Chapter 94 – The Cool Guy Runs Away
Of course, Shao Zhan is Shao Zhan no matter where he goes. To think he would change his ways just because of one surgery—that’s pure fantasy.
As soon as he landed and found a gun, the first thing he did was take out one of his own teammates.
Fat Tangyuan, who was still huffing and puffing while repositioning, watched his screen turn grey. “What just happened?”
“Aren’t you injured?” Shao Zhan leaned lazily against the back of his chair, not even bothering to lift his eyelids. “Giving you a sick day.”
Fat Tangyuan chuckled and, sneaking under the table, pulled out a bag of tiger-skin chicken feet to munch on. “Still the same old captain—knows how to take care of your old pal Fatty.”
Offstage, Du Changcheng was fuming, practically breathing fire. “Did you have to be such a troll?” But since the brat had only just returned from injury, he couldn’t exactly beat him up in front of everyone.
But in the very next second, Shao Zhan led the team to score the first kill.
After that, Shao Zhan played like a man possessed—leading the team like an unstoppable armored tank. His movement, aim, and mechanics were flawless, and naturally, he assumed the role of in-game leader.
For this practice, they were all using alternate accounts. On the one hand, it was to account for Shao Zhan’s potentially unstable condition after returning. On the other, it was to protect their intel—this way, opponents would target Yang Sa during scrims, and if everything went well, Shao Zhan’s return would be Xinghai’s trump card.
On the battlefield, Shao Zhan drove around like a madman, actively hunting for enemies. In just half an hour, he forced them to play three full matches.
But right as the fourth match began and they opened their parachutes—his internet was cut off.
“Come on,” Shao Zhan pleaded with the new captain, “we’re professionals—seeing a game through to the end is the mark of a pro.”
Unexpectedly, Yang Sa replied, “I have no class. I just want you to go back and rest.”
After waiting so long, Qin Chuan finally got his moment. He cracked his knuckles and shouted the familiar battle cry—
“Non-combat personnel, please vacate the premises. Non-combat—”
And so, Xinghai’s former captain—the league-dominating God Hand—was politely escorted out of the training room. On his way out, he even tried to sneak off with his beloved keyboard, only for Qin Chuan to snatch it away just in time.
In truth, after getting knocked around these past few days, Zhao Yan’s mental resilience had improved a lot. But after witnessing Shao Zhan’s gameplay today, he finally understood how massive the gap was. The difference between a man and a god—no amount of practice could bridge it. Even if he reincarnated right now, he still wouldn’t catch up.
He’d always known he was dragging the team down, but he never realized just how badly.
Even if he gave it his all, Zhao Yan couldn’t reach even a tenth of Shao Zhan’s level. The encouragement from his teammates and coach filled him with both gratitude and shame. That night, he added extra training for himself.
At the same time, someone else was also in a bad mood.
Even though he knew it was doctor’s orders, his little boyfriend was being way too heartless. Shao Zhan hadn’t touched the PUBG interface in forever, and now that he was back in his room, he hugged his pillow and sulked.
During a break in training, Yang Sa snuck into the former captain’s room.
“How can you just barge into my room like that?” Shao Zhan protested, glaring at the uninvited guest.
“Captain Yang, doesn’t this count as abusing your authority for personal gain?”
Yang Sa tackled him onto the bed and kissed him. “I am abusing it. What about it?”
Shao Zhan responded with a soft smile, held his waist, and deepened the kiss willingly.
The very next second, a knock came at the door.
Yang Sa got up and asked, “Who is it?”
Shao Zhan’s expression darkened instantly, murderous thoughts flashing through his mind.
…
All the business matters had been handed over to his aunt. When something required Shao Zhan’s final decision, the secretary would bring the documents to him.
During this time, Shao Zhan lived the most relaxed days he’d ever had at the base. If he wasn’t pulling pranks on his teammates, he was picking fights with the mynah bird, turning the entire base into chaos.
However, on the day the doctor finally approved increasing his training time to two hours, the base was so quiet it was almost unnerving.
Fat Tangyuan nervously patted his keyboard, then poked at his seat cushion to make sure there were no water balloons or farting toys hidden underneath. His beady eyes glowed with disbelief. “The old bast*rd turned over a new leaf?”
“He’s not here,” Jiang Ranan replied, pointing it out with logical precision. “Even the mynahs in the yard have gone quiet.”
“Where did Captain Shao go?” Zhao Yan asked. In the training room, only Yang Sa stayed silent.
Meanwhile, in an unremarkable little shop on a quiet street, Shao Zhan handed over a piece of soft, white tofu.
Uncle Shao Ruigang narrowed his eyes, grabbed the tofu, and smashed it to the ground.
Because the offense was relatively minor and he voluntarily confessed afterward, Shao Ruigang was granted bail. But that didn’t mean he had any intention of getting along peacefully with his nephew.
Shao Zhan declined the store clerk’s help and used a napkin to gather the smashed tofu into the trash himself.
After returning to his seat, he took a sip of egg drop soup and began talking about what happened to Qu Jin after he left the team due to injury.
The boy had only been adopted because he could earn money through esports, and after he got hurt, his adoptive parents dumped him in their rural hometown.
He couldn’t speak the local dialect, and no one knew whether he ever received proper medical treatment. In the end, the boy died alone in a foreign land: “A teenager—didn’t even leave behind a single note or a word.”
