Chapter 58 – What is Unique doing?
At two o’clock in the afternoon, the hotel room was bathed in a golden glow of sunlight.
Solve, seemingly using a stand-in, was blow-drying his own double’s hair.
“It’s all your fault, it’s all your fault!” Ji Wei fumed, sitting cross-legged on the sofa with his arms folded. “The underwear I washed yesterday isn’t dry yet, and you tried to mess with me this morning. Now I have nothing to wear after my shower!”
Running slender fingers through his hair, Yin Sijue turned off the hair dryer and coaxed, “How about wearing mine? I brought new ones.”
Ji Wei’s face flushed. “Y-yours? I can’t wear those!”
“Just kidding.” Yin Sijue curled his knuckles and scratched his cheek. “I asked the errand boy to buy some for me.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Ji Wei stood up to change, but after two steps he suddenly turned back, blood rushing to his head. “Wait—how do you know… what size did you buy?”
Yin Sijue’s dark eyes fixed on him. “Your size.”
“…”
Half an hour later, the errand boy delivered the new underwear. Ji Wei changed in the bathroom and came out only to find that it actually fit.
Damn, how did they get it right? He refused to think too deeply about it.
“It’s a 7 o’clock game. What time should we head over?” Ji Wei, who had never played in an All-Star Game before, asked the more experienced Yin Sijue for advice.
“There’s no trash talk recording this time, so just go an hour early.” Seeing him finish changing, Yin Sijue stood up and tugged him along. “Let’s get something to eat first.”
“I’ll take you! I know a great wooden-barrel rice place. Let’s go, let’s go!”
“Let’s go,” Yin Sijue said simply, grabbing their peripheral bags before heading out.
In the elevator, Ji Wei opened his phone and saw a message from Ji Lin.
Ji Lin (urgent, please call): [Their automated email says it’s not work hours yet, so they aren’t processing it. What kind of game company doesn’t do overtime?]
Ji Lin (urgent, please call): [Oh, I checked. With the time difference, work starts in two hours. Wait for my update!]
Weiwei Dounan: [[cat OK.jpg]]
After replying, Ji Wei noticed the elevator doors opening. He reached for his boyfriend’s hand but found Yin Sijue idly scrolling through Weibo instead.
Ji Wei’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse—he seemed to be on the trending search page, with the word scumbag among the hot topics.
Is Yin Sijue reading entertainment gossip too? Ji Wei was puzzled but resisted the urge to peek at his screen. Instead, she tugged at the hand beside her.
“What are you looking at? My taxi’s almost here.” Yin Sijue looked up, amusement flickering in his eyes, and shook his head. “Nothing much, just some jokes. Let’s go.”
He hooked his finger around Ji Wei’s pinky and gave it two light pinches. “Weibo’s been boring these past few days. Don’t bother with it.”
…
The wooden-barrel rice restaurant had recently been renovated, and its menu had undergone a complete overhaul. Regular customer Ji Wei was now at a loss as to what to order.
He sighed. He hadn’t been away from Taipei that long, yet it felt like everything was already changing.
Seeing him stare at the menu for a long time without saying a word, the boss came over and suggested, “Would you like to try our new signature dish? Pot-roasted lamb—generous portions, guaranteed to fill you up.”
“He doesn’t eat lamb.” Yin Sijue pulled out a chair for Ji Wei and told the boss, “We’ll look for ourselves, thank you.”
“How did you know?” Ji Wei was a little surprised, remembering that night when Xu Shaoqiu had brought back supper and Yin Sijue had grabbed the lamb noodles first.
He suddenly realized, “So you knew even back then!”
Still studying the menu, Yin Sijue replied casually, “You mentioned it once while we were gaming.”
“Did I? I forgot. When was that?”
“Three years ago. You were really quiet during a match. When I asked why, you said your family forced you to eat mutton.” Yin Sijue finally looked up at him, his voice soft. “From now on, don’t eat anything you don’t like. No one’s going to force you anymore. But you have to say it. Don’t force yourself.”
