Chapter 63 – It Wouldn’t Look Good for You If Word Got Out
As they ate the exquisite meal, neither of them spoke. The damp wind carried their silence, sweeping deep green fallen leaves off the tips of the grass between them.
The schedule was packed—too many things to do in a single day. Once the plates were put down, it was time to tidy up.
“Are you leaving?” Yang Sa asked, his voice devoid of much emotion.
Shao Zhan gave a soft “mm” in response, saying nothing more. And in the silence, the wind felt even colder.
Once everything was packed away, Shao Zhan stood up to leave. He truly didn’t know what to say. He raised his hand as a silent farewell—only for that hand to be caught in a warm palm.
Yang Sa stood beside him, staring at the man who hadn’t spoken a word this whole time. A wave of indescribable sorrow surged in his chest.
He knew the other was suffering, and he also knew that it was because of him that Shao Zhan was caught in this impossible dilemma. He simply couldn’t pretend not to see it.
“If it’s too hard, then just forget it,” Yang Sa heard himself say. “As for my brother, I’ll figure something out myself…”
Shao Zhan suddenly turned, opening one arm with a faint smile.
“Can I hold you?” he asked softly, then pulled the stunned man into his embrace. His broad hand rubbed gently against the back of Yang Sa’s neck. “It’s nothing. I just came to tell you—whatever it is, I’ve got you.”
Yang Sa tilted his head slightly, staring directly into those eyes so close to his own.
“Why?” he asked. The word faded as their lips drew closer, nearly brushing.
Just before they touched, Shao Zhan turned his head, resting his forehead on Yang Sa’s slender shoulder. What he was about to do would betray many people—perhaps even his own kin. If he went through with it, it would mean pushing his guilt onto someone else.
Even if it weren’t Yang Sa, he couldn’t do that. And the more he cherished someone, the less he could bear to let them get hurt.
“I’m off.”
Back to his usual self, Shao Zhan gave Yang Sa a quick pat on the head, casual and relaxed—just like he would with one of his teammates.
Yang Sa, however, stared at his back for a long while, unable to take a single step forward.
…
Shao Zhan had deliberately scheduled the press conference to coincide with the club’s recruitment event. He didn’t want his teammates to be affected too much by what was coming.
In truth, this arrangement hadn’t come without resistance. The group’s higher-ups—uncles who had watched him grow up—blocked his way backstage at the venue.
“Xiao Zhan, we all understand where you’re coming from,” one of them said. “But you have to realize, this isn’t just about the club. If any negative press comes out, the parent group won’t escape unscathed either.”
“Exactly. And it’s been so many years—wouldn’t it be better to let the relevant departments take care of the victims’ families, ensure their livelihood is protected as much as possible…?”
In his twenty-odd years of life, this was the first time Shao Zhan had found it so difficult to communicate with others.
“You all know that running an esports team is a money pit. A single setup, a single player—that’s practically a walking investment. But not everything in this world can be solved with money.” He lowered his gaze slightly, not hiding the emotion in his eyes.
“I don’t know when this kind of thinking became the norm in the company, but this isn’t the kind of values I was raised with.”
In the silence that followed, someone muttered under their breath, “It’s not like the young chairman is still in charge anymore.”
“So what?” Shao Zhan tugged at his collar, a cold smile playing on his lips. “What exactly are you planning to do?”
…
At 10:45 a.m., Shao Zhan appeared right on time at the media press conference, dressed in a black suit. Across from him sat the invited press and a row of grim-faced executives from the corporate headquarters.
Just a short while earlier, they had earnestly asked him to disclose only matters related to himself. The group was preparing for overseas collaboration projects, and they urged him to consider the bigger picture.
For the first time, Shao Zhan publicly revealed details of his injury to the media. Sensing something in the air, the more aggressive journalists dug deep, determined to get him to confirm that the injury was tied to a certain influential and long-standing club.
Despite several probing questions, Shao Zhan didn’t respond directly.
“All matters regarding my injury will follow the official police investigation,” he said, then swiftly pivoted—revealing details of an old, long-buried assault case.
The moment he spoke, the senior executives seated at the back began to rise and leave. Sharp-eyed reporters raised their cameras, capturing the scene.
…
“This is a historic moment!” Fat Tangyuan held up his phone, snapping shameless selfies with the front camera. He made sure to include the seven teammates lined up in the training room behind him in the frame.
“Y’all better perform well today. Whoever wins gets the honor of being Little Lord Tang’s personal fifth sidekick!”
Before he could finish speaking, Du Changcheng smacked him on the head: “What ‘fifth this, eighth that’—when are you going to say something sensible, you little punk?”
Fat Tangyuan clutched his big head and hid behind Qin Chuan, grumbling, “If the substitute for Team One isn’t ‘Number Five,’ what else would he be—‘Number Three’?”
