Chapter 67 – Don’t Listen
Ji Wei had forgotten the moment he hung up the phone.
When he put it down, a cold sweat had already broken out across his back.
He couldn’t describe the feeling — it was as if a hole had been torn open in his chest, and all his emotions had drained away, leaving only confusion.
He remembered his father’s words at the dinner table — how the money for all those private tutoring classes had come from his father’s frugal savings, and how the lamb had been expensive and shouldn’t be wasted.
When exactly had things gone wrong?
Ji Wei couldn’t figure it out. His thoughts were a tangled mess he couldn’t sort through.
He unlocked his phone to distract himself, but the words on the screen blurred together like scribbles — impossible to read.
His chaotic, empty gaze landed on the “S” pinned at the top of his WeChat list. He stared at it for a long time, until his eyes ached, and then closed them.
A moment later, Ji Wei sat up and reached for his slippers.
…
At this hour, the base wasn’t exactly quiet. No one had gone to sleep yet, and faint light spilled through the cracks beneath each door.
Yin Sijue’s room was right next door, close enough to reach with just a few steps.
Ji Wei tiptoed over and pushed the door open. As Yin Sijue had said before going to bed, it wasn’t locked; a gentle push was enough to let him in.
The bed was empty — the room’s occupant was showering in the bathroom. Ji Wei tiptoed in, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the quilt over himself.
Under the airtight blankets, Yin Sijue’s scent surrounded him. It was the lemony fragrance of the shower gel — the same scent he had smelled just half an hour ago in Yin Sijue’s arms.
Even though Ji Wei told himself that this was a little perverse, he couldn’t help but bury his face in the pillow and take a quiet sniff.
His erratic heartbeat finally slowed, and a long-lost sense of peace settled over him.
When Yin Sijue came out of the bathroom, rubbing the back of his neck with a towel, he noticed a lump on the bed — one that was faintly wriggling, with a few pink toes peeking out from under the quilt.
He walked over, amused, and rolled Ji Wei up in the blanket like a rice ball before pulling him into his arms.
Then, starting from the top, he began unwrapping the bundle, as if unwrapping a sticky rice dumpling. Within seconds, the quilt fell away to reveal a red-faced Ji Wei.
“Why are you here?” Yin Sijue asked, smoothing down Ji Wei’s tangled hair.
Ji Wei nestled into his embrace, his cat-like hands pawing lightly at Yin Sijue’s chest, nibbling at his collar.
After a moment, he began to recount what Ji Lin had said on the phone — everything, including his past interactions with his parents over the years.
It was hard for Ji Wei to talk about these things, even to Yin Sijue. His voice grew smaller and smaller as he spoke, sometimes breaking off mid-sentence when the words caught in his throat. Yin Sijue simply listened in silence.
“Actually, I’ve never felt hatred toward them. It’s more like confusion,” Ji Wei said slowly.
“I couldn’t understand why they treated me like that before, and I still can’t understand why they did those bad things.”
“And my… brother, he’s so young. What will he do in the future…”
Yin Sijue gently brushed the corner of his eye, his fingertips sliding down to reveal a tall, delicate nose and soft, full lips.
Ji Wei had an innocent yet fragile face, yet he was stronger and braver than anyone else.
An indescribable ache welled up inside Yin Sijue, and he said hoarsely, “Don’t dwell on it.”
“You couldn’t choose your birth, Weiwei. Whatever their fate is, it has nothing to do with you.”
Yin Sijue’s voice was soft, but every word pierced Ji Wei’s heart.
“No one will abandon you anymore. You’ve escaped all that.”
Ji Wei’s vision blurred; he couldn’t see Yin Sijue’s face clearly, but he could feel his gentle, steady gaze.
This is good, he thought.
When he first received the call, he’d been overwhelmed by guilt.
Growing up in a suffocating environment, Ji Wei’s instinct when faced with something bad was always to reflect on himself first, rather than blame others.
But this time, he’d learned. He came to Yin Sijue first, and Yin Sijue told him that none of it had anything to do with him.
Ji Wei wrapped his arms around Yin Sijue’s neck and hugged him tightly, as if trying to melt into him.
“Go to sleep.” Yin Sijue lay down on the bed, Ji Wei still clinging to him, and reached out to gently stroke his back.
“Do you want me to turn down the air conditioner?”
“No.” Ji Wei loosened the blanket wrapped around him and handed it to Yin Sijue. “You wrapped me too tightly just now. It’s hot.”
“Okay.” Yin Sijue covered them both with the blanket, locking Ji Wei in his arms with both hands and feet.
“Go to sleep, baby. Good night.”
…
The next day.
Xu Shaoqiu gathered everyone and briefly explained the arrangements for their trip abroad. The PGC was set to begin in five days, and they wouldn’t be waiting to travel with the other teams. Since one of their players was attending Worlds for the first time, they decided to go two days early to help him adjust.
He arrived with their visas ready. “This PGC, like every other year, will feature 32 teams divided into three phases: the group stage, the knockout rounds, and the finals.”
Since Ji Wei had never seen the tournament before, Xu Shaoqiu elaborated:
“Just like the regular season, the 32 teams will first be split into two groups and play three rounds of round-robin matches. The top eight teams from each group will advance to the winner’s bracket, followed by the knockout rounds. The final sixteen teams will move on to the finals.”
Xu Shaoqiu said evenly, “Our goal is simple: first place in the group stage, first place in the knockout rounds, and finally, the championship. Any questions?”
