Chapter 12 – Traces of Overnutrition
Tangyuan picked up a tiny mirror that came as a freebie with a shoe purchase and examined himself furiously, letting out a heartfelt sigh.
“Seriously… We all grew up eating the same food at this base. How is there such a massive difference between people?” He squished his own chubby cheeks in frustration. “I suspect the head chef has been sneaking you extra meals.”
“Judging by your size,” Shao Zhan said casually, “it’s more likely she’s been sneaking extra meals to you.”
Tangyuan, emotionally devastated, dove into Qin Chuan’s arms, dramatically pointing at Shao Zhan. “He insulted me!”
“Hey, easy! I can barely breathe here!” Qin Chuan struggled out of the squishy embrace, quickly dodging away in disgust.
Feeling utterly betrayed by the cruel world, Tangyuan grumbled to himself before handing over a food bag to Shao Zhan. “Here’s your pancake.”
As Shao Zhan calmly ate his plain, no-sausage, no-fried-dough, no-anything egg pancake, Tangyuan scrutinized his side profile with growing disbelief. He muttered to himself, “This defies science. Seriously. How can someone this picky still be alive? It’s a miracle of evolution. Why does he not show any signs of malnutrition?”
“More importantly,” Qin Chuan added in a timely stab, flipping through a newspaper on the small couch, “how did you manage to have ‘traces of overnutrition’ all over your entire body?”
Seething with righteous fury, Tangyuan immediately ordered two extra-large, full-sugar milk teas to soothe his wounded soul.
“Alright, enough messing around. Pair up for targeted practice. We have a scrim against the German team, Burn, at 3 PM. Stay in top form.”
The sniper and in-game leader, Shao Zhan, paired with the assaulter, Tangyuan, maintained high kill rates and KD ratios. Meanwhile, the secondary sniper, Zhuang Bai, and the flex player, Jiang Ranan, worked together seamlessly, executing tactical plays while keeping their kill counts solid.
During the break, Shao Zhan led the team in a quick review of the issues exposed during training. With the coach absent, Qin Chuan, feeling a sense of responsibility, tried several times to interject, but he couldn’t find an opening. In the end, he sat back in his seat and consoled himself—strategic analysis wasn’t his forte anyway, so it was best to leave it to the pros.
Just as he was internally feeding himself a motivational pep talk, Du Changcheng’s call came in.
Qin Chuan leaped off the couch so fast that he didn’t even have time to put on his shoes. He switched on the front camera and panned across the training room, announcing theatrically, “Alright, team! Our coach, who is still courageously enduring his time in the city hospital, has called despite his grave condition! Let’s give him a warm round of applause!”
The ever-patient Zhuang Bai clapped along cooperatively, while Shao Zhan tilted his head and chuckled.
Jiang Ranan, ever the stoic, cool-headed perfectionist, sat straight-backed, eyes glued to the screen, determined to play the role of an untouchable cold and calculating genius in this rowdy chaos.
Only one person responded with true enthusiasm—Tangyuan. The one Qin Chuan scolded most viciously and most often was now slapping his meaty palms together, producing a seal-like ovation.
“Tang Tang,” Qin Chuan pounded his chest dramatically. “From this day forward, you are my one and only favorite!”
With his chubby fingers, Tangyuan formed a heart. “Believe in yourself. I am worthy of love!”
On the other end of the call, Coach Du Changcheng nearly passed out from sheer frustration. If only he could crawl through the screen and smack every single one of these little punks on the head.
After quickly summarizing the game plan against the German team, Coach Du ended the call himself. The persistent pain in his lower abdomen, where his stitches were, forced him to drop his tough act.
The nurse, who came in to change his IV drip, frowned at his exhausted state. “You just had surgery. You need rest.”
Coach Du tucked his phone away and exhaled heavily. “I just wanted to let the kids know I’m okay, or they’d start worrying.”
“Worrying won’t do much if they’re not even coming to visit you,” the nurse muttered.
“The kids are all busy.” Du Changcheng winced as he shifted slightly, supporting his lower back.
The nurse placed a pillow under his side for support. “No matter how busy they are, they shouldn’t just ignore you.”
As they spoke, a man in a dark blue uniform appeared at the doorway, carrying a thermal food container.
“Lao Zhou? What are you doing here?” Du Changcheng greeted Zhou Zhengfang, motioning for him to come in. Despite their age gap, the two got along well at the base, their favorite pastime being playing chess in the quiet mornings before the young punks woke up.
“Shao Zhan sent me,” Zhou Zhengfang placed the food container on the metal cabinet. “Told me to keep an eye on you so you don’t escape from the hospital again. Here, chicken soup. Drink up.”
Du Changcheng froze. “Wait… it’s not—”
“Not Bage,” Zhou reassured him. “I made sure to keep him away while I was cooking. Didn’t want him to see and get scared.” He chuckled. “Shao Zhan said he’ll come see you after the match.”
“We see each other every day, what’s there to see? It’s not like I’m some delicate woman.” Du Changcheng muttered, glancing at his watch out of the corner of his eye.
…
“Lao Du? Lao Du, where did you go?!”
Tangyuan lunged forward, but his belly got stuck between the desk gaps. Despite being trapped, he still craned his neck toward the phone screen, yelling, “Lao Du! Lao Du, why is your screen black? Where did you go?!”
Shao Zhan grabbed a nearby support plushie and chucked it at Tangyuan’s belly, startling him so badly he aged two years on the spot. He hugged his stomach protectively, shielding his precious anime waifus on the desk. “What the hell, man?!”
“There’s a limit to your jokes.” Shao Zhan scolded him flatly.
The chubby mass of flesh curled up into a ball, muttering complaints to his “wives” about his inhumane suffering.
With that brief interlude over, the scrim against the German team, Burn, officially began.
Tangyuan was only timid when facing his captain and financial backer, but otherwise, he feared no one. After grabbing his weapon at landing, he took point on the outermost perimeter, always ready for a gunfight. His aggressive playstyle and strong movement control made him the center of attention in the first two matches.
At the start of Game 3, Shao Zhan reminded the team to stay steady over voice comms. “The more things go in our favor, the more we need to keep our emotions in check.”
After clearing out a squad of unlucky players who had dropped at the same spot as them, Tangyuan confidently reassured his captain, “Don’t worry, just sit back and relax. I guarantee that by the time Lao Du drags his bleeding ass over here for a bed check tonight, he’ll be grinning so wide his hemorrhoids will unfold themselves.”
“For the love of god, try being human for once.” Zhuang Bai, the secondary sniper, couldn’t hold back his laughter as he scavenged supplies in the rear, preparing to regroup. He grabbed a vehicle for rotation and chimed in, “Half of Coach Du’s hemorrhoid issues are because of you.”
“Hey, how is that my fault?!” Tangyuan slammed his desk, took a deep breath, and then bellowed in a voice full of conviction, “That was a team effort!”
Just then, two pickup trucks rolled in from a distance, coordinating their movement.
“Oh d*mn, they’re hard pushing.”
Tangyuan swapped weapons, cracked his knuckles, and readied himself for the fight. The other players immediately moved toward his position, grouping up for engagement—and all of this happened within the first five minutes of the match.