I don’t want to risk missing you when I call.”
“…Alright then.” Ji Wei had no better excuse, so he could only wait there with him.
Ten minutes passed, and Yin Sijue showed no sign of coming out.
Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes…
By the fortieth minute, Xu Shaoqiu finally couldn’t take it anymore and yelled into the receiver:
“I’ve already caught four geese, and Yin Sijue’s in there taking a flower petal bath?!”
The sound of running water in the bathroom finally stopped, and Ji Wei hurriedly said, “He’s coming out, he’s coming out.”
When Yin Sijue emerged, he was already dressed. His hair was still damp, droplets sliding down his neck to his collarbone.
His cool, abstinent demeanor had returned.
He sat on the edge of the bed with a towel in hand. “Are you on the phone?”
“Brother Qiu’s call,” Ji Wei said, switching on the speakerphone.
“Done soaking?” Xu Shaoqiu said sarcastically. “You look so refreshed. Meanwhile, I haven’t slept all night.”
“What’s wrong?” Yin Sijue asked perfunctorily, though his gaze was fixed on the corners of Ji Wei’s watery eyes. He reached out to wipe them, wondering why his boyfriend was always such a crybaby.
But there was someone even more tearful on the line—Xu Shaoqiu, choking up as he recounted last night’s fan brawl involving his partner.
“The official Weibo account’s been completely overrun! They’re all blaming me for letting the team members go gay, saying that’s what caused this mess. I really didn’t offend anyone!” Xu Shaoqiu felt like he was suffering injustice in broad daylight, and took it out on the person at the center of the storm.
“Yin Sijue, change that avatar right now! He’s been out of the scene for ages, why are you still using it? It’s ridiculous!”
Then he suddenly realized Ji Wei was listening. He froze, then quickly backtracked:
“Unique, don’t take it personally. I swear, Solve never mentioned WEI again. That’s all in the past—completely gone. He’s definitely in love with you now.”
“Uh…” Ji Wei felt a little embarrassed and a little amused, unsure what to say. He glanced at Yin Sijue with a pleading look.
Yin Sijue’s lips curved faintly as he stared back at him, clearly meaning: Explain yourself.
But Ji Wei stayed silent.
Xu Shaoqiu grew so anxious he started rambling nonsense:
“Listen, that Wei was not a good person! He agreed to show up for tryouts, but ditched us. Solve cursed him every single day at the base. He’s nothing like that so-called ‘white moonlight’ people claim he is. Don’t believe it!”
“Don’t spread lies. I never cursed him, and he’s a very good person,” Yin Sijue firmly corrected.
Xu Shaoqiu nearly exploded. “Hey, what are you—”
“I’m Wei, Brother Qiu.” Ji Wei couldn’t bear to watch him suffer any longer, so he ended the game.
“No matter who you are, don’t hurt… Wait—what? What did you just say you were?!”
“I’m WEI,” Ji Wei repeated earnestly.
A deathly silence fell on the other end of the line. For five whole minutes, no one spoke.
Ji Wei, thinking the call had been disconnected, asked tentatively, “Brother Qiu?”
The sound of heavy breathing came through the receiver, followed by Xu Shaoqiu’s trembling voice:
“Stop calling me brother. Can I call you brother?”
Ji Wei: ?
“No, seriously? Are you two teaming up to mess with me?” Xu Shaoqiu’s voice was incredulous, shaky with shock.
Ji Wei searched his memory for proof. “Brother Qiu, the note you added to my ** was ‘AVG Xiao Xu.’ Because I was pressed for time, I submitted my resume without a photo.”
Xu Shaoqiu fell silent again. Not letting Wei attach a photo back then had always been one of his biggest regrets.
After a long pause, he finally found his voice:
“Oh my god, you two! No wonder I always thought you were weird—you’ve known each other forever!”
“You’re killing me! You didn’t tell me earlier, and I was scared out of my wits all night!” Xu Shaoqiu gasped in frustration, though a trace of relief slipped through.
He had considered countless possibilities, even preparing several PR strategies in his mind. Worst case, he thought, they could just ignore the situation—online gossip always dies down after a few days.
But no matter what he came up with, it was impossible to explain the supposed entanglement between three people. His greatest fear was that this mess would hurt Ji Wei and create a lasting rift between him and Yin Sijue.
To his surprise, there weren’t three people at all—just two, from start to finish: Ji Wei and Yin Sijue.
Unique was WEI. There couldn’t have been a better outcome.
Xu Shaoqiu’s nose stung as he thought of Ji Wei’s past. He finally understood why that young man had disappeared without a word back then.
“…Fuck you.”
All his tangled emotions condensed into a single curse. Xu Shaoqiu choked briefly, then asked, “So that idiot Wolf hacked your account?”
“It was stolen three years ago. I guess it passed through a few hands before landing with him,” Ji Wei explained, consoling him. “It’s okay. My brother already sent an email to retrieve it. I think I’ll get it back soon.”
“Alright. Whether you get it back or not, I’ll clear things up for you.”
Resolute, Xu Shaoqiu added, “I’ll coordinate with PR this afternoon and figure out the best plan. You just focus on tonight’s game. The club will release a statement tomorrow.”
“And if you do recover the account, tell me immediately. That’ll be irrefutable proof—I can just take a screenshot and settle it.”
After hanging up, Xu Shaoqiu finally let out a long breath. The exhaustion from his sleepless night crashed over him. He set an alarm for 3 p.m. and collapsed onto the sofa.
He went to sleep with the mindset that he would surely win the battle of public opinion, but he hadn’t expected things to spiral even further out of control.
When the post on Tieba had reached more than eight thousand replies, a marketing account from outside the circle suddenly posted on Weibo:
[@EatingMelonNews: After watching the CP fan war in the esports circle next door, I have to say—shouldn’t the one most deserving of criticism be Solve, who seems to have treated someone as a stand-in? Why does it feel like Mei Mei has just disappeared from the spotlight?]