Chapter 61 – The Obedient and Gentle Big Orange Cat
The first floor of the standalone villa was lit. A vague shadow moved behind the deep purple curtains, clearly engaged in exaggerated stretching exercises.
Shao Zhan passed the gate and paced outside the fence. He didn’t even know why he had come here—or why he didn’t press the doorbell to wake the people inside. Even he wasn’t exactly sure of the real reason. The unexpected injury hadn’t just damaged his career—it had triggered a series of domino effects that he now had to plan for and manage in advance.
And then there was Yang Sa’s reason for returning—connected to an incident from thirteen years ago, buried in the team’s history. Some people had left Xinghai and the esports scene altogether, but those still involved had climbed into Xinghai’s mid-to-senior management. If this were exposed, it wouldn’t just affect the team: investors, fans, the brand’s reputation, business partnerships up and down the chain, and the club’s future talent pipeline could all be dragged into it.
These thoughts circled again and again in his mind.
Just like every match he had ever played—as captain of Xinghai, the undefeated Mars—he had to see the big picture and make swift, calculated decisions.
But this time, no matter how many times he weighed the options, he couldn’t find a way out with minimal damage.
The autumn wind was slightly chilly. In the distance, muffled thunder rolled across the horizon. Overhead, the dark clouds had silently dispersed, letting down a light, scattered drizzle.
Shao Zhan walked around to the rear side of the villa, not far from the site of the attack, and ran into a pair of security guards patrolling the area.
…
[Undying Paramecium used VSS rifle to knock down KS]
Just as the in-game character hit the ground, Yang Sa momentarily lost focus. He didn’t retreat to cover or wait for rescue. He didn’t even heal.
Moments later, the kill feed updated again:
[Undying Paramecium used VSS rifle to kill KS.]
“Sorry.”
Yang Sa let go of the keyboard, clearly distracted. Behind him, the ever-colorful Little Blue, who had been painting on him for fun, was so surprised by the rookie mistake that he accidentally split the tip of his paintbrush.
Max, who wasn’t very good at games, half-understood Little Blue’s gestures and tried to comfort him: “It’s okay—everyone makes mistakes. Next round will be better.”
Little Blue couldn’t even be bothered to reply to this low-EQ guy. Sometimes, he genuinely wondered whether this finance-and-physics double-major had anything in that head of his. He wandered around like a giant doofus every day—was he secretly just an idiot?
With a sigh, Little Blue took his mangled brush and went off to ask Little White, who was doing calisthenics, and Little Black, who was solving idiom puzzles, for help. That left the team’s main carry, Yang Sa—clearly out of it—and the clueless cheerleader Max, hyping things up without any real grasp of what was going on.
“My hands just feel off today…” Yang Sa was just about to quit when his teammates pulled him straight into the next match.
The plane flew a sharp vertical path across the map. Yang Sa followed the team’s marker and jumped. Staring at his teammate’s fruit-shaped avatar, he muttered, “This pineapple still doesn’t know you’re a guy?”
Max dropped his earlier grandstanding demeanor and obediently plopped down on the sofa next to Yang Sa, looking every bit like a docile and well-behaved big orange cat.
He carefully reached out with a tentative tone and gently reminded him, “It’s the other guy who doesn’t know you’re a man.”
Yang Sa, who was looting gear and attachments in a housing area, jerked his hand in surprise, accidentally firing off a few rounds.
Only then did he remember—unfortunately, the photo Max had used to go fishing on the forums was one of his Halloween cross-dressing pictures from a few years ago.
In a mix of grief and rage, Yang Sa gave up resisting, and instead of holding back, he turned to the wall across the street, practiced his aim through the window, and casually shot down two scout drones.
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Max immediately switched into flattery mode, showering him with lazy praise like “Killer is the best! Killer is unbeatable!”
The compliments were so empty and soulless, they might as well have been expired bundled snacks—not just useless, but borderline toxic.
While Yang Sa was being shot at and ducked into a corner to bandage himself, an incoming call interrupted Max’s supposedly supportive—but actually more like cursed—chatter.
“What? What did you say?”
Since arriving in China, Max had considered himself pretty fluent in Mandarin. But now, talking to the person on the other end of the line, he stammered, “Slower—say it again. What do you mean, unidentified person…?”
Yang Sa, having just finished escaping the blue zone, crouched by a window to keep watch on enemy positions as he took the phone and asked the caller to repeat the message.
Meanwhile, Little Blue was in the middle of a delicate operation—taping his mangled paintbrush back together. Holding his breath, he focused intently on smoothing the bristles. Then, for reasons unknown, he suddenly found himself being moved in front of the computer.
On screen, a low-health special forces soldier lit up his dormant esports instincts. Clenching the wooden handle of his brush between his teeth, he dove into the game and started sprinting away from the danger zone with single-minded focus.
Max, who had tried to sneakily take the brush back, was so startled he froze in place.
“I’m heading out for a bit. I’ll leave this to you.” Yang Sa tossed the phone to Max, grabbed Little Blue by the shoulders, and planted him firmly in front of the computer before walking off without even looking back.
…
Outside the villa’s backyard wall, a vigilant security guard was watching over a suspicious and unknown individual. He was already calling for backup on his walkie-talkie when Yang Sa quickly approached and interrupted him:
“No need—I know him.”
Standing there in the light rain, Shao Zhan wore a light-colored tracksuit and showed no sign of awkwardness from being caught. He stood calmly, like the security guards on either side were bodyguards he had paid for himself.