Ji Wei: “…”
Da Shu raised his hand weakly. “What happens if we don’t win the championship?”
Xu Shaoqiu smiled wickedly. “I don’t care. SOP fans check in on our official Weibo every day, saying that the six teams from our region who advanced are a bunch of losers who’ll be exposed at Worlds.”
He shot Da Shu a murderous look. “It won’t be me who gets scolded then.”
Da Shu: “…Got it.”
Xu Shaoqiu cleared his throat lightly and said seriously, “The hotels will be arranged by the organizers. They shouldn’t be bad — everyone will have their own room.”
His gaze fell on two particular members. “Cohabitation is prohibited during the competition. Keep it within bounds, understood?”
Yin Sijue sneered. “You talk as if we sleep together every day.”
God knows he’d finally gotten a boyfriend just last night.
Da Shu stammered, “Actually… I saw Unique coming out of your room this morning.”
Xu Shaoqiu pointed at them triumphantly, as if catching someone by the pigtail. “And you said you don’t sleep together every day!”
Ji Wei wished he could crawl into a hole. “Last night…”
I never run into Da Shu when I leave my room any other day, but of course he had to see me this morning. Just my luck!
“Alright, I’m too lazy to pursue it.” Xu Shaoqiu ignored Ji Wei’s aggrieved expression. He was only joking anyway — he trusted his captain’s ability to handle things properly.
“It’s fine. Just stay up an hour later for the next couple of days to adjust to the Korean time difference. Make sure you stay sharp at night. Go to training.”
…
The day before flying to Korea, the AVG team went to a famous local coconut chicken restaurant for dinner.
According to Da Shu, this was a team tradition before every tournament — to “eat chicken” in real life for good luck and hope for a “chicken dinner” in the game.
Everyone had been so busy during the summer season that they hadn’t had time for it, so this time they finally revived the tradition.
“Then why coconut chicken instead of KFC, kiln-baked chicken, or roast chicken?” Ji Wei asked seriously in the car.
Xu Shaoqiu glanced at the rearview mirror guiltily. “There are… many theories. Coconut chicken is a more complete form of chicken, and the pot used to boil it is similar to the frying pan in the game—”
“Because Brother Qiu loves coconut chicken,” Da Shu interrupted.
Ji Wei: “…Okay.”
Ten minutes later, everyone was seated around a round table in the restaurant, watching the chicken boil in the pot.
Xu Shaoqiu ordered three whole chickens, several hot pot side dishes, and a large bowl of clay pot rice. The rice crust was golden and crispy, and the aroma was so rich it made everyone’s mouth water.
Yin Sijue picked up a small plate of condiments and asked Ji Wei, “Do you want some sand ginger?”
Ji Wei: “Yes.”
“What about minced garlic, green onions, cilantro, and chili peppers?”
Ji Wei clasped his hands together and said, “I don’t want minced garlic, but everything else is fine. Please give me plenty of chili peppers.”
Da Shu handed over his dipping saucer and said in a strangled voice, “Brother Solve, please give me plenty of cilantro.”
Yin Sijue was so disgusted that his hands trembled, and he nearly spilled the sauce on the floor. “Go away. Get it yourself.”
Everyone ate happily amid laughter.
Xu Shaoqiu placed a chicken leg in Ji Wei’s bowl. “This is your first time at Worlds. If you’re unsure about anything, ask Solve. Don’t be too nervous.”
He looked around the table. “Besides SOP, the teams we need to watch out for this time include DT — they like to ambush SOP in scrims — and SNS from the European region. You’ve already faced the other strong teams during the Summer Split. Just play with a calm mind.”
“We’re definitely not nervous. It’s not our first time,” Da Shu said, glancing at Ji Wei. “If Unique’s nervous, just ask Brother Qiu for Solve’s room card. You won’t be nervous sleeping with your boyfriend.”
Ji Wei’s half-bitten chicken leg froze mid-bite, stuck in his mouth.
For once, Yin Sijue looked favorably upon his teammate and nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Xu Shaoqiu: “There’s no way I’m giving it to you.”
Amid the chatter, the food on the table was quickly devoured. Ji Wei patted his now full stomach as the steam from the hot pot swirled around them.
To avoid running into fans, Xu Shaoqiu had chosen a late hour. The restaurant was nearly deserted, with only a television hanging in the atrium replaying that morning’s news — the low hum of the broadcast blending with the faint clatter of dishes.
Ji Wei glanced up at the screen.
That single glance stole his breath.
On the screen, the host of the Legal Channel was delivering a short news report with a solemn expression. A photo of a man appeared beside him — stark, unmistakable.
It was the same man who had sat at the coffee table when Ji Wei opened the door three years ago.
Behind their table, two waiters were nearing the end of their shift. With nothing to do, they leaned against the wall, watching the news.
The two of them whispered to each other:
Waiter A: “The government’s doing the right thing arresting people like this. Officials should just do their jobs honestly and stop touching the people’s money.”
Waiter B: “Exactly. You think kids from families like that don’t live off other people’s backs?”
Their voices were low, but Ji Wei heard every word.
The conversation between the two kept replaying in his mind.
He sat there motionless, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
His face was deathly pale — he couldn’t breathe in or out, his ears buzzed, and everything said afterward failed to reach him.
Suddenly, the hand resting by his side was grasped, and a gentle force pulled his head onto a shoulder.
Yin Sijue leaned close to his ear and whispered softly,
“Don’t listen, Ji Wei. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Don’t listen.”