Chapter 7 – Good Dog, Bad Man
The next day, the tryouts officially began, starting with the Miramar map.
The players still hadn’t shaken off their exaggerated habits from livestreaming, and the training room was filled with loud shouting.
“Unique, where are you jumping? Wow! You dare to go to Picado?!”
“At least two teams are behind you! Just wait until I find a rifle and come help!”
Three minutes later—
“What do you mean you already killed them all?!”
After a few scrimmages, Ji Wei secured the highest score of the day.
The other three were beaten to a pulp, their eyes glazed over, filled only with regret for ever signing up for this tryout.
“You’re definitely not at the level of an average Lao Liu,” Xuan Feng mumbled, shoving a mouthful of rice into his mouth.
Because Lin Tao had overslept on the first day, the four of them finished their scrimmages before finally sitting down for their first meal.
Xing Zi nodded. “I agree.”
Lin Tao, standing next to him, didn’t start eating right away. Instead, he fussed with the food in front of him.
Ji Wei frowned. “What are you doing?”
Lin Tao picked out a few photos he liked and added filters. “Posting to Moments. I ran away from home, and I was afraid my mom would worry. So I posted a status to show I’m doing fine—otherwise she wouldn’t be able to sleep.”
Xuan Feng: “…Then why did you run away from home?”
Lin Tao: “Because my dad and I don’t get along. He always wants to send me abroad, but I want to stay here, so we argue all the time.”
Xuan Feng choked. “Rich people have their troubles, huh?”
Xing Zi curled his lips. “Actually, I’m kind of envious. I dropped out of school after junior high. My family couldn’t afford tuition, so I came to Hai City to work. Then I got good at gaming, bought a computer, and started livestreaming. I’ve been at it for over four years now, and things are slowly getting better. Last year, I even built a house for my parents in the village.”
“Wow, that’s amazing! Your parents must be so proud of you.” Lin Tao’s eyes sparkled, his admiration completely genuine.
Xuan Feng nodded while eating. “You’re doing well now. My parents have always disapproved of gaming, and now they’re pushing me to find a proper job. I send them money, but they won’t accept it. I haven’t been home in two years.”
“Really…” Lin Tao said softly. “It’s okay. Give them time. Streaming is becoming more and more common now. They’ll definitely understand.”
After speaking, he noticed Ji Wei sitting beside him in silence, his head lowered, mechanically spooning food into his mouth.
It seemed their new roommate hadn’t said a single word since the topic of family came up.
Not one to fuss, Lin Tao turned and asked, “Unique, how are your parents? Do they scold you for gaming?”
“…My parents, uh, I guess.”
“Oh, that’s normal. The older generation’s like that.”
“Hmm…”
The others drifted off to other topics, but Ji Wei didn’t join in. He only stared intently at the braised lamb on the table.
He hadn’t touched the dish from the start, but thankfully, no one here cared. At least he didn’t have to force himself to eat something he disliked.
He exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the chopsticks until they turned slightly pale. The room around him grew blurry, and in the next instant, his thoughts were dragged back to three years ago.
…
That afternoon, after saving his ID photo to the computer, little Ji Wei remembered he was in an internet café.
The computers there automatically updated every day, clearing all stored files, so he couldn’t save the photo.
All he could do was click on the image and study it carefully until he had memorized the boy’s sculpted features. Then, he logged off just as school was ending and ran back.
His high school was the best in the city. The teachers weren’t as strict as those in ordinary schools, relying instead on the students’ initiative. When he slipped back into the classroom, it was already the last period. The only ones there were students quietly studying and the class monitor at the podium reading.
When the bell rang, the sky outside was darker than usual, heavy with the threat of rain. Many parents had arrived early to collect their children before the downpour.
Ji Wei entered through the back door and merged with the stream of students heading downstairs.
No one knew that the short boy who often skipped class—Ji Wei—was actually WEI, one of the top two PUBG players in Asia.
Here, he was just an ordinary high schooler, blending into the crowd without drawing notice. At this school, the spotlight always belonged to the names at the top of the academic leaderboard.
Little Ji Wei followed the driver home. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the oppressive air in the entryway.
His father was seated at the table with his back to him, sipping tea. The results from the most recent monthly exam hadn’t been good. Ji’s father had been away on a long business trip out of the province, and this was the first time the two had seen each other in a while. Neither spoke. The only sound in the house was his mother cooking in the kitchen. The heavy silence pressed down on Ji Wei, choking him.
After a long pause, his father finally spoke:
“Have you analyzed the reasons for your poor performance last time?”
Ji Wei stammered, “Yes, I went over the paper with the teachers.”
“We’ve hired tutors for every subject. You must study hard. These tutors charge a lot. We’re not a wealthy family—it’s all money your mother and I saved. If you don’t do well on the next exam, all that money will be wasted.”
“Also, the next time you meet elders, you must greet them. Don’t keep your head down and stay silent like you did just now. Do you understand?”
