Chapter 23 – Thank You, Dad, for Your Love
“What are you doing?” Yang Sa was startled the moment he walked in.
A white man dressed in traditional Hanfu, his flowing white robes fluttering, was standing on the balcony railing, pointing to the heavens like the Statue of Liberty…
“Oh my god,” the little blue guy who slipped in behind him shivered in fear.
Next came the little black guy, clapping his hands excitedly, looking very much like he was enjoying the show.
Then another white guy started doing warm-up exercises to a beat, completely ignoring the chaos. As if nothing had happened, he began performing the sixth set of Chinese radio calisthenics in the spacious living room.
“Hi…” Max was about to greet his friends when they came back, but the wind was too strong. He lost his footing and nearly fell off.
Yang Sa rushed over and pulled him back down, scolding him: “What the hell are you doing? Jumping off the balcony to welcome us?”
“Blood spraying three feet!” the little blue guy proudly showed off the idiom he’d just learned. “I like this kind of drama.”
“It’s not that,” Max said, raising the wine in his hand. “You guys weren’t back yet, and I was bored, so I was just drinking under the moonlight. Toasting to the moon, y’know? And now I see my shadow… one, two, three, four…” He counted, “Five people.”
The little black guy kept clapping, his face full of disbelief. “Wait, you can actually get drunk off wine?”
Meanwhile, the other white dude was still steadfastly performing the mysterious ancient exercise routine from this foreign land: “Chest expansion—one, two, three, four, two, two, three…”
The alcohol-hit Max couldn’t take the noise anymore. Pointing at the hyperactive guy, he groaned, “Can someone change his channel? He’s way too loud.”
Yang Sa snatched away his wine and gently set the stubborn Max onto the sofa. “You should rest. What are you doing trying to act like Li Bai?”
“Li Bai?” Max’s overly animated eyes rolled around as he slurred, “Did you get Li Bai’s transfer deal settled yet?”
Little Blue, who had been fiddling with his fingers on the other end of the sofa, burst into laughter. “He made a bet and won all the tickets.”
Max, who had just been doing a cosplay, knelt down dramatically in front of Yang Sa. “Please, man, I’m begging you, stop messing around. Li Bai just reminded me again. Get it done already! If you don’t hurry up, my girlfriend’s gonna dump me.”
“I know,” Yang Sa replied. “I’ve got it under control.”
“You don’t!” Max’s big eyes were almost teary. “Her future mother-in-law already gave the ultimatum—if he doesn’t find a job in China within a week, she’s not letting them be together anymore.” He pounded his chest dramatically. “You have to make this happen. This poor 30-something-year-old virgin finally fell in love, and if you screw this up, he’ll chase you across the world. Believe it?”
“I believe it, I believe it,” Yang Sa promised. “I’ll have it settled by the weekend.”
“Really?” Max, still kneeling on the sofa, gave Yang Sa a proper kowtow. “Thank you, Daddy Yang, for your love!”
Little Blue silently put down the fingers he’d been playing with. “He’s definitely drunk.”
Little Black chimed in from the side: “Not at all, not at all. He’s been studying ancient Chinese culture recently. Making great progress.”
Max punched Little Black playfully. “You really get me, brother.” Then he sat upright and solemnly said, “Kowtowing is a form of social etiquette, a sign of respect. It was used in ancient China during rituals or periods of abstinence. In short, it signifies sincerity and reverence.”
“Then what about calling someone ‘Daddy’?” Little White, who was busy doing torso twists, found an opportunity to squeeze in a question.
“That’s also a form of etiquette,” Max replied seriously. “It shows my deep respect for Yang and my earnest hope that he can help solve his friend’s problem.”
Little Black rolled his eyes and returned to a shocked expression: “Who told you that calling someone ‘Daddy’ is a sign of respect?”
“I’ve been reading a lot of history books lately,” Max said as he pulled one out from under a seat cushion, squinting at it and showing it to the others. “See this? ‘Daren’ (大人) meant ‘father’ in ancient times. You see how in historical dramas they keep calling officials ‘daren’? That’s a sign of respect.”
“Well…” Yang Sa pondered how to begin explaining that “daren” doesn’t mean “father” in this context, and that you really can’t take drama shows at face value.
He tried to explain a couple of times, but eventually gave up. Everyone on the couch shouting “Daddy” was clearly drunk—if he took this seriously, he’d be the real fool.
He nudged the drunken Max. “Not playing games with your admirer anymore?” Though they had played several matches already, once idle, he couldn’t help itching to play again.
“No, no. I got pushed off the team.” Max waved his wide sleeves dismissively. “You were off playing tournaments—who knows when you’d be back.”
“But now,” Yang Sa said, lowering his eyes slightly, “I’m back.”
At first, he didn’t really want to play with anyone, but after teaming up with Max and the pretty-boy admirer’s friend, they unexpectedly clicked—and one match led to another until they played until sunrise.
But it wasn’t just for fun. After the weekend, everyone would be going their separate ways. Those two played well—especially “Grandma Wolf.” Yang Sa had a mind to recruit them, though no one else knew what he was thinking.
