Chapter 49 – Who’s Your Daddy
“I don’t know he’s got something on his mind? I don’t know?” Du Changcheng exploded in anger, but his injuries kept him from making any big moves, so he leaned against the wall like a frail willow branch.
“If he’s got something on his mind, then you should help him figure it out! After causing such a huge commotion, there ought to be some kind of resolution.” He gave his player a soft punch. “Tell me, what do you think it’d be like if Xiao Sa came to Xinghai as the team captain?”
“Coach, are you trying to say I’m too old and you don’t want me anymore?”
Du Changcheng rolled his eyes. This young master—did he really think it was up to him whether he stayed or not?
“Go on, don’t talk nonsense with me.” Du Changcheng hobbled along the edge of the hallway, one hand on the wall and one on his hip. “If you’ve got the guts, go bring him to me—I don’t care if you have to lie, cheat, or kidnap him…”
“Coach, we’re a legitimate club,” Shao Zhan muttered, still standing in place. But the corners of his mouth curled up against his will.
Qin Chuan, who had been spying in the shadows, suddenly popped out and pointed at them. “You—you—you—you—there’s something wrong with you.”
“You’re the most ridiculous person in this whole base,” Shao Zhan said as he walked past Qin Chuan, who puffed up like a fighting rooster. “And now you’re eavesdropping too.”
“Eavesdropping? I was doing it for you, for you guys! You bunch of heartless—”
Shao Zhan closed the door, cutting off Qin Chuan’s rant, then turned to the people inside the training room with a faint smile. “What stage are you at in training?”
The Xinghai team members immediately felt a chilling shift in the air and collectively edged away from their captain.
Games were fun, but esports was hard—grueling and monotonous.
From the moment they chose to make esports their career, these boys had a clear understanding of the path ahead.
But there were levels to suffering. After tonight’s training session, it felt like the entire first team of Xinghai had climbed Mount Tai.
“This is insane, completely insane. I haven’t suffered this much since I escaped that illegal weight-loss boot camp back in eighth grade,” Fat Tangyuan whined, clutching his cheeks in both hands and checking the blackened screen of his computer to see how much weight he might’ve lost.
He vented in the team’s private group chat: [That old beast went crazy today!]
Training ended.
Jiang Ranan went to check on Zhuang Bai, Zhuang Bai made a video call to send well wishes to the ailing Du Changcheng, and the sneaky Qin Chuan had already disappeared.
Left alone in the training room, Fat Tangyuan squeezed his face, pinched the fat on his waist, and gazed at his reflection with sorrow. “I’m wasting away…”
“Who’s wasting away? Come here and let your daddy take a good look.”
Shao Zhan’s voice rang out from the doorway. The fat on Tangyuan’s belly trembled twice in fright. “Y-you… why are you back?”
Shao Zhan leaned against the doorframe with a teasing smile, waving his phone. “Weren’t you the one who called me back, you little rascal?”
“Nonsense, I… when did I ever…” Fat Tangyuan suddenly had a flash of divine realization. Trembling, he raised his phone, then dramatically rolled his eyes and collapsed onto his chair like he’d fainted. Before “dying,” he even carefully adjusted the headrest.
He was mortified. How could someone as wise, mighty, and dashing as him send the message to the wrong person? He couldn’t forgive himself—never.
“Unbelievable. Just—absolutely ridiculous…” Shao Zhan, seemingly unfazed, began to read aloud in an emotionless tone, “The old beast today…” He paused. “Hmm? Who’s this ‘old beast’?”
“No one. Really—no one at all,” Fat Tangyuan sprang upright with a jolt, pinching his philtrum like he was pulling himself back to life. “Captain, whatever you need from me, just say the word! I’d walk through fire and water for you. Even if you turned me into a fried meatball, I wouldn’t blink an eye!”
Shao Zhan casually picked up the latest trendy drink from Fatty’s desk and stretched his long legs. “Ask Lao Pineapple what he’s up to.”
…
“Gui mi ri…”
“Gui mi ri…”
“Gui mi ri…”
On the villa sofa in the Mountain District, the black, white, and blue trio had become completely obsessed with Chinese culture after experiencing its vast and profound culinary world. Despite having been grinding on a Chinese idiom app for two weeks, the three of them crowded together, still baffled at how there were so many strange and bizarre phrases they hadn’t yet come across.
“‘Gui mi ri yan’ (鬼迷日眼),” Yang Sa, unable to watch anymore, closed the news page and explained to the three pairs of eager eyes, “means someone is acting really weird.”
“I get it, I get it!” Little Black excitedly raised his hand like a school kid answering a question. “It’s like how Sa plays super weird every time he runs into a Starcraft player…”
A white and a blue fist instantly knocked him straight to the carpet.
With a sharp scream, long-limbed Max came sliding down the stairs like an under-evolved baboon clinging to the railing. “Sa-sa-sa-sa-sa—he, he, he just invited me to play a game!”