Only then did Ji Wei realize Yin Sijue had been referring to that late-night snack. He hadn’t dared to avoid the mutton back then.
Resting his chin on his hand, Ji Wei felt a little distressed. “But what if I get embarrassed to say it sometimes?”
“Then tell me, and I’ll handle it for you. There’s nothing we can’t talk about.” Yin Sijue set the menu down and asked for Ji Wei’s opinion. “How about stir-fried beef with rice in a wooden barrel?”
“Sure!”
…
Afraid they’d feel sleepy after eating too many carbs, the two grabbed coffee before arriving early at the competition venue. In the players’ lounge, two people were already sitting in front of the mirrors putting on makeup: Kelly and KK from UGC.
Pa-pa! KK spotted them in the mirror and clapped her hands. “There you are, lovebirds! Did you come this early to get your makeup done too?”
“No.” Yin Sijue found a couch with Ji Wei. “There’s just over an hour left, and there’s nothing to do outside, so we might as well come here.”
“What are you planning to do today?” Kelly, already spooked by their last trick, sounded wary. “You’re not just going to farm points in this fun match, are you?”
The Aurora TV All-Star Game schedule was straightforward: three rounds of duo matches, played on an island, a desert, and a rainforest map not included in the regular season.
Kelly’s eyes darkened as soon as he saw the rainforest map, his chest tightening as he replayed every detail of his six-game losing streak at the hands of Ji Wei.
Ji Wei said, “It’s not a full map this time, so it’ll be harder to hide. Just play normally. I’ve never played duos in a tournament before.”
When Kelly realized he wouldn’t be the six-game loser again, he felt relieved. He knew he could definitely do it tonight. Picking up his phone, he was already ready to brag to his friends.
Ji Wei, oblivious to Kelly’s thoughts, sat on the sofa with his face scrunched up in distaste at his iced Americano. How can something taste so strange? And yet, everyone online claimed it was incredibly invigorating.
Seeing this, Yin Sijue took the coffee from his hand and replaced it with a latte he’d bought himself. “Take this.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” KK watched and sighed. “Good boy! Our manager thought Xu Shaoqiu had set you two up as a PR stunt, and she even scolded Kelly and me for not cooperating with publicity.”
“The funny thing is, right after she scolded us, Da Shu’s livestream clip went viral.”
“But honestly, it makes sense…” KK, a veteran who had once been Solve’s rival in his early years, knew him well. “I kept wondering how you could… how you could possibly pretend to be gay on purpose. Your relationship is really something. Just looking at you today—”
“Your eyebrows are uneven.”
Yin Sijue cut him off and turned to the bewildered makeup artist beside him. “It’s not your fault. It’s just harder to do makeup on someone with barely any eyebrows. Thank you for your hard work.”
“Hey, your brother?!” KK protested.
Just then, Yin Sijue’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID and answered, surprised. “Mom? Why are you calling?”
Beside him, Ji Wei immediately sat up straight, listening intently.
Yin Sijue discreetly angled the phone slightly away from Ji Wei’s ear. “Don’t rush. Speak slowly. What did the student say to you?”
Ji Wei stole a nervous glance at him. From that distance, he could only make out the words “online,” “trending,” and “boyfriend.”
Yin Sijue’s tone was gentle as he patted Ji Wei’s hand reassuringly. “That’s all fake. Don’t worry about it.”
Fake? Ji Wei’s heart skipped a beat. A heavy weight seemed to press down on his chest. Was Yin Sijue talking about… us?
But before his thoughts could spiral, Yin Sijue added for his mother’s benefit, “But it’s true that I have a boyfriend.”
On the other end, someone seemed to be giving instructions, and Yin Sijue replied softly, “Okay, I’ll bring him back for dinner next time.”