Ji Wei raised his head slightly. “I understand.”
His father went on, “You’re about to be assigned a major. Remember to tell your homeroom teacher to choose liberal arts.”
Ji Wei’s father, having worked in politics for more than twenty years, had already mapped out a future for his son, hoping Ji Wei would follow the same path.
Ji Wei didn’t refuse. After all, his grades were more or less the same across every subject, whether in the sciences or the arts, so it didn’t matter to him whether he liked it or not.
The things he truly loved had long been excluded.
“Come eat,” Ji Wei’s mother called.
The family gathered at the table. The dish set before Ji Wei was unusual: a specially prepared “nutritious meal” made just for him—a large bowl of mutton.
In truth, he hated mutton. He couldn’t stand its gamey smell and had complained about it many times. But his family believed that as long as he wasn’t allergic, such high-quality meat was something he had to eat.
Seeing him sit motionless, his mother urged, “Hurry and eat. I’ve already prepared the sauce for you. This mutton was very expensive, and I cooked it carefully—there’s no gamey taste. You’ll be fine eating it.”
Expensive again. Ji Wei sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest.
He couldn’t understand why, but the food he disliked always seemed more important to his parents than the food he did like. The more he hated it, the more often it appeared—like a constant test of obedience.
He picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and chewed it expressionlessly.
Father Ji said sternly, “Keep your hands on the table when you eat. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Okay.”
…
After dinner, Ji Wei barely had a moment of relief before he noticed a new surveillance camera installed outside his bedroom door.
The black lens pointed straight at his room. Except for the adjacent bathroom, every corner was laid bare.
Catching his reaction, his mother walked over and explained, “We’ve been working overtime a lot lately, and often can’t get home on time. But since we hired a tutor, we need to see results. We also want to check in on your study habits every now and then. You understand, don’t you?”
Ji Wei trembled uncontrollably. In a hoarse, not-yet-mature voice, he asked, “Then… can I turn it off when I’m not studying?”
His mother was silent for a moment before asking, “Why? Do you have something you don’t want your parents to know?”
“…”
Ji Wei didn’t know what to say. He didn’t dare resist his domineering parents, nor did he know what else he could do.
He returned to his desk and stared blankly at his report card.
It wasn’t that he had never tried. He had. But eventually, he realized that no matter how hard he worked, his grades only ever reached mediocrity—like a clumsy bird, flapping its wings to barely keep up with the flock, wheezing and struggling mid-air.
Later, he simply stopped trying.
Suppressing the suffocating weight inside him, Ji Wei crumpled the report card and shoved it into a drawer. His parents had already seen it. No one would ask for it again.
It didn’t matter. He still had things worth looking forward to—things that made him happy. Today, he had not only seen a photo of his best friend from the game but also arranged a duo queue with him for tomorrow.
Little Ji Wei! He wouldn’t be defeated by reality!
And so, the next day, he skipped class again and went to the internet cafe.
WEI: [Are you free to duo queue now?]
SJUE: [Login.]
When Ji Wei entered the game, he had just adjusted his headphones when he heard two teammates with Pinyin IDs screaming.
User 1: “Woc?? Ahhh, two masters!! I’m ranked over 3,000 and I get matched with you???”
User 2: “Holy shit, I’m going to call my friend to livestream…”
User 1: “Where do we jump? Airport or P City? Don’t say anything, I’ll be your dog. Can you please turn on your mic?”
User 2: “I’m starting to record the screen—please turn on the mic!!”
Ji Wei blushed and quickly typed back: […You guys are welcome, land anywhere you want.]
User 1: “I’m not saying you’re a bitch, I get it—you never use the mic.”
[WEI]: [… TvT]
It’s not that he doesn’t want to use the mic! It’s not that he doesn’t want to!
Ji Wei had started gaming young. When he first began to make a name for himself in the PUBG community, he was just entering his voice change phase, and his voice had sounded no different from a beaten duck.
From the first day he realized he’d developed that droopy voice, he decided to speak as little as possible.
Especially in a platform like gaming—where typing is enough—it was best not to expose himself as a “voice changer.”
Just as Ji Wei was about to cry at the screen, a deep laugh came through his headset:
SJUE: “Okay, let’s go to School. Stop bullying my teammate.”
…
After easily winning the next game, Ji Wei accepted the friend request and immediately started a duo-four queue with SJUE, avoiding random teammates.
SJUE: “Their tryouts are supposed to be on July 20th. I might go two or three days early. What about you?”
Ji Wei calculated that summer vacation started on July 8th. But the excuse he’d given his parents was that he was going to summer camp, which didn’t actually begin until the 19th—so he couldn’t leave early.
He typed back:
[WEI]: [I have something else to do. I probably won’t arrive until the 19th.]
The other party smiled and replied: “Okay, I’ll wait for you then.”
…
“What’s wrong, Unique? Is the food not to your liking?”
