Chapter 62 – Are You Out of Your Mind?
All the reasons he had come here—the years of longing, the unspoken grief—had been quietly distilled into the soft sound of footsteps landing on a lonely street corner. But tonight was destined to be different. Because he knew that everything he wanted to say—the other person already understood.
By the time Shao Zhan took a cab from the hillside district to his grandfather’s house, it was already past midnight. That just so happened to be prime training hours for an esports player.
Wide awake, he dragged the secretly napping Qin Chuan out of bed to go over the details of the online qualifiers. Xinghai’s second-string team had been performing well, relying heavily on long-term team coordination.
The upside of team synergy, frankly, was that individual skills didn’t stand out much. And this time, they were aiming to promote someone to a core position on the first team—a role Shao Zhan was vacating. Instead of excitement, the whole team was gripped with quiet panic.
What’s more, main rosters across the major clubs were relatively stable. Even those nearing the end of their contracts had no plans to transfer, and with the Asian Cup approaching, there simply wasn’t enough time.
What Xinghai needed now was a player with exceptional solo strength, a rock-solid mindset, and the leadership to rally a team. So this time, they went with an invitational format.
At 3 p.m., players who passed the initial screening would gather at the Xinghai training base for in-person tryouts. For those who succeeded, Xinghai Club would offer full support with any necessary transfer paperwork.
“Brother—are you out of your d*mn mind?” Wearing a nightcap and with a silk sleep mask dangling from his neck, Qin Chuan grumbled, eyes puffy with exhaustion.
“Look at the time! You can’t sleep, so now you’re dragging innocent people down with you? Doesn’t your conscience hurt, even a little?”
“Not at all,” Shao Zhan blinked innocently, marking edits on an online doc.
“Think about the number that hits your bank account every month. Still sleepy?”
Qin Chuan, who had just been yawning shamelessly into the webcam, immediately straightened up and snapped into alert mode. He looked like a model of tireless dedication as he raced through the tasks Big Young Master had assigned.
While waiting for the internal office system to process files, Qin Chuan sneaked glances at Shao Zhan’s expression, then probed cautiously, like a concubine testing an emperor’s mood: “Do we really… have to do this?”
Shao Zhan looked up from the document, his face unusually serious. “If your only living relative had spent years carrying the burden of a false accusation, while those who should’ve been held accountable rose to power because of it—what would you do?”
Throughout the investigation, Shao Zhan had deliberately kept the PUBG division out of it. Still, Qin Chuan, a long-time member of the club, had managed to piece most of it together through his own connections.
Thirteen years ago, before Xinghai had split off from Silver Emperor Club, a youth trainee had joined—an up-and-coming prodigy, widely acknowledged by the coaches to have a brilliant future.
But not long after, news quietly broke of his transfer to another team, and from that point on, he vanished without a trace.
Back then, esports was still a fringe scene. Society at large saw it as nothing more than an unserious hobby, with no real connection to professional competition. It wasn’t uncommon for parents to storm into clubs and drag their kids home by force.
The departure of a youth trainee wasn’t exactly headline news. After all, the fanbase back then was made up mostly of hobbyists and enthusiasts. Before long, that once-stunning teenager—who had amazed everyone during public scrimmages—was quietly swallowed up by the tides of time.
But the teammates who once faced him on the battlefield would never forget him. Especially the official players who, after he joined the team, grew increasingly anxious about their own prospects… and, of course, those who had hurt him—those responsible for consequences that could never be undone.
“I understand how you feel,” Qin Chuan said softly, “and I know it hasn’t been easy for that kid either. But what about the club’s reputation, the investors, and the future of Xinghai? Are you really willing to throw all of that away…?”
He hesitated for a moment, trying to sway the person on the other side of the video call. “And what about your fans? Your injury has already caused enough heartache—do you really want to put them through even more?”
“They’ll be shaken because of the truth of the matter—because the real culprits haven’t received the punishment they deserve,” Shao Zhan replied.
“I can’t think of any crime in exposing the truth,” he added in a near-whisper.
“And I can’t think of what crime the person who’s quietly borne all of this for years has committed either.”
“But from what I’ve learned,” Qin Chuan said cautiously, “the people involved aren’t just limited to Silver Emperor’s management. Xinghai’s senior executives—and even the corporate headquarters—are also implicated.”
His words were tactful, but Shao Zhan knew exactly who he was avoiding naming: his own family.
Years ago, it was Shao Zhan’s father who proposed buying Silver Emperor’s division and building their own esports club. But the one who carried out the plan was his uncle.
During the years his father was still alive, the two brothers had a tense relationship. His uncle was young, proud, and unruly, but he treated Shao Zhan fairly well.
Yet having lived so long in his brother’s shadow, he was always desperate to prove himself. So when his father floated the acquisition idea, the uncle jumped on it before anyone else.
It might have been that same desperation to prove himself that led him to seek credit recklessly, turning a blind eye to many things.
From what Shao Zhan had uncovered, his uncle hadn’t just protected and enabled others—he may very well have orchestrated the entire incident himself.
What Shao Zhan didn’t know was whether the motive had been discovering that his father’s real focus was property development… or something else entirely.
His uncle was a womanizer, quick-witted, and surprisingly competent in running the club. Esports had only risen in popularity in recent years, and before that, managing such a money-burning operation—especially one he’d bought with his own money—was no easy task.
