Chapter 77 – Xinghai, Victory Is Certain
Far away, the “abandoned” former team captain, Shao Zhan, was watching the match replay on his phone. His schedule during the day was far too packed, so he had no choice but to squeeze in time at night to catch up.
“You like esports too?” The doctor asked while examining the X-ray he had just taken, confirming that the injury had healed to the expected level. With a pair of medical scissors, he began cutting away the outer bandage around the cast to prepare for its removal.
Shao Zhan rewound the video to rewatch the few seconds when the Xinghai team appeared on screen, studying it closely. Noticing the doctor’s use of “too,” he casually asked, “You watch esports, Doc?”
“I don’t have the time. My girlfriend’s the fan.” The doctor responded while deftly removing the cast. Talking about his girlfriend made him a little chatty. He shared that her favorite team performed terribly today due to their captain’s absence. She was so furious she spent the whole afternoon ranting on a forum—and still not satisfied, she used his phone to create a new account just to keep venting.
“Pretty childish, huh?” he said, though his face was full of fond affection.
The man in front of him, dressed in a sharp suit, looked every bit the professional elite. The doctor hadn’t expected him to share his girlfriend’s interests and couldn’t help asking, “So, which team do you support?”
Shao Zhan rubbed his nose with his good hand. “Xinghai.”
“Xinghai?” The doctor frowned, the name sounding oddly familiar as he focused on the final bit of the cast. “Right, for this Asia Cup—who do you think will win?”
Without a hint of hesitation, Shao Zhan shamelessly declared his own team’s name: “Xinghai.”
Truthfully, whether or not they could win the final trophy didn’t matter much. Under the intense pressure of their captain’s absence, and even with a slightly limping player, Xinghai had already won the championship in his heart.
“Why?” The doctor grew more curious—the name was ringing all kinds of bells in his head. Then suddenly, a lightbulb went off. Xinghai… wasn’t that the very team his girlfriend both loved and hated? Their captain hadn’t played this time due to injury. What was his name again? Two characters… he could’ve sworn he’d just seen it somewhere…
As he pondered, his eyes happened to fall on the patient information section of the medical record.
“You’re Shao Zhan?”
The patient nodded, eyes still glued to the screen as he analyzed key technical points.
“Hahaha,” the doctor laughed. “No way—it has to be a coincidence. Has anyone ever told you your name’s exactly like Xinghai’s captain’s?”
“That’s me.” Shao Zhan hit the pause button and flexed his slightly stiff wrist. “So, tell me, Doc—will I still be able to play esports?”
As he cleaned up the remains of the cast and removed his gloves, the doctor nearly gasped. He struggled to keep his composure. He genuinely hadn’t expected that the man across from him, who exuded such a professional, corporate aura, was actually an esports player—a national representative on the world stage, no less.
Seriously, of all things, he’d gone and ranted right in front of the very person involved. At that moment, he truly wished he could find a crack in the floor to crawl into—or maybe just toss himself into the medical waste bag along with the discarded plaster.
But he was a doctor, after all. No matter what, he had to stay professional. Forcing himself to stay calm, he picked up the X-ray from the desk and examined it closely. “Based on this scan, the recovery looks pretty good. But to be cautious, I’d recommend taking another X-ray and an MRI, just to get a clearer picture. After that, we can discuss the rehab plan in more detail.”
Shao Zhan nodded. “Can we do the scans today? I’ve got something on tomorrow.”
The doctor blinked, then nodded quickly. “I’ll coordinate with the radiology department.” He then instructed a nurse to escort the patient to get a number at the exam room.
Before leaving, Shao Zhan specifically asked the doctor to pass a message to his girlfriend: tell her to keep going hard on Xinghai with her scolding. He said those brats could take it. But above all, he asked her never to stop supporting the team.
After Shao Zhan left, while waiting for the next patient to come in, the doctor found a moment to call his girlfriend. The moment he mentioned he’d met Captain Shao in person, a high-pitched scream like a prairie dog’s came from the other end of the line.
“Did you get a photo? Did you take a photo of him?!” she squealed, also asking if Shao Zhan looked just as handsome in person as he did in the videos.
“He’s very handsome,” the doctor admitted, a little helplessly. “But I’m a doctor. I can’t take photos during work hours.” He glanced at the film still lying on his desk. “All I’ve got is an X-ray of his hand.”
“I want to see it! I want to see it! I want to see it!”
Even though his girlfriend was shrieking on the other end of the line, the doctor held firm to his professional ethics—patient confidentiality meant he couldn’t share medical images.
“Got it, got it. My doctor is the most responsible one,” she said graciously. “Is Captain Shao still at the hospital? Is he still getting checked? Got it, got it—I’ll come pick you up after work! Wait for me, okay? You’re not allowed to leave without me!”
Normally, this same girlfriend found it too troublesome even to get up for a glass of water at home—now, for the first time in her life, she wanted to come pick him up from work. The doctor wasn’t sure whether to be happy or concerned.
“Anyway,” he murmured to the elegant hand bones on the X-ray film, “thanks.”
“My name is Not Nervous. My name is Not Nervous. My name is Not Nervous…”
Jiang Ranan, who was pushing the wheelchair, couldn’t take the rambling of the pudgy Buddha beside him any longer. While waiting for the elevator, he couldn’t help but give him a kick. “Will you ever shut up?”
