Chapter 11 – The Sniper is Good
As Shao Zhan helped Tangyuan back up, he noticed a girl in a yellow dress trailing behind the downed enemy. Quickly adjusting his aim just a fraction higher, he narrowly avoided dealing any real damage.
Then, with both teams taking cover behind the buildings, separated by a single main road, chaos erupted.
[Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round used S12K to knock down Ying Ying Ying’s Ying Ying Ying.]
As the announcement flashed across the screen, Tangyuan froze for a second. “D*mn, Old Pineapple, that’s just nasty. What kind of grown man calls himself ‘Ying Ying Ying’s Ying Ying Ying’—is he a crying gremlin?”
Before Shao Zhan could reply, another notification popped up:
[Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round has been knocked down by I Am Your Daddy.]
Tangyuan, freshly revived, was still registering the previous events when the kill feed rapidly scrolled with new updates:
[I Am Your Daddy used M49 to knock down Little Red Riding Hood’s Wolf Grandma.]
[Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round used S12K to knock down I Am Your Daddy.]
[Ying Ying Ying’s Ying Ying Ying used MK14 to knock down Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round.]
[Little Red Riding Hood’s Wolf Grandma used M14 to knock down Ying Ying Ying’s Ying Ying Ying.]
[I Am Your Daddy used M49 to knock down Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round…]
Not just the two battling teams—every remaining player in the match was utterly confused.
What the hell was going on?
Revive, kill, revive, kill—were these guys stuck in an infinite loop?
Was this some kind of Heavenly Elder martial arts technique, or were they trapped in an Escher staircase paradox?
While the two teams were goofing off like nobody else existed, the rest of the surviving players instinctively began converging toward the chaotic battlefield.
Tangyuan, knocked down yet again, crawled behind a rock and texted Old Pineapple on WeChat:
[Dude, maybe tone it down a bit? If I get downed a few more times, I’m actually gonna die for good. Any longer, and the other players are gonna catch up to us.]
Old Pineapple, also known as Ying Ying Monster, sent back a brief but direct reply: [Roger.]
But by the time he refocused, it was already too late—his teammate had beaten him to the draw.
[I Am Your Daddy used M49 to knock down Little Red Riding Hood’s Wolf Grandma.]
The gunfire from the opposing side suddenly ceased, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.
Tangyuan had no idea how Old Pineapple managed to convince the girl in the yellow dress to leave, but judging by her deadly precision and swift execution, she was no newbie—more like a big bad wolf disguised as a harmless lamb.
Speaking of wolves, their own “Wolf Grandma” was still waiting to be revived.
As Tangyuan crawled over to help his teammate up, gunfire erupted again, forcing him to flatten himself even lower.
Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round, watching his death timer tick down, switched to all-chat and cursed at Pineapple: “D*mn you! Did you really have to land a parting shot before running off? Have some humanity!”
Pineapple’s signature sleazy laughter came through the mic.
But trash talk aside, survival came first.
By the time Shao Zhan and Tangyuan had patched themselves up and were ready to escape, they had already missed their best window of opportunity.
The remaining bloodthirsty enemies were closing in from all directions.
Even for battle-hardened pros like Shao Zhan and Tangyuan, there was no room for carelessness now. From the fallen loot crates, they each grabbed an SKS and an M24.
“In battle, every player is a warrior. A warrior’s duty is to fight. We can dodge fights, but we cannot fear them.”
As the gunfire raged, amidst the chaos of their encirclement, Tangyuan’s deep, solemn voice filled their team’s voice chat with a motivational speech that was just a little too dramatic: “As Xinghai Esports, the number one team in the league—have we grown arrogant? Have we grown conceited? Have we become reckless?”
For each question, Shao Zhan silently answered with a headshot from his M24.
