Chapter 84 – A Hazy Kiss
The next day’s scrim match reached a fever pitch. It was clear that every team had placed their bets on squad-based tactics, and the intensity was no less than that of a major tournament.
“Aiya aiya aiya, are they crazy? These bastards are going all out!” Although Fat Tangyuan’s mouth was as unfiltered as ever, his hands on the 98K rifle weren’t idle—he blasted two players from the Baiming team, then drove his beat-up pickup truck, carrying Jiang Ranan to the lower district to deal with the remaining two Weiguang players, trusting his back to his teammates.
Kill reports kept flashing across the screen:
[Starcraft-Keen used SCAR-L to knock down Tameless-Storm.]
[Starcraft-Keen used SCAR-L to kill Tameless-Storm.]
[Starcraft-Keen used BSB to knock down Tameless-Neution.]
[Starcraft-Keen used M249 to kill Tameless-Neution.]
[Starcraft-Keen used Vector to knock down LG – Formal.]
…
“D*mn, my little Baibai is going off,” Fat Tangyuan whistled.
Realizing what was just said, Zhuang Bai immediately flushed with embarrassment. “C-captain…”
Yang Sa neatly dropped his stock, scope, and first aid bandages: “Nine o’clock direction, we’ve got incoming.” Then, swift and agile, he moved off to another angle to set up and cover.
“If I’d known Baibai was this bold, I should’ve taken you out instead,” Fat Tangyuan said regretfully, still dreaming of an easy ride.
Jiang Ranan, who had just been dissed for no reason, wore a blank, expressionless look: So I’m the only one hurting in this whole world, huh.
Fat Tangyuan slammed the truck to a stop against a wall, jumped out, and shouted to his teammate, “Let’s go, Ranan! Your brother’s taking you on an epic adventure!”
Jiang Ranan quickly downed an enemy about to ambush a teammate, tossed a smoke grenade, and reported the next position: “Better let Big Brother Ran take you instead—I’ll lead the epic adventure.”
By now, Fat Tangyuan had completely abandoned any sense of shame. Hugging his head, he rolled and crawled behind his teammate like a soldier under fire.
Zhuang Bai usually played support, so when he suddenly went full offensive—and with Yang Sa deliberately yielding the primary sniper role—some gaps in dynamic vision were inevitable.
Fortunately, Yang Sa, now in the flex position, was exceptional. Even while scavenging gear and keeping watch for enemies from other directions, he still had the capacity to cover for the oversight in the sniper role.
Unfortunately, Fat Tangyuan and Jiang Ranan were taken out while chasing an airdrop, and neither he nor Yang Sa made it to the end either. As a result, the team narrowly missed a top-three finish on the leaderboard.
In the next round, while still in the plane, Yang Sa called out Zhuang Bai’s name. Zhuang Bai had just started reflecting on the reckless mistake he’d made when he heard Yang Sa say, “This round—want to try shot-calling?”
Zhuang Bai turned to glance at the new captain, then quickly turned back, masking all emotion. He marked a landing spot on the map.
Unfortunately, fate was not on Xinghai’s side this time. They landed deep in the toxic zone, and their loot wasn’t anything special.
“It’s my fault,” Zhuang Bai took the initiative to shoulder the blame.
The others were on the roof, sorting out resources for escaping the poison zone, and were briefly stunned by his words.
Fat Tangyuan, ever easygoing, wanted to brush it off with a laugh. After all, it was just a scrim—and they were the reigning champions of the Asia Cup.
But unexpectedly, Yang Sa spoke up, straightforward and sharp, confirming Zhuang Bai’s words: “Yeah, it was your fault.”
“Come on, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Fat Tangyuan said with an awkward chuckle. He thought, Man, this new captain is terrifying—even Lao Shao never scolded people mid-match.
But then Yang Sa’s cold voice rang out: “I never knew Xinghai won games just by picking the right landing spot.”