Yang Sa didn’t respond, but from the floor, Little Black muttered mockingly, “What kind of ‘possessed weirdo’ would want to play a game with you…”
Aside from Yang Sa and Max, the rest of them had met during an exchange program and teamed up on a few projects. Max was good-looking, outgoing, and generally well-liked—he just couldn’t play video games to save his life.
As soon as he got into the game, it was like hitting a brick wall. His hands-on skills were basically nonexistent—he even struggled with Tetris and Space Invaders.
That Christmas, when they all gathered at Little White’s old family house, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that even Little White’s eighty-year-old grandma could beat this guy to the ground playing King of Fighters.
Because of that, whenever the group teamed up to play games, they’d never invite this poor sucker.
But this poor sucker just wouldn’t give up. He’d go fishing on forums for strangers to carry him in-game—not to improve, just to make his level look halfway decent.
“Max, listen to your brother’s advice. There are plenty of—plenty of…”
Little Black stumbled halfway through, and the ever-helpful Little Blue chimed in with a perfect Northeastern Chinese accent: “Plenty of roads lead to Rome, why cling to just one flower?”
Little White, who’d been quiet until now, nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t be as stubborn as Sa. One tree can’t hang you—try hanging on a few more!” He gestured animatedly to get his point across.
Max knew talking to those three idiots was pointless. He leaned in close to Yang Sa with a sweet smile. “Sa, you know… to be your friend, I left my mom at a young age…”
Yang Sa cut him off, hand over his mouth. “What game? Who invited you to play?”
Max pulled up the chat history to show him, then shyly scooted over to sit next to him.
As Yang Sa logged in, he asked, “Where did you even learn to say that stuff?”
“I read it online. What, is it wrong?” Max looked at him with innocent, olive-green eyes that screamed “I-did-nothing-wrong.”
“No, no problem at all,” Yang Sa said. Max was the housekeeper’s kid and had grown up with him. Sure, leaving his mom had nothing to do with Sa, but there was no harm in saying it like that.
As soon as they entered the game, their old friend—Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round —snagged the first kill.
[Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round used S12K to knock down Ying Ying Ying’s Ying Ying Ying]
“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Yang Sa calmly helped his teammate up. He wasn’t wearing a headset, so the audio blared from the speakers—his teammate was screaming in all-chat. “What the hell, why’d you shoot me?!”
“Slipped finger, slipped finger,” came the reply, from a teasing voice with a hint of a Northeastern accent. The guy sounded like he was eating, smacking his lips between words.
Yang Sa silently muted him, picked up his gun, and charged out solo.
[KS used the M26A4 to kill Jungle Beibei King.]
[KS used the QBU to kill Honest.]
[KS used the MP5K to kill Tom & Jerry.]
[KS used the M26A4 to kill Round Round Fat Fat Glutinous Round .]
…
A scene from the pet hospital flashed through Yang Sa’s mind. It seemed that whenever he encountered that person, his actions always became a little involuntary.
Possessed by a ghost?
Under the cold glow of the screen, the light in his eyes grew increasingly frosty…
A string of kill reports scrolled across the screen—so brutal that no one dared look directly at them.
Fat Tangyuan clutched a bag of chips as the screen in front of him turned grayscale. “Is this still the same cutie who didn’t even know how to parachute before?”
He flipped open his phone and sent a voice message to Old Pineapple: “Brother, tell me you didn’t just hit on some gay dude who’s even more hardcore than you. What’s going on? He’s even shooting his own teammates?”
He had joined the duo queue to be the escort, only to get instantly wiped out.
Leaning back in his chair, Fat Tangyuan glanced worriedly in Shao Zhan’s direction. “Okay, that… I didn’t see coming.”
“Normal.” Shao Zhan replied coldly, gun in hand, like a grim-faced King of Hell.
Staring at the screen full of [I’m Your Daddy] kill reports, Fat Tangyuan clutched his head. “You’ve lost it too.”
Just ten or so minutes into the match, Shao Daddy and KS had each taken down more than thirty players. Fat Tangyuan and his duo partner Old Pineapple had been completely reduced to bystanders.
As the toxic circle shrank to its final phase, Shao Zhan, hiding behind cover, scanned the map for lurking enemies—unleashing a barrage of bullets the exact moment the other side made a move.
As the Winner Winner Chicken Dinner screen appeared, Shao Zhan slowly pushed his keyboard away. “Ask Old Pineapple if his little girlfriend is interested in joining Xinghai.”
Still munching noisily, Fat Tangyuan responded with a loud, “Got it!” and opened a private channel to whisper sneakily with Old Pineapple.
Shao Zhan stared at the post-match stats screen, gently rubbing his knuckles, recalling the final moment. He exhaled two words slowly: “That was close.”
At the same time, shifting lights and shadows cast a shadow across Yang Sa’s face. His eyes landed on the top-ranked ID. He curled his lips.
“Who’s your daddy?”