“So what?” Shao Ruigang replied. “It’s not like I was the one who hurt him, or the one who left him in the mountains.”
“But you enabled them,” Shao Zhan said. “Not only did you enable them—you even used them. Indirectly, you helped cause that boy’s tragedy.”
“You said it yourself—indirectly…”
“Oh, come on.” Shao Zhan cut him off, his fists tightening unconsciously. “Don’t talk about a human life like it’s nothing.”
Growing up, Shao Zhan had always liked this uncle. He also knew that, as the youngest son of their grandfather, his uncle had always wanted to compete with his father, to stand out in front of the family. But who would’ve thought he’d turn into this?
“I feel like…” Shao Zhan gave a bitter smile. “I hardly recognize you anymore.”
That night, Shao Zhan came back very late. Outside the base wall, Yang Sa found him chain-smoking.
“Captain Shao, are you trying to set the base on fire?” he joked.
Shao Zhan dropped the cigarette and crushed it underfoot. For once, the usually sharp-tongued man didn’t have a comeback. He just hugged Yang Sa tightly and kept repeating, over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
Yang Sa gently stroked his lover’s back. “It’s okay now.”
…
At the next family dinner, Shao Zhan—as always—brought Yang Sa along, treating him like family, completely ignoring the dark look on Shao Ruigang’s face.
Unfortunately, they were short on time. Both of them were busy preparing for the upcoming tournament and didn’t have the luxury of staying to annoy him longer.
This year’s World Championship was being held in Paris. Just before boarding, Zhao Yan clutched his passport and ticket, confirming with Shao Zhan one last time:
“Captain Shao, you’re starting, right? I’m just the backup, yeah?!”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” Shao Zhan, thoroughly annoyed after being pestered all the way there, replied impatiently.
Zhao Yan finally let himself relax, a weak smile spreading across his face.
After arriving at the designated hotel and completing the pre-game video shoot, Yang Sa, as usual, led the team in practice matches to maintain their form.
But it wasn’t long before he got a call from Shao Zhan urging him to come back: “With me here, you can just relax.”
“Thanks for the unnecessary reassurance,” Yang Sa replied. “My heart was already in my chest.”
“Hey, kid. Getting disobedient now, are you?” Shao Zhan tried to pull some ex-captain authority, but Yang Sa hung up on him mid-sentence. Staring at the now-black screen, he muttered, “Getting less and less cute.”
“Heh.” Team manager Qin Chuan, who had just checked in to the fan forum to collect reward points, sneered without smiling. “If you’re so tough, why don’t you say it to his face?”
“Oh, now I’m not tough enough? What’s it to you?” Shao Zhan snapped.
Since the team had deliberately left him out of their group training sessions to stick to the plan, he had nowhere to vent his frustration—so he took it out on whoever was nearby. “Scram. If someone sees you in my room, they’ll think we’ve got something shady going on.”
“Hehehehehehe,” Qin Chuan laughed coldly. “You old bast*rd—like I’d be into someone like you. The only people you can fool are pure-hearted teenage boys…”
Thinking of their adorably innocent young captain, Qin Chuan felt a twinge in his chest.
At that moment, Team Weiguang also arrived. Following the unspoken rule that teams abroad should look out for one another, Shao Zhan dragged Qin Chuan along to greet them. He’d prepared a whole basket of trash talk to throw the other team off—but just as they stepped into the hotel lobby, a group of foreigners came walking toward them. Standing among them was Clemens, who fixed Shao Zhan with a deliberately provocative stare.
At the front of the group was a middle-aged man with a broad forehead and fierce eyes—a commanding presence even without speaking. This was Eric, a standout from the new generation of the Campbell family.
Shao Zhan had been about to stop them, planning to cite a “no family visitors during tournament” rule—when he spotted Xinghai team members walking by, happily munching on jianbing guozi they’d somehow managed to buy nearby.
Every time he took the boys on a trip, he could count on them to never neglect their Chinese appetites. As for when jianbing guozi officially broke into the international market—that remained a mystery.
Still, it was the first time Shao Zhan found their obedience this inconvenient. Their timing couldn’t have been worse.
Team Weiguang, arriving shortly afterward, noticed the odd tension. Two players stayed back to handle check-in, while the rest came over to stand beside Team Xinghai.
Unexpectedly, Yang Sa remained calm. He exchanged a few words with Eric and, just before leaving, shot a warning-filled glance at Clemens.
Back in the room, Shao Zhan contentedly munched on snacks the new captain had brought back—but it was Yang Sa who broke the silence first.
“I’m not going back.”
“I know,” Shao Zhan said, lying on the bed with his legs crossed, pointing his chin toward the jianbing guozi. “The crispy layer here’s not right. Next time, remember to add shredded squid.”
Yang Sa leaned against the chair opposite him. “A lot happened after I was adopted. It wasn’t the picture-perfect relationship people imagine. I’ll tell you about it slowly, over time.”
Shao Zhan set down his half-eaten pancake and smiled at the crescent-shaped bite mark he’d left:
“Little Captain, right now I’m only curious about one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you love me?”
Just four simple words left the guy—who normally strutted around like a tough guy—utterly flustered. He bolted out the door without even looking back.
“Don’t go, Little Captain,” Shao Zhan called after the fleeing figure. “At least tell me about the tactical plans for the next couple of days…”