Exactly. A good game had to be played beautifully when ahead—and even more beautifully when behind. Starsea’s success was carved out round by round, bullet by bullet, over the years.
Back when former captain Shao Zhan was in charge, he never apologized for choosing a bad drop point—because he was confident, because he was capable. No matter the circumstances, he had a way to lead the team out of danger.
If the heavens do not bless me, then I’ll defy the heavens.
That was Xinghai’s secret to victory—the reason they could defy fate and turn the tide even from the brink of defeat. Every one of them was Xinghai’s confidence and its courage.
“The view over there…” one of the Xinghai players muttered while driving through the poison zone, following where Yang Sa was pointing.
“It’s beautiful,” Jiang Ranan said softly, remembering how Yang Sa had once comforted his restless self the same way during the Asia Cup. He couldn’t help but feel a quiet yearning.
The peaceful moment was, unsurprisingly, shattered by Fat Tangyuan, who had zero aesthetic sense: “What’s so beautiful about it? Let’s just fight our way through!” And at the end, he tacked on a maniacal string of laughter that would make any approaching enemy tremble—“Hahahahahahahaha!”
Jiang Ranan gripped his gun tightly. “Captain, let’s finish this round quickly. I can’t hold back the urge to beat the crap out of that bastard anymore.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Zhuang Bai said as he jumped out of the vehicle and fired the first shot in their siege.
Fueled by pent-up frustration, the Xinghai team stormed through the match like a whirlwind. They made a stunning comeback and clinched first place on the leaderboard, with a commanding lead in points.
When the match ended and the final results came in, the team’s webcams all went black for five full minutes.
No one knew what happened during that time. But when the players reappeared on screen, each of them was wearing a perfectly “professional” smile—especially the chubby one, who was grinning through a rain of tears, sobbing like there was no tomorrow.
The post-match interview had originally been scheduled right after the game. But the round had been too intense, so Qin Chuan discussed with the PR team and decided to take the attending media out for dinner instead. They’d eat and chat at the same time, knock out half the interview informally, and then record the rest with the players afterward.
Who could’ve guessed—once they got back to the hotel, Yang Sa was nowhere to be found.
His phone was off. A frantic Qin Chuan rushed back to the base, tearing through the entire place in search of him. He finally spotted Du Zhang, hiding in the corner of a hedge, following along with a health and wellness qigong video for Ba Duan Jin.
“Lao Du! Do you know where Yang Sa is?” Qin Chuan yelled.
“Huh?” Du Zhang removed a Bluetooth earbud. “Didn’t he go see Xiao Zhan?”
“What the—practice match procedures aren’t even done yet, and he’s off to see that old bast*rd…” Qin Chuan clutched his head in fury. “No. No, that bastard must’ve seduced my captain—my young, fresh, innocent captain! Aaaaah!”
With the last shreds of his sanity, Qin Chuan dialed Shao Zhan’s number, ready to go full-on accusatory mode—only to hear Yang Sa answer the call.
Yang Sa, calm and composed, was talking sense like a responsible leader. He reminded Qin Chuan that although they’d just won the Asia Cup, this was a crucial time in his career trajectory. He couldn’t afford to let anyone—or anything—jeopardize it.
“Not even that old bast*rd,” he added, “especially not that old bast*rd.”
“But…” Yang Sa glanced down at the man passed out in his arms, hesitating, “he’s drunk.”
“Why doesn’t he just drink himself to death then?!” Qin Chuan shrieked into the phone, practically bouncing with rage. “Let him die! Don’t pay him any attention! Come back—right now! Come baaaack!”
Yang Sa stood there for a moment, torn between the screaming voice on the phone and the man kneeling on the bathroom floor.
Then he calmly ended the call.
Right after the match had ended, Yang Sa received a call from the driver. Shao Zhan had gotten drunk and insisted on going back to Yang Sa’s place. But the driver’s daughter had suddenly been hospitalized with a serious illness, so he asked if Yang Sa could come over and take care of him.