His memories were cut short, and Ji Wei realized he had been holding empty chopsticks for a long time without eating.
Lin Tao waved a hand in front of him. “What happened to you just now? Whenever I mention my parents—”
Xing Zi, sitting beside him, tugged firmly at Lin Tao’s sleeve, cutting him off.
Lin Tao noticed Xing Zi’s complicated expression and realized he’d asked something that didn’t need an answer.
“Sorry, Unique. I won’t ask anymore. Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”
“It’s okay.” Ji Wei shook his head and made up an excuse. “I just remembered a fight I had with my parents.”
Hearing this, Xuan Feng let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s fine. The older generation is like that. You’re a big streamer now—once you have something to prove to them, like winning a championship, they’ll accept you in a heartbeat.”
“Yeah.” Ji Wei lowered his head and stuffed food into his mouth, his drooping eyelashes hiding his emotions. “You’re right.”
…
After dinner, the auntie at the base carried two large bags of trash, preparing to throw them away.
Ji Wei stepped forward and called out, “Auntie, let me take that out for you.”
The woman quickly moved the bags aside. “Oh, no, that’s impossible. Go back to training.”
Ji Wei shook his head. “It’s a bit stuffy in here. I need some fresh air. Training’s not over yet anyway, so I’ll take care of it.”
“Alright then. The garbage disposal is just around the corner near the community entrance. I’ll turn on the air conditioning for you, so you can cool off when you get back.”
“Okay. Thank you, Auntie.”
Ji Wei took a deep breath, exhaling the frustration weighing on his chest, then opened the base gate.
He hadn’t expected that even after all this time, talking about those things would still leave him so unsettled.
The summer sun burned like fire in the sky. The trees along the roadside cast shriveled shadows at their roots, like black paint melting in the heat.
As soon as he stepped outside, a wave of hot air slammed into his face. Ji Wei squinted against the blinding light, searching for the direction of the trash bins.
After a long, winding walk, he finally found the spot. But once he tossed the bags in, he realized he had forgotten how to get back.
“…”
The sun blazed overhead, and the air seemed to thicken into something gelatinous. If he stood there two minutes longer, he’d be roasted alive.
Ji Wei had no choice but to retreat into the shade, carefully retracing his steps in his mind.
Rustle—
Suddenly, a slight sound came from the bushes near his feet.
A small white puppy crawled out, its face smudged with dirt, its round eyes staring blankly up at him.
So cute! Ji Wei screamed inwardly, frantically patting his pockets but finding nothing to feed it.
The puppy, unbothered by the lack of food, simply curled up at his feet and lay down.
“Sorry, Xiao Bai…” Ji Wei casually named the pup as he crouched down to scratch its chin. “I forgot how to get home. Wait here for a bit while I ask my friends where I live. I’ll be back soon with some food for you, okay?”
“Arf!”
“Then I’ll take that as a yes.”
Ji Wei stood up, steadying himself on the steps nearby.
Just as he was about to pull out his phone to message Lin Tao, he heard footsteps behind him.
Turning around, he saw a tall figure standing before him. The glare forced Ji Wei to squint, making it hard to see the man’s face—
but he already knew who it was.
…
The man had fine bone structure, dark pupils set beneath strong brows. His height blocked the blazing sun, which turned his hair golden, while the shadows carved his profile into sharp relief.
This was Ji Wei’s first time meeting Yin Sijue in person.
His impression of him had started with the handsome ID photo, then the spirited young champion in highlight videos. But now he realized—a flat image could never compare to the real person.
“Why are you here?” Ji Wei asked.
At the word you, Yin Sijue’s brows lifted slightly. “Do you know me?”
So he doesn’t recognize me, Ji Wei thought, a pang of disappointment welling up.
He remembered the friend request he’d sent on the gaming platform days ago—still unanswered.
“I’m Avg’s new trial trainee. My name’s Unique,” Ji Wei said, tilting his head up to meet the man’s eyes. His voice carried a strange, almost trembling undertone.
“It’s you,” Yin Sijue said, recalling that Dashu had just mentioned this person’s strong test results yesterday. He’d also seen his livestream with teammates a few days earlier.
But the heat was oppressive, and he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He simply said: “Please move aside.”
“Oh.”
Ji Wei pouted and stepped back, watching as Yin Sijue walked forward. He crouched in front of the little white dog, pulling pet snacks and water from his pocket, and set them down on a plate.
A little puppy squatted at the tall man’s feet, burying its head in the food, the scene unexpectedly harmonious.
“You know Xiao Bai?” Ji Wei asked.
“It’s called Xiao Hei.”
“?” Ji Wei was baffled. “This is your dog?”
“Of course not. Someone in the neighborhood abandoned it.”
“Then why call it Xiao Hei? Isn’t its fur white?”
“Its face is very dark.”
“…”
Alright then—whoever feeds it gets the naming rights. From now on, Xiao Bai would just have to be called Xiao Hei.