Chapter 2 – Hello
After brooding in frustration for a while, Shi Cha suddenly panicked. He scrambled for his phone, opened the streaming platform, and clicked on his only followed account.
The streamer named [LR] wasn’t live. Their last stream was over three months ago.
Shi Cha took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, trying to calm himself down.
It’s fine. Lin Ran didn’t go live. That whole scene just now—aside from the few dozen people watching my own stream—no one else saw it.
Besides, Lin Ran was clearly using a smurf account just to have some fun. The viewers probably didn’t recognize him as the former championship mid-laner.
It’s fine. No one knows who I am. No one will pay attention to what just happened.
No big deal. I can survive this!
Shi Cha glanced at the time on his phone. It was already the usual time he ended his stream. He hesitated, then decided not to turn his computer back on.
He had planned to do some shopping after his stream, but instead, he dawdled at home for another half hour before finally getting up to get dressed.
Even though his social anxiety made him reluctant to go out, he still had to eat. The fridge was completely empty. If he didn’t go shopping now, he’d be surviving on air.
Before stepping out, Shi Cha peeked through the peephole at the apartment across the hall, just in case he ran into his neighbor.
Even though he’d lived there for three months, they’d never once run into each other.
After mentally prepping himself again, he put on a hat and mask, grabbed his keys, and left the apartment.
Wearing a mask and a hat wasn’t about hygiene—it was a shield, a way to avoid people’s stares. If no one recognized him, he wouldn’t have to say hi or respond to greetings.
Manners weren’t something a person with social anxiety had the luxury to worry about. As long as he didn’t have to interact with anyone, that was all that mattered.
His second-hand car rolled out of the underground garage and headed toward the nearest, largest shopping mall.
…
LL Team Base.
Chen Lu had just finished another game. He turned to the seat beside him.
There sat a handsome man. After a year away from the pro scene, his presence had become even more composed and magnetic.
Even as an old teammate, Chen Lu found himself a little smitten.
Tsk. No wonder he’s the current top-tier streamer. That face? Unreal.
Chen Lu leaned over slightly, looking at the screen in front of Lin Ran. It still displayed the friend list—but it was completely empty.
“What, they still haven’t accepted your friend request?”
Lin Ran let out a soft “Mm.”
Chen Lu couldn’t help but poke fun at him. “With how you only say one word every half hour, of course that girl isn’t going to respond. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have ignored you for over thirty minutes.”
As he spoke, he mimicked the sugary tone of “LR’s Biggest Fan”: “Brother~ This blue buff is for you~”
Startled by the strange imitation, Lin Ran shot him a cold side-eye.
“He logged off ages ago.”
Chen Lu raised an eyebrow.
“And? What now?”
“Also, that person wasn’t a girl—it’s probably a guy.”
Chen Lu raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You could tell just from that?”
Lin Ran looked away from him and back at his computer screen. “I looked into it a bit before.”
Chen Lu didn’t buy the whole ‘just a bit’ story. With Lin Ran’s personality, if he was interested in something, he’d never stop at just a little information.
But why would he research voice disguises like that? Did he have some kind of unusual hobby?
As Chen Lu’s thoughts grew increasingly suspicious, Lin Ran suddenly spoke again.
“If they accept the request, talk to them a bit. If the age is right, see if they’re interested in joining our team’s training.”
Chen Lu was shocked. “You’re serious? That girl—wait, no, that kid—is really that good?”
Lin Ran’s expression grew more serious.
“Cao Yang retired six months ago. The current jungler is just a sub. His mechanics are fine, but his game sense is still lacking. I want to bring in some talented new blood. Even if they’re from the solo queue ladder, I’m open to it.”
Chen Lu, who was the top laner just earlier—the one with the IGN [Will AFK If No Top Lane]—thought for a moment, then said, “You’re the boss, so it’s your call. I’ll let the manager know.”
Lin Ran didn’t have anything urgent today and had just come to visit the base. Now that his agent was calling, he figured it was time to leave.
Seeing him get up, Chen Lu quickly called out, “You’re not staying a bit longer? Big Dog and the others are about to wake up.”
It was almost 11 a.m. By now, aside from Chen Lu—who’d pulled an all-nighter—none of the other players at the base were up yet.
Lin Ran gave Chen Lu a light pat on the shoulder and glanced at the webcam, which was turned toward him. Then he reached over and pointed it back at Chen Lu.