Positioned as the team’s hybrid of offense and defense, Tangyuan answered his own speech:
“No. We are still the same diligent, hardworking Xinghai! A true champion knows that a chicken-egg pancake needs two sausages, fried scallions, two big scoops of meat floss, and a generous drizzle of sesame sauce—”
Tangyuan, while shamelessly distracting his teammate, had also managed to place a breakfast order through voice command.
Unfazed by the nonsense, Shao Zhan continued firing with deadly precision while casually adding: “Get me one too. No fried dough sticks. No sausages. No scallions.”
Tangyuan paused for half a second, staring blankly at the screen before turning back to the shop owner on the phone: “Uh… just throw in an extra pancake, thanks.”
Fueled by the promise of good food, their kill count soared.
Especially Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round, who steeled his grip on his gun the moment he received confirmation that the delivery would arrive within thirty minutes—his shots were suddenly steadier, sharper, and deadlier.
At last, the battlefield had narrowed down to the final two teams.
Shao Zhan and Tangyuan found a concealed spot at the foot of a hill, crouched down, and each pulled out a grenade. Holding them in their hands, they removed the safety pins and, as if toasting a final farewell, hurled them skyward toward the vast blue sky—
“Old Pineapple, buddy, we’re going all in for you today—sacrificing everything! You better remember our noble sacrifice… ah… ah… ah—!”
BOOM!
Game Over.
The system automatically switched to the match summary screen.
“Ask how many friends from his squad joined.” Yang Sa let go of his keyboard, leaned back with his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes to rest.
Max obediently followed orders and pressed the opposing team for information on WeChat. At first, Pineapple stubbornly refused to spill, but after enough prodding, he finally caved:
“Two. Just two. He swears on his ancestors—eighteen generations back.”
Seated cross-legged, Max reported back to Yang Sa, who lazily responded:
“Not bad. Their sniper’s got good aim.”
Later, when Yang Sa opened his eyes, ready to wash up, he noticed that his computer had already launched a new match.
On-screen, Max—the shameless traitor—had already jumped into the game, automatically following someone’s parachute drop.
“What the hell is this?” Yang Sa asked.
“I have no idea,” Max said, spreading his hands innocently. “By the time I noticed, I was already on the plane.”
Yang Sa glanced at the top-right corner of the screen. “It’s another four-man squad. What exactly did you tell them?”
“I just said their friend had good aim with a sniper.” Max shrugged.
…
Morning. A new day quietly unfolded.
At Xinghai Esports Club’s PUBG division, the start of each day was announced by a rooster’s crow.
Only… it wasn’t actually a rooster.
It was a hen named Bage, raised by the club’s elderly gatekeeper as if it were his own son.
Originally just an ordinary hen, Bage had grown bored of the dull base life and somehow learned to crow like a rooster. From then on, it faithfully performed its duty of announcing the time, 365 days a year, without fail.
At 4:15 AM sharp, Bage crowed on cue.
The dormitory remained quiet, but in the training rooms on the upper floors, the all-night grinders heard the crowing and instinctively set their things aside. Half-asleep, they dragged themselves out of their ergonomic chairs and shuffled out of the gaming room like zombies.
By 5:00 AM, the dimly lit esports base was once again playing out its daily ritual of a zombie apocalypse—where the undead army of sleep-deprived gamers stumbled their way back to their beds.
Every time he saw this ghastly sight, security guard Uncle Zhou would clutch his crossdressing chicken-son and sigh deeply:
“See that, Bage? This is what happens when you don’t sleep. You have to be good, rest properly, and wake up early to crow on time. And remember—whatever you do, don’t go wandering around like last time. You nearly got stomped to death by these sleep-deprived brats…”
Behind him, inside the building, the sleep-deprived players staggered toward their dorms, moving as sluggishly as brainless zombies in Plants vs. Zombies. Occasionally, two would bump into each other, getting stuck in an endless loop, like a game caught in a lagging glitch.
Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai, woken up by the live chicken alarm clock, changed their clothes and went back to sleep for a while. When they returned, they found Tangyuan and their captain, Mars, collapsed lifelessly on their gaming chairs, dark circles under their eyes as deep as craters.
After a good night’s sleep, Qin Chuan strolled into the training room, humming a tune—only to be met with two ghostly pale faces. He immediately pressed himself against the doorframe, startled.
“Wait…” He took several deep breaths before blurting out, “Are those two… having an affair?”
Jiang Ranan rolled his eyes, making no effort to hide his disdain for the mere suggestion. “Our captain has high standards.”
“Old Tangyuan is straight,” the ever-honest Zhuang Bai added firmly.
“How do you know?” Qin Chuan and Jiang Ranan raised their eyebrows in unison, skeptical. “Did you test him?”
“Alright, fine,” Zhuang Bai wisely chose self-preservation. “Maybe he’s a bent Tangyuan.”
Satisfied, Qin Chuan and Jiang Ranan returned to their workstations, while Shao Zhan and Tangyuan were rudely awakened by a call from the food delivery guy.
Tangyuan hauled himself up, his noble rear end leaving the chair as he hurried downstairs to fetch the delivery. Uncle Zhou, the base’s oldest resident, didn’t miss the chance to remind the broad-bodied, internet-addicted youth to exercise more.
Meanwhile, his feathered “son,” who understood human speech all too well, suddenly flapped its wings and lunged forward—viciously pecking at Tangyuan’s plump, tender backside.
With a yelp, Tangyuan dashed back into the training room, rubbing his injured rear in distress. He immediately grabbed Jiang Ranan, who was in the middle of a practice run.
“Check for me! Quick, just take a look!” he demanded, sticking out his butt.
Jiang Ranan, exasperated, punched the soft mound of flesh once. “You’re fine.”
“How can I be fine?!” Tangyuan refused to give up. “That bird went all in this time! I swear my pants are torn—just check again!”
“No matter how I look, you’re still fine.” Zhuang Bai spoke up from behind his monitor, offering a fair judgment. “If Bage really took a merciful bite and relieved you of a few ounces of fat—”
“Then I’d be on my knees, bowing to that bird with my ancestors dating back eighteen generations.” Tangyuan pinched the stubborn fat that clung to his body, launching into a wild daydream. “If I could slim down… even if I don’t become a heartthrob like the captain, at the very least, I could be a cute little stud like Ranan. If not, I’d still be on par with Lao Keen. And worst case scenario—I’d at least be as decent as Qin Chuan—”
“Wait, why the hell am I ranked last?!” Qin Chuan snapped his head up, furious, after admiring his own beauty on Shao Zhan’s screen.
“Oh, you’re here?” Tangyuan clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly awkward beyond belief. He crossed his chubby legs and twirled on his toes like a ballerina, desperately trying to backtrack. “If I knew you were listening, I wouldn’t have said it to your face, of course…”
“Talking behind my back is even worse, you know?” Qin Chuan shot him a glare, unwilling to waste words on this clueless bumpkin who couldn’t even appreciate his own beauty.
“Where’s the captain?” Tangyuan asked as he plopped into his chair, digging into his egg pancake with extra toppings.
Just as he spoke, the training room door slid open. Shao Zhan stepped inside, freshly washed and changed after his morning routine.
“You—” Tangyuan’s mouth, stuffed with sausage, froze mid-sentence. His excitement left him momentarily speechless.
“What, did you choke?” Qin Chuan seized the opportunity to rise from Shao Zhan’s seat, giving Tangyuan’s chubby back a firm pat.
Tangyuan made a great effort to swallow his mouthful, licking the corner of his lips in unwilling admiration. “You look way too good.”
Shao Zhan had merely washed his face and changed clothes, yet he looked refreshed and full of energy, as if he hadn’t stayed up all night. Even the faint shadows under his eyes were barely visible—like a delicate trace of color hidden within a priceless jade.