Shao Zhan remembered that before the club finally turned a profit, several board members tried to take the opportunity to push for a resale.
He wasn’t sure whether his uncle had developed a genuine bond after years of leading the team, or if it was his way of honoring his late brother. But in the end, he’d stood his ground and protected this little haven for the club’s kids.
Around seven in the morning, the housekeeper got up to make breakfast.
Shao Zhan closed the documents and was about to bring his grandfather a cup of soy milk, only to be told the old chairman had gone to the hot springs for recovery.
Before he left, he’d left a message: Shao Zhan was free to handle the company’s affairs however he saw fit.
Shao Zhan greeted his aunt, skipped breakfast, and told the housekeeper to pack a few things at random before heading out.
At the entrance of a nightclub, the hungover Shao Ruigang let out a dramatic yell when he bumped into his nephew. Pointing at the takeout box on the passenger seat, he joked, “Don’t tell me you’re here to bring me breakfast?”
He shot a sharp glare at the secretary behind him and turned to walk away with a smirk.
Shao Zhan grabbed the man, who reeked of alcohol. “We need to talk.”
“Talk?” Shao Ruigang shook off his hand, the smile vanishing from his face. He stared coldly at the boy he’d spoiled since childhood—now somehow grown into someone who could stand toe-to-toe with him.
“Is it really necessary? After everything you did behind my back, do we even need to talk?” With that, he flagged down a taxi and left, leaving Shao Zhan and the flustered secretary behind.
When it came to family, Shao Zhan still felt guilty. He sent the secretary back to headquarters to resume normal work, and since it was still early, he asked the driver to take him up to the mountain district.
He’d only planned to take a quick look from a distance—but unexpectedly, one of the security guards, a chubby young man, recognized him. He tapped on the car window to say hello: “Didn’t get lost today?”
Shao Zhan had no idea what Yang Sa had told the property staff afterward, so he responded vaguely.
The chubby guard, ever friendly, shook the walkie-talkie in his hand. “I just called one of the patrol guys to get your friend to come pick you up. The roads here are really hard to find.”
Shao Zhan didn’t react much. The driver, visibly relieved to be off the hook, asked for permission and then rushed to the roadside with his phone to video call his daughter, who insisted on seeing her “daddy.”
The security guard, clearly a talkative one, continued explaining why the security team had been working overtime: “It’s ‘cause some thugs snuck in a while ago and injured a resident’s friend. Heard it was bad—like, whole arm’s gone kind of bad…”
Mid-sentence, the chatty guard suddenly went silent, his gaze landing—almost involuntarily—on Shao Zhan’s arm in a cast, hanging in front of him.
Warning bells rang loudly in his head, but his mouth kept going: “Our manager even visited him. Said the guy was some super famous esports player. Really good-looking too. Told us not to talk to anyone about it…”
The aforementioned injured, famous and particularly handsome esports player asked with a raised brow: “So what do you think will happen if your manager finds out you just told someone?”
The chubby guard played out the scene in his mind: “Probably salary deductions… cut my bonus… fire me—full package…”
The imagined consequences were so vivid that he had to cover up his growing panic with a string of nervous laughter.
Just as the two were awkwardly making small talk, Yang Sa’s appearance broke the tension. His tall figure still seemed to carry the scent of last night’s rain. He was slightly out of breath, having rushed over.
“What are you doing here?” Yang Sa asked.
Sensing the change in atmosphere, the chubby security guard quickly flashed a sheepish smile. “I’ll leave you two to it.” He grabbed his colleague and scurried off in a flash.
Scrambling for an excuse, Shao Zhan’s eyes landed on the takeout boxes packed by the housekeeper. His brain worked fast. “I came to have breakfast with you.”
“Breakfast?” Yang Sa raised a brow, surprise flashing across his face. He opened the car door and, before Shao Zhan could react, grabbed the food containers himself.
Shao Zhan had originally wanted to ask where Yang Sa planned to take him, but after some hesitation, he held back.
Technically, he was an uninvited guest, and he hadn’t expected to actually see him in person. He just wanted to wander the area, take in the sights Yang Sa often saw—that alone would’ve been enough. Who would’ve thought the chatty little security guard would also be unexpectedly thoughtful?
Now that he could walk alongside Yang Sa, it already felt like more than he deserved. Afraid that saying too much would only ruin the moment, he stayed silent.
Yang Sa, meanwhile, was trying to gauge the reason for Shao Zhan’s visit. But seeing that the other didn’t speak, he decided not to push too hard. He had originally planned to take him to the villa, but from a distance, he spotted four brightly lit faces—one in black, one in blue, and two in white—staring out from the first-floor windows.
He immediately changed his mind and turned toward the mountainside instead. “There’s a pavilion on the side of the hill. Is that okay?”
Shao Zhan nodded and quietly followed behind him.
The villa district on the mountain was newly built, but the pavilion they reached surprisingly carried a sense of antiquity. The eaves were painted with swirling cloud patterns in blue and green, and though time had caused the paint to peel in places, it only highlighted the craftsmanship and the natural grain of the wood.
The housekeeper had become skilled at preparing refined Chinese breakfasts to suit the grandfather’s palate. The two of them sat across from each other on stone stools under the pavilion. Dew from the previous night still clung to the grass at the steps, soaking the hems of their pants.