He risked poking half his head out, looking surprised. “Wait, Coach, don’t tell me you’re trying to use this chance to get rid of that young master captain?”
He shook his head in exaggerated pity.
“Sure, the captain’s got a sharp tongue, a black heart, and he’s petty—but come on, thanks to him our team’s got good benefits! Free meals all the time, the occasional massage, little perks here and there. You know how tough training is—without these, how would we even survive?”
Du Changcheng resisted the urge to curse him out. He didn’t want any unexpected drama during recruitment, so he forced himself to stay calm on the surface.
But Fat Tangyuan floated around like a ghost, refusing to shut up.
“Hey, Coach, why aren’t you scolding me this time? Why aren’t you saying Da Jiang’s got no lid, and if I don’t want to live, I should go jump?”
When Du Changcheng’s eyebrow twitched twice despite himself, Fat Tangyuan burst out laughing—an actual pig-snort escaping as he clapped a hand over his mouth.
Then he quickly called out to Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai in the team group chat: “Quick, come see this! Coach’s face froze up—just cured his hemorrhoids and now he’s got facial paralysis. Hey, if he ends up in the hospital again, do we still have to chip in for the group fund?”
Du Changcheng tapped on Tangyuan’s voice message. The obnoxious laughter echoed next to his darkening face: “I’m in the group.”
Fat Tangyuan’s brain stalled. He opened the group members list, and with a twitch of his reflexive fingers, he accidentally booted Du Changcheng from the chat.
“You little punk—”
Du Changcheng ground his teeth in rage but refused to lose his temper in front of outsiders. He extended a finger and flicked Tangyuan’s forehead, one thump at a time.
“Got a real attitude now, huh? Listen up! I’m gonna recruit one player today, or two—hell, I’ll recruit as many as I want…”
“Coach!”
Fat Tangyuan looked at him with starry eyes.
“Lao Bai’s a good guy, just a bit clumsy with words and slow in the head, but that doesn’t affect his gameplay. You can’t just ditch him for that!”
“Who said I’m ditching Zhuang Bai?!”
“Then you can’t fire Ranan either!” Tangyuan stomped his foot, full of righteous indignation.
“Sure, he plays like a noob and doesn’t know how to act like a proper person yet, but he’s young. Give him two more years and he might surprise you! Don’t let people say you’re not giving young players a chance—it wouldn’t look good for your image if that gets out.”
“Who said,” Du Changcheng scowled, dragging out each word like a braying donkey, “I’m firing Ranan?!”
Before Shao Zhan had even finished speaking, the entire venue erupted into chaos.
The reporters, who had just been focused on editing news about his injury, suddenly realized—this was the real headline of the day.
They shoved aside their competitors, scrambling to be the first to raise their microphones…
…
[KS used a DBS to eliminate Autumn.]
[KS used a DBS to eliminate PPPPP.]
[KS used a VSS to eliminate Snowman’s Letter.]
[KS used an MP5K to eliminate DP-28.]
…
The special forces soldier he was controlling slipped slightly, and bullets sprayed along the horizon, tracing a smooth arc just past the enemy.
The opponent’s teammates were already flanking toward the safe zone. Alone, Yang Sa had no choice but to jump into a car and flee, all while staying alert for any sneaky backshots.
He hadn’t slept a wink the night before—faint shadows clung under his eyes.
In the middle of movement, he raised his weapon and fired without even scoping in, relying purely on instinct to spray at the enemy on the bridge. The opponent narrowly dodged it.
The string of missteps stirred up a wave of frustration. His aim had been off for days now.
He needed a win—
To restore his confidence in himself, and in the world.
But timing, as always, seemed to work against him.
A moment’s carelessness—and Yang Sa was caught by a grenade tossed from inside a building. The soldier on-screen collapsed. Yang Sa placed his hand on the keyboard, then gently pushed it away.
“Maybe… this is fate,” he thought.
The all-black sports mask covering his face couldn’t hide the sorrow quietly flowing beneath.
“Holy crap, the old lunatic’s gone nuts!” Fat Tangyuan shouted, leaping twice with shock, phone in hand. The floor even shook for a bit under the impact.
Yang Sa’s gaze swept past the players clustered around Fat Tangyuan and caught sight of a security feed playing on his phone screen. He closed his eyes and exhaled softly.
He had really done it.
A swirl of conflicting emotions knotted in his chest. He opened his eyes, slightly agitated—
Only to find the character he thought had fallen was still standing just outside the compound wall.
A deep blue sedan had slid in front of him for cover, and a teammate nearby was dropping ammo and energy drinks.
Yang Sa quickly healed up, switched to his MK14, and followed his teammates back into the fight.