Max, acting like a nagging mom, especially reminded them: “Even now that you’re back, you still need to rest. Rest means rest!”
Then, using a seat cushion like a military command baton, Max started driving out the colorful night owls one by one.
“What are you doing?”
Tangyuan, sitting in the backseat of the car, had just opened his mouth to yawn when a hand came down and smacked it shut without mercy.
Tangyuan gave Shao Zhan a slightly resentful glance, then swallowed his words back into his round belly.
Shao Zhan, who was clearly in a good mood, wasn’t about to let him off that easily and kept teasing the chubby one: “I asked you a question.”
Tangyuan put down his phone: “Chatting with Wild Bull from Weiguang team.”
“Weren’t they not coming?” Qin Chuan said casually, gazing out the car window.
“They’re just checking in on me.” Tangyuan hugged his phone. “Just because you guys don’t have friends doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“Exactly!” Jiang Ranan, who had come over to join the fun, held Tangyuan and said, “Our Sweet is very popular, you know.”
Tangyuan’s round face turned red: “Get lost, get lost! I’m straight, stop trying to take advantage of me.”
As the group laughed and joked around, the car pulled up to Haitong Stadium.
The moment they got out, the difference in atmosphere from usual was obvious.
While the fan chants for Xinghai and Mars were still loud and enthusiastic, the crowd was noticeably thinner.
After a bit of interaction with the remaining fans, Shao Zhan led the team inside. The youngest, Jiang Ranan, couldn’t help but complain:
“This is way too empty…”
“Can’t be helped,” Qin Chuan replied. “All the other clubs officially announced they’re not coming. The only fans outside now are the diehards for Xinghai and Silver Empire.”
Tangyuan curled his lip: “Silver Empire still has fans?”
“Even if they’re declining, there’s bound to be a few,” Qin Chuan said weakly. “Worst case, they could’ve hired some.”
“That’s enough out of you,” Shao Zhan reminded the team, “We’re still on their turf. Show a little respect.”
As if suddenly remembering his duty, Qin Chuan switched into team manager mode and whispered: “On my command—smile.”
And so, while the emcee outside enthusiastically hyped up Xinghai as the strongest and only competitive team left in the tournament, all the players posed under the massive Silver Empire banner with synchronized, eerily identical smiles.
…
Haitong Stadium was a single-level, circular venue. Shao Zhan led the team out for their usual pre-match appearance. Fans began to take their seats one after another, but the spacious indoor arena still felt empty and desolate.
The players around Shao Zhan dropped their playful expressions and began striking what they believed were their most handsome poses, all competing for the center spot. Shao Zhan, however, simply crossed his arms, slightly turned his body, and half-lowered his eyelids, casually glancing toward the entrance as if by chance.
It wasn’t until a tall figure in a pure white tracksuit stepped into the stadium that he finally relaxed a little, the corners of his eyes and brows softening with relief.
The host on stage paused momentarily, clearly unprepared for this team’s arrival and having no script for them.
At the entrance, uniformed staff had already stepped forward to engage with the uninvited team. Although they were too far away to hear what was being said, their body language made it clear—they were asking the unexpected guests to leave.
Yang Sa didn’t move. Behind him, several international players wearing mismatched blue, white, and black tracksuits—visually clashing with the event’s overall aesthetic—pulled out stacks of tickets from their pockets and tossed them into the air.
Yang Sa curled his lips slightly, and judging by his mouth movements, he seemed to be asking the security guards, “Is that enough?” Then, he led his team onto the stage.
Security personnel moved to stop them but were held back by event staff who arrived shortly after.
Meanwhile, the host, receiving instructions through his earpiece, quickly adjusted his tone and, with full enthusiasm, introduced the new team stirring up the esports scene in Jiangling: Team LAP.
The final team to enter was Silver Empire’s PUBG division, greeted by scattered applause from the remaining fans.
Looking around at the largely empty arena, Tangyuan secretly gave a thumbs-up. “Impressive. Hosting a tournament like this… Silver Empire didn’t even bother to invite some filler teams to pad things out. I give up. Totally speechless.”
“Shut your mouth.” Qin Chuan, crouched at the side of the stage, quickly made hand gestures to stop his teammate from blurting out anything worse.
Truth be told, he had the same concerns. Even if they couldn’t find actual teams, they could’ve at least hired a few stand-ins to look like an audience. But the scattered seats were like distant stars in the night sky—polite neighbors waving from afar, close enough to see each other, yet far too distant to connect.
The host was truly a seasoned professional. Despite only three team captains appearing on stage, he managed to create an atmosphere as grand as an unprecedented esports spectacle.
Before the match draw, the most anticipated segment was the mutual greetings—or trash talk—between the three captains.
Unexpectedly, Yang Sa, wearing the LAP team logo, walked right past the Silver Empire captain who had come forward to greet him, and instead stepped straight up to Shao Zhan, extending his left hand.
“Long time no see.”
His raised brows and radiant expression were even more dazzling than in his arrogant youth.
Shao Zhan was momentarily stunned, but quickly returned to normal, calmly extending his hand to meet the other’s in a firm handshake.