Fat Tangyuan grabbed Du Changcheng to complain, “Coach, he kicked me! He kicked my only good leg!”
Lately, Du Changcheng had been so worn down by these monkeys that he couldn’t even be bothered to play mediator. He just continued reviewing the match procedures on his phone, not responding at all.
Fat Tangyuan opened his mouth to say more, but Zhuang Bai clamped a hand over it. “You and that mouth of yours… can’t you ever be quiet?”
Fat Tangyuan pulled his teammate’s hand away. “You don’t get it. This is called energy transfer. I talk it out, and the nerves go away.”
“Oh, right—so you just transfer all that nervous energy onto us, huh?” Zhuang Bai smacked the pudgy guy lightly.
“Wow, listen to you,” Fat Tangyuan said, turning around in his wheelchair to argue. “You really need to think bigger. I’m casting a spell here—transferring all the nerves to the other teams, so we can sit back and reap the benefits!”
The translator, who finally couldn’t take it anymore, muttered, “If you’ve got that kind of power, why not just give them food poisoning so they can’t even show up?”
“Ooh~” Fat Tangyuan formed a heart with his fingers and sent it toward the translator. “Kid, your idea’s got real flair~”
As they were chatting, they happened to bump into the players from Team Weiguang. Ever since the pet incident at the training base, the two teams hadn’t interacted much. Now that they crossed paths, it was only natural to ask about Bage’s recovery.
The coaches of both teams were longtime acquaintances, exchanging a few polite words. Team Weiguang expressed that they were looking forward to seeing Xinghai’s new captain lead the team for the first time.
Their respective lounges weren’t far apart, so after a brief exchange, they each returned to prepare.
As soon as they stepped into their lounge, Fat Tangyuan muttered, “A weasel wishing a chicken Happy New Year…” The rest of the sentence was instantly silenced by a glare from Du Changcheng.
Du Changcheng tapped the armrest of the wheelchair, face stern, and gave the team a firm reminder: “This is an international event. Right now, you’re not just representing Xinghai—you’re representing Chinese esports. I might let you act like hooligans at home, but out here? The first one to cause trouble will have to deal with me.”
Fat Tangyuan, who’d been sitting for so long his stomach wasn’t digesting properly, let out a burp—then quickly swallowed it again under the coach’s warning glare.
“This time, I’m leading the team. Thank you all for your hard work.” As the match drew near, Yang Sa stood by the lounge window and extended his hand to the team. “Because of me, Xinghai lost its captain. Because of me, you’ve all had to take on extra burdens. But today, what I want to say is—let’s fight. Let’s fight a match that belongs to Xinghai.”
The Xinghai team members clenched their fists and brought them together with solemn unity.
In international tournaments, it’s customary for competing teams to shoot promotional videos and record a few words of reflection—just in case they win, so those clips can be played on the big screen during the victory celebration.
In the past, Xinghai was always a strong contender for the championship, so these interviews were treated with great importance. Shao Zhan, a seasoned veteran, had always handled them with ease.
This time, however, the Xinghai team could clearly feel the staff’s indifference toward Yang Sa, the new captain. Yang Sa himself might not have noticed, but his teammates certainly did.
In esports, weakness is a sin.
Everything they had lost—they would only be able to reclaim on the battlefield, one bullet at a time.
In each player’s eyes, a fierce, untamed spirit burned bright.
Led by the event staff, the players walked toward the stage that belonged to them.
The coach watched their retreating backs, recalling countless past tournaments. It was an imprint etched deep in their souls—
Xinghai. To fight is to win.
The bigger the challenge, the more they laughed in its face. This wasn’t just confidence in their own strength—it was also a psychological blow to their opponents.
Fat Tangyuan squirmed excitedly in his wheelchair, declaring loudly, “No matter how we do today, I—Fat Tangyuan—have already made league history!”
“The first player to roll into a match on a wheelchair,” Jiang Ranan replied dryly as he adjusted his peripherals. “What are you so proud of?”
“You’re just jealous, admit it. Little Ranan, you’re jealous of me.” Fat Tangyuan kept bickering as he quickly adjusted his settings, then turned to look for allies. “Hey, Captain! We’re family, right? No need to stand on ceremony—when we get back, could you maybe let me…”
“Hm?” Yang Sa lifted his chin. “What is it?”
“Be captain for a couple of days, just for fun?”
“Sure,” Yang Sa said, barely holding back a smile. “After we lose, I’ll have Qin Chuan post your name as ‘Team Captain’ on Weibo so the fans can vent their anger at you.”
“That’s not what I meant! I just—just wanted to enjoy the feeling of being in charge while the old tyrant isn’t around.”
With cameras and staff everywhere, it wasn’t the best time for violence. Zhuang Bai calmly reminded their pudgy teammate that he already threw his weight around plenty back at the base. Otherwise, how else would he have packed on all that chub?
Fat Tangyuan was just about to talk back when the match started, and he had no choice but to channel all his pent-up rage toward the enemy team.
“You little punks, your Grandpa Tangyuan has arrived!”
In the first round, the plane flew across the map at a 60-degree diagonal. Yang Sa led the team to Satellite Tower and wiped out an entire squad right after landing.
“Poor souls… of all the places to drop, you just had to pick the same zone as your Daddy Tangyuan. Hehehe… off to the grave you go.”