“You know him?”
The slightly pudgy guard didn’t bother hiding his suspicion. “Really?”
He gave Shao Zhan a few once-overs and snorted, “If you know him, why didn’t you say so earlier?”
Shao Zhan shrugged, as if the words tasted awkward in his mouth. Tilting his head, he gave the chubby security guard a pointed look, signaling that he was being too noisy.
Yang Sa understood what Shao Zhan meant—he wanted him to handle the situation. But Yang Sa wasn’t a Xinghai team member, nor was he on Shao Zhan’s payroll. Strictly speaking, they weren’t even friends. Why should he take orders from him?
In the tense standoff under the rainy night, it was Yang Sa who turned away first. Without a word, he followed the fence line and walked back into the villa.
Shao Zhan stayed as calm and aloof as ever, but the two guards were thrown completely off. Their colleague, called in for backup, was closing in through the rain, but the guy they’d been detaining was apparently someone the homeowner knew.
Should they arrest him? Should they not? Either way felt wrong.
Fortunately, the kind-hearted homeowner didn’t make things difficult for them for too long.
Back inside, Yang Sa briefly explained the phone call to Max, saying the security guards had made a mistake. He didn’t mention Shao Zhan at all. Then, grabbing an umbrella, he said he was going out for a walk.
“I-I-I-I’ll go too,” said Little Black, raising his hand eagerly, his brain fried from trying to solve idioms. “I’ll go too!”
Chinese culture was vast and profound—not something he felt equipped to tackle. But Yang Sa silenced him with a single look.
Immersed in his calisthenics, but still sharp and alert, Little White grabbed their overenthusiastic friend just in time and waved Yang Sa off: “Go ahead.”
Only after Yang Sa disappeared through the door did a dazed Little Black mutter, “Where’s he going?”
“Someone’s waiting for him,” Little White said cryptically, like some sort of Taoist sage, closing his eyes in exasperation at his friend’s cluelessness.
With a brain like that, how’s he supposed to grasp the long and rich history of Chinese culture? he mourned silently.
Yang Sa didn’t have time for their mental gymnastics. He gripped the umbrella and stepped outside the courtyard wall.
The group of wide-eyed security guards scattered like they’d been granted amnesty, afraid Yang Sa might change his mind and make them stay.
Since the last incident, they had increased their patrols and had hoped to earn some merit this time. But instead, they’d just ended up soaked in the rain—and stuck with a guy who clearly knew the homeowner but refused to explain why he was there.
“Seriously,” the chubby guard muttered to himself as he ran, “what kind of reason is so bad, you can’t even say it out loud?”
Through the blurry curtain of rain, he saw the homeowner standing face-to-face with his “friend”, holding the large umbrella over the visitor’s head.
“What the heck…”
He rubbed his forehead just in time to crash straight into the property manager who’d come to check on them.
Under the umbrella, a clean, quiet world formed—free from the chaos outside. Looking up at the tall manager, the chubby guard’s eyes welled up, and he cried out dramatically, “Daaaad—!” before throwing himself into the man’s arms.
The property manager blushed, shifting his body to the side, but still staggered back a few steps from the impact.
The rest of the guards excitedly squeezed under the umbrella, even if they only got a palm-sized sliver of space. Huddled together, they headed back in the rain, laughing and teasing each other shamelessly under the shared cover.
Only the poor property manager—soaked and disheveled—was left in the middle of the group, surrounded by rowdy young guards, all calling him “Dad.”
…
“Is this some new trend among young people?” Shao Zhan turned his attention to the person in front of him after watching the noisy group disappear into the distance. “Calling the person who brings you an umbrella Dad?”
Yang Sa snorted inwardly. Sure, like I’d ever want a son like you.
As he spoke, he pushed the umbrella handle toward Shao Zhan, who stepped back twice and didn’t take it.
With a cold expression, Yang Sa caught up to him and stubbornly pulled him back under the umbrella. “Don’t be difficult. You’re in a cast.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Shao Zhan, who stood over six feet tall, actually stayed put and didn’t move an inch.
His sudden obedience caught Yang Sa off guard. Clutching the umbrella handle, he muttered inwardly, You don’t have to act this well-behaved.
Afraid Shao Zhan might say something he couldn’t handle, he quickly spoke first: “What are you doing here?”
His tone was unambiguously harsh—a cover for the unease buried deep inside.
Shao Zhan pulled a folding knife from his pocket with one hand and handed it over. It was something Yang Sa had left behind at the Xinghai base before he left.
Yang Sa took the knife, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the handle. “Anything else?”
“Just thought I’d drop by and check on you.”
Shao Zhan exaggeratedly glanced around. “In case those people come back for revenge.”
“What a terrible excuse.”
Shao Zhan agreed with himself—he knew it was a weak cover. He just wanted to tell Yang Sa that no matter what happened, he would never let him face it alone.
There was so much he wanted to say. But now, standing in front of him, he didn’t know how to begin.
“Walk with me.”
He made the suggestion, and without waiting for a response, turned and started walking down the rain-soaked street.
Yang Sa stood in place for a moment, wrestling with the urge to turn back and go inside. But eventually, with a sigh of resignation, he caught up and tilted the umbrella over the tall, lean figure.
Shao Zhan, still walking ahead, shook the rain from his hair like a sulking kid, trying hard to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.