At the time, things at the base were hectic. In the rush, Yang Sa barely had time to ask Du Zhangcheng for leave before hurrying over.
Shao Zhan had been in a good mood—after all, they’d just won the Asia Cup, the scrims were going smoothly, and the company was gradually getting back on track. He ended up having a few too many drinks during a business dinner. Once he let his guard down, the drunkenness hit him hard.
Of course, the one who ended up suffering for it was the poor soul left to clean up the mess.
Yang Sa somehow managed to coax him into changing clothes and brushing his teeth, but when it came to washing his face, Shao Zhan flat-out refused to cooperate. Tossing this six-foot-something man—who was slumped all over him—onto the bed had already pushed Yang Sa to his limit. If the guy resisted any more, he might just lose it and start swinging a slipper at him.
But the drunk man remained completely oblivious to the chaos around him. Hugging a pillow, he was already sound asleep.
Sweaty and exhausted, Yang Sa went to shower. The old water heater fluctuated between scalding and freezing, but he made do.
By the time he finished and stepped out, it was already past midnight. Passing by his parents’ bedroom, he grabbed a can of cold beer from the fridge—left over from New Year’s—and slumped onto the couch.
Halfway through the beer, he suddenly stood up.
This was his house. Why should he be the one sleeping on the couch? That guy was so drunk he probably wouldn’t notice anything anyway.
The buzz from the alcohol and the late hour both hit him at once. Rubbing his damp hair, Yang Sa walked back to the guest bedroom. The man inside was still fast asleep in the exact same position, looking utterly harmless.
Yang Sa climbed onto the edge of the bed, trying to wrestle his pillow back from the man’s grasp—but Shao Zhan sleepily shoved him aside and rolled over, pinning the pillow completely beneath his body.
With no other choice, he lay flat on the edge of the bed, grabbing a corner of the blanket to cover himself—only to have that stolen too.
Now, a pitiful little soul with no pillow and no blanket, he curled up in the corner, muttering curses under his breath as he drifted off into a deep sleep.
“Water… water…”
In the middle of the night, Shao Zhan stirred, parched, instinctively reaching toward the nightstand for a cup—but came up empty.
Irritated, he sat up and rubbed his face. The sight before him made him pause, dazed. This wasn’t his home. It took a few moments for his mind to catch up—this was Yang Sa’s childhood room. He’d been staying here the past few days, and the driver must’ve brought him here on instinct.
“If only he were here,” Shao Zhan mumbled jealously. Sleeping in his bed but not with him—how unfair. Just as he was about to get up and fetch some water, something stopped him in his tracks, like he’d been frozen by a spell. Slowly, slowly, he turned his head.
Behind him, there was the softest sound of breathing—so light, so quiet, yet it hit him like a bolt of lightning.
The person he thought about day and night… was right there beside him.
“I must be dreaming,” Shao Zhan whispered as he flopped back onto the bed and reached out to pull the other into his arms. Boneless and content, he snuggled closer, muttering to himself, “This has to be a dream. I’m dreaming. I’m definitely dreaming!”
Woken by the commotion, Yang Sa cracked his eyes open, annoyed. “Dream your ass…”
Only to have his mouth suddenly covered by the drunken man.
“Shhh, no swearing, little kids aren’t allowed to curse,” Shao Zhan slurred. “No candy from the teacher if you say bad words… candy…”
“Who wants your candy,” Yang Sa muttered sleepily.
But the next second, Shao Zhan kissed him.
It was a light, fluttery kiss—like a kitten’s gentle nibble. Afterward, the offender propped himself up, a triumphant grin spreading across his handsome face.
“See? It is a dream. You didn’t even hit me.”
“I’m just being civil, polite. So now it’s my fault?” Yang Sa said, half exasperated, half amused. He was just about to push the guy away—when that same figure leaned down again, this time planting a series of deep, heated kisses.