After hanging up, Yin Sijue rubbed Ji Wei’s hand—still digging into his own thigh. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” Ji Wei turned away guiltily, unable to admit it.
Yin Sijue pinched his cheek. “I’ll settle this with you after the competition.”
“That’s enough, stop showing off.” KK squinted at them. “There are other people here. Kelly’s about to throw up.”
Kelly: “Boss, what do you mean?”
Ji Wei was still preoccupied with the earlier conversation and wanted to ask Yin Sijue again, when a WeChat message from Ji Lin suddenly popped up.
Ji Lin (urgent, call): [I got it back. I’ve temporarily linked it to my email address, EngineerLin@164.com. The password is Jiwei@0731.
(P.S. I couldn’t use the password you gave me before—“Ysjwei99!” You shameless kid!)]
Ji Lin (urgent, call): [One more thing. I did my best to recover it, but I didn’t expect the online public opinion to blow up like this. Talk to your manager about how to handle it. I think your boyfriend’s pretty unlucky.]
“What do you mean…” Ji Wei was thrilled about the account recovery news, but Ji Lin’s next words left him puzzled. “What public opinion?”
“What’s wrong?” Yin Sijue asked.
Ji Wei handed him the phone with a smile. “I got my account back! I already forwarded it to Brother Qiu, but he hasn’t replied yet. I wonder what he’s busy with.”
“Good to have it back.” Yin Sijue locked Ji Wei’s phone. “The competition’s about to start. You’ve been here before, right? I’ll show you the venue.”
Aurora TV was a large company, and the competition was being held at their own esports center—about the size of a gymnasium, on par with the summer season’s venue.
Fans who had arrived early were already trickling in, while reporters from the pre-match broadcast surrounded the players with questions. Yin Sijue led Ji Wei to a secluded corner and pointed out their seats on the stage.
“We’ll be seated in order of votes. Since we’re first, we’ll sit right up front.”
Ji Wei’s eyes lit up—he always looked brightest when happy. “We’re first place, huh?”
“Yeah. Everyone likes us.” Yin Sijue patted his head.
“What about those seats?” Ji Wei asked, pointing to the row in the center of the stage.
Yin Sijue thought for a moment. “We invited a few celebrities this time. Those should be their seats.”
In the audience, many fans waved cheering light sticks. Ji Wei craned his neck but couldn’t read what was written on them. “Are there really celebrities? Let me search them up. Are they good-looking? I’ve never seen one in person before.”
“I don’t know.” Yin Sijue’s expression turned cold, his tone flat. “Let’s go back. The director’s calling us.”
…
Fifteen minutes later, all the contestants were in their positions backstage, waiting for the signal to go on stage.
Yin Sijue and Ji Wei stood at the very front. They were the only ones without makeup, yet their looks stood out the most—undeniably eye-catching.
Just before handing his phone to the staff, Ji Wei received a message from Xu Shaoqiu:
AVG_Xu Shaoqiu: [Got it. The situation’s changed. We’re adjusting the PR plan. The account came back just in time. Leave it to me. Good luck in the competition!]
Something’s changed? What’s going on?
The whole day had felt strange. Ji Wei hadn’t asked a single real question, yet every time he tried, the words were cut off before they could form.
As the staff took his phone away, his knuckles twitched nervously, his heart skipped a beat, and a wave of dread washed over him.
In an instant, a sharp, piercing voice erupted from the audience.
“Solve, you damned scumbag! Get out of PCL!”
The blaring music surged, drowning out the crowd. On-site staff, sensing something was wrong, urgently ordered the director to cut the background track.
But the voice still reverberated in Ji Wei’s mind like thunder.
His heart sank. His eyes widened. His whole body went stiff.
What does that mean? What do they mean by scumbag?
A pair of warm palms gently covered his ears. Yin Sijue cupped his face and leaned down, forcing Ji Wei to meet his gaze.