Chen Lu let out an awkward laugh. “Hehe… you don’t stream anymore, so I thought I’d give our team’s fans a little something.”
Lin Ran couldn’t be bothered to argue. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stick to your rest schedule. I’ll talk to the manager. If anyone breaks the rules again, their bonus will be docked—completely, if needed.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll warn Big Dog and the rest—up by ten, no exceptions.”
“I meant you.” Lin Ran ignored his sheepish grin. “Anyway, I’m heading out. Keep an eye on that kid.”
…
Meanwhile—
Shi Cha had no idea someone had sent him a friend request after he logged off. At the moment, he was pushing a cart through the supermarket, shopping for groceries.
Supermarkets, unlike wet markets, were his safe space.
Here, he could just pick what he wanted, weigh it, pay, and be done—without saying a single word.
Perfect for someone with social anxiety like him, who dreaded human interaction.
By the time he hauled all the bags back home, unpacked, and had lunch, it was almost 1 p.m.
His streaming schedule, aside from a short morning session, ran from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m.
A routine so disciplined, it hardly seemed like something a young person would stick to.
Or rather, his routine was as regular as that of an elementary school student.
There was still nearly an hour until his 2 p.m. stream. Shi Cha sat there, anxiously curling his toes for half an hour—he could’ve carved out a castle in the floor at that rate. Only once he felt he could face things calmly did he finally turn on his computer and log into the game.
When he had been playing earlier, he hadn’t realized that the mid-laner was Lin Ran, so he hadn’t paid much attention to his movements.
Now, he planned to open the replay and take a closer look. After all, this was the closest they’d come to interacting in years.
But before he could start the replay, he suddenly noticed an avatar flashing in his friend request section.
Shi Cha’s hand trembled, and his heart began pounding wildly—the avatar was exactly the same as the one used by that “Alphabet Brother.”
His mind went blank for a second. When he snapped out of it, he found himself gulping down water in large mouthfuls.
Had Lin Ran recognized him?
No way—that was impossible. With the voice he’d used, there was no way Lin Ran could’ve figured it out.
Besides, they hadn’t seen each other in years.
Lin Ran had been a classmate of Shi Cha’s older brother Shi Jian. The last time they met, Shi Cha was twelve years old—on the day of Lin Ran and Shi Jian’s senior year graduation trip. Lin Ran was eighteen at the time.
Eight years had passed. There was no way Lin Ran could recognize him just by a disguised voice.
Then why did he send a friend request?
Wouldn’t most people be annoyed by such a deliberately cutesy voice?
Or… could it be that he actually liked that kind of voice?
…
Shi Cha lowered his eyes and bit his lip in thought. If Lin Ran really liked that kind of voice… should I…
Realizing where his thoughts were going, Shi Cha quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of the ridiculous fantasy.
He looked back at the flashing avatar, took a deep breath, and gathered the courage to click on it.
Sure enough—it was a friend request from Brother Alphabet.
Shi Cha bit his lip tightly and clicked [Accept].
He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever would come next—only to discover, to his surprise, that the other person wasn’t even online.
The gray avatar sat quietly in his friend list.
Shi Cha frowned in frustration. Why had he taken so long to get back online earlier? The other person might’ve logged off during those few minutes he was dawdling.
His 2 p.m. stream had already started, but the whole afternoon, Shi Cha was distracted—his mind kept drifting as he repeatedly checked to see if that person had come online.
It wasn’t until his stream ended at 4 p.m. that the other person finally came online, albeit slowly and belatedly.
Seeing the avatar light up, Shi Cha’s first reaction was joy, but it was quickly replaced by hesitation.
The friend request had clearly been sent right after the game ended that morning, but he hadn’t accepted until several hours later.
Should he take the initiative to explain?
But how should he even explain?
How should he phrase it?
He typed and deleted countless lines in the chat window, but not a single word was sent.
Instead, the other person messaged him first:
[FGHJKL]: [I’m the manager of LL Esports. I’ve reviewed several of your gameplay recordings today and was really impressed with your skills. Would you be interested in joining us for a trial training?]
Shi Cha’s fingers froze over the keyboard, an indescribable wave of disappointment washing over him.
So the person messaging him wasn’t Lin Ran—it was just the team manager.
But that voice from earlier… it was unmistakably Lin Ran’s.
