Chapter 51 – Half-Brothers from Different Fathers and Mothers
At the same time, in the courtyard of the villa on the mountain, Little Black and Little White were carrying a barbecue grill, one on each side, shuffling like crabs with tiny steps.
Squatting nearby and fanning the charcoal, Little Blue looked up with his sky-blue face and asked, “Sa, who’s coming?”
“A relative,” Yang Sa said as he threaded colorful bell peppers onto skewers. After a pause, he added, “A friend of my brother’s.”
Little Blue gave a disinterested “oh.” He was preparing to return to his home country after the holiday and had no idea when he’d see his chubby half-brother again. Absentmindedly tapping the charcoal with a pebble, he didn’t even turn his head when he heard the sound of a car pulling up at the front gate. “Sa, your relative’s here.”
That is, until a high-pitched scream of excitement and disbelief rang out—Little Blue suddenly stood up and sprinted toward his sworn brother with whom he had bowed to the heavens and earth: “My God, Yuan Baby, it’s actually you!”
“Blue Baby!” Fat Tangyuan was caught in a full-on bear hug, patting his brother’s back with fan-sized hands. “It’s really you, I’ve missed you so much!”
Meanwhile, Du Changcheng directed his team—some carrying fruit baskets, others hauling drinks—and slowly made his way into the courtyard, holding his lower back. “Xiao Sa, sorry about this. You called while I was at the hospital, and when I went back to the base to change clothes, I got cornered by a few brats, so I brought them along.” He shamelessly smiled. “You don’t mind, right?”
“Of course not. The team is always busy—being able to spend the holiday together like this is a blessing,” Yang Sa replied tactfully, pretending not to notice anything unusual. Seeing Du still holding his back, he asked, “Your back still not better?”
“Gotten used to it,” Du Changcheng withdrew his hand. “It’s mostly healed. The doctor just said no seafood or spicy food…” He trailed off as his eyes landed on rows of bell peppers and crabs. “Well… it’s not like I can’t have any, right?” He tried to play it off, clearly guilty.
“We have non-spicy ones,” Yang Sa said to help him out—though he hadn’t finished preparing them yet.
The Xinghai team members didn’t stand on ceremony. After washing their hands, they joined the skewer-prep line. Only Fat Tangyuan went his own way. Along with Little Blue, he turned the kitchen upside down until he found a garlic mortar, hugged it to his chest, and started mashing while singing “Little White Boat.”
Du Changcheng, chatting with Yang Sa, couldn’t take it anymore. He gave Fat Tangyuan a kick. “Can you not?”
Fat Tangyuan pouted. “What, I sound bad?” When no one answered, he sidled up to Old Du and said shamelessly, “Or is it that you just don’t like it?”
“You little brat, are you trying to send me to the grave early?” Du Changcheng gritted his teeth in frustration, but couldn’t lash out with the foreign guest present. He could only scold him for slacking. “Everyone’s making skewers, and here you are wasting time—go do some work!”
“You just don’t get it—what makes barbecue delicious is the seasoning. Now, if it were someone else, maybe not, but when it comes to food…” He lifted his shirt to reveal his big belly, “Your Grandpa Fatty here is a professional—hey hey hey, why are you hitting me?!”
“Be glad I’m going easy on you,” Du Changcheng clenched his fist. “Who gave you the guts to call yourself someone’s grandpa in front of me?”
Fat Tangyuan covered his face and squeezed out a few crocodile tears. “Coach, I was wrong!”
At that moment, the sound of a motorcycle engine came from outside.
A delivery guy in a yellow vest was just about to press the doorbell when a chubby figure shoved a garlic mortar into someone’s arms and took off like he was being chased by ghosts, yelling as he ran: “Mine, mine, mine! That’s my delivery! I ordered chicken ribs—mine!”
“So embarrassing,” Jiang Ranan instinctively leaned into the teammate beside him. Sometimes, Little Pistachio Tangyuan was pretty cute—but most of the time, you just wanted to grab him and squeeze the filling out of him.
Shao Zhan entered, gave Yang Sa a nod as a greeting, then quietly went to the outdoor prep station to assist Little Black and Little White. He didn’t try to strike up a conversation. The visit had been so sudden, and he figured Yang Sa had invited Du Changcheng over to talk, so he simply left space for the two of them.
Honestly, he didn’t even know what to say to Yang Sa anymore. Their relationship was awkward. Going deep would be inappropriate, keeping it shallow was pointless. One wrong word, and the guy might vanish again like he had three years ago—totally possible.
Ever since sending LAP off, the frustration that had been ground down through relentless training seemed to be creeping back.
Shao Zhan put down the skewers in his hand. When he turned around to grab some fresh pineapple to slice, he caught Du Changcheng casting a deep, unreadable glance in his direction. Without reacting, Shao Zhan sat up straighter and used a finger to gently push Jiang Ranan’s head away from leaning on him.
Yang Sa withdrew his gaze and handed a cup of yogurt to Du Changcheng. “Coach, how’s Bage doing?”
“Still in the hospital. Oh, Uncle Zhou—” Du Changcheng waved over the man working in the yard, “Come here, let those little punks handle the rest. You come talk with Xiao Sa about Bage’s condition.”
Uncle Zhou, unable to sit still for long, had noticed a patch of grass in the yard thinning out and had gone to gather some seeds. Hearing the call, he wiped his hands on a fallen leaf and hunched his back as he walked over.