“Ji Wei, listen to me. Don’t overthink it. Just focus on the competition. You’ll be on stage soon.”
“Is it… is it because I…”
Ji Wei couldn’t hear clearly. His thoughts tangled into chaos. Gasping, he stumbled over his words, recalling every odd moment from the day.
“I know. This afternoon, Brother Qiu mentioned something about a body double… I thought it was funny. Then Auntie called you, and you acted cautious around me. That’s it, right?”
Sharp as he was, Ji Wei instantly pieced together the pattern behind Yin Sijue’s behavior. Every move today had only one goal: to stop him from seeing what was happening on Weibo.
The effort to shield him had already spun out of control.
“It’s not because of you.” Yin Sijue leaned closer, steadying Ji Wei’s frantic gaze. “Now that your account’s back, it doesn’t matter. Just a few people scolding—don’t let it get to you.”
The director’s voice was already calling them onstage. Ji Wei drew a deep breath, clutched Yin Sijue’s hand tightly, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
The contestants lined up behind them exchanged looks, all equally baffled.
What’s going on?
Don’t ask me, I don’t know either!
“Let’s go.” Ji Wei forced back the redness burning in his eyes. The pressure in his chest was a mix of suffocation and heartache, threatening to spill over.
With a bitter face, he tugged at Yin Sijue’s hand. “Let’s go up together.”
…
“Welcome to the PCL All-Star Game hosted by Aurora TV! I’m Yamy, your host and one of today’s commentators!”
“Behind me is the All-Star Game stage—magnificent, isn’t it? 3, 2, 1! Let’s all thank our sponsor, Aurora TV!”
“There are 32 teams participating in this event, and the match is being broadcast live on Aurora TV, room 12668! Now, let’s welcome our players onto the stage—”
The staff guided the players out in order. At the very front of the line, Ji Wei and Yin Sijue were the first to step onto the stage and take their seats.
With some time left before the match began, Ji Wei glanced up and saw a man in the audience being escorted out by security.
The music was deafening, but even so, he could clearly make out the man’s hysterical lip movements.
A warm hand gently clasped his own. As if sensing his unease, Yin Sijue soothed him quietly, “It’s okay.”
“Yeah.” Ji Wei lowered his lashes, the thin curve of his eyelids carrying a faint edge. He didn’t want to look at the person beside him—someone who always reported the good news and hid the bad.
When will Brother Qiu release a statement?
Will the fans believe it, even if he does?
Will Yin Sijue still get scolded?
Damn it. Sitting here on stage, unable to do a thing—it’s infuriating.
He stared at the computer in front of him, his game account already logged in. Motionless, his eyes were as calm and dark as the sea.
Aurora TV’s entertainment matches were different from official competitions. In official matches, players were given dedicated accounts and servers. Here, however, everyone logged in using their personal accounts.
Ji Wei’s gaze lingered on his player account interface. Slowly, he blinked.
He couldn’t wait for Xu Shaoqiu to issue a statement.
Inside the venue, neon lights flashed and music thundered. Amid the bustling chaos, Ji Wei’s expressionless face stood out starkly.
Then, before the match even began, a ripple of commotion spread through the crowd.
On stage, one of the contestants—Ji Wei—suddenly raised his hand and began operating his computer.
The audience stirred in confusion. Some fans at the very front leaned toward one another, whispering, then quickly pulled out their phones to take photos and post them on Weibo.
“What’s Unique doing?” host Yamy asked in bewilderment.
The director gave a prompt order, and Ji Wei’s computer feed was immediately switched to the big screen for the live broadcast.
Sitting nearby, Yin Sijue caught the sudden action. Almost as if he’d already known, his dark eyes flickered with surprise as he turned to Ji Wei.
On the massive screen, the crowd watched as Ji Wei logged out of his account, [AVG_Unique], right in front of them.
Click — [Switch Account]
Select — [Log in with Account Name]
He typed three letters: WEI