As Shi Cha sat silently, the manager waited for a moment before sending a follow-up:
[FGHJKL]: [I noticed your ID is ‘LR is the Best,’ so I’m guessing you’re a fan of Ran-shen too? Just to be upfront, the person you played with earlier today was Ran-shen himself. He’s the one who recommended you to me. If you join our team, you might even get a chance to meet him in person. :)]
The manager didn’t bother hiding the fact that Lin Ran had played on that account earlier—after all, Chen Lu had been streaming at the time.
Besides, Lin Ran had been with LL Esports since debuting three years ago. Most of his fans naturally had a favorable impression of the team. With their idol as bait, the manager didn’t believe for a second that this newcomer would be uninterested in a trial offer.
[LR is the Best]: [Excuse me, is this Lin Ran’s alt account?]
The manager hadn’t expected that question.
[FGHJKL]: [Not exactly. This is a backup account used by the team. But Ran-shen does come to the base often and sometimes uses this account to play with team members. If you join us, you’ll definitely get the chance to team up with him.]
That last part was pure bait—just painting an enticing picture.
But what the team manager mentioned was only a trial training—whether or not Shicha could actually stay with the team would depend entirely on his performance. After all, from the team’s perspective, recruiting someone for a trial came at no cost.
Shi Cha stared at the chat history and pressed his lips together. So it really was Lin Ran—just not his account.
If Lin Ran were still part of the team, Shi Cha would’ve accepted the offer without hesitation. After all, he had trained hard for three years with the dream of one day standing beside Lin Ran in battle.
But now, Lin Ran had already been retired for a year, having transitioned into the much livelier entertainment industry.
Whether it was university or esports, Shi Cha felt he could at least try to keep up with him.
But showbiz?
There was no way he could do that.
[LR is the Best]: [Sorry, I’m not interested in attending the trial.]
With that, he moved his mouse and, without a moment’s hesitation, deleted the person from his friend list.
On the other end, the team manager saw that his message couldn’t be delivered and slammed the keyboard.
Chen Lu, who had gotten a few hours of sleep and was now refreshed and full of energy, looked over curiously when he noticed the commotion.
“What happened?”
The manager replied grumpily, “That kid Lin Ran recommended just deleted me.”
Chen Lu was baffled. “Did you not tell him you’re the LL team manager?”
“Of course I did! I opened with that. He asked if I was Lin Ran’s alt. I told him no, and then boom—he deleted me.”
Chen Lu rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, the kid’s not interested in our team, but he is interested in Lin Ran.”
Then he sighed. “No wonder we’ve lost so many fans—guys and girls—since Lin Ran retired. Looks really are everything. Manager, the reason we can’t recruit any new players is probably because your face just isn’t up to standard.”
Manager: “…”
The manager smacked Chen Lu on the back of the head. “Get back to training!”
Then he opened his phone and sent Lin Ran a quick message, summarizing the situation. After all, Lin Ran had personally requested it, and as the manager, he felt it was right to report back to the boss.
Lin Ran had just finished an event when he received the message.
He raised an eyebrow. This kid is interesting.
It was the first time he’d seen anyone outright delete the team manager from their friend list. For most young people around twenty, getting an invitation to trial for a pro team would be a point of pride.
Shi Cha didn’t play any more games that night, but he kept the game interface open the entire time.
He couldn’t even say what exactly he was waiting for. It wasn’t until 9:50 p.m.—just ten minutes before his usual bedtime—that he finally glanced at the screen one last time and moved his mouse to close the game.
Right at that moment, his friends list lit up again.
Although he played often on this account, he hadn’t added many friends—he was more used to solo queueing.
The avatar was unfamiliar. Shi Cha moved his mouse and clicked it open.
[Cha Henduo]: [This is Lin Ran. It’s inconvenient for me to use my main account, so this is my alt. Today I played a match with you using the ID “FGHJKL.” Don’t worry, I’m not a scammer.]
Shi Cha’s heart pounded wildly in his chest.
He took a deep breath to calm himself, then clicked [Accept] with determination.
After they added each other, Lin Ran resent the same verification message.
Shicha’s face flushed hot as he stared at the words “Don’t worry.” His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing a flurry of thoughts—but what he actually sent out in the end was:
[LR is the Best]: [Hello.]
With a period at the end, no less—completely at odds with the bubbly, soft-spoken persona he’d used earlier in the day.
But the moment he hit send, regret came crashing down.
Sitting there with the ID “LR is the Best” while talking to Lin Ran himself—the embarrassment level shot through the roof.
Should he change it?
But if he changed it now, wouldn’t that just draw even more attention to it?
Help!!!