“Bage? He’s doing well. Doctor said he can be discharged in a few days. Just that thing around his neck—it can’t come off yet. In a little while, they’ll replace it with something longer-term.” Uncle Zhou rambled on for a bit, mentioning that Yang Sa had paid for Bage’s medical expenses, and no matter what he said, Uncle Zhou insisted on paying him back.
“We’re not talking about money today,” Du Changcheng pulled his old friend into a seat. “Xiao Sa’s great at the game—I still want to recruit him into Xinghai. There’ll be plenty of chances in the future.”
Noticing Yang Sa simply smiled without replying, Du gave Uncle Zhou a little shove. “You’re one of the old guard—tell him about the early days.” He gestured behind him. “Let those monkey brats hear how rough we had it back then…”
“You guys…” Uncle Zhou rubbed his hands together uncertainly. “You really want to hear this?”
Yang Sa nodded. “Please, go ahead.”
…
As night deepened, Fat’s barbecue stand officially opened for business.
Fat Tangyuan folded a chef’s hat out of kitchen paper and clipped it onto his head with a binder clip he’d somehow found. One hand held a skewer, flipping it up and down over the grill; the other chubby paw wielded the seasoning like a master painter, flinging it around with flair.
Anyone who knew him would see he was grilling meat. Anyone who didn’t might think he was engaged in some deep, soul-stirring form of avant-garde art.
“This is seriously ridiculous,” Qin Chuan said, holding his buzzing head. “Is it too late to say I don’t know him?”
Zhuang Bai shook his head helplessly. Jiang Ranan buried his face in his knees. “So embarrassing…”
Probably the only one fully playing along was Little Blue, who was holding up his phone, snapping away like crazy to capture every heroic angle of his beloved brother.
The black and white duo from LAP finally dragged their eyes away from their brainless brother blue, exchanged a look of existential despair, and gazed toward the heavens.
“Oh come on, no need to be so polite,” Fat Tangyuan said, striking what he believed to be a dashing pose for the camera while pretending to act humble. “Don’t take pics of me—take pics of everyone else…”
Unable to bear the sight of the guy beaming and spitting all over the grill anymore, Shao Zhan silently pulled out a face mask and slipped it onto Fatty from behind.
The camera flash went off with a click, capturing that exact moment.
“Hey! Delete it, delete it, delete it!” Fat Tangyuan waved his greasy hands and smoothed back his imaginary hair with the back of his wrist. “Someone with my kind of looks shouldn’t be photographed next to plain, average-looking folks—it’s just unfair.”
The chorus of boos from around the yard shattered his fantasy. He fiercely double-seasoned the skewers in front of him in silent protest but didn’t dare voice any complaints.
That damned prodigy had been born lucky—heir to a major corporation. Just played games casually and became the top player in the league. On top of that, the guy was ridiculously good-looking. Alone, he’d raised the entire visual standard of Chinese PUBG to an international level.
Being crushed by him again and again, Fat Tangyuan’s heart had shattered and been pieced back together so many times it could’ve been used for abstract mosaic art. At long last, he’d found a likeminded brother—not dazzled by the guy’s looks, not bought by his wealth—so if now wasn’t the time to go all out, when was?
Still, joking aside, once the skewers were done, he made sure to first separate out the non-spicy ones for Coach and Uncle Zhou. The rest—extra seasoned—were handed out to the boys.
Seeing them all eat to their heart’s content, Fat Tangyuan felt a deep sense of fulfillment. Honestly, he was even happier feeding them than eating himself.
Taking advantage of the moment, he brought out the marinated chicken ribs and began showing them off to the foreign guests.
“This here is a secret recipe—authentic family secret. Back when I was a kid, my dad lost his job and took me out to set up a street stall. This craft right here is what kept us going.”
Fat Tangyuan beamed with pride, while stealing side glances in Shao Zhan’s direction, unable to hide the mischievous grin on his face.
It wasn’t exactly mean-spirited. Shao Zhan was strong in every possible way—flawless, really. Fat Tangyuan wouldn’t mind seeing that smug bastard finally hit a wall when it came to Yang Sa.
With his sharp detective-like eyes locked in, he observed: other than the nod when Shao Zhan first walked in, there had been zero interaction between the two. Not a word.
Although from another perspective, he did feel a little bad for that old bastard. But considering that someone’s public persona was basically a domineering CEO who could rise every morning from a 500-square-meter king-sized bed, that tiny flicker of sympathy quickly vanished into the smoke from the grill.
On the other side, Shao Zhan—eating his heavily seasoned skewers—wasn’t thinking the same way.
He sat behind Uncle Zhou, always ready to help out, and happened to be the farthest from the barbecue action. Even though Yang Sa hadn’t spoken a single word to him all evening, every skewer that ended up in his hands was extra spicy.
No one said it out loud, but with a brain worthy of the league’s number one player, Shao Zhan could probably guess it had something to do with that moment during breakfast—when he silently pulled all the spicy dishes onto his own plate.
He wasn’t someone who had to eat spicy food. Technically speaking, he didn’t care one way or the other. But most of his teammates weren’t great with spice, though they still loved ordering it—especially with someone like Fatfat around. If it was on the menu, he had to try it.
Despite his elite background, Shao Zhan never acted picky about food. He’d grown up with his grandfather, where waste wasn’t tolerated. Later, after moving into the team base, he lived, ate, and trained with the rest of the boys like anyone else—and never used his status to lord over others.
If anything, he often used his “young master of a big company” identity to smooth things over or get perks for his teammates. He’d spoiled them so much, they were practically one step away from grabbing sticks and poking